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squeeneyart · 3 years

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Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 18

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger!

Communication is established.

Martin has a job to do.

After months of near constant solitude and a week of above-average social interaction, Martin had to deal with an unhappy middle: Peter, with no warning or pattern, would appear at the lighthouse at whatever time seemed to suit his fancy. Bright and early one day, late lunch the next, twice already on Thursday, all for reasons Martin couldn’t wonder aloud at for fear of seeming too curious.

No alone time meant no poking his nose around. Not that he was supposed to, keeping his head down and all that, but sitting around wasn’t doing his nerves any favors.

It was easy to imagine Peter hiring someone to tail him home, so Martin never dared to take a new path or turn for that whole week. When he got home he stayed home. When he got to work he stayed at work. And when he walked in either direction he most certainly never took the sharp turn toward the Fairchild home, no matter how intensely curious he got.

So, once the group text was actually formed early in the next week (Tim: it was a promise not a threat!), Martin had taken part in the first of many nearly identical conversations. They boiled down to:

Martin: peters been weird, cant predict when he’ll be around

Sasha: we’re still pretty locked up, will let you know if things change

Jon: Elias has been elusive but I’m working on it.

Tim: can’t keep us busy forever

Besides some scattered thoughts and jokes primarily from Tim that got Martin through the more tedious aspects of the work day, the messages were all vague statements telling him “soon, we promise” and random tidbits from him of Peter being weird. The whirlwind of progress from the week prior was over. Waiting and sitting on his hands was all Martin had left.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Jon had a lot more to say over phone calls than text. That much was clear by Tuesday night as Jon called to elaborate on his frustrations with Elias and continue other topics they’d discussed the conversion prior. The burden of starting the call and coming up with a topic was blessedly off Martin's shoulders, and it made the idea of regular conversations seem more possible.

While it was a relief to still talk to someone at length, Martin knew he would run out of things to say before long. He had no stories from the university he never attended, and Jon had been witness to Martin’s strangest place of work. The more he could deflect personal questions and get Jon to talk about himself, the longer it would take for Martin to be revealed as... well. Dull.

Still, he hoped that Jon would call again soon. If Martin was around for it.

It was Thursday. Peter had been around twice already with no warning. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and he still had a duty to perform. That part of his contract hadn’t changed.

Martin groaned into his desk. It wasn’t fair to have his most mindless and daydream-conducive task twisted into something horrifying. Some little part of him hoped that Sasha’s reasoning from the week before would hold some water, that his knowledge of what was coming would somehow keep him aware of his surroundings.

There was one way to find out, as much as it made his stomach squirm, and the thought of doing so with Peter around was enough to propel Martin out of his chair and toward the cleaning closet.

He began to mop the main floor with a fervor. If Sasha was right and he managed to avoid getting sucked into a wall, Peter absolutely could not witness it. He would have to move fast, even if it scared the shit out of him. And really, was it so scary? It wasn’t something he remembered, and it never hurt him. Probably. He would at least feel pain if something had happened, right?

He had always been fine. A bit sore from lugging things up the stairs, but otherwise nothing had harmed him as far as he knew. What was he afraid of? A person that could watch him as he went about his work in a haze? Or the wall refusing to release him after he entered, trapping him without ever releasing his mind from-

Oh, no, his heart was racing, his hands shaking more by the second. Swallowing had become more difficult, dry throat and a tongue that felt three times too big. Martin walked toward the stairs, trying to keep water level in the mop bucket. The water level was the only evidence that he’d lost time, and he wasn’t going to do this without something to show for it.

Letting out a breath that sent shivers down his arms, Martin placed the mop down and took out his phone.

Martin: so im going upstairs now? to do the mop thing?

Martin: gonna try and use an old analog tape recorder like you all said. any final thoughts would be appreciated

He waited, growing more concerned by the second that he would get no answer, but finally someone responded.

Jon: Sounds like you’re all set. Be sure to send a message here once you’ve gotten back out again, or if you don’t go in at all.

Tim: yeah any situation where your feet are on solid ground really

Jon: You said before that Peter was around. Is it safe to assume he’s left?

Martin: ok will do. he’s not here now so im getting it over with so he wont see anything weird

Jon: Okay, good luck and let us know when you’re out.

Martin: thanks

Sasha: if things start to seem off, retreat back downstairs and call us immediately

Tim: ^^^

Martin: okay, talk to you all soon

Before Martin pocketed his phone, he saw Tim leaving a string of thumbs-up and broom emojis, and as he began up the stairs the occasional vibration in his pocket revealed that something was happening past his goodbye. It wouldn’t be good for the recording if he kept it on like that, but he had no intention of silencing the phone or the people on the other end. He clicked on the tape recorder, placed it in his pocket, and began his climb.

The bucket and mop were as unwieldy as ever, and for not the first time he thought about how nice an elevator would be for his knees before shaking his head. This was a time for focus. Drifting thoughts were a one-way ticket to lost time in a much more literal sense than usual.

He was walking up a rather repetitive staircase, but every once in a while there would be an imperfection that reminded him of where he was in space. A crack here, some chipped paint there. Looking around there were plenty of place markers. His feet were on stairs that were the same as they always were.

About a quarter of the way up, this method began to make his stomach flip. Once, he looked too far ahead, too much up. So he kept his eyes down. He’d been keeping to the inside of the stairs, but his gaze drifted too far and oh, no, another spiral leading down which was worse.

This building, he thought, didn’t appreciate him looking too hard. Fine. He could stay present without a visual anchor. There was still buzzing coming from his pocket, thought less often than before. At least they were still around. If anything happened, they would know quickly and be able to do something. Sure, he hadn’t seen them solve any problems yet, but there was enough confidence between the three of them that they had to have some level of competence.

Martin looked down at the bucket in his hand and held back a scream.

Instead, he hissed at the thing, “When?! We aren’t even halfway up! I let myself think for two seconds and- oh, dammit!” He dug into his pocket for the tape recorder, but it was nowhere to be found.

Martin turned toward the wall, any fear being quickly replaced by petty indignation. “Hey! I paid for that! You can’t just- as if you even need to pick my pockets when you’re a big, stupid voice recorder all on your own!”

Besides the echo of his own voice bouncing up and away from him (mocking him, probably) nothing bothered to respond. He had half a mind to toss the bucket and mop down the stairs for the sake of his aching arms, but he resumed his walk with a quickened pace. If Peter hadn’t come back yet, and it didn’t sound like he had, Martin would do something while he had the time.

At the top of the stairs, Martin opened up the group chat just long enough to type one message.

Martin: lighthouse stole my tape recorder

Then he stuffed the mobile away and made a beeline for the horrible machine he’d been faced with every day that week. His phone buzzed with incoming messages, the motion in his pocket slowly becoming more of a reassurance.

First, he took the time to look at it as a whole. The back couldn’t be reached with it pressed up against the inner wall. Did it make sense for it to be put there? Unsurprisingly, when he’d finally looked up how lighthouses were supposed to work, the panel itself was nowhere to be found as part of the process. What a surprise!

When he’d started the new order of button pushing that past Friday, he’d tried to listen for the mechanisms behind it, but he didn’t know enough about normal mechanics let alone whatever this was to make any judgments. He’d cursed himself then for not paying attention and asking more questions at the start, but there was no helping it.

Really, the fact that he’d been hired at all should’ve been a dead giveaway.

The dial that had once allowed Evan to speak was entirely cut out from the process, a disconnected thing that gave no feedback after being twisted. Did that mean the entire cause was lost? Or had its function been moved to another piece, or a series of pieces-

“Ah, Martin, thought I might find you up here.”

Martin was going to die.

It was a thought that came unbidden, the only clear thing in his head as he turned to find Peter Lukas climbing the last stair without a sound coming from his less than newly polished leather shoes. The soles should’ve made a clicking sound.

Peter looked at him and smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I? Always been told I have quiet feet.”

“Yeah, you did. Wasn’t very nice.” He couldn’t keep the slight shake out of his voice. His hand reached out and grasped the mop’s hand.

“Not for you maybe, but the look on your face is very funny.” The smile grew just a little more cheerful.

“Sure. Well, I’m-”

“Cleaning, right,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if remembering something. “Glad to see the last smudges from them wiped away, if I’m honest. More people, more mess for you to clean up later.”

“I suppose, yeah. Need to clean anyway, though.” To emphasize his point, Martin began to clean the floor around and away from the panel. “Did you…”

“Oh, no, nothing really. Just wanted to check in a bit more after all the... disruption from before. And to make you jump a little. Need to make my own fun, sometimes. The week has been dreadful, Martin.”

And you’re spreading the feeling around. “Hm,” Martin replied, as dismissive and uninterested as he could muster.

Martin could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and knew he’d failed to dampen the man’s strange energy. “Yes, well, I’ll be off. When-” And then Peter was interrupted by a prolonged buzzing in Martin’s pocket. “Need to answer that?”

Shrugging, Martin continued to mop and kept his eyes to the ground. “Weird spam call, probably. Mum wouldn’t call my mobile.”

“Mm, good answer. Company time and all that.” With an odd stretching motion, Peter glanced out the window. “Oh, and what were you doing when I came up?”

“Stretches,” Martin replied abruptly. He coughed and evened out his voice. “The walk up is terrible.”

“And that’s why I have you do it for me!” Peter’s laugh came out rough and strangely quiet, a noise that settled under Martin’s skin. The old man’s face twisted into an unreadable smile, something that underneath the mirth felt like a taunt. “But enough of that. Don’t know if I’ll be back again today. And keep that thing quiet if you’re not expecting work calls. Nothing worse than being contacted from anywhere in the world at any time, truly.” The smile seemed to sink into a genuine, almost childlike frown, and Peter slinked back down the stairs without another sound.

After about five minutes of mopping, Martin released the hand and collapsed on the couch. Stupid, stupid, of course he would come right as he was about to fiddle with things.

The prolonged vibrations had ceased some minutes ago, and Martin finally opened the group chat to see what he’d missed. There were several messages from earlier in which Tim and the others had continued to chat. Then his message and general confusion and concern which Martin had expected. Finally, a missed call from Sasha, followed by a text.

Sasha: do we need to get over there?

Blinking, Martin considered the message. Was that an option?

Martin: no everything is over

Martin: peter came in, had to lie about it being a spam call

Jon: of course he did

Sasha: well, call when you think it’s safe

Tim: and maybe check your pockets

Immediately, Martin patted himself down, though nothing seemed amiss. His phone was of course still on him, and there was nothing new.

Martin: everything else is the same. the lighthouse wasnt nice enough to trade something for my tape recorder

Tim: :(

Jon: Sasha is right. We’ll do better if we talk over the phone later when you’re sure to be out of Lukas’ sight. Keep inventory of your things and call us when you can.

Hesitating for a moment, Martin looked down at the winding stairs.

Martin: if you had to get here how long would it take

Sasha: about two hours if i’m driving

Martin: right

Martin: okay. ill call you soon

The same conclusion was made as before, only moreso. Martin would keep his head down with exactly zero poking around. The lockscreen of his mobile would show no notifications to mitigate the risk of eavesdropping (what if his phone was stolen by his evil workplace?), and unless there was some sort of emergency no messages or calls were to be made during his work hours.

Peter certainly knew something was going on. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin would have to hope they were both committed to playacting their routine for as long as the others needed to get back and do something.

The thought dug a pit in his stomach. Pretending that everything was exactly the way it had been was just... being alone for most of the day. He’d enjoyed receiving random messages at work and the sudden movement in his pocket that meant someone was around. It was a normal thing for people, texting when they’re supposed to be working. Pity he’d mucked it up so fast.

Long after he’d prepared for sleep, Martin sat on his bed with mobile in hand. His contact list was so short that he didn’t even need to scroll to find Jon’s name. It was right under an old manager he’d never deleted from his contacts.

His thumb twitched over the call button. He wasn’t going to do it, but it was a nice thought. They’d already spoken at length today, with everyone showing enough concern that Martin had needed the alone time afterwards to breath.

That being said, enough time had passed for him to be itching for any conversation he could get, and he wanted to talk to Jon because he still didn’t quite get Sasha, and conversation with Tim tended to run short because Martin didn’t know how to keep things going after he’d dumped all of his grievances on the guy the week prior.

And he liked talking to Jon. And maybe it was because Martin understood a topic Jon cared deeply about, but Jon seemed to like talking to Martin, too.

There was no call that night, and he was out 20 pounds for that tape recorder from the resale shop.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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jichew · 5 years

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bang yedam ♡ soft love song

pairing: gender-neutral character x bang yedam

genre: fluff

a/n: so this is kind of different than the bullet point fics i usually write, so i’m kind of iffy on posting this,,, but i’ve been wanting to write a rocker!yedam fic since i heard hard lov song so here we go!! i actually based this off of the vibe of hard love song, but then i read the lyrics halfway through writing this and i realized how angsty it was?? so i just ended up doing this and im kind of basing it off of yedam’s song u. enjoy!!

bang yedam. a name you’d only ever associate with good things. things like color coded notes and perfect grades and being early to class. a star studded student whom you’d only ever spot between the worn shelves of the library or at the front of your calculus class. there was an air of intrigue that surrounded bang yedam. a pronounced sense of anonymity, one could argue. he was top of the class, that much was evident. but everything else seemed a mystery. and it was almost like no one seemed to notice. except you.

perhaps it was for those reasons and more that you found the corners of your lips turning up as you entered the dimly lit bar that friday night. because on the stage, a guitar positioned around his torso, stood bang yedam. you had always considered the possibility that bang yedam lived a double life. something like hannah montana. straight a student by day, rock band guitarist by night. that had a nice ring to it, as well.

you couldn’t help but notice the air of confidence that surrounded him. this doesn’t go to say that bang yedam was not a confident person. it’s more so the idea that perpetual sweater paws and bangs that are long overgrown don’t exactly scream confidence. but under the neon blue lights, it seemed as if bang yedam was the only person in the room. perhaps, the only person in the world. his bangs were parted at the middle, slightly matted to his forehead with sweat. his eyes almost seemed to sparkle under the lighting, or perhaps that was merely because this was your first time not seeing them behind a curtain of bangs. the sleeveless top adorning his torso highlighted his biceps, toned with the constant strumming of his guitar. maybe it was a bit superficial of you to take into account his looks. then again, it’s only fair to appreciate a man who looks so ethereal while playing guitar.

but most of all, you were enraptured by his voice. a sweet sound that rose and fell at all the right moments. a unique tone that made everyone stop what they were doing and look in awe upon the teenage boy on stage. a melody that seemed to encase your body in its warmth, tendrils entering every accessible part of you and rewiring your brain to only think “bang yedam, bang yedam, bang yedam”. and maybe something in the air allowed for him to hear your thoughts, because right then, he lifted his head. between his drenched bangs and the throng of people scattered in front of you, bang yedam found your eyes. and he winked.

it wasn’t until later that night, after the soles of your feet had long been worn out from dancing, that you decided to seat yourself at the bar. your friends were still going strong on the dance floor, attempting their own rendition of swan lake as a folk tune played from the speakers above. and perhaps you would’ve gotten back up to join them if it wasn’t for the presence that took up space in the seat next to you. looking over, it seemed as if bang yedam was a juxtaposition personified - silver hoops lining his ears and biceps on display, yet his face wore a shy smile, head tilting to cover his eyes with his bangs yet again. it was an endearing sight, you could admit that much.

“uh.. hey.. you’re in my calc class right?” he asked, with the slightest tilt of his head, body leaning towards you. you almost giggled at the shy tone of his voice. it was cute.

“yup.. thats me”

“ahh.. “ he awkwardly bobbed his head in what seemed to be a nod “well my name’s bang yedam”

“i know who you are” you finally let out a giggle, head turning to fully face him. his mouth was slightly open, eyes wide. and suddenly he was leaning back, head fervently nodding, almost as if you had just said the most interesting thing he had heard all day. you found this cute as well.

a drop of silence fell between you two. in which the both of you chose to stare straight ahead, one thinking of what to say next and one quite content just sitting idle. it wasn’t awkward, though. more so the silence that occurs when snowflakes blanket the ground in white. a silence indeed, but an easy silence. a comfortable white noise.

“so... can i get you something to drink?” he suddenly turned towards you, head shaking so his bangs allowed for a sliver of his eyes to be visible.

“you know we’re underage right?” you deadpanned.

“ahh... right” he turned his head back to hide the rosy color that slowly found it’s way to his cheeks at the realization of his statement. “you want some water?”

it was at this moment that you knew you liked bang yedam.

the next six months seemed to pass by in a frenzy of schoolwork, sleep deprivation and too many late nights at the bar. most of all, your next six months were accompanied by none other than bang yedam. after a week or two, you made it a habit to come to the bar every friday to see him and his band play. and every single friday, you both sat side by side at the bar and talked through the night. sometimes he would walk you to the nearest convenience store before he called a taxi for you. other times, on earlier nights, he would walk all the way to the bus and ride to your neighborhood with you, despite his home being in the exact opposite direction.

at first glance, bang yedam seemed cold - an unattainable mystery. he seemed like sharp edges and strict parents and classical music. but oh, how different he actually was. it seemed that the more you hung out with him, the more you realized just how misconstrued your ideas of him actually were.

bang yedam is soft. bang yedam is gummy smiles and checkered sweaters and hot chocolate that’s way too sweet for the average human being. and perhaps food preferences are the best reflector of a person, because bang yedam is too sweet for his own good. he doesn’t mind spending hours at the library teaching you how to integrate. and he doesn’t mind buying you a coffee every wednesday morning, never forgetting how you like your order. he also cries a lot. like the time he found out his friend was being redistricted to another school, he cried for hours into a vat of chocolate ice cream while you let your fingers comb through his hair. (it was kind of funny, because, after about a week of phone calls, his friend ended up staying at the same school anyway)

bang yedam is also confident. all combat boots and leather jackets and shiny electric guitars. if you didn’t consider him such an integral part of your life, you would probably be another fangirl of his and call him hot. but then again, having a crush on him wasn’t any better.

you wouldn’t consider it to be a surprise - your crush on bang yedam that is. he was just one of those boys that was easy to crush on. the perfect mix of kind and attractive and smart and all things in between. often times, you allowed yourself to daydream of the prospect that he liked you back. a daydream in which the notes he left in your backpack were more than just reminders to ‘get your ass out of bed and do work’ and the smiles he sent you from the stage were more than just friendly. but more often than not, you would shut down these thoughts, because having bang yedam as a friend is something you wouldn’t compromise for love.

and perhaps, for that very reason, you found it odd that bang yedam invited you to the club that friday night. you had always thought that a silent agreement had formed between you two that you would be present at his gigs every friday, so when you received a text that read “be at the bar, friday at 6 pm xx -yedam” you were a bit confused. nonetheless, you zipped your boots up to your ankles and walked the distance to the bar. opening the door, you were surprised when you were met with complete darkness. checking the time on your phone, you found that it was only 5:56 PM. the bar shouldn’t be closed at this time?

before you could move to do or say anything, a single blue light came on above the stage. and standing below, guitar in tow, was none other than bang yedam. it was silent for a second and you couldn’t quite make out his face under the dim lighting. as you were about to say something, a light melody started playing from his guitar. that’s when bang yedam started singing. there was something a little more ethereal about him tonight. perhaps it was the fact that he was standing on stage, yet he was uncharacteristically wearing an oversized sweater. perhaps it was the tone of his voice, something softer and sweeter, as if he wanted you to hang on to the end of his every word. perhaps it was the lyrics that flowed from his mouth, a story of a love that blooms like the flowers in the spring.

and as these words dripped from his lips like honey, you found that same smile tugging at the corners of your own. so when the last notes of the song had died out, you hopped onto the stage. and in a small twist of courage, you leaned on your tip toes and kissed bang yedam.

#ummm pls don t let this FLOP #I lov bang yedam #also idk if I'm supposed to be using ygtb or t13 tags so... do I just use both??#ygtb imagine #ygtb scenario #yg treasure box imagines #yg treasure box scenarios #t13 imagine #t13 scenario #treasure 13 imagine #treasure 13 scenarios #bang yedam #bang yedam imagine #bang yedam scenario #ygtb #yg treasure box #t13 #treasure 13

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cielenneige · 5 years

Text

Thoughts of the early mornin'

So yesterday I sprained my ankle pretty bad from just doing a bad movement and here I am laying in my bed at 3 in the morning unable to fall asleep cause that son of a bunch hurts like hell

Thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking.Kind of reminds me of the start of the au eheh

But yeah,i have been thinking,maybe a little too much.It's been 7 months that me and my family are on a waiting list until we can get a new family doctor.I never realized how time could go so slow before but lately I can feel it so well. And I can't help but rethinking of my past.Wooo how scawwwyy

I'm going to say this now,i've been fighting with depression for about 2 years now.Ever since I left school,from feeling out of place,i decided i'd take a year off.Feeling hopefuly with a one year break i'll be able to breathe again and take a well deserved break after 13 years of being in places where there was too much people,got distracted really easily and never knowing my multiplication table or where the different continents were placed (i still don't plz dont laughh).I stopped school in my second 9th grade when I was 17 just turned 18. Ever since I was young I had alot of trouble in school.Like alot lot.I never was able to remember anything UNLESS i had a sheet with exemples to help me,even then sometimes i would easily forget.I tried to tell teachers in my younger years how much "i don't understand please explain to me again" to which they would roll their eyes and shake their head and tell me

Listen i won't and can't slow down my class because your the only one to not understand.Keep working hard and you'll understand!

Those words they told me obviously affected me.But I was doing my best and all I wanted was to you to explain to me again!I know it can get annoying and long after 5 times I come by your desk but i'm willing to learn and try and understand! But all of those those students around me are screaming at the top of their lungs,making constant sounds that distract me are making it hard for me to remember that one thing you were just trying to teach me.And I have this tic of always daydreaming over your learning posters because they are so full of colours and filled with characters tHAT'S COOL i also have this sharp pain in my body it keeps making me really sleepy after a while i'm sorry i am doing my very best misses.

And i never knew why i was like that,my teachers always made me thought that daydreaming and getting distracted easily was normal and thats just how kids were back in 2006.But it never felt quite right.

I've been obsessing over SOO many things throughtout the years,From Sonic the Hedgehog to Billy Hatcher and the giant egg,from Toy Story and Shugo Chara!,to Persona to now here we are,Undertale. But these shows and games were never small obsessions kids have several times in their childhood.Mines were always intense and would stay for a few years. I was always facinated with making up stories,draw really ugly doodles and have fun and showing my friends and family what I just created.And having those "obsessions" for all these years have been really hard...but I can't help it,they helped me understand and learn some things and they are interesting and have really great characters!And to people that was also bad.Being this obsessed over something so interesting and colourful.

Oh and mind I mention,I have been dealing with chronic pain and a really weak immune system for the longest time I know.Since I was a small bean,I'd do my things,have my little 2006 kid butt running around having fun but all so sudden after a little while of doing that I always felt pain in my body,at first i'd whine about it. And then my stomach started hurting(to which i was able to calm down thankfully).And then fatigue kicked in and I was out,i could fall asleep anytime.anyplace.(To which i did sometimes with my aunt,thanks auntie for holding me while I slept eheh,but i was always and still am mostly a fighting to stay awake kind of gal),and I was sick ALOT.My parents obviously noticed the behaviours i was expressing and took me to the doctors.He told me I was in a good health! And still today,its the same song I hear everytime.They would say "oh shes just tired get her to get some rest". And still today we never know what I have exacly or how the hell it even started or happened.Is it chronic fatigue?Is it anything? Hopefuly I can get a heads up on what's up one day...!

So meanwhile,while I was having those little "health issues" i was able to watch and play and draw them shows and games.One required to just move my fingers and the other just required to watch the damn thing.And the other one was just to doodle.And if I wasnt too tired i'd put my whole mind into it and learn like I never learned anything before!Thanks to games and shows and books is why im even able to talk to you guys right now!

The rest,starting from our move to a different city,i dont feel too comfortable and able sharing this on social media sorry ;_;

But yeah,i want to go back to school so badly,i want to work to badly,i want to do all of things,i was always such a determined girl,willing to learn,fascinated with the world

But am I too slow?Am I too dumb for this society?i'll keep on doing my best but alot feels like shit will never get better...

Thank you for listening to my ted talk.I needed to share my thoughts with you all ❤❤❤❤❤

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #im so tired #AaaAaA this honestly felt good to share

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