#ive gotten an excuse to avoid him last week and this week but its over now so im stuck here again

[hecksupremechips]

Literally feeling sooooo horrible and hopeless oh boy 🌝

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

[kinkykinard]

Four Minutes - Epilogue

Fandom: 9-1-1. Pairing: Buddie. Word Count: 2212. Genre: angst. Rating: Teen+. Summary: Eddie has a choice to make after nearly losing Buck in the explosion.  Spoilers for 2x17 and 2x18. Warning(s): mentions of Buck’s injuries, minor medical details. Note: Back by popular demand, the thrilling conclusion to my first ever Buddie fic.  Beta’d by @starshiphufflebadger​.  AO3 link here.  Part 1 link here.

Four minutes was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

It had passed in the blink of an eye compared to what had followed, and as he sat beside Buck’s bed keeping silent vigil, Eddie was reminded of just how bad he was at waiting.  Perhaps more accurately, how bad he was at knowing when to stop waiting.  

He’d almost lost Buck earlier that night.  He’d watched the truck get thrown up into the air and consumed by flames, looked on as Buck was ejected from the cab only to be stopped before he could roll too far as the ladder pinned him at the ankle.  He’d heard the blast, Buck’s screaming, the exhausted whimpers of agony and the frighteningly quiet staccato of Buck’s tired heart as he’d assessed him afterward.  Eddie had tasted blood when his anxiety had threatened to overwhelm him and he’d bitten his cheek to stop the tears that stung his eyes.

Eddie had waited.  He’d waited for the rest of the team to arrive and accompany him into the hospital even though he’d wanted nothing more than to chase the trauma team through the sliding doors, to cling onto the stretcher and not let Buck out of his sight.  He’d waited for news from the OR, a cup of bitter, burnt coffee cooling in his hand as the ticking of the clock on the wall nearly drove him mad.  He’d waited, albeit feeling a little less wound up than he had before, after the surgeon had come to tell them Buck was going to pull through.  He’d waited as Buck woke up in recovery, alone, and was transferred to a private room for observation.  He’d waited as everyone else went in to see Buck, just for a moment, to wish him well until Buck was so tired out he fell into a deep sleep.

With everyone gone, Eddie made his way into Buck’s room.  The nurse that came by to check Buck’s vitals shortly after Eddie had settled into a chair next to Buck’s bed looked like she wanted to shoo him off, but for whatever reason she thought better of it and left him to his vigil.  He settled into the hard plastic chair next to the bed and knotted his fingers in his lap to quell the desperate urge to reach out and hold Buck’s hand.

As Buck slept, snoring softly, Eddie watched the saline in the IV bag over Buck’s bed drip slowly into the drip chamber, his mind far away.  He thought about the last time he’d waited on something and about how much it had cost him.  He’d waited for weeks to let Shannon back into Christopher’s life.  He’d pushed her away, compartmentalized his feelings, avoided the difficult conversations.  In the end, by the time he’d decided he was ready to face her, to face the future, she’d had enough of the waiting.  She’d moved on without him, or perhaps in spite of him.

And then she’d died right in front of him.

But it was different with Buck.  It was different, and it had the potential to wind up being far worse.  With Shannon, Eddie had gotten his feelings out, had left things in her hands, had tried, and while it hadn’t absolved him of all of the hurt he’d caused her in the past, it had given him some measure of closure.  With Buck, though, he hadn’t said a word.  He hadn’t even hinted that he had anything more than platonic feelings for him.  He’d never given himself the chance - given Buck the chance - to pursue anything.

And then Buck had nearly died right in front of him.

His PTSD reared its ugly head at the reminder; the thought that it was all happening again was a wake-up call that threatened to pitch him into a panic attack.  Eddie gritted his teeth, staring determinedly ahead, knowing that if he so much as blinked he would see Shannon’s lifeless body; of Buck’s body in her place.  He fought to keep his breathing steady, glancing up at the monitor screen over Buck’s bed to help himself focus.  It was hypnotizing watching the rhythmic dance of waveforms on Buck’s ECG as they appeared and disappeared again, and eventually Eddie felt himself settle a little bit.  

Buck was okay.  He had a long road to recovery ahead of him, but he was okay, and Eddie was determined to be there for him, to walk that path with him.  Eddie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, turning his attention back to Buck.  Buck’s features were slack, his lips slightly parted as he slept off the anaesthetic.  He was breathing steadily and Eddie tried to breathe with him as a new and different but no less frightening set of emotions filled him.  

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped as Buck made a soft groaning noise.  He jumped to his feet, planting his hands on the railing beside Buck’s bed, waiting for him to wake up.  He wanted - needed - Buck to know he wasn’t alone.  Eddie hated how long he’d been forced to stand back before running in to help Buck back at the scene and he wasn’t going to let another moment go by with Buck feeling like there was no one there when he needed them.

Eddie waited tensely for a few moments, his gaze fixed on Buck, but nothing changed.  Buck was still asleep, clearly having made the noise unconsciously.  Eddie sagged, relieved that he could put off the conversation he needed to have for just a little bit longer.  He’d made up his mind, he was going to tell Buck, but it didn’t mean he was comfortable with the notion just yet.  He’d never been particularly good at being vulnerable, and opening himself up to anyone, even Buck, was terrifying.

After a few minutes passed without any change in Buck’s condition, Eddie sat back down, shifting the chair slightly so he was closer to the bed.  He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool metal of the bed rail, closing his eyes.  He was pleasantly surprised that instead of the horror show he was expecting to play out in his mind, there were some happy memories instead.  The first time he’d seen Buck laugh the day they’d pulled the live grenade charge out of a man’s leg.  It was the first time he’d seen Buck’s vulnerability, too.  Sure, he could feel it rolling off the guy in waves with how threatened he’d been by Eddie’s mere presence at first, but the look they’d exchanged just before Eddie had grasped the ordnance to remove it had spoken volumes.

“Eddie?”

Eddie’s head snapped up at the sound of his name on Buck’s lips.  He met the other man’s confused expression with a small smile, leaning in to help Buck focus through the morphine fog.

“Hey, welcome back,” Eddie said softly.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Fuzzy,” Buck replied, slurring slightly.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out before he could stop himself to fix the neckline of Buck’s gown where it had come undone and was sagging.  He thought it might’ve been his imagination, but he could have sworn Buck had relaxed back into the bed a fraction as Eddie’s fingers brushed his shoulder.  Emboldened by Buck’s apparent trust, Eddie reached for Buck’s hand, giving it a squeeze.  Buck smiled, his eyes drifting closed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Buck murmured.

The words held so much meaning, but Eddie wasn’t ready to let himself hope that he was reading it correctly.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be more than here right now,” Eddie assured him.  “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry.”

Eddie shook his head, still floored by Buck’s selflessness even though it was already one of the things he loved most about the other man.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie chided him gently.  “It wasn’t your fault.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Buck blinked a couple of times to clear his vision, glancing down at his splinted leg.  He wiggled his toes, wincing as it caused pain to flare in his ankle.

“Mostly okay, anyway,” Buck amended.

As Buck turned to meet Eddie’s gaze, Eddie felt an uncomfortable swell in his vulnerability.  He was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to look away when the IV pump next to the bed sounded an alarm, startling both of them.  Taking the chance to break eye contact, Eddie let go of Buck’s hand and stood, popping open the infusion chamber on the pump and carefully tapping at a single small air bubble that had been obscuring the sensor.  The pump fell silent again and Eddie closed the chamber back up, deciding to stay standing because it made him feel a little less claustrophobic.

Hazarding a glance down, Eddie found Buck watching him.  Buck’s expression was thoughtful, calculating but blunted by the lingering cobwebs of the anaesthesia and pain medication.  Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie saw Buck’s hand come up; a sign for him to take it again.  Eddie chewed his lip for a moment before relenting and taking a seat again, reaching out once more for Buck’s hand.

“Are you okay?”  Buck asked.

Eddie shook his head, smiling a little incredulously.

“You had a ladder truck dropped on  your ankle a few hours ago and you’re asking if I’m okay,” he reiterated.

Buck shrugged, squeezing Eddie’s hand, stroking a thumb over the back of it.

“I can tell something’s on your mind,” Buck explained lightly.  “My leg may be broken, but my empathy still works.  What’s going on?”

Eddie set his jaw, glancing away for a moment again to strengthen his resolve.  He wasn’t sure he could look at Buck when he said it.  He didn’t think he could bear being face to face if Buck didn’t return his feelings.  Reflecting back on everything that had happened that night, though, he borrowed strength from Buck’s show of courage, will, and resilience.

“This, all of it, scared me so badly because I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and that I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you,” Eddie said in a rush, his words nearly garbled by his haste to say them before his determination dried up.  He hadn’t planned on leading with an outright confession when he finally found the courage to admit his feelings, but he’d been too shaken by nearly losing Buck to wait a moment longer or pussyfoot around.  “I love you.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the suddenly faster chirping of Buck’s heart monitor.  Eddie frowned, concerned by the new onset of tachycardia, his mind combing through possible causes for it - pain, pulmonary embolism, anaphylactic reaction to one of his medications.  Buck squeezed his hand again, insistently, and Eddie forced himself to look Buck in the eye.

“You served multiple tours in an active war zone, you rappel down cliffs, you run into burning buildings when everyone else is running out,” Buck said, a quiet incredulity weighing on his words.  “But you were afraid to tell me you love me?”

Eddie’s entire world nearly crashed down at that moment as Buck’s glaringly obvious failure to return the sentiment hung in the air between them.  His own heart rate skyrocketed and a strong feeling of fight-or-flight gripped him.  Buck’s soft, wordless noise of disbelief did nothing to help his nerves.

“Eddie,” Buck said so softly that Eddie thought he might crack.  “I love you, too.”

Eddie couldn’t hear anything over the rush of his own heartbeat in  his ears for a moment as Buck’s words registered.  It took him several long seconds to process what just happened and when he did, he could barely believe it.  

“Yeah?”  He asked, his voice reedy, strained.

Buck chuckled, propping himself on an elbow in an attempt to get closer to Eddie.

“Yeah,” he assured him emphatically.  “Yeah.”

The tears came then and Eddie had not been expecting them.  Relief wasn’t something he was used to crying over, but he hadn’t realized until that moment the enormity of the weight that had been on his shoulders as he’d carried those words unsaid around with him.  He laughed softly, almost slightly hysterically, and let out a long, shaky breath.

“Come here,” Buck said gently, patting the bed beside him.

Eddie didn’t need to be asked twice.  He stood, letting go of Buck’s hand just long enough to drop the bed rail before perching himself on the edge of the mattress.  Buck’s palm landed on his thigh, its weight warm and grounding, and Eddie covered it with a hand of his own.  They sat in a companionable silence for a while, Buck’s eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion from the day’s events caught up with him and Eddie watching him closely, memorizing his face, the moment, replacing the fear and anxiety from earlier with something decidedly better.  

“Glad we had this talk,” Buck said thickly a while later, his head lolling as the morphine reared its head again.  

Eddie chuckled, reaching out to tuck Buck’s blankets in around him to keep him comfortable while he slept.  He reached up, brushing a loose curl away from Buck’s forehead, trailing his fingertips down Buck’s cheek, cupping his face gently.

“Me too.”

[hermannsthumb]

So I know you don't really write PRU things but how about PRU averting? Like when Newt starts to realize something is wrong he goes to Hermann for help?

this isn’t exactly what you wanted (at all) but the concept for this fic has been making me laugh all week. sometimes a bitch just wants to write a slightly unhinged jealous ex hermann unknowingly seducing aliens out of newt

safe for work except for some makeouts and implied past banging, but hermann tries very hard for it to not be. also ive definitely written similar plots before but who cares

—————

They send a ranger-in-training to break the news to Hermann. He’s not sure what they expected him to do, really, or how a teenager in oversized khakis might have prevented it in the first place. Rage? Cry? Break things? His relationship with Newton Geiszler has been highly publicized at this point, he supposes, down to every last gory detail; their scientific rivalry, their heated laboratory debates, their–er–rather dramatic love affair, which ended on a deeply sour note when Newton packed his bags and left Hermann for better funding and a swanky flat with more windows than walls seven years ago. As far as gossip is concerned, that is.

“Tomorrow?” Hermann says.

The ranger nods and says nothing. She’s awfully young–too young, Hermann thinks. And awfully afraid of him. Right, of course: he’s crotchety, daft old Dr. Gottlieb, notorious for his short temper and avoidance of socialization at all costs. He furrows his brow an appropriate amount and nods, as if to appear deeply consternated, or perhaps lost in brooding abstraction. “I see,” he says. “Hm. That wretched Dr. Geiszler, here, after so many years. The nerve of him. Thank you.”

The girl doesn’t move.

“Ah,” Hermann says. “Dismissed, I mean.”

Between the bare bones staff and Hermann’s incredibly low rank back in Hong Kong, he still hasn’t quite gotten used to the notion that he has things like interns and underlings again, let alone people who–when sent to deliver him a message, or paperwork, or lab equipment he submitted forms for–need to be explicitly dismissed to leave his presence. Newton would love it. Or, at the very least, he’d love teasing Hermann for it. (Control freak, that was what he’d call Hermann.) 

Back in the safety and solitude of his private laboratory, Hermann brews a fresh pot of tea and mulls the news over. It’ll hardly be the first time Newton’s set foot at the Moyulan Shatterdome. It’ll hardly be the first time Hermann will have seen Newton since the Events of seven years ago, either. It will, however, be the first occasion on which the two collide: Newton always seems to schedule his routine Moyulan visits when Hermann is tucked safely away in some conference or council in some other bloody country, leaving their paths to cross at the most inane social events, banquets and fundraisers and black tie occasions that leave Hermann stifling under his collar and his leg aching from the strain of standing for so long. 

Their words to each other in such situations have always been terse, brief, polite. Newton, after all, is a very important (and very rich) man these days, and he has plenty of elbows to bump and high society buggers to flatter without Hermann getting in his way. It’s pleasantries, is all. Lovely to see you, Dr. Geiszler. How’s work, Dr. Geiszler? The champagne is excellent, isn’t it, Dr. Geiszler? By Jove, it’s maddening. Just once Hermann would like to shout and snap at him like the good old days, to grab hold of that stupid bloody tie and shove him against a wall and kiss him, or bite him, or do anything that isn’t smile and pretend to care when he mentions that–that Alice floozy he’s shacking up with. And now, with Newton finally giving Hermann a window to meet in his own territory…

Hermann keeps a small volume of Newton’s early research on his desk–compiled long before he even knew the man–and he takes it out now, slipping a well-worn polaroid out from between its pages and propping it against his tea mug. Newton smiles out at him. “Horrible little man,” Hermann says, lovingly, and gently brushes his index finger against that handsome face.

He feigns a stomach bug to clock out of work early–fooling no one, of course, but his staff chalks it up sympathetically to the prospect of seeing his notorious ex tomorrow and says nothing–and makes a mad dash into town for a haircut and manicure. After some consideration, he pops into a clothing store for a new button-down, too. A nice one. One that fits him well. (You have a hot bod, dude, Newton would always say, you should be flaunting it. 

No, no raging, or crying, or breaking things. It’s been seven years since Newton walked out on Hermann for a cushy job and designer suits, and Hermann has exactly one course of action in mind: winning him back.

——

Newton is not exactly as Hermann remembered. The changes in him are noticeable, and–for the most part, barring the loss of his glasses and personal sense of style–Hermann feels entirely neutral about them: hair more neatly tamed, stubble more neatly shaved, body ever-so-slightly more toned. Hermann seems to recall Newton saying something about CrossFit or some sort of damned exercise bike he bought at the last banquet they attended–lost ten pounds this past month! New Year’s Resolution, you know, ha, gotta stay in shape for Alice (and this was the point at which Hermann clenched his champagne flute so tightly it burst, and he excused himself to find a napkin with which to tend to his bleeding and a tall glass of whiskey from the open bar with which to tend to his agonies). Whatever it is, it seems to be working.

He manages to lure Newton out from under the thumb of his boss with vague claims of research, though Newton is not happy about it. “I got shit to do, man,” he complains. His eyes are inscrutable behind his expensive sunglasses. “It’s just not a good time. Busy, busy, busy, you know.”

They’ll have the laboratory to themselves, even more so than usual. I’ll need to have a few private words with Dr. Geiszler, Hermann had ominously announced to his staff that morning, and they’d all looked at each other in excitement. An infamous Geiszler-Gottlieb row! Hermann locks the door behind them.

“You poor dear,” Hermann says. “Running yourself ragged. You must be exhausted.”

Newton shrugs. “I am a little. I guess.” He shrugs again, and this time preens a little with it. Good: Hermann wants him nice and flattered. “It’s hard work being as important as I am, you know.”

“I imagine,” Hermann coos sympathetically. He brushes his hand across Newton’s shoulders, then nudges him at the small of his back towards his desk. “Please, Newt, I insist you have a seat. Would you like some coffee?”

“I mean, if you’re offering,” Newton says, waving him off.

The instant coffee is located on the middle shelf of Hermann’s bookcase, between a dusty variety box of Twinings and an elaborate kaiju action figure Newton left in their apartment when he walked out. Hermann spoons some into a chipped blue mug and watches Newton through the man’s reflection on the kettle. He leans back in Hermann’s desk chair; he rolls his shoulders; he pops open a button on his maroon suit coat; he spies something propped up on Hermann’s desk, and picks it up. The polaroid. Hermann ducks his head to hide his smile.

“Good times, huh, dude?” Newton says. He waves it in the air.

“Mm,” Hermann says. 

He hands the mug of coffee over to Newton, who’s yet to put down the polaroid. Milk and plenty of sugar. Exactly the way Newton always used to take it. “There we are, dear,” he says. “Are you hungry? Might I get you anything to eat? I’ve plenty of biscuits, and, er...” He casts a guilty glance around the mess of his workspace. “...Oranges.”

“No thanks,” Newton says, but it’s vague, unconvincing. His eyes are locked on the photograph. “Good times,” he repeats. 

“Nothing to eat at all?” Hermann says.

Newton shakes himself. “Nah,” he says, and pats his stomach. “On a diet. You know, for Alice.”

Ah, of course; Alice. The mystery woman Hermann despises the very existence of. For years after Newton first broke the news to Hermann he was seeing someone new, Hermann used to pour over magazine articles and gossip sites for even a glimpse of what she might look like (and for the chance to do something cathartic, like crop her angrily from a photograph with Newton or scribble over her face with a Sharpie). Probably horrendously ugly; possibly blonde; undoubtedly lacking taste, and humor, and any other sorts of qualities a mate worthy of Newton ought to possess. At the very least, Hermann knows she isn’t at all supportive of Newton in the way she should be. Every banquet and fundraiser, she’s too busy to come, every dinner invitation Hermann finally accepts so he may properly hate the woman, she must cancel at the very last minute due to some strange illness or another. 

Privately, Hermann thinks she feels threatened by him. As she should be. He and Newton have been in each other’s heads, after all, wrote letters in their youth, shared a laboratory for years, shared a bed for longer than that. It’s a simple fact one will ever know Newton like Hermann knows him.

“Of course,” Hermann says, with icy kindness. “For Alice. How is she these days? I was ever so put out when she caught–what was it–influenza, yes, that night we were meant to dine together. And the time before that, with pneumonia. And laryngitis before that. Terrific bloody coincidences, aren’t they.”

(Sorry, dude, Newton said over the phone, not sounding very sorry, but rather quite distracted. She was probably in the room, egging on his lies. She's sick. Can’t see you after all. Rain check?)

“Yeah,” Newton says. He’s started to shake his leg up and down, a nervous tic Hermann is all too aware of, seeing as he’s picked it up himself after their drift. Along with an annoying tendency to hoard sentimental rubbish. “Coincidences. If I’m being honest, Hermann–I’m not too keen on you two–well.” A strange look crosses his face, replaced in a blink of an eye with a toothy smile. “Old flame and the new flame, it’d be awkward for everyone, y’know?”

“Especially for her, I’d imagine,” Hermann says, and then he swings himself down into Newton’s lap.

Newton goes very still; the photograph slips from his fingers and flutters to the floor. “Hermann?” he squeaks.

Dropping his cane, Hermann nuzzles his face into the crook of Newton’s neck and breathes deeply; the Newton of his memories smells of burnt coffee and the sharp tang of preservation chemicals, but the Newton of now smells more of expensive cologne than anything else. Hermann can’t say he likes it much, but he presses a small kiss there anyway, marveling at the lack of the scratchy stubble he remembers so well. “What–what are you doing?” Newton says.

Another kiss. Hermann slips a hand up to caress Newton’s jaw, and Newton shivers. “I should think it’s obvious,” Hermann says. “Mm. Come on, now, love, I know I can’t be the only one of us who’s been aching for this.”

“It’s,” Newton stammers, “I,” and his sturdy fingers grip Hermann’s waist, though he makes no move to shove him away. In fact, he only draws him closer. Marvelous. “I’ve got–someone, dude,” he says, gazing at Hermann between heavy eyelids. “Alice. I have–”

Hermann kisses him, pouring into it every ounce of longing he’s felt for the last seven years, and Newton melts against him with a moan. “But does she make you feel the way I do?” Hermann murmurs. 

“Uh,” Newton says.

He swipes his tongue into Newton’s mouth, enjoying the sharp jolt that shoots through Newton when he brushes against his own tongue, and pulls back with a small bite at his bottom lip. Newton always liked when Hermann kissed him messily. “Do feel free to touch me,” he says.

Newton does: one hand leaves Hermann’s waist and inches up his side instead, pausing to shove one half of his lab coat off, then the other. The coat slips to the floor as well. Newton splays five fingers over Hermann’s right pectoral. “Nice shirt,” he says, sounding rather dazed. “Good color on you.”

“I’d hoped you like it,” Hermann says happily. “Remember what you always used to say, about flaunting it? I thought it was time I’d take your advice.”

“I do,” Newton says. “I do remember. Ha.” His face splits into a grin, one of the first truly Newton-esque ones Hermann’s seen on him in years, and Hermann feels a small flare of triumph. He catches the hand at his chest and draws it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the knuckles. Newton’s tattoos, vibrant as ever, poke out from beneath one maroon sleeve.

Hermann remembers kissing those tattoos. He remembers tracing the shape of red-yellow waves with his fingertips, of pinching the eyes of the great kaiju splashed across his chest, of teasing Newton for his rather unadorned arse and how pale it was in comparison to the rest of him. You’re one to talk, buddy, Newton would say, and he’d deliver a playful smack to Hermann’s, all skin and bones, dude, I think I bruised my hand. He used to like to keep his glasses on in bed so he could see Hermann. Make sure it’s actually happening, he’d say. His sunglasses are folded uselessly on Hermann’s desk. “I could make you so loud,” Hermann says. “We’d get noise complaints. Remember?”

Newton nods, eyes fixed on the knuckles Hermann kissed.

“I knew exactly where to touch you,” Hermann says, dropping his voice, “and how to touch you. I still do, Newton.” Newton dissolves into whimpers when his neck is kissed, a certain spot by his left thigh pressed on with a thumb; when being made love to, he likes his sides stroked, fingers pressed against his tongue; when doing the love making, he likes his hair pulled, nails raked across his back.

“Please,” Newton says, his voice cracking. “Can you–?”

Hermann shoves that ugly maroon jacket to the floor, then winds that ugly tie around his fingers and gives Newton a sharp tug. Newton moans, twice as loud as before. “Yes, darling, of course.”

They kiss, Hermann making quick work of the buttons of Newton’s shirt, Newton seemingly too shy to do anything beyond grip Hermann’s shoulders. A pink blush is spreading from the tips of his cheeks down to his neck. It’s very sweet. “Hermann,” he says.

“Mm?”

Newton wets his lips. “You like when I do this,” he says, and gives Hermann’s ear a little tug.

(They’re so big, Newton would say, it’s adorable, you’re adorable, and Hermann would swat him away, but then Newton would kiss the shell of his ear, bite his earlobe, and Hermann would gasp, and sensitive! Newton would say, adorable, absolutely adorable.)

“They’re sensitive,” Newton says. “You like when I kiss them.” He grins again, though it slips away after a moment. “I think they’ll be looking for me soon.”

“You are so terribly important, after all,” Hermann says. “It’s a very good thing I’ve locked the door. I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you yet.”

This time, Newton laughs, though it’s an uncertain little thing. “Listen,” he says, strangely urgent, and he squeezes Hermann’s arm. “Don’t let me leave, okay?” Then he shakes his head. “Actually, no. Take me home with you. Away from–from work. And Alice. Yeah. Let’s go now.”

This is unexpected, though Hermann cannot deny it’s not exactly what he hoped would happen when his foolproof plan of seduction worked. He’s suddenly very pleased he made a few more stops after picking up his new shirt: first for a very expensive bottle of wine and the makings of a dinner the Newton of ten years ago loved, the next a rather discreet one for the sort of supplies they’d need to, er, take this one step further. “Oh, yes,” Hermann says. “Oh, darling, absolutely. Er–now now?”

“Now,” Newton says. He plants a series of discoordinated, rapid-fire kisses across Hermann’s mouth and chin. “Now,” he repeats. “Keep talking to me.”

“About what?” Hermann says, frowning.

“Anything,” Newton says. “And touch me. Keep touching me. Hermann–when we get there, I have to tell you–”

“Alright, Newton, alright,” Hermann says. He did forget how needy Newton could get. He’s also missed it. He strokes back some of Newton’s neat hair, gropes around for his cane, and eases himself to his feet with a small groan. (He’s not quite as young or agile as he used to be.) Newton immediately springs to his own feet and latches onto Hermann’s arm. He's not merely needy tonight--a bit on edge, too, it seems. “Off we are, then. Be a dear and get my coat for me.”

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 7

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger who does a great job

Tim and Martin sit out the nausea.

Martin talks to himself.

“You sure you don’t want to head home for the day?” Tim asked, picking at the grass beside him. He and Martin sat with their backs pressed against the cliff railing, facing away from the steep drop. The lighthouse loomed in front of them, barely casting a shadow as morning ticked closer to noon.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Martin replied. He rested his arms on his knees, his chin buried into the fabric of his coat sleeves. “I don’t really feel like walking down the hill yet? I’ll at least wait for the others to get back.”

“Well, they should be here soon, unless the place Simon pointed us toward is yet another weird building that makes you feel like you’re falling into a big hole.” Tim squinted up at the sky and immediately seemed to regret it, leaning forward to drop his face between his knees. “Ugh, the Fairchild place was almost as bad as here. I’m surprised we survived the walk back down. If we didn’t have someone leading us out, we’d probably be swallowed up by the carpet! Sorry to say, but I think your whole town is fucked. Or any place owned by the weird old guy club, I guess.”

Martin grimaced. “I don’t get how Jon and Sasha seem so unbothered by it. If it were just me, I’d chalk it up to stress or something, but, well.”

Tim nodded in solemn understanding. “‘But, well’.’” He lifted his head and squinted in the sunlight. “It could be they’re faking it and I’m the only one willing to ‘fess up. If that’s the case, they’ve been really good at pretending their stomachs haven’t been dropping straight into the sea all weekend. But, between you and me, Jon can’t act for shit.”

Martin’s shoulders bobbed with silent laughter. “He seems very easy to read, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’s ever successfully lied in his life, unless you count avoiding a subject altogether.” Tim smiled and leaned back against the railing, brushing a hand over his hair. “Glad you two are getting on, by the way. I’m sure Sasha already talked to you about it, but the turnaround really was impressive. I was concerned he’d just be pissy this whole week over some spilt tea.”

Martin buried the bottom of his face a degree further into his coat. “Please don’t remind me. Anyway, I’m sure having something weird to chase after helped. Means this place wasn’t a total waste of time for you.”

“Hey, it wasn’t gonna be a total waste. I can’t speak for him, but I for one love to make new connections.” He waggled his eyebrow, making Martin snort and turn a brighter shade of red. “Really, though, you’ve been a lot of help. If the walk home is that bad, you should just stay up where the sun actually hits for a while. None of us will mind if you hang around, and I need someone here to prove that my dizzy spells aren’t just me being ridiculous.”

Martin’s mouth sunk into a frown. “No, once they get back I’ll head home. Lunch won’t make itself.”

“What, don’t want to grab something with us nerds?” Tim asked, smiling broadly.

“N-No, I just, y’know, I bought groceries yesterday, and if I eat out too much, I’ll end up wasting some of it, and-” Martin searched for more excuses that wouldn’t bring his mother into the picture and failed.

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, then took out his phone and asked, “What’s your number?”

“What?”

“Your mobile? In case we need to reach you. And so I can send you dumb shit in my down time that I’ve already sent to Sasha.”

For a moment, Martin sat in stunned silence. “Um. Okay?” He said, his voice cracking in the most embarrassing way possible. Then, slowly, he took an old phone out of his coat pocket, technically a smart phone but just barely. They exchanged numbers, and Martin stared at the new contact before slipping the phone back into place.

“There, now you’re stuck with me. I’ll keep you updated if Sasha and Jon do in fact decide to do something stupid that gets us all disappeared. Speaking of,” Tim said, shading his eyes with a hand. “Here they come now, and Jon looks especially irritated.” They both stood up, grasping at the railing and sharing a weary look.

“Come on, guys,” Sasha yelled from the bottom of the steps. “Break time’s over.”

Back inside, the four of them sat around the table. From the looks on their faces, Jon and Sasha had been disappointed by their short venture. “So, how are you two doing?” Sasha asked. “How’s the nausea?

“Oh, just fine. We can almost get up without losing breakfast.” Tim said. “How was the place?”

Jon crossed his arms. “Unsurprisingly, Simon Fairchild sent us to an inaccessible piece of private property owned by the Lukas family. We couldn’t even get anyone to come to the door. For now, it may be a dead end.”

“I could try to get Peter to let us in?” Martin suggested with little enthusiasm.

Sasha looked at his obviously pained expression and shook her head. “No, bad idea. Simon was pretty clear on Peter not knowing we went to his home. I’d guess that extends to any of us going into this other place. If what you said happened back at the house is true, I don’t want that kind of risk. We’ll have to try it later and hope for an answer.”

Martin let out a relieved sigh and stood. “Good, good idea. I’ll be going then. I guess if you need me for… questions? Updates? Tim has my number.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows at Tim in amusement, while Jon rolled his eyes and scowled. With a lopsided smile, Tim shrugged and said, “What? The guy lives at the bottom of the world. We can’t drag him up and down that hill all day.”

Perhaps quicker than necessary, Martin excused himself and walked out of the building. The last bit of conversation he heard was Jon complaining about a lack of workplace professionalism, followed by Tim making a mocking comment that Martin couldn’t quite hear.

Once he had walked a little ways away, he relaxed. They really did balance each other out, the three of them. He could imagine Sasha breaking them apart in a little while, then getting them on task like before.

His hand brushed against the phone in his pocket, and he felt a little pang in his throat. He pushed the sensation down. Chances were, they wouldn’t need to call him, and it would be best to pay as little attention to his phone as he always had.

--

After the usual walk home, Martin approached his mother in front of the television. There was one of her Christian programs playing, the kind with the television preacher. “Hi, Mum.”

“You took much longer than usual,” she said stiffly. He could see her attempting to swallow and went toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, work ran long today. I’ll get lunch going.” He began to look through the fridge, considering his options.

“I’m not hungry. Just want a glass of water,” she said, her voice hoarse. Martin winced.

“One second.” He quickly filled a glass from the tap and brought it to her. “You will need to eat something to get your medication down. I’ll make something for both of us and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

She huffed in response, taking a sip of water and clearing her throat. Once food was ready, she did eat enough for her medication and then some, setting Martin at ease.

“It’s sunny today, if you’d like to sit out front,” he suggested after cleaning up the tray in front of her. She sniffed and otherwise stayed silent. “Okay… let me know if you change your mind. The fog even cleared out a bit-”

“I am not going outside today.”

“Okay.”

Martin left her alone and went back to the kitchen and set some chicken in the fridge to defrost. His future self would thank him later, he thought, and he went upstairs to figure out the rest of his Sunday.

The first order of business was to lay down and sleep for a while. Two busy mornings in a row and he was exhausted, the muscles in his legs finally catching up to all of the extra walking. As he lay down, he thanked his walls, bed, and windows for staying in place and gently drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Martin woke to find the sun had retreated back behind clouds and a familiar layer of fog. He reached for his phone on the bedside table to check the time. 4:30 pm. It was almost time to get dinner started, but before he could move to set the phone down, he saw there was text notification. Without his glasses, he had to squint and hold the phone close to his face. The brightness stung his eyes. The messages were from about fifteen minutes ago.

Tim: hey Tim: what do these weird knobs and buttons do anyway

Attached was a distorted photo, apparently of the upstairs console in the lighthouse.

“Shit,” Martin mumbled, tapping out an answer.

Martin: dont know, peter never told me. work the lighthouse i guess, make sure the big light is running. Martin: also what does all the static mean

Almost immediately, he got a response.

Tim: is that how lighthouses work? Tim: means its weird shit. weird shit hates digital

Martin: its the only lighthouse ive ever worked in, your guess is as good as mine Martin: oh good

No response came for a bit, and Martin took the pause to get out of bed. Halfway down the stairs, his phone buzzed.

Tim: update, stairs still bad Tim: arseholes who don’t get spooky vertigo club

Attached was another photo, still fuzzy, this time of Jon and Sasha walking ahead with Tim’s hand just barely in frame, clutching the rail. Jon was looking at the camera with a stern expression, his mouth open in the middle of saying something. Martin laughed quietly and continued walking.

In the time it took to prepare the chicken for baking, his phone vibrated in his pocket a few times. With his hands coated, there was no way to check until he slid the chicken into the oven twenty minutes later.

Tim: dont think anything stupid will happen tonight Tim: no one’s gotten too desperate yet but tomorrow is a new day Tim: will let you know if we end up getting arrested in the middle of the night for trespassing tho

Martin: haha, very funny

Tim: give it until tuesday

Martin’s eyebrow twitched, unsure of how seriously to respond.

Martin: please dont get me fired?

Tim: no promises! ;)

It felt like a lighthearted enough response to put Martin at ease. Tim liked joking. Martin knew that by now. If Tim was saying it, then it was a joke. Plus, it was clear Sasha and Jon were very by-the-books. If Jon would lecture Tim about texting, he certainly wasn’t the type to do anything illegal.

Still, the number of times Tim had joked about it made Martin irrationally nervous. That and Simon being cryptic and threatening. And the buildings trying to make him sick. And Jon-

Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Martin distracted himself with preparing the rest of their dinner. It wasn’t the time to spiral. He had chicken in the oven and vegetables to steam.

Dinner was made and eaten within the hour, and Martin’s phone stayed silent for the duration. When his mother asked to go outside after dinner, he did his best not to be outwardly irritated at her change of mind and did as she requested, covering his face to protect himself against the night wind.

It wasn’t until later when he had just about settled down for bed that Martin checked his phone, under the pretense that he was setting his alarm for the morning. There were no unread messages, so he set his phone down onto the side table to charge.

The fog rolled outside his window, illuminated by the weak light of the front porch. When sleep eventually took him, he dreamed of nothing.

--

When 6 am came, Martin found himself in an empty lighthouse. Under his arm was the expected box of documents he was to work with for the week, which he set on his desk. He then dragged his chair back over from the folding table, which was still littered with loose papers and three used mugs.

“Right, right. Library day. They could’ve at least remembered to clean up a bit.” Martin brought the dirty dishware to the kitchen and placed them in the sink to soak, then looked around for something clean to use for himself. He managed to find a kitschy one he’d always liked, with a tiny, smiling whale on the side.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

His voice echoed through the building, the final ‘me’ stretching on much too long.

Martin glared out into the main room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alone, laugh it up.”

Again, the last ‘up’ lingered and drifted up the stairs, and he wanted to slap himself for walking right into that one. There was no point in talking back to a possibly haunted building.

He settled on silently making himself some tea, then dove into the week’s work. It was mind-numbing, as expected, but after a while it grew to be calming and familiar. The weird ache in his chest gave way to distraction, and hours ticked by without interruption. Martin began to feel normal, or his version of normal before things started to be poked and prodded. Before he knew it, he had eaten lunch and was on his way to the second half of his shift.

“...up.”

Martin jumped, almost knocking over his tea. That had been his voice. Just a single noise that hung in the air with no echo to be heard. No, he thought, no, no, no, he was not going to take any bait in this place. He righted himself in his chair and reached for the pen he had dropped.

“Me. Up.” Even with his original tone resting in those syllables, the new sense of urgency was unmistakable.

Against every part of his brain screaming at him, he took a step toward the stairs. Before he could go any further the front door swung open.

“Hey, Martin, we’re back,” Sasha said, carrying a file folder. “We- woah, are you okay?”

Martin stopped and stared at her, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. “Um. Define okay.”

The three researchers stopped and shared a concerned look. Sasha walked over to set her things on the table. “Okay, okay, clearly something happened.”

“What’s going on?” Jon asked, looking around warily.

Before Martin could open his mouth, his voice came from above. “Up.”

Everyone froze, holding their breath for a moment. Jon was first to break the silence, his voice filled with disdain. “Good. It can record us now.”

“Up. Now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tim gripped Jon’s shoulder and gestured insistently to the front door. They all vacated the building and stopped on the front steps, finally letting out a collective breath.

“Have you all, um, dealt with ghosts? Directly?” Martin sat on the bottom step, rubbing his hands over each other. “Ones that take the last word you said?”

“We don’t know if it’s a ghost, but no, not personally,” Jon replied, sitting a few steps up and typing on his laptop. “Can’t say I really believe in them, either.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure, definitely not a ghost in there.”

“I’m inclined to suspect something more concrete. Somehow, the lighthouse was trapping the sound of our voices. According to Martin it only used the last words he uttered, and the same happened with me. With only a few things to work with, it wouldn’t be hard to-”

“To accidentally order us up the creepy staircase of the creepy lighthouse.” Tim stood, hands in his pockets.

“If it’s using ‘me’, ‘up’, and ‘now’, what else could it say? Otherwise, there was just ‘back’ and okay’ as far as I can tell.”

They continued to go back and forth, Jon being much more stubborn about the whole thing than Martin would’ve expected from a paranormal researcher. Maybe ghosts were an especially contended subject? It didn’t seem like it from Tim and Sasha’s reactions, but Martin was out of his depth. People turning into seals was a far cry from specters and mind-bending architecture.

Still, it being a ghost sounded right. There were meaning and intent behind the words repeated back to him, he was certain of it. If that was the case, maybe there was someone or something in this place trying to talk to him. That’s what ghosts did, right? Reach out to the living?

“Then we’ll just have Martin stay outside for a bit,” Jon said, closing his laptop decisively.

Martin found himself back in the conversation. “What?”

“We’re going to try the place Simon pointed us toward again. Hopefully, we’ll be let in this time and get some answers. The library didn’t have much in terms of useful information, I’m afraid.”

Sputtering, Martin replied, “So, what, I’m just going to wait out here? I still have work to do!”

Jon stared at him and sighed. “Bring it outside then. It shouldn’t rain today, and we don’t want to risk anything now that we know something is… active. You’re sure nothing like this has ever happened?”

“No, this is... new.”

“Then the safest thing is to avoid whatever is going on. It’s for your own well-being, and since we’re probably the cause of it, I don’t want to be in the business of putting people in danger.” Jon said. Martin was at a loss for arguments and nodded. “Good. If our luck hasn’t changed, we’ll be back soon. Otherwise, I suppose Tim will text you the good news.” There was a slight, acidic turn to Jon’s voice near the end that Martin couldn’t place.

Martin pushed himself onto his feet. “Okay… good luck? I guess? I’ll go get my work, then.”

Apparently satisfied, Jon placed his laptop into its case and motioned for the other two to follow him. As they left, Tim shot Martin a worried thumbs up.

When Martin walked back inside, he stopped halfway to the desk, eyes glued to the staircase. He had told Jon he would get his things and go outside.

“Hello?” Martin waited and got no response. “If you’re a ghost, now’s the time to say so.” Still nothing. He let out a noise of frustration. “Say something? Please?”

“Hello? Up. Please?”

Taking a glance back at his desk, Martin bit his tongue and internally berated himself. No use giving the place a name to call him. He really was an idiot, he thought, creeping up the staircase as if the ghost might hear his footfalls. Why had he taught it to be polite?

[i-beg-your-parsons]

[Shreya] wasn’t in last week’s chapter, so have a fic (#1)

Relationship: Shreya Mistry/F!MC (Celestine Leblanc)

Count: 1775 words

So I’ve decided that I’m going to make this a series where I update this whenever a character (in this case, Shreya) is swept under the rug (so am I updating this every week, multiple times then? Who knows! 🙃). It’ll be good practice for me to get back into writing. But maybe not every week exactly, I’m starting my undergraduate thesis lol.

Apologies if they’re OOC, especially Aster? (She’s good friends with Shreya in this fic!!) I haven’t tried writing them much and it’s been a while since I did a fic lmao. Hope you peeps like!! Let me know if you want to be tagged for subsequent ones.

This uses the following prompts:

“My cat is more sassy than you’ll ever be.”

“Watch out! I can’t slow down! Move! Move! Move!”

“Am I good at skateboarding? Pfffft! Of course I am!”

Tags: @jellymonster, @deeohno, @coolios-beanios, @h-doodles

__

“Watch out! I can’t slow down!” 

Shreya is startled by a panicked voice, almost dropping her hand mirror on the sidewalk. She whirls toward the direction of the sound. What the - 

“Lady, please move, move, move!!” A blur of blue, red, and brown was hurtling towards her before her brain could really process anything. They make a sharp turn, just barely brushing her skirt, so thankfully she avoided being pummelled into the wall. Her three-inch heels, however, threw her off balance, making her stumble into a large potted shrub situated outside the facade of Maison D’Yew. 

Wonderful. How fucking elegant.

“Oh my stars, are you hurt?” A feminine voice calls out to her, presumably partially responsible for what had just transpired. Shreya inwardly huffs to rein in her annoyance. It would be extremely unsightly for a Mistry to throw a tantrum. At times like these, she was thankful for those dry etiquette lessons her parents made her take when she was seven. 

“I-It’s quite alright! I didn’t get hurt; just much too close and personal with this plant,” Shreya assures worried girl in her haughty ‘humble’ voice. 

(Well, something had to channel her anger. The thick branch digging into her back was not helping keep her head cool.)

She could feel the girl’s slender hands firmly grip her arms and try to pull her up. It was gentle and slow, but jagged twigs were poking her everywhere, “Ow, ow, ow!”

The sounds of her distress halt the girl from pulling her, but she still kept her grip. Her voice sounded more apologetic, if it was even possible, “I am so, so sorry! I told Zeph it was stupid to try riding the broom like a skateboard, but he didn’t really care because he said it would look cool.”

Everything was so fast and panicked and ridiculous that Shreya couldn’t help the wild giggles that bubbled up her throat as she nodded, “I can definitely vouch for the fact that it was stupid.”

Shreya could hear the girl grin, “Nice to know someone sides with me.”

A comfortable lull settles over them before the girl clears her throat. “Maybe I could try magicking you out?”

She seemed capable enough, so Shreya finds that she doesn’t mind. 

“OK, go for it.”

Flashes of green and brown lights from the Wood magick circle peek through the gaps between the leaves obscuring Shreya’s vision. Slowly, the twigs and leaves retract, revealing the face of her saviour as she leaned closer to pull her up by the shoulders.

And fuck: She was exactly Shreya’s type.

The blonde had her eyebrows furrowed in panicked worry as she gently picked off leaves that had gotten into Shreya’s hair and clothes. “Again, I am so sorry. I’ll be sure to give Zeph hell for dragging you into this.”

Shreya could feel the warmth creeping up into her cheeks and the tips of her ears. Her touch was so soothing. “It’s no problem. Is he going to be okay?”

The girl’s face scrunches up at the concern for Zeph. “Yes, probably… I think.” She opens one pale blue eye to find that Shreya was still looking at her, waiting for… what exactly? 

A furious blush colours the girl’s pale cheeks.

“I… should probably go make sure he’s okay. Have a good day, miss!” The blonde turns at the direction Zeph went off and starts at a sprint. It was only then that Shreya sprung into action, hurriedly calling out to the blonde before she left, “M-my name’s Shreya! What’s your name?!”

The blonde doesn’t look back at her, but she yells, “Celestine! See you around!”

—

“So that’s why Aoi was so grumpy when we stepped out,” Aster chuckles as she sipped her sencha tea. They’d been friends for a while, as Shreya was a regular at Maison D’Yew, despite having people who could easily run the errands for her at Mistry manor. Whether it was just a Shreya thing, or an excuse to visit Aster, the wood nymph didn’t mind. 

It was always nice to see one of her only friends.

“For what it’s worth, I apologised to Aoi the shrub before I went inside the shop,” Shreya offers. “And besides, it wasn’t all that terrible.” Her face warms at the memory of the girl — Celestine, she reminds herself — and the concern she showed for her. Shreya absently stares at the steam coming off her drink, remembering the blonde’s delicate blue eyes which were, fittingly enough, the colour of a strontium sulphate mineral, celestine. 

Her parents must be familiar with Attuneless science. I should ask her next time.

Silence descends over the two girls as Shreya spaced out and Aster observed her. She blows at her tea again, before taking a sip. “So when are you going to see her again?”

Shreya almost spills her hot drink and shoots Aster an incredulous look. The green-skinned girl pauses with a blank look of her own and blinks, before giggling as she realises her friend’s thought process.

“For the last time, I can’t read your mind unless you’re a plant. I just know what you look like when you’re excited about something.”

Shreya grips her mug a little tighter, in an attempt to fight down her worsening blush. Aster continues to observe her reactions over her cup of tea. “Or someone, in this case.”

“… She was really cute, okay?”

Aster can’t fight off the grin on her face. Checkmate.

She reaches out a woody hand to pry off Shreya’s own from her grip on the hot cocoa and pats her friend’s manicured nails. They were painted a deep crimson today. “You should ask her out.”

Shreya sighs, “But what if she’s not into girls? I don’t want her to be uncomfortable.”

Aster tilts her head slightly and blinks. It wasn’t like the heiress to resign herself to the possibility that the girl she was interested in identified as heterosexual. “But what if she is? And more importantly,” Aster leans into her friend’s personal space to whisper in her ear. 

“What if she’s into you?”

Shreya jerks back from her friend, clamping a hand over her ear. She shivers like she was just put under a shower of ice cold water. She narrows her eyes are the wood nymph as she tries to calm her breathing. “Why are you being so cheeky today, Ass?”

Aster simply shrugs with a pleasant smile. “One of us has to bring the cheek to move the conversation along. It’s obviously not going to be you, what with this smitten state you’re in.”

Shreya rolls her eyes, “Spare me; my cat’s sassier than you.”

Aster blinks, “You don’t have a cat.”

Shreya throws up her hands in exasperation, “That’s the point!”

The two continue to lock gazes in a contest of wills: Shreya with a piercing glare, and Aster with an amused sparkle. The competition was intense, as if the winner would have their argument proven right.

“Zeph, slow down! You might bump into someone again!”

Shreya’s attention immediately strays to the voice. Could it be…?

“No can do, Leblanc! Those croissants might get sold out!” A voice, presumably Zeph, answers as the front door of the café is slammed open by said male. “Hannah, my bro! Two croissants on the double!”

The short-haired blonde at the register rolls her eyes before shaking her head. “Alright, Denim. But sit your ass down, okay?”

Zeph flamboyantly stands at attention, before giving a dramatic salute. “Roger that, Pixie cut!”

“You’re being way too dramatic,” Celestine steps into the shop, putting her hair up in a ponytail, presumably to cool herself off from running after Zeph. Her hair tie is held between her lips, giving Shreya the perfect excuse to look at them.

Celestine seems to notice the stares directed at her, as her gaze connects with Shreya’s. Her eyes light up in recognition, and her hand immediately comes up to wave at the Fire-Att. 

“Why hello, Shreya! Fancy seeing you again,” Celestine walks over to their table, then rocks back and forth on her heels as she stands.

Shreya brings up a had to wave back, feeling the clamminess that had suddenly developed. “Hi, Celestine. I’m usually here every Saturday with my friend Aster here.” She gestures to Aster, who was absolutely buzzing with excitement. The flowers in her hair were blooming.

“As she said, my name is Aster and it’s so wonderful to meet you, Celestine. Shreya was just telling me about the incident this morning with my Hydrangea macrophylla, Aoi.” The wood nymph managed to get up from her seat and move towards Celestine within that sentence to grasp and shake the girl’s pale hand with her pliant fingers. “He’s thankful for your wood magick because it fixed the branches Shreya broke when she fell into him.”

Celestine draws a blank look, before looking over to Shreya for help. The heiress simply nods, but what does that even mean? She decides that it’s better to play along. “Well, he’s very welcome. I didn’t get the chance to tell him that his flowers were a very beautiful shade of blue.”

“Honestly, Aster, how many times do I have to apologise?” Shreya complains from her seat on the table.

Aster grins at Celestine’s response while pointedly ignoring Shreya, “I’ll be sure he gets the message.” She stares meaningfully into the confused blonde’s eyes, bringing up a hand to hover over the other girl’s cheek. Celestine can feel the coolness of her skin, a plant-like material that felt much like the stem of a flower. Her eyes suddenly darken into a tar-black, seeping into the veins of her translucent skin, “It’s not often that you find humans — Attuned, especially — who care as much for plants.”

Sensing the newcomer’s shock and exponentially growing discomfort, Shreya interrupts. “Hey, uhm, Celestine, would you guys like to sit with us?”

And just as suddenly, Aster is back from her Branching, “That’s a wonderful idea!” She moves to pull out the chair next to Shreya (and if it ends up skewed a little too close to her friend’s seat, well, Aster doesn’t know anything about that).

“I’ll go ahead and assist your friend there are the counter. It seems like he’s having a bit of trouble,” Aster points to where Zeph is gesturing wildly in a conversation with Hannah (aka Pixie cut), who was managing the counter. “Don’t eat her up while I’m gone,” she grins at Shreya, who blushed at the insinuation, but kept her cool this time. 

She fires back with a grin of her own.

“I make no promises.”

–��

[kissmymongoose]

Life update: half bro is out and about but at least taking his meds some days. He hasnt bothered me too badly ever since he came over here and tried to steal my 7 year olds bike 😒. I literally jumped on him and knocked him off before he got out of the yard. It made me mad, cause the only reason he did it was to start some shit. Like, you have a no trespassing order, go the fuck on 😑 anywho. Off that topic now.

In other news, my snow peas are doing pretty good even with the wild bunnies chomping on them.

I got my copy of Practical Magic this week, and hubbs is holding on to the prequel of it along with a copy of The Hobbit for me. Im already getting christmas presents 😂 but for real though, i want him to hold on to then for me till christmas. The past few years we havent been able to get each other anything we really wanted to. And no, Christmas isnt about gifts, but when your special someone has a chance and goes out of their way to order the things youve mentioned (and havent asked for) its a really nice feeling. I feel heard and valued. I mentioned the books and i mentioned a nail polish set i really really liked- im not one for beauty products normally- and without a second though he ordered it. I basically just talked avout the items saying i would like to wait till my birthday and maybe get one of the books and eff the nail polish cause even though i love it i would feel bad for spending the money on a product i dont use every day. Wellll, he ordered the nail polish (it is the loud laquer Bailey Sarian Aqua Tofana set) and started his search for the books. He actually felt bad that he couldn't get them all in hardback, which doesnt even bother me 😂

Well of course im like save it for christmas! But, he convinced me to pick a book and take the polish now. 😁😁 lets just say ive already done my nails twice and my toes are done 😂

I have psoriasis on my some of my nail beds, so thats while you'll see pitting on the pointer finger nail, but honestly it covers so well! There are a few polishes ive uses before that seem to make the imperfections more obvious, but these polishes, even the glitter polish have amazing color with only one or two coats.

As for my book, im waiting patiently to start reading. I get very angry if im interrupted while im reading, and seeing as I have two kids under 10, i am gonna have to find the perfect time to start reading. Probably after they go to bed 😂

Weve gotten the kitchen moved around some and today I get to go get our new washing machine. Ours was nice enough to flood the kitchen a few times before i finally got pissed. I tried to repair it at home, i really did. But for this type of washer, you really need to remove it from your house first. There is no easy way to drain it. No filter catch or anything. Just two pipes connected to the pump, and located literally beneath the drum 😬 if you dont know, then that means the only way youre gonna drain the bitch is if you have a large wetvac to handle the mess. Oh excuse me, the only way without making a huge mess. Just ask my kitchen floor 🙁 buuut, we are gonna go get a brand spanking new one, because we learned a valuable lesson a few years ago with buying used machinery. Ill just go ahead and make it a long story short--- we got fucking roaches a while back from a used washing machine. It took us almost a year and several visits from pest control to solve the problem. To this day I dont trust leaving my drink out. Ill waste it instead of drinking it if i set it down for more than say 2 minutes. It was literally a fucking nightmare and i felt like my house wasnt my own. It took months to try to get rid of the filth and destruction they caused. So yeah, NOT doing that shit again. The cost for a new one is worth not having to risk a pest outbreak again. It seriously cost a lot more to deal with the bugs than to avoid the bugs altogether. Anyway. Not trying to get tied up on that lol, just want to stress it because I never would have imagined the horrors I would have to deal with just for getting a used machine. if this helpes someone else not make that mistake then great. And heres the thing, no one is gonna tell you if its got bugs, and sometimes theyre kept in storage and the owners dont know they have bugs. But its still a nasty shock to the people who get the machine and bring it into their house.

Onto some other shit: the kids are used to their bunk bed now, and it has opened up a lot of space for us in that bedroom. Im extremely happy with how it all turned out, because i was afraid they would be climbing all over it or jumping around and being rough, but they know its their bed and that we have to respect it and take care of it. I went through the kids clothes last week and got rid of stuff that doesnt fit, and organized everything. I have a lot more i want done by Christmas, but this is definitely a good start.

[leonmckennedy]

i didnt have a particular direction for this but i think i got some good stuff here? i love these ladies and ive been meaning to do something for a while so here's some random cindy/holly fluff! (and also a boost out of my writing rut maybe?)

cindy plans a weekend stay in lestallum. cid has finally forced her to take a weekend off, because while he's proud of her for being so devoted to the job he wants her to enjoy life while she's still young! says "i been doin' this since you was in diapers, kid, i can handle a few days on my own" when she tried convince him that she needed to stay at the garage, it was important!

she showers, first thing. holly has this really nice shampoo, one that smells like coconuts. cindy uses it, of course, singing along to the music streaming from her phone as she scrubs it in. she does a little dance after she's all dried up, keeps the tunes playing as she dresses; shorts, because the lestallum heat ain't something to play around with. a tank top, borrowed from holly. her cap, tossed lazily onto her mostly dry hair. its curling already, and she knows it'll start frizzing up the moment she steps out, but she doesn't worry about it too much.

marketplace stalls open early, and by 10am the sweet smells of fresh food are already trailing throughout the city. cindy follows a few scent trails, letting her nose lead her to breakfast. she picks up a few extra treats. she peruses the shops for a while. she picks up a few tools and parts because damn she'd been looking for that particular part for weeks, and she could always use extras. she starts up a few conversations with another customer, which goes well until the part where he asks for her number and she excuses herself swiftly with a "sorry, i don't have a phone!" as she checks the time on her phone.

eventually the road takes her to the gates of the power plant. she doesn't have to say anything to the woman standing guard at the gates; she nods and gives a little half smirk, says "i'll call her" while she pulls out her walkie.

about ten minutes later there's a little blimp in the distance, marching her way. cindy waves the arm not weighed down by bags and the blimp waves back. it comes closer and closer until that blimp becomes a person, approaching at a slight jog. the person becomes holly, all smiles despite the huff in her breathing, her bangs bouncing around her face as she slowly comes to a stop in front of the gates. when they creak open cindy places her bags down, only just soon enough to avoid dropping when she's smothered into strong arms.

"baby!" holly laughs before lifting cindy, doing a short little spin. when she puts her back down they're both laughing. "it's so good to see you!"

"i saw ya last night, didn't i?" cindy asks, pinching holly's cheek. "don't manhandle me! i swear, ya ain't got proper manners."

cindy said it with not heat whatsover, and holly laughs all breathless in response. they part after a few seconds and cindy takes a moment to admire her. holly's upper body is out of her jumpsuit, the empty sleeves dangling at her sides. she wears a tank underneath and under the midday sun her girlfriend's arms look extra specially toned. holly smiles at her and pushes her bangs out of her face, and cindy can't help herself from leaning forward and peeking her on the lips.

"well," holly says, placing a hand on cindy's waist. "what's the occasion?"

gesturing to her bags sitting a few feet away, cindy simply says "lunch time" and holly brightens immediately.

eventually they're shooed away, not unlovingly, by the guard with an amused "no loitering, sorry boss," so they instead pick up the bags and migrate to a bench. they find one, miraculously shaded from the hot sun, in a little corner. the lunch she'd gotten for cindy has gone lukewarm, thanks to a few shopping detours, but holly doesn't seem to mind as she devours it. the woman mentions, mouth full, how hungry she is due to skipping breakfast and cindy knocks her (somewhat gently) on the back of the head.

"stop skippin'!"

holly talks around a big bite, covering her mouth. "i didn't wanna be late."

"well wake me up next time! i can whip somethin' up quick."

she hopes the look she's giving her partner is intense enough-- judging by the way holly nods a bit bashful like and turns away, she figures her job has been done. nevermind how often cindy has skipped meals herself, so engrossed in her work that the time of day just eludes her until it's late and her stomach is protesting. she wouldn't let holly do the same, no way. just like she would do for her.

once the food is gone holly leans back, shoulder to shoulder with cindy, content to listen to her rattle off things about the new parts she bought. they pass time in this way until holly looks at her phone and frowns, pulling away from their comfortable position to say that, unfortunately, time was up.

"thanks again, cindy. you really didn't have to."

"way i see it, i probably did." cindy leans in and holly grabs at her, kissing her quickly but intensely, so much so that when she pulls back cindy follows, kissing her again until her girlfriend pulls back with finality.

holly straightens her jumpsuit. "see you later?"

"duh," cindy smiles and walks her back to the gate, waving as she marches back inside. slowly, until she becomes a blimp in the distance. cindy sighs, gripping her bags tighter.

she travels back through the marketplace, somehow manages to abstain from spending more. she gets back to holly's place, opens the door with her spare key and stares into the empty apartment with a distant loneliness.

cindy kicks off her shoes and turns on the tv and checks her messages. she eats a snack and she strips down to her underwear and she lies around in bed, watching videos until she drifts off.

she doesn't stir when holly comes home later that evening. instead, at the dip in the mattress beside her she rolls over, right into her arms.

[neocassity]

Gone | Johnny

 A/N: Long story short, I lost what I was supposed to post. So I sat down and wrote this in 30 minutes. I haven’t proofread it yet, which I will do later. I’ve to wake up in less than 5 hours, though that’s not an excuse. Let me know how you feel about it. It’s probably my worst, but has to suffice till I can comeback with part 4 to ‘Uncalled’.

Genre: Angst, Slight Smut. Word Count: 1,769

The rain sang the melody you were eager to avoid. As you kept your hand on your chest, where your heartbeats could be felt, rampant and intrusive to the peace you were seeking, you wished it could just stop. The way your husband’s heart stopped on him.

  It was a very average day. You had woken up to the constant beeps of the alarm set on your phone. You shook your husband awake and walked to freshen up. By the time you had gotten back, he was smiling at you as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hands hanging in between his legs as his eyes struggled to widen and take in more of your messy hair, recently washed face, your hands on your hips as you smiled at him genuinely.

  You walked over to him and patted his cheek twice, soft and damp from the tap water. You placed your hand on the back of his head and bent down to place a chaste kiss on his plump lips. He smiled as your lips touched, and your fingers gently pulled on his black tresses.

  You both had breakfast and left for your individual jobs, both demanding attention and devotion. Thus, you always made sure to never let your mind wander. However, the thought of the three-day-long trip to a nearby beach to celebrate your first-year-anniversary with him in less than a week had you on your toes. Your mind was dishevelled, your nerves were less than functional as you awaited the days where you could just hold his hands and kiss his lips and not think about the world.

  That’s when you received a call. You smiled as his name appeared on the screen, hoping to find enough words to tease him with for being so unbearably impatient.

  “We’re going to meet in a hour, can you not disturb me?” you laughed as you teased before realising the sirens from the other side.

  “Ma’am, your husband got into a hospital. We are sending you the address, you need to hurry up. Is the name Johnny Suh?”

  You could only try to picture the state he was pushed into. What had exactly happened? How did he get into an accident? Was it even his fault?

  “Yes…” you whispered, “Thank you.” You hung up and hurried to your boss to let him know of the situation. You somehow croaked out the words. His eyes were sympathetic and considerate, but they were not Johnny’s. You were already feeling a void settling in your heart, you were already feeling empty, repulsive toward everything surrounding you. As if a part of you that had grown to accept and reasonably love had died within you with an accident that was far from having even affected you physically.

  Your hands trembled as you stretched it to press the button to the garage of the elevator. Your best friend, Yuta, insisted that he could drive you to the hospital, and you knew it was better to let him do so since you couldn’t calm your jittering form down.

  Yuta only stared at you from the corner of his eyes, his hand taking yours as the elevator door opened to the quiet and dim-lit garage. He assured you that it will be okay, that Johnny will live. You wanted to believe so, but something inside you had already given up. Hope had already given up. It had died inside you and flown to someplace to die in some other person. You felt empty and your emptiness had you breathless without even acknowledging your effort to hold on to the last ray of hope. You wanted to shout and cry already. But you were too scared, scared that the moment a sigh left your lips as an expression of dejection, your husband would lose every opportunity of winning against death.

  The moment you and Yuta ran into the room they had kept Johnny, you heard,

  “Time of death, 6:03 PM.”

   He just wanted to surprise you at work...

  You remember falling to your knees as Yuta struggled to stabilise you. You hugged his legs as dearth wrapped around your form. You felt your body relaxing to bits and pieces, somehow letting go of strength and surrendering to gravity. Yuta sat down beside you and took you in his arms as you started to cry. His hand rubbed soothing circles across the small of your back, just the way you liked it, but it didn’t feel the same. It was not Johnny, he was dead.

  And then, you were sat by the window as rain showered upon your face and blended with your tears. You didn’t know how to differentiate between raindrops and teardrops; the same way the fine line between smiles and frowns, angers and conciliates, love and hate, and life and death.

  Because despite your heart beating erratically in your chest, despite your pulse paining your wrists, despite the laboured breathing; you felt utterly lifeless. Mortality is something bound to happen to every living creature, and you felt like you had already passed that point where liveliness equates to life and love equates to having the person you love beside you so that it doesn’t get colder than it already is for the rain.

  But it was colder, so cold that you shivered even beneath the thick comforter.

  Your mind fleeted back and forth. One moment you thought about the first time you met. It was one of those days nature suddenly changed its plans and decided to let snow cover the grounds. You walked swiftly across the whitened road, letting an umbrella cover your form as it threatened to fly off your grip. The appearance of a well-lit café made a smile grace across your lips, relief washing over you as you stood for a second reveling in the fact that soon enough you’ll be enveloped in the warmth of bustling crowd, struggling to do the same.

  Suddenly a larger body collided with yours from the back, and you lost your grasp on the umbrella. As it flew away across the street, getting lost amidst people, you turned around with the single urge to complain. But when you did, an umbrella covered you once again, and your eyes made contact with a black coat. You looked up at a man, probably a year or two older. He breathed heavily as his brows furrowed softly. Looking down at you he gulped as your face softened from incredibly mad to incredibly soft, and he apologised.

  Then your mind drifted to his body, lost among IV drops and stitches and bandages trying to hold his life and soul inside his body. Life is stealthy, it somehow still managed to escape.

  Then you thought of the day you two first kissed. It was an innocent date in the bookstore, his promise to accompany you to your book haul kept intact. You grabbed a copy of one of your most favourite books and handed it over to him.

  “It’s a part of my soul, I want you to read it!” you said to him through a shy smile, your tackiness overwhelming.

  He smiled and kissed you, without any obstruction from your part. He thanked you against your lips, before taking your hand in his and making a run to reserve a table in your favourite restaurant. Your laughed and breathed through your nose as his hold on your wrist tightened comfortably, him looking back every once in a while at you and beaming.

  Then your mind came back to recount the seconds that you had spent in the elevator with Yuta. The seconds you realised hope within you had died, and was sucking the soul out of your husband then.

  The first time you made love was still vibrant, striking, breathtaking. His hands ran down your sides, the one on your right travelling across the expanse of your belly your belly to cup your heat as his right smoothed over your hair. Your eyes were half-lidded as his thumb tentatively pressed against your clit, sucking in a deep breath. He leant down and kissed you promptly, to distract you as his fingers invaded and slithered in and out smoothly.

  “I love you,” he had whispered, for the first time ever, before letting his length replace his fingers. Your back arched into his chest, your eyes rolling as your head fell back. He kissed your neck, and started moving. You could still remember the pace and firmness his length had against your walls from that time. Unnaturally exquisite.

  Your mind fleeted back to when you held the hand you wanted to grow old holding for the last time, before letting go forever. Yuta stood beside you, his black shirt stained with your tears as he struggled to keep himself together.

  When he asked you to marry him, it was after one of those dates spontaneously decided. He got your burgers, fries, shakes. And since he knew your period made you crave more, he got you a cheesecake. Mostly, he let you split the bills. But that day, he didn’t even let you carry your wallet.

  After you were done eating, he took your hands in his and looked into your eyes.

  “Marry me,” he begged.

  You started crying, it was an instant yes. He slipped the ring in your finger, and you hit him when you realised he took advantage of Mother Nature’s call and your love for food.

  And in less than a month, you both got married.

  And then, as you sat by the window and the lightning struck, you were widowed in less than a year. You wanted him to touch you, kiss you, crawl up to the end of the bed as you sat reading your books and acted totally indifferent to his advances. You wanted to hold his hand and walk around the neighbourhood after dinner, talking about how your day went. You wanted to rush back home and kiss him to the bed where all your fantasies would just rejuvenate and come true. You wanted him to fill you up and he nuzzled in the crook of your neck, playing a kiss before his lips trailed down to kiss the top of your breasts.

  Hell, you just wanted him to lay down beside you and lazily drape his arms around your waist. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair. You wanted him to kiss your nose. You just wanted him.

  But, he was gone to never come back. And you were left alone to rot in the void enveloping your life.

[totallyrhettro]

The Lone Jedi, Chapter 8

Word Count: 2360 Rating: This chapter: G. Overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*

Rhett POV

While Link was out by the river shaving, Rhett was in his bedroom with a small box of his own. When he had purchased the shaving kit for his friend, the jedi had made a similar purchase for himself. Now as he knelt beside his bed, he looked down at the box in his hands.

Ever since he was a child Rhett had been taught to keep his appearance neat and tidy, not for vanity's sake but purely for hygienic reasons. While he brushed his hair and beard, and washed his face (along with all other parts of his body) every day, he had not gotten a proper haircut since going into hiding. He usually just cut the ends of the hair with scissors when they got too long.

Now as he looked down at the small box in front of him, he told himself he wanted to do this because his hair had grown unruly and needed a trim. He ran his fingers over his bushy beard pensively, wondering how short he wanted to cut it. It had been years since he was clean shaven; he didn't much care for that look on himself.

‘I am more than due for a trim, though,’ he told himself. It had nothing to do with having a rather handsome guest now staying with him. Nothing at all.

It had been a long time since he trimmed his beard and hair, but he was confident his new tools would help him. Inside the box, along with a new set of hair scissors, was a beard trimmer and his own straight razor. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one he had just given Link, but it would do. He only needed it for his neckline.

By the time he had finished, there was a good sized pile of hair gathered around him. He looked himself over in the small mirror on his nightstand. He smiled, pleased with his good work.

‘Not bad,’ he noted, running his fingers through his dramatically shorter beard. The jedi looked several pounds thinner and maybe a decade younger. It was amazing what a decent hair cut could do. He couldn't wait to show Link.

Still grinning, he placed his new grooming tools back into their box and bent down to place the box into the satchel he kept by his bed. As he did, he noticed his lightsaber, which he kept inside the bag, wasn't lying in the exact same way as he had left it. It was a small adjustment, but it unsettled him. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone had moved it. Someone had touched it.

Rhett didn't want to jump to conclusions; he could ask Link about it later if he had been rooting around in the bag. It was possible the jedi was just seeing things. Besides, he couldn't blame his guest for wanting to find out more about the mysterious host. It wasn't as if Rhett had been entirely truthful with him, and he probably sensed it.

There was also the fact that, despite his obviously keen mind, there was no way Link actually knew what the saber was. The man’s intelligence could not negate his ignorance and Rhett was positive his secret was still safely hidden.

Somewhat satisfied with his conclusion, Rhett put away the shaving kit inside his satchel and drew the drawstring tight, laying the leftover string in a deliberate fashion. If Link went back to examine the saber, this time the jedi would know for certain. After making sure everything was in its place, and picking up the hair to be thrown away, Rhett headed back out towards the garden to find his companion.

Throwing the hair into a small trash bin just outside the garden, he walked on passed by the fountain. There he saw Link returning from the river. Rhett stopped short as the brunet and he locked eyes. Link grinned when he saw his new friend and walked a bit faster to catch up with him.

“I see I'm not the only one who had too big of a beard.” He pointed at Rhett’s newly trimmed facial hair. “Didn't want to shave it all off?”

“I don't look good without a beard, but I thought a quick trim couldn't hurt.” Rhett stroked his beard, thoughtfully. Link rubbed off his own face, seemingly pleased with the smooth sensation.

“I didn't like having any kind of beard.” He looked guilty for a moment and quickly added “but yours is nice. You look... good.”

“Thanks. You, uh, you look good, too.” Without thinking, Rhett lifted his hand to run his fingers over Link’s newly shaven face, but pulled away before he got very far. Link’s grin grew brighter at  Rhett’s words. Finding himself staring a bit too long, the jedi cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away to stare off into the garden.

“You did good while I was gone,” he noted. “The garden looks great.”

“I'm sorry I didn't get further, but-”

“No need to apologize. I'm amazed at how far you got, considering. I think you are healing quite nicely. Should have you out of those bandages in no time.”

“That will be nice.” Link passed his good palm over his chest. “Then I'll really be able to help around the place.

“You know, you really don't have to lift a finger here. I'm used to doing everything myself anyway…”

“I'd just go crazy, with nothing to do. Besides.” He wrapped his fingers around Rhett’s arm, turning him back to face him. “I still owe you my life.” The jedi felt his pulse quicken from the man’s touch. He knew he would have to get over this… whatever this was, and fast, if Link was going to be staying here indefinitely. Otherwise, life was going to be very difficult.

~

Despite the jedi’s reservations, he and Link quickly fell into a comfortable daily routine. After waking early, Rhett would go down to the river and bathe. Every few days he’d trim his beard to keep it neat. Afterwards, when Link woke up, Rhett would change his bandages. Link’s feet were all but completely healed after the first week, and his hand quickly followed. His back, bearing the brunt of his injuries, took the longest, requiring new bandages every morning for nearly three weeks. It was both a happy and sad day when he no longer needed them.

After Link bathed in the river, and shaved his face, he met Rhett for breakfast in the dining room. They would talk over a warm meal, usually about the chores for the day. Rhett repeatedly told his companion that he needn't worry himself about working, but Link wanted to help, to feel useful. He never spoke about finding Rhett’s lightsaber and the jedi never brought it up. They both seemed happy to just pretend it never happened.

During the day they would tend to the grounds, working on the garden, clearing rubble that had gathered in various parts of the continually decaying ruins. Rhett made sure they avoided the lower levels, putting off explaining them day after day. His personal work of copying down the old archives fell behind; he couldn't risk slipping away without Link noticing or getting suspicious. Of course telling him was an inevitable conversation, but every time he planned on having it, he found some reason not to, some excuse, something more important to do.

At night they slept soundly in their respective beds, Link always falling asleep long before his friend. Sometimes Rhett would watch him sleep, his tender face seeming so at ease despite such a rough past. He wondered what their future held, if they had any. He debated telling him everything, if only because he didn't like keeping secrets from him, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk it. There was no reason to, anyway. What difference would it make if his new friend knew of his true identity? No. He was better off ignorant.

~

One day, after Link had been living in the academy for over a month, Rhett found him in the makeshift stable. He was feeding the kybuck by hand, talking in a quiet, soothing voice and giggling occasionally. Leaning against one of the many pillars, the jedi just stood there, regarding his two companions in amused silence. After a minute or two, Link turned just so, and jumped when he realized he was not alone.

“You scared me!” he exclaimed, trying to hide the smile on his face. Rhett held in a chuckle, keeping a mostly straight face as he walked over to pet the large animal himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” he assured Link, petting along the kybuck’s long neck, not looking at him. “The kybuck likes you.”

“And I like him,” Link confessed, accepting the change in subject. He held up a fresh handful of berries he had picked himself. “I really think we should give him a name.”

“As long as he doesn’t mind.” Turning his head to finally look Link in the eye, Rhett felt his heart flutter. It was such a common occurrence now that he was almost used to it. More than that, he welcomed it every time, relishing the swell in his chest and the warm feeling that surged through his body. Part of him knew he shouldn’t let himself get carried away, let his emotions have full reign, but he didn’t care. For the first time in years, he was finally content. “What about Herb?”

“Herb,” Link repeated, testing the name on his tongue. “What do you think?” This last question directed towards the kybuck. As if answering, the beast snorted softly against Link’s open hand. “I guess Herb it is.” Rhett chuckled and patted the newly christened ‘Herb’ softly on his back.

“Well, I’m glad you both approve.” Herb’s tail swatted the air nonchalantly as his long snout tried to find more of the delicious food Link had been feeding him. Link gave him one last handful before brushing off the excess twigs from his hands.

“It’s a fine name,” he noted. “Maybe you can teach me to ride him sometime.” Rhett cleared his throat, nervously.

“Uh, yeah. That’s an idea.” He tried to sound optimistic, but Link saw right through him.

“If you don’t think I can do it, just say so.”

“No,” Rhett was quick to revise. “It’s just that kybucks… They’re not an easy animal to master. It took years for Herb to even let me pet him.” He gave the beast a few languid strokes to demonstrate. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again,” he continued, his voice much softer now. “Kybucks are powerful creatures…” Before he knew it, his hand had stopped moving, just resting now on the animal’s back. Link placed his own hand on top of Rhett’s, trying to sooth, but it just made the jedi’s heart race faster.

“It’s alright,” Link began. “I know you’re just worried about me. If you don’t want me to ride him, I won’t.” Rhett met his eyes and almost instantly he could feel himself being drawn into them again, but he had quickly learned how to avoid that trap. Looking away, he stepped back and took a breath.

“I think you’re on the right track though,” he smiled, trying to lighten the conversation. “Those berries are his favorite.” Getting a lopsided grin on his face, Link licked his palm.

“Mine, too!”

~

While Rhett was used to a mundane routine, Link eventually started to get restless. He didn't say anything, but he would often fidget in his seat while the two of them ate, and there were many times when Rhett caught him staring off into the clouds, lost in thought.

At first, when confronted, the man would insist it was nothing, but Rhett was persistent. He didn't like the idea of his guest being unhappy. Eventually Link admitted to feeling a bit antsy.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful,” he assured. “I just feel a little cooped up.”

“You're more free here then you've ever been,” Rhett told him. “Now that your injuries have healed, you can go wander the hillside to your heart's content.”

“I would like to venture out into the wilderness, see the sights. I just…” He looked over the distant canopy of the forest beyond the mountain, his lower lip tucked into his mouth. Rhett smiled, sympathetically. Link had probably never been allowed to go on regular nature walks when he was a slave. Besides, the one time he went out in the woods by himself, he had been attacked by not one but two vicious animals. He was understandably afraid of what lay beyond the safety of the academy's walls.

“We can go together,” the jedi suggested. “I promise as long as you stick close to me, I'll keep you safe.” Link looked up at him, his blue eyes warming Rhett's soul with their beauty and gratitude. “I won't let anything happen to you.” For a moment he was lost in those eyes, then he got a sudden idea. “Why don't you come with me into town. I need to replenish some supplies; were running low on cooking fuel and some other things…”

“What if someone sees me? What if -”

“You aren't dressed as a slave anymore. No one will recognize you even if anyone is looking for you, which I seriously doubt. You'll be just fine, I'm sure of it.” Link still didn't look convinced. After a moment of thought, Rhett got an idea. “What about your hair?”

“What about it?” Link ran his fingers through his shaggy, brown hair. He was used to it being a little long, with hair sweeping out over his ears like little wings, but even this length was a bit much. A trim might be nice.

“Maybe a haircut would give you a new look and make it harder for people to recognize you.” Rhett didn't fancy himself a barber by any means, but he could cut hair fairly well.

“Maybe?”

“Definitely,” the jedi confirmed, trying to instill confidence in his companion. “What do you say?”

Next Chapter

Additional Notes-

Lightsaber:  a weapon used by the Jedi, the Sith, and other Force-sensitives

Kybuck:  an animal originally from Kashyyyk. They look very much like the Tauntauns found on Hoth, if you crossed one with a horse.

More Fics

[btsexomonstaxtrash1996]

dating jin part 3

“How are you feeling today?” jade asks rose as she is getting her makeup done. Jin gets the notification that they are live streaming so turns it on as he is just eating dinner, its been another week of not talking to her so he is starting to get desperate. “Ready for it to be done with.” she muses. “ i want a nap.” she adds making the other members giggle. “Anything you have to say to your friends?” jade asks. “Family?” she adds and rose smiles sadly looking at the camera before she starts speaking korean. “If youre watching this oppa...i have grown up a lot this past two and a half weeks, and gotten some advice from my elders about what i should do...so i am going to call you after the concert today and hope you answer and are not in a schedual, because i have a confession i have to make, before my brain explodes.” she admits in korean and jade rolls her eyes jelous of her bilangual self. “I know ive been a baby about things and im sorry, but hopefully ive grown up enough for you this time.” she adds before jade walks away with the camera giggling abou it being the language of love with the way she was speaking, but jun drops his chopsticks loudly and the other members look up at what he is doing as he rewinds it and listens to it about ten times before he looks up shocked, realizing how stupid he has been...he had been putting up a wall between them because of the fact that she was younger then him, always treating her like his younger, never even thinking twice about it. He has probably made her feel small and unimportant compared to him, she’s probably just wished he would think she is old enough to date, he feels like such a dumb ass, he should have confessed to her sooner. His heart wont stop racing and suddenly he isnt so hungry anymore, hes just excited, he hasnt talked to her in so long his heart hurts at the mention he will hear her voice again, calling his name the way she always does when she complains. Suddenly he is standing making everyone look at him and he just excuses himself back into his hotel room to wait by his phone and laptop, having them both open and ready.

“Why is his camera black?” jade asks when jin answers and jin almost bursts out laughing when rose turns around to glare at her slowly. “Sorry oppa, they wont leave until they meet you.” she says. “So what i have to tell you must wait.” she adds and jin appears on the camera with a smile. “Thats okay, oppa can wait.” he admits and she laughs as the three members behind her lean in to see who he is. “Yall good?” she asks as they all gawk at him and she laughs as they ask her a million questions before she sends them out and locks her hotel room door. “Sorry about that, they are all too excited.” she states and jin laughs at it as she sits back down nervously. “Before you start i have a confession myself i have to make.” he states and she nods putting her buzzing phone on silent. “I know what you are going to say, but oppas pride is too big to let you say it first.” he states and she laughs as he looks nervous now. “When we were on our break from eachother it gave me time to think about what  could have done better to have kept you from being upset...and the longer we didnt talk the more i found myself watching videos of you, or your live streams, the more i questioned why i hadnt brought my feelings up sooner...i should have been honest of the reasons i didnt introduse you to my members, because i am a selfish man and i wanted you all to myself, i didnt want to share you with six other men.” he continues and she cant look away from the computer screen as he shifts awkwardly. “I found myself wanting to call you and confess my feelings for you last week when i saw you upset on your livestream, after i saw you so upset i wanted to buy a plane ticket and fly to you because thats what men should do when they confess, but i am apparently too busy at the moment to fly away for longer the a day or two...i love you...and i have for a while and i was too afraid to admit it so i put so much space between us that i could, and that hurt you, and i appologize for that…..but i would like you to forgive me and be my girlfriend, because i want to make you smile everyday instead of upset.” he asks and she beams looking down. “Yes oppa ill be your girlfriend...and i love you too.” she says and he stands up and has a little victory dance when namjoon walks in. “What are you dancing for hyung?” namjoon asks with a smile on his face. “Hyung has a girlfriend now.” jin admits, not afraid anymore of showing her off. “Is that why you were so weird at dinner?” namjoon asks walking over to where the computer is and seeing rose in all her blue eyed blonde haired nose ring ear piercings glory. “Hyung just confessed...isnt she beautiful?” he asks and namjoon is so confused. “Does she speak korean?” he asks sitting in the chair next to jins. “You can ask her you know.” jin muses and namjoon just looks at her for a moment. “I do speak korean.” she admits and namjoon gawks at her for a moment. “Arent you from that girl band in the usa?” he asks and she nods and namjoon nods in approval at jin. “I like her...her music is good.” namjoon approves. “The only thing we have to worry about is the fans, the other members arent racist they actually will think its cool, and she seems respectful when shes here but south korea is racist.” Namjoon warns and jin agrees looking at rose with an appologetic expression. “I dont care what my fans think, she is my jagiya now, and im not letting her go.” he states and namjoon laughs at his cutness. “Arent you in seoul right now?” namjoon asks and jin looks at him like he is crazy. “Yes, we just had our first concert here, we have another in a few days after we film out reality show a bit.” she states and jin gawks. “And you didnt bring this up to oppa because?” he asks and she laughs. “I assumed you watch the live stream, it litterally says live in seoul.” she states and jin thinks for a moment. “Well now i hope youre appropriet enough because im coming over, where is your hotel?” he asks getting up to get dressed properly. “Oppa you need to sleep you have a schedual tomorrow.” she states and jin comes back in view of the camera. “Im your boyfriend arent i? Ill sleep over there with you.” he states and namjoon laughs at his boldness as jin quickly gets dressed to leave the hotel room with a mask and sunglasses not caring about rumors because they are dating now. “Oppa, are you sure? I mean i know it isnt traditional for you.” she says and jin and namjoon gawk a bit at how worried she is about him being uncomfortable. “Oppa will be fine...text me the adress and ill drive over there.” he state and she nods before he hangs up and finishes packing his travel bag and namjoon digs in his bag for something and tosses him a box making jin look up at him in shock. “Manager gets them for me just in case i catch any of you wanting to do it...just avoid the fans.” namjoon says with a shake of his head as jin throws his backpack over his shoulders and putting his mask and hat on before heading out looking kind of like a terrorist a bit except for the round frames he is wearing.

[somedaypast-thesunset]

i did not need his negativity yesterday nor did i have the mental strength to not be affected by it. 

he seems to have a rose colored view on his past friends who have lived even more passively than i have while doing hard drugs, drinking and having sex with so many partners that diseases are spread among them. but yet i’m told i’m just a welfare case, that i should just get over it, try harder etc. but there is never ever an admission that perhaps the troubles ive had in life directly relate to the struggles i still have now. 

“well her mother was crazy so she had to leave at 15 and take care of herself”

??? my mother was crazy and my father was sick and i had to take care of myself and him. without giving into the temptation of an easy escape through literal hallucinations. i am better than everyone who did give into the temptation. my will is stronger. sorry. that might bother him because he is a drug user. and he wans to convince me that my weed smoking is comparable to people shooting drugs. and it simply is not in any way. i am a functioning member of society in so much that i do not have a drug den, i do not have needles around, i do not have any long term physial effects of drug use im just a fucking stoner. just like people who HAVE to buy starbucks everyday. theyre just basic bitches. theyre not coffee addicts. and he trappe the conversation - all addicts say this. but i am making a choice and it would be incredibly easy for me to make other choices if i felt they were worth it in my depression. i am ADDICTED to DEPRESSION. i do not control that addiction and it is harmful to people around me and myself.

me smoking a joint is not. me smoking a joint is only beneifical to not only myself but the people around me. i am alive today right now because i smoke weed. THAT is how i am “strong”. 

it didnt matter though. i was already spiraling and wanted to go home but knew i couldnt because it was cold and almost midnight and i didnt even have proper boots and the weight of my entire life and being began crushing me. 

these are panic attacks. these are not attacks which can be seen as the typical display of it but not everyone will hyperventilate into a paper bag. my parents called it an asthma attack because i wasnt breathing right. i wasnt allowed to act out. if i acted out my mother attacked me in such severe ways that i trained myself not to react to anything. but you cant do hthis you cant just be a robot forever your emotions will operate whether you acknowlege them or not.

so it builds. and during the build up which always happens the same way my thoughts are spiraling. if someone latches on to a brief idea of the issues im battling inside, it now solidified the thought and i start to panic. it wasnt being called a drug addict. it was the fact that im constantly put on the bottom of the list for like existing human beings. no one ever goes, ‘well you had to take care of your father’. i dont get that. why? am i not blonde and cute enough? did i not suck enough dick? should i have done drugs and been more pathetic? why is it that everyone else gets a ‘well this and this happened tot hem so is understandable’. for me it’s literally well you cant focus on your past you just gotta move on. it’s not fair, it’s frustrating and when it comes from the only person even giving you any sort of love at that moment in time, it feels trapping. deal with this or have nothing. 

i cannot explain this though. it starts here and by the time i’ve freaked out so hard i cant even communicate the intricacies of these thoughts. i’m now totally overwhelmed and i want to scratch out my eyes and tear out my hair and i’m sobbing so hard i cannot breathe. 

i told him he outright had to help me because he did not listen to my warnings that what he was saying was bothering me. because i told him i didn need that negativity right now and i didn’t nee him focusing on being a  “drug addict” because i dont spend my rent money on shooting drugs. i dontand thats not part of my problem. it’s just a matter of opinion regarding marijuana. period. my opinion differs greatly and i advocate for the VERY PROVEN medical benefits of it. not just “its been shown K helps depression”. so does lsd. so did lsd. so much so that people dosed other people unknowingly to try and “help” them becuase they thought lsd “helped them” and “opened their mind”. but shold you do LSD everyday? no. i really dont think you should. can you ingest something that has minimal effects on a normally healthy person with no pre desposition to mental health issues everday? yes. cancer patients smoke weed because of its legitimate medical benefits. they should not be k-holing. thats not the appropriate way to deal with cancer. nor does it help any of the issues of cancer except moderate pain relief and slight alleviaton of mental pain if you dont put yourself into a k-hole. 

i can smoke 4 grams of weed and not die. i can smoke 4 grams of weed everyday for the next week and have no side effects except not even getting stoned anymore. i wont have to go to the hospital for “exhaustion”. i wont have spent my time at clubs or raves. i probably spent a lot of money on food. i will have no track marks or prolems with my nasal cavity and depending on how i smoke the weed, if i vape it - i may not even have lung problems. and in those days of smoking 4 grams i will STILL DO PRODUCTIVE ACTIVITIES and not just lay around wondering when i’ll get high again. 

so to put me with heroin users is wrong and a surprisingly antiquated view. but i cannot explain all of this and maybe he’ll still disagree but now i’m just in a position where a person who is supposd to love me is telling me im as bad as a heroin addict. i am not and that is not an excuse to not change - i can still change my habits but you have no idea what i wold be for someone like me to do that. he made an “effort” to help but he doesnt have the tools in him to actually help. he told me to think of skating because he wanted to take me skating. 

this morning as i was dropped off he asked if we were going skating. i said i guess and he said no more “i guess” i had to make a solid decision for what iiii wanted to do. and i guess i appreciate that - acknowledging that his personality is not okay for someone like me in the state i am in. i explained to him that our mutual friend came to my place and spoke to the roommate for me and was very like... it was as good as having a medical therapist come and advocate on my behalf. it wasnt like a “you shouldnt do this this is bad” it was “the person you live with suffers from very serious mental issues which affects her daily life and there are reasons as to why she is avoiding confrontation or choosing to live with things that others consider unreasonable” and it was really very good. like not only did i feel like it helped bridge a gap but that someone legitimately felt like they wanted to advocate for me. i didnt ask her to do it. i just explained this is my life and she was like no this is not okay and you need assistance to overcome this hurdle so you can continue on to the next one. i really really appreciate that. no one advocates for me. 

i also made a doctors appt next week and that kind of alleviates some of he pressure i feel about dealing. i know i can now go talk to this person. and if i need to, i have a drive really to see him more often. our mutual friend also came in and casually asked for my razors. and that is something i also appreciate. i made avery large step by freely admitting a relapse. it wasnt like omg cry for help it was this is what occurred. period no discussion because you are not the person trained to deal with such maters of the psyche however as a human being you can acknowledge a crisis and offer assistance to he best of your own abilities. if you have the ability to say ‘hey do you mind if i take your razors with me to get them out of the house’ that is perfectly fine and good and helpful. 

he does not know i relapsed. he has continually said he has no judgement on what i choose to do but does not support it and will only ever advocate for stopping outright. which is totally fair but it compounds the severity. 

hes still trying though? last night he took time to have a moment of private affection and when i tol him about the door knob lock situation he immediately said he would buy one and just let him know. he then said we would “drink sake” tomorrow and added on the skating activity and these things were nice because there is rarely time put aside for just me in the “us”. i follow what he wants to do when he wants to do. i rarely ever ask to go somewhere and when i do i may be able to go but ill have to put up with mock fighting about it. but its not terrible. its not like im dragged to bars or baseball games. he decides we will go hiking and we do. we’ll go to this random thing an hour away and look at i and we do. and i get to exprience sooooo many things i would have never otherwise experienced if i was not with him. and this is why i remain with him. no one else has ever shown me this much of the actual world beyond the bubble i was trapped in. my ex did a decent job but we rarely did anything. like any activities at all. it would be a big deal to take a walk in the woods by our house. 

i’ve gotten to canoe and climb beautiful ontario landscapes. i’ve gotten to eat food from all over the world. ive been given nothing but useful or beautiful and sentimental and meaningful gifts. i have never been given something frivolous ust for the sake of gifts. i’ve been given flowers on more than one occasion. 

it’s really hard to come up with a complaint when i still get to do these wonderful things? like how can i be upset about hiking different parks? i think i’d want to do that anyways. so it’s nice i guess to have it acknowledged this morning that i had the freedom to choose. we did not have to skate and i didnt have to do it because he offered. 

i kind of wanted to though. i think he knew also last night’s dinner with his family friends was just super awkward for me and woul be for literally anyone not related to them. it’s amazing how well they can make someone feel like an outsider while simultaneously telling them they’re “apart of the family”. that wasnt really his fault though. or maybe it s. i dont know. those people sucked and it took forever to eat and i did not even say goodbye to them because literally two sentences were said to me during the night which were, “so you do work in x city or do you commute to another?” and “are you flying out to see him when hes living out west?”  both of which are questions that should never be asked. just period. i mean theyre reasonable questions but to ask them to me results in really awkward answers. like “~ im an artist.” to which she asked, “where” - bitch everywhere. i am a fucking artist of life. and of course its not within my parameters to explain - well you know i’m fucking pretty mentally ill so i’m generally unemployed and collect social assistance hbu. its not like i can outright lie either as the two people who do know my life are sitting there too. and its shitty in some ways that these eople are close tot hem and i am at their house everyday and never once has it been explained that this is in fact his girlfriend, this is what she does and why she is the way she is etc. lie most people would get a “this is ashley, she works at shoppers drug mart and shes a great mom”. but since i have none of this i am nothing to them 

i am also very open about my struggles and where i came from in most situations. this is going to define my interaction with you and you should know that i’m aware of it an am working on it everyday. i am a very self aware empathetic person and i know that becaue of my unusual life i may cause unintentional offense or harm or burden someone in a way that i would not mean to if i understood differently or had a different journey. and everyone has their own journey but it’s a bit like a soldier coming back from war and it’s not on us to judge the severity of harm their journey caused them because we dont know. if theyre so encumbered by the thoughts of death they saw and were apart of it while others are not - we still need to respect the severity ad toll it tok on those individuals. and in no way do they want to be affected by this. theyre not choosing to take it home with them. but it now shapes everything they ever do and being a military person now defines you. it is apart of your definition and character. 

it woul not be appropriate to xplain this to the wasps who think theyre daughter had it rough because she coudnt talk of her prividledge life to stuggling immigrants working to survive while she worked for 2 weeks for extra spending money when she went on her vacation to australia. and it’s ironic of course - i’m now offended by him and i was concerned for offending them; well i was. but then i gave up because i didnt give a shit about them and i didnt think they were actually good members of society. i thought maybe they were “good” fathers or mothers. maybe decent employees. but like a real active good member of society who is bringing a positive vibe to the world? no. i really dont think so. and i have mt people i believe do this. people who i also see really negative traits in as well. theyre not perfect but “good people of society” like working an seeing the whole of society - every part of it as an equal and good thing. maybe theyre bad mothers or fathers though. or maybe not great. i wouldnt say bad. but maybe not great, definitely could be better parents. but they atleast will instill their values, hopefully, into their children who will also be good people of society. i am currently in daily contact with atleast three people who were raised by shitty people of society. people who cared only for heir own exprience and saw everything else as an outside. they now gave that quality to their children. “good mother”. shitty person. 

its up to the people in my support system to advocate for me. honestly. 

[nobuckingway]

Both Orla & I have run into problems jumping both Dante & Coco in the past. We’re definitely making progress but we never stop learning when it comes to these two horses. And we can definitely say without a doubt that our confidence has been tested on a number of occasions when it came to putting these horses over a jump!

So have a read below and let us know what you think of our Jumping Edition. Let us know if you have any tips or tricks we could test out, considering the two horses are so freakishly opposite, it makes for a very interesting read with a lot of variety! 

Dante

Dante have become quite a freak show to jump the last few months. Jumping a course of fences on him started to become such a pain because of all the problems he began picking up. Learning from past experiences, I stopped before the problems became permanent problems & instead worked on getting rid of them! Just last week Myself and Dante got back into jumping courses & the change in him was huge. The difference 3 weeks of focused work does to him is phenomenal, his jumping techniques have improved, along with his overall attitude, read below & find out my techniques! 

Rushing Fences & Running with The Contact

Dear god, Dante used to demolish fences he still does just not as bad as he did before! He is still so unbalanced that any slight drop into a fence from me & he practically falls to pieces. Dante has started Rushing into pretty much everything, a problem caused more than likely because he is weak and doesn��t have the muscle to hold himself together & the fact that I cant support him enough into fences!  So with a few weeks of trotting poles, and transition work we began jumping again. This rushing problem crept up on us again, my hands would be ripped off me when it came to jumping single fences with him. I had dealt with a lot of behavioural issues with him recently, and I feel like his jumping was kind of ignored. 

It was such a horrible experience. Imagine yourself on your horse, approaching a fence, then 3-4 strides away literally them cocking their jaw up so high that you have zero control. Sitting there was all I could do. It was not pleasant. 

How I solved the issue:

Exercise 1 – Jumping on a tight circle. Giving Dante little opportunity to rush or charge towards the fence. Keeping the circle tight ensured that he began to listen to me. He also had to start getting himself out of trouble when it came to his approach. Getting to close to the fence would only make him learn, likewise if he ever ran into the fence completely.  As he improved with this exercise, we made the circle bigger, and increased it in and out to whatever suited his performance

Exercise 2 – Some people may not agree with this technique but it worked for Dante, well the penny eventually dropped in Dante’s head after 4/5 attempts. We set up a fence with a canter pole either side. As I approached the fence I would then ask Dante to come to a hault before the first placing pole preparing for the hault transition no sooner than 4/5 strides away. The aim was for him to realise rushing wasn’t the answer, slow and steady was what we wanted. This exercise was difficult to begin with, one or two tantrums also thrown in the mix but he eventually realised what I was asking him to do and began to slow down on approach to the fence. 

Exercise 3 – Well this isn’t an exercise but more like a trick I figured out to slow him down, that I though be best to share with you all so you could give it a try. Talk to your horse, let them know your there. Dante is such a needy horse, I think he forgets I am riding him at times, recently I discovered that if I scratch him half way up him neck and literally tell him ‘woahh’ him slows down tremendously! I honestly thought it was a fluke the first time until at every corner before I approached a fence I would do it and he would come back to me! So give it a go with your horse! see if it makes a difference, Dante gets flustered easily its almost like he forgets where he is and what he’s doing, I guess the reassurance that I’m there is all he needs at times! 

Careless Jumping, not lifting his Legs

Dante Is a big horse with a lot of scope, but to be honest that is not an excuse for him to jump big fences all the time. He gets very careless and sloppy from time to time, knocking poles and often dragging them along with him. He definitely does not respect a small jump, stepping over some occasionally, but if I was to jump big fences with the way he carries on it could land us in a lot of trouble. 

I have put open boots on Dante, literally 3 thin leather straps is all that protects his front legs, in hope that him knocking poles will hurt him & make him want to lift him legs, but no, nothing phased him at all. He is one hardy horse I tell you! But we did come to one conclusion, one exercise that seemed to do the trick!

 Exercise 1 – Jumping out in the field. Taking Dante out of the arena, a place he was never fond off to begin with. Cross country fences were the answer to all our troubles. He literally needed to lift his legs up over the fence or he would literally stumble and fall over himself. If he started to jump them carelessly he soon found out the consequences. As horrible as it sounds it works. Hitting an XC fences is not like hitting a pole in the arena, cross country fences don’t just fall to the ground or roll away, they don’t move. The improvement I am seeing in his jumping is huge, I often finish a session in the field after doing arena work if his jumping is careless in the arena.

Exercise 2 – Grid work, and loads of it. Making sure to incorporate a lot of bounces. This is a great exercise not only for them to lift them legs, but it rounds there jump up and helps them jump from their hind which is what you want them to be doing. 

Less hands, More Seat & Leg

I my as well just get rid of my reins all together!! The more I interfere with Dante’s mouth, the more he tries to fight back with me. This may be the result in his running with the contact problem and with him cocking the jaw. Most problems come from the rider and unfortunately this one did come from me, But I am fixing it!

Riding with a soft contact is freakin scary, holding onto my reins tightly was what I done when he had a tantrum, reared or took off, so it was a safety net of mine. Getting rid of it wasn’t just going to happen after one or two lessons. For the last 3-4 weeks I have been constantly at myself whilst riding soften the contact, and the difference I am seeing is insane. 

Pushing Dante into my hands from my leg has become a lot easier, bearing in mind he is still building up the muscle to be able to carry himself correctly but at the minute I am not too worried about that as he has a lot more growing and muscle gaining to do. 

If you have confidence issues with this, or if you are scared shitless like I was, it literally felt like I was giving him the freedom to run free, I found doing grid work a nice transition into ‘less hands’. Not only does doing grid work help your horses jumping technique, but it also gets them to think for themselves. They have to find their feet whilst doing a grid with that leg guidance from you of course, if you interfere with your hands during a grid,  you will soon learn its easier to give the horse his head!

Coco

I recently wrote a post about mine and Coco’s journey into the world of jumping. I briefly discussed the various issues that I faced but I never really went into much detail of how I actually dealt with the problems and how I managed to keep my own confidence to be able to push through it.

Bunny-Hopping to avoid jumping

So we’ve all heard about Coco’s bunny-hopping problems but what can you actually do when your horse is already thinking about avoiding jumping before they’ve even started their approach? These are a few things I tried with Coco.

Exercise 1 – Cut the Approach Short

Sometimes giving your horse less time to think before the jump is the simplest answer. Shave two or three strides off your approach by coming in at a tighter turn, opening your inside hand to give them space while keeping a strong outside leg to push them around and into the fence. This one worked for a while with Coco until she started figuring out what I was doing and began anticipating the turn.

Exercise 2 – Stop them dead and push them on

Sometimes I couldn’t even get Coco to turn into the approach before she started bunny-hopping out. So when it became impossible I would stop her dead in her tracks, face her towards the fence and pushing her up into canter and straight into the jump. There were times when she literally went from halt to canter from 5 strides out and jumped perfectly. It was crazy how well this worked.

Exercise 3 – Chase them into it

This wouldn’t be everyones favourite tactic but sometimes you have to be tough. There were times when I had gotten so fed up with Coco’s attitude that all I wanted was to get her over that fence. As she started to run out, I would push her right into the base of the fence and give her a smack on the outside shoulder when she ignored my outside leg. There were times when I did this and when I brought her back around to jump the fence again, she wouldn’t even think twice. And then there were other times when no matter what, every time was just a struggle so it really depends on what stage you and your horse is at.

When it comes to this type of behaviour, some horses can be just trying it on whereas other horses are doing it for valid reasons. In Coco’s case, she needed a new saddle so it’s always good to rule out anything like this before jumping straight to the ‘behaviour problem’ solutions.

Picking the Wrong Stride

Finding the right stride has been a persistent problem I’ve had throughout my years of horse riding. It’s not so much an issue when you’re on a horse who has been schooled well enough to find its own strides but when you’re teaching a young horse it’s really something you need to be able to do. My problem isn’t that I can’t see a stride, it’s that I struggle to adjust a stride correctly when I know I’m not going to meet the fence right. I never know whether I’m better off holding and asking for the short stride or pushing to ask for the long stride. So I end up panicking, putting my leg on and leaving my horse to figure it out for themselves which isn’t exactly ideal!

    When it came to Coco the first step was figuring out what was the best way to jump her. Was she a better jumper when she was left alone to figure herself out? Did she need to be pushed on and revved up? Or did she need to be held right up to the fence? If you’re struggling when it comes to jumping your horse, it’s definitely worth trying all methods and comparing how well they jumped each time. In Coco’s case, she needs to be held the whole way to the fence.

Once I figured that out then I had a better idea of what type of rhythm I needed to set before starting my approach. As I have mentioned in previous posts, the age old tactic of simply counting your strides, 1-2-3-4, is definitely the best way to set up your rhythm. And you can put it into practice with a simple canter pole exercise. Set out some canter poles 4 strides apart and count every stride before, during and after the poles.

  Once you’ve nailed your four strides, try asking for 5 strides by shortening your horse up. Once you’ve done that successfully, try asking for 3 strides by stretching your horse out. By doing this you can really get a feel for the different paces and lengths of strides your horse has, making it much easier for you to feel your rhythm and adjust your stride as required when approaching a fence.

  Dealing with my own Confidence

Between myself and Darielle, I am definitely not the ballsiest of the two of us. I fear the worst and end up in shock when it doesn’t happen. So when it came to jumping I knew I had to find a way of ignoring that fear and just push through it. I found that the best way to do this was to fake the confidence (until it became real) and trust in my own abilities. I know this is so much easier said than done but there’s a lot to be said for that whole ‘mind over matter’ thing. When it comes to horses, things can always go wrong and that’s something we know from the get-go. We have to remember that we know our own abilities so it’s just a matter of trusting in those abilities. Once you can do that, your confidence will come naturally. 

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Hopefully you enjoyed reading our confidence post on jumping and even more importantly we hope you found it helpful! We all struggle with confidence issues every now and again so we hope it helps to know that you’re definitely not alone.

Please be sure to leave a comment! We’ve really enjoyed the feedback we’ve received on our last few posts and it’s always great hearing everyone else’s stories 🙂

#NeighNSlay

Orla & Darielle

  Sustaining Our Confidence – Jumping Both Orla & I have run into problems jumping both Dante & Coco in the past. We're definitely making progress but we never stop learning when it comes to these two horses.