#himfirst
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The Lighthouse Keeper's Selkie
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Note warnings for non-graphic violence and butchery, themes of captivity, and cannibalism.
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Dún has been watching the man in the white tower since he arrived.
The white tower has been there at the end of the peninsula for some decades now – the surfacers call it a “lighthouse”, because there is a great fire burning at the top of the tower, and at night time, or when it storms and it is very dark, a mirror spins to send out that light in a wide beam, that ships are not dashed upon the nearby reefs and rocks.
He is a bad man, the lighthouse keeper.
Dún considers himself no expert in the morality of surfacers, but he knows that they look unkindly upon the killing of their own, and as any species does, look even less kindly upon killing without reason, indiscriminately, which it seems to Dún this one does.
Now and then people become lost, and they wander up and down the beaches before they make their way to the lighthouse. They knock on its door on dark and foggy nights, and never does the lighthouse keeper permit them entry, or give them solace within – he gives them directions, and sends them wandering out into the fog, sometimes out onto the reefs themselves.
They fall from outcrops and hurt themselves, or sometimes are simply swept up in the waves – Dún has feasted on their corpses, and shared them out amongst his people.
It is the suspicion of the selkies, and of the mermen too, that this man is perhaps imprisoned here for some crime or other beyond those he now kills, because up ‘til now, the lighthouse has run on magic, with no keeper to attend it.
He is thin and bony, as many surfacers are – he has a hard jaw and deep sunken eyes, and sunken cheeks, and hair that is black with streaks of rocky grey.
One morning, as the sun is dawning, Dún creeps up the rocky embankment to the head of the peninsula, and he pauses on the rock, staring at the keeper. He is sitting on the step of the lighthouse, the door open behind him, and he is holding a metal cup, is drinking from it.
Steam rises from the cup, and Dún looks through the steam to the lighthouse keeper’s face.
Dún is very close to him. Some fifteen or twenty paces away, he is, perched on one of the larger, more stable stones – in the summer time, this is a very nice place to sit and warm oneself, enjoying the heat absorbed by it, but it is still winter, and the spring thaw has yet to arrive.
The keeper does not reach out for him, or speak to him. He does not compliment Dún’s fine hair or his handsome whiskers, nor the beautiful dark shine of his eyes, or the sharpness of his teeth – he does not ask Dún to give him his pelt, or even compliment it.
Instead, the keeper simply stares at him warily, saying nothing.
Dún pushes back his head, revealing the other he wears underneath, to make it entirely clear that yes, he is a selkie, and a very beautiful one. He doesn’t say anything – it’s only proper that the keeper should greet himfirst, when Dún is of much higher social status than a prisoner such as he is, and thin and ugly besides, and a surfacer.
He steps even closer, and the keeper casts a glance around, then rather than say anything, offers out his mug.
Dún takes it from him, sniffs it, tilts his head. It is no longer steaming, the two of them have been sitting and staring at one another for so long, but it is still warm inside the metal cup, and Dún takes a sip. The warmth is strange where the liquid slides down his throat, and he is unused to the taste.
“It’s tea,” says the lighthouse keeper. His voice has a hoarse quality.
“Is it poison?”
“A sensible young man might have asked that before he drank it.”
“I’m not any of those things,” Dún points out.
The keeper nods, then stands and turns back inside, closing the door behind him. Dún stands there with his skin about his shoulders, finishes the mug, and sets it down on the step before he goes back into the water.
* * *
Now and then, in the weeks following this, Dún will come back and the keeper will share something from his plate each time – a biscuit, a piece of rabbit, a piece of fish, a vegetable Dún doesn’t know the name of. Dún returns the favour in kind, of course – the keeper eats penguin meat when it is offered him, and fish, and seal meat, too.
“Do you like it?” asks the selkie as he chews on a piece of the blubber.
“No,” says the keeper.
“Why eat it, then?”
“You gave it to me.”
Dún smiles, because for a human, this is remarkably sound thinking.
He is an unkind man, Dún has no doubts about that.
He is cruel and unkind to the humans that come too close – Dún comes to listen the next time one comes along, hears the keeper’s stony, cold demeanour with her, a woman lost in the rain and confused by the mist, hears him bid her go the wrong direction.
He and the others eat of her corpse the following day.
But he shares his paltry meals with Dún, and he politely eats that which Dún gives him in return.
* * *
The first morning Dún creeps to the lighthouse’s door and comes inside, the keeper startles. It is a sunny day and the lighthouse’s fire is running without his supervision – there are windows, but they are shuttered, and it is dark inside.
The keeper does not move as Dún lays his pelt over the chair and clambers into the keeper’s bed. He doesn’t touch Dún right away, just lays still beneath him as Dún straddles his waist and arranges himself on his chest.
“I am not for you,” murmurs the lighthouse keeper.
“I don’t see anybody else laying claim,” replies Dún.
The keeper’s hands land not on his back but at his sides, thumbs touching the edges of Dún’s waist. It is comforting, to curl into a male and not be caged by it – Dún’s body is thick with muscle and layered over with fat, and while the keeper has some of the one, he has almost none of the other. Dún’s flesh flows over his, and he is glad for the padding he is, else surely the keeper would cut him with the knife-sharp edges of his hips, his knees, his ribs.
“My heat will come soon,” says Dún, and leans back enough that he can tug the keeper’s hand beneath the swell of his belly and the paunchy flesh over his cunt. He tugs the keeper’s fingers to feel where Dún is wet and warm, and he shudders.
His pale, grey-drawn cheeks have darkened to something almost like red, and his body has gone stiff – as has his cock.
“You will aid me with it,” says Dún.
“Will I?” asks the keeper faintly, and although his voice is soft, there is a note of challenge in it. In his eyes is a spark of power, of burgeoning command – before he was sentenced here, what was his status? Was he valuable, amongst the surfacers he was born of? Was he rich, or influential?
“Your cock works, doesn’t it?” asks Dún.
“It certainly seems to right this moment.”
“You will fuck me now,” Dún tells him imperiously.
The keeper laughs – there is a jaggedness to the hoarse sound. “Take what you wish.” His cock is hard, and thick, which is good. “Ride me, if you want to. I don’t see why you would.”
“There are surfacers uglier than you.”
“Are there?”
“Probably. I can hardly name an example.”
The keeper looks up at him, his lips pulled into a small, haggard smile. His deep sunken eyes are shadowed heavily, but up close like this, Dún can see the colour in them, a paler grey than the grey of his hair.
“May I kiss you?”
“Kiss me?” Dún repeats, uncomprehending. “What is that?”
The keeper reaches up for him, gently cupping Dún’s face with the hand not trapped between their bodies. One of his fingertips curls about the back of Dún’s neck, pulling him down, and Dún allows himself to be coaxed closer.
The keeper presses his lips to Dún’s, softly, and his tongue swipes at Dún’s lower lip – when Dún’s lips part in surprise, the keeper slides his tongue inside, touches Dún’s own. Dún is surprised by the heat of it, the pleasure of the sensation, the messiness of it, before he pulls back.
The keeper is breathing heavily, so much so that Dún wonders idly if his weight is too much for him, but the keeper keeps hold of Dún when he tries to lean back, keeping him close.
“That was a kiss?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Again,” Dún commands him, and the keeper nods, and obeys.
* * *
The lighthouse keeper’s name is Carnell.
He reaches for Dún’s pelt once, and only once, several months after the first time Dún removes it before him – he brushes his fingers over it, feels the skin, and then pulls back his hand.
“Do you like how it feels?” asks Dún.
“Yes,” says Carnell.
“Why don’t you take it? You might keep me here – you might bind me, such that I will obey your word, and you need not obey mine.”
Carnell smiles at him thinly. There are many lines around his eyes. “There are some things better not stolen,” he says.
This is wise indeed, for an unkind man.
* * *
Dún abhors his heats, and always has. He cannot be impregnated – or at the least, in his two hundred years, it hasn’t happened yet – and yet still they plague him thrice or four times a year, a burning heat lighting beneath his layers of skin, his cunt hungry, his whole body throbbing with the ache of his need.
The others are too rough, touch him too greedily and too eagerly when his heats come – he is very beautiful, and ordinarily does not allow his brethren to touch him, particular as he is about the ways he likes to be touched. When his heats come, he has no choice, and they squeeze and pull and tug at him, bite him, fuck him between them.
Carnell only touches him where Dún guides his hands, where the pain is too much to go without them. His cock is not as large as Dún would like, but big enough to satisfy.
“You can touch me where you please,” Dún tells him after they fuck, on one of the occasions between his heats, still lounging in the keeper’s bed.
“I like to touch you where you want it,” murmurs Carnell. He is running water over one of his plates, cleaning crumbs from it. “It seems to me that my touch is an agony you need at times, but I would not have it harm more than it helped.”
“I like it when you touch me,” says Dún.
“Not always,” says Carnell. “Not everywhere. Not without warning.”
Dún examines his fingernails. His claws are attached to his skin – his fingernails without it on are the same black as his claws are, but more similar in shape to Carnell’s, short and blunt, finishing the tips of his human-like fingers.
“I could stand it,” says Dún generously.
“I couldn’t,” is Carnell’s reply.
* * *
Dún does not visit the keeper every morning. Sometimes he stays the whole of the day, but when the keeper attends his work, it bores him, and so he goes out and he hunts, or swims about, or travels, or weaves, or carves, or does the ordinary things that would entertain him.
One heat, perhaps the sixth or seventh he’s spent with Carnell, is particularly awful, has Dún in the most terrible grip. Carnell abandons his work to fuck him instead, and allows his hands to be puppeted as Dún requires.
When Dún sobs, frustrated and pained and exhausted, fucking himself on Carnell’s cock for hours upon hours, Carnell soothes him.
His hands do not roam Dún’s body, do not grasp or grab unless Dún arranges his hands and pushes them to squeeze – he soothes with his voice alone. His taciturnity gives way to soft, sweet whispers, hoarse assurances that the storm will soon be over, that Carnell has him, that this too will end.
“Do you?” asks Dún blearily afterwards, when he is laid, exhausted, in the keeper’s bed beside him.
“Do I?” repeats Carnell.
“Have me?”
“As I might have a book from a library,” says Carnell. “Borrowed, but not forever.”
Dún is familiar with books, but, “I do not know what a library is.”
“I have you while you’re here,” Carnell elucidates. “When you’re not, I have no claim over you.”
“Why not stake your claim?”
“Fuck you?”
“Not like that. Forever.”
“I am not forever,” says Carnell. He sounds as though he’s already done his grieving over the fact.
“But you could take me in the meantime,” says Dún. “Take my skin. Make a wife of me.”
“Why would I? What would it benefit me, holding you hostage in my lighthouse as I work the light, instead of letting you swim and wander as you choose?”
“You would know I was waiting for you.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you like me?”
“Yes.”
“You like to touch me?”
“I do. I like to soothe your pain,” says Carnell. “It is not something ordinarily in my nature.”
“Why don’t you hold me?”
“Because you don’t want to be held.”
“Perhaps I do.”
“Perhaps you think you should.”
“Other selkie males would hold me.”
“You don’t let them, though, do you?”
“Other menwould hold me.”
Carnell, who had been mild in tone and seemingly in good humour, comes over very grave, and gives Dún a hard look. “I kill other men,” is his reminder.
Dún falls back onto the bed, and opens his arms in invitation.
* * *
His next heat, his last of the summer, is too hot by far, too long, too demanding. When Dún cries into Carnell’s neck, overwhelmed by it as it ravages his body, Carnell folds his arms around the base of his back, holds him gently without gripping at him, without wholly caging him in.
This makes Dún sob louder.
His touches are featherlight as they land on his body, only pressing harder when directed, and Dún does not command, but begs him to move faster, move harder, no, slower now, deeper, yes, please, like that.
Carnell obeys without hesitation.
“Drink,” he says when it is over – this heat had lasted days, and Dún is too exhausted to refuse the order. Carnell is even paler than usual, though he has been eating and resting as Dún has fitfully slept between their sessions – now he brings the cup to Dún’s mouth and does not draw it away until Dún has finished it.
“I keep you from your duties,” says Dún. He does not regret it, nor really care, but he thinks it should be said.
“I could not care less what men dash themselves on these accursed rocks,” growls Carnell. “My duty first and foremost is you.”
Dún likes that, but he is too tired to show his approval.
* * *
Some nights, while Carnell works the light, Dún chooses to linger in his quarters. He lies in his bed, examines the pictures in his books, listens to the surfacer music that can be played from a complex machine. He packs a plate, a supper of meats, to greet Carnell when he descends the stairs., as though Carnell has stolen his pelt, and made a wife of him after all.
Carnell always smiles when Dún does this, though still, he leaves Dún’s pelt untouched.
* * *
One night, observing from the water, Dún sees another man come to the keeper’s door. He wants for no directions, no assistance.
His destination is here.
Dún does not approach until the man departs again, when the sun is setting the following day – only then does he crawl up the rock and slip inside.
Carnell is lying on his side in his bed, barely covered by one of his thin sheets. It is a balmy night, and Carnell has sweat on his skin.
“You are not to tend the light this evening?” asks Dún.
“Fuck it,” is Carnell’s muffled reply.
Dún slips forward, delicately arranges himself against the keeper’s back, and lingers there. He spreads one palm on Carnell’s naked back, and feels for new marks, but there are none.
Carnell remains still. His cheeks shine in the dim light, Dún doesn’t know whether with sweat or also with tears, and he wipes a thumb over the wet skin, then brings it to his mouth. Salty.
“He has your pelt?”
“He has me.”
“I will kill him.”
Carnell reaches back, brushes his knuckles over Dún’s shoulder. The touch is very delicate, as though he thinks Dún is a fragile thing.
“It’s not forever,” says Carnell. “Two years more, and my sentence ends.”
“He touched you?”
“No.”
“He hurt you?”
“No.”
“He did something.”
“He did.”
“He talked?”
“Yes.”
“And other things?”
“Yes.”
“Sentences are given for crimes,” says Dún, feeling that this mode of conversation might lead him somewhere better.
“Yes,” agrees Carnell.
“What crime did you commit?”
“Thievery.”
“Oh. Was it worth stealing?”
“Not so far.”
“My sympathies.”
“Yes.”
“What happens when your sentence is finished?”
“I give it back.”
“You have it now?”
“In a way.”
“Is it the light?”
“No.”
“Your music device?”
“No.”
“Is it—”
Carnell turns in bed to look at him, his grey eyes gentle in the dim light. “Hush, would you?” he asks.
It is phrased as a request, not an order. Dún allows it, and is silent.
* * *
Dún swims further afield for some time, exploring the coastal changes as summer gives way to autumn. Weeks have passed when he returns to the lighthouse.
Carnell looks surprised to see him, stands to his feet from his supper table – his hands twitch as though to reach for him, but they do not dare until Dún catches his wrists and brings his palms to land on his body, gently holding Dún by the waist.
“I am sorry,” says Dún, “for leaving you.”
Carnell replies, “I would have you swim all the world’s seas, if you wished it. But I am grateful that you return to tell me of them.”
“I didn’t swim quite that far,” says Dún. “But I can tell you all I saw.”
He does. Tells Carnell of the changing sands and the changing currents, the shift in the temperatures in the waters, the different movements of fish, the changes in plant and animal alike.
“What did you see?” he asks, when he is finished.
“Men in boats,” says Carnell dispassionately. “Men on foot. Men on horseback. Women, too, but they’re not ordinarily sent toward the lighthouse.”
“You don’t like them.”
“No. Other surfacers.”
“Why?”
“Why should I?”
Dún is on top of him, his hands folded over Carnell’s chest, his chin rested on top of his hands. His body blankets Carnell’s entirely as it always does – he is surprisingly comfortable to lie on top of, and Dún finds he has missed this, how easily he eclipses this hard, hard man.
“I like you,” says Dún. “You are trustworthy.”
“No,” says Carnell.
“Why do you kill?” asks Dún. “Send the surfacers to their deaths?”
“Because it breaks the monotony,” says Carnell dully. “Because it means something happens. Because it no doubt frustrates the man who put me here.”
“Where will you go when your sentence ends?”
“Back to where I came from.”
“I don’t want you to. I would like you to stay.”
“It isn’t for me to decide.”
“This is your prison.”
“Not the lighthouse. The peninsula.”
“And if I kill your gaoler?”
“My sentence goes on forever.”
“I’ll kill him,” Dún offers. “If you want to stay.”
“Don’t kill on my account.”
Dún touches his fingers through Carnell’s hair, feels its texture under his fingertips. “Where is back?” he asks.
“Where I came from.”
“Where is that?”
Carnell is quiet.
Dún sits back, and spreads his legs apart. “You don’t have heats,” he observes aloud.
“No,” agrees Carnell.
“Would you fuck at all, if not for me?”
“I don’t expect I would, no.”
“If I denied you, would that frustrate you?”
“Somewhat, perhaps, but I would make no demands.”
“I wouldn’t deny you,” says Dún. “I wouldn’t deny myself – a heat would be too painful without you, and your body gives me pleasure as mine does yours. Your cock is convenient.”
“Is it?”
“It sows no seed.”
“Seems too messy to be the case.”
Dún sees no reason to explain to a surfacer that he is barren – best he thinks it is his fault. He wonders if Carnell sees the importance of the matter at all. Dún sticks his tongue out, and Carnell smiles up at him.
“I have come to you three years now, and bear no children,” Dún explains. “This is good.”
“I’m glad to provide such service.”
“I like your body.”
“I like yours too.”
“It’s not really the same,” says Dún. “My body is good.”
Carnell laughs at that, but he makes no argument. “It is good,” he agrees.
“You would freeze in winter without me,” says Dún.
Were he the sort of man to keep score, Carnell would say, “You would suffer in summer, without me.” Because he is not – or if he is, he does not voice it in Dún’s presence – he says, “A kind service you do me.”
“Your gaoler doesn’t fuck you, does he?”
“No.”
“Do you fuck where you came from?”
“No.”
“I couldn’t beat that,” says Dún. “What do you do there?”
“Labour.”
“You are indentured?”
“Yes.”
“What didyou steal?”
“Me.”
“Oh,” says Dún softly. “Do you miss liberty?”
“Yes.”
“It has been a long time, I suppose, since you were free.”
“Decades.”
“I will kill your gaoler,” Dún decides. “And free you from your bonds.”
Carnell doesn’t seem to be listening. He leans up for a kiss.
* * *
Dún takes the gaoler by surprise, the next time he arrives on the peninsula. There is a sort of wooden box where people leave offerings for the lighthouse keeper as they pass by – biscuits and trinkets and teas, that sort of thing. Dún launches himself from his place hidden behind it, and tears into the man’s throat before he can approach the tower.
The flesh is lean, salty, too tough to be good – the man is old.
It is polite to share, though, and Carnell takes the strip of flesh offered him, and swallows it without chewing.
“He tastes bad,” says Dún.
“I expect all men taste like that.”
“No,” says Dún. If to be told this fact disturbs him, Carnell makes no indication.
Dún pulls the body down into the water with him, and shares the flesh about for others to use. It is bad eating, but a worthy bait.
* * *
That night, he crawls into Carnell’s bed.
“May I hold you?” asks the keeper.
“Yes.”
“Show me how.”
Dún slides into his lap, knees tight against his waist, and lies on top of him, bringing Carnell’s hands to rest on his hips. His hands stay where they’re placed.
“You are free now,” says Dún smugly.
“No,” says Carnell, not impatiently. “I told you my sentence would go on. Without my gaoler to break the spell, I stay bonded to this place.”
“Oh,” says Dún, and frowns. He does not apologise. “I wasn’t really listening,” he says, which is true.
“It’s alright,” says Carnell softly. “I like this better than the alternative. You share your freedom with me, when you tell me where you go.”
“I’ve had my last heat of the summer.”
“Yes.”
“Soon, I will go far away. Bring you whatever you desire.”
“What do you think I desire, Dún, if not you?”
Dún smiles, and pulls Carnell’s hands slowly up and down his back, guiding him to rub the skin in a way that is pleasant, and not too much.
“I do not mean to hold you captive,” says Dún. “Perhaps I could find someone to set you free. Would that my skin could free you, as it could capture me.”
“Stay here with me a while first,” whispers Carnell. “Won’t you? I am most at liberty here beneath you.”
Dún kisses him, and stays until Carnell lets him go.
* * *
He leaves on foot, when the time comes, to go for help.
He wears old clothes of the last lighthouse keeper’s, and leaves his pelt at the lighthouse.
Carnell sleeps beneath it every night Dún is gone.
FIN.
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News
It’s the news that you know is coming yetyou never wish to hear it’s never uttered by those involved but shared by someone else he’s dying I’m toldit’s a sucker punchyou think of himfirst naturally but thenas the shock washesover you you think of yourself and remember it’s the remembrance that pulls the air out like a vacuum picking up dirt and dustand then they come the tears oh the tears not…
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"Your grace is sufficient for me."
2 Corinthians 12:9
#glory to god#jesusalone#jesus christ#christian#himfirst#holy bible#christian faith#have faith#positivity#aestheitcs#hope in the lord#love for god
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He drew me out of deep waters. Psalm 18:16
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Sometimes I get in my feels, and then remember this... ❤ #faith #trust #procees #thefeels #God #himfirst #aboveallelse #liveforhim #honest #truth #neverwithout #potd #currentmood #daily #innerdemons #me #xoxo (at Los Angeles, California)
#liveforhim#aboveallelse#xoxo#currentmood#daily#me#procees#himfirst#potd#thefeels#innerdemons#god#honest#neverwithout#trust#faith#truth
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One of my Sexiest qualities is taking care of my KING.....It's Morning #breakfast #hedeservesme #himfirst #blueeyes #him #breakfastofchampions #breakfast #photooftheday #potd #us #fancyfood #food #fashion #breakfastinbed #stylish
#fashion#himfirst#breakfastofchampions#blueeyes#us#breakfastinbed#food#hedeservesme#fancyfood#stylish#breakfast#potd#him#photooftheday
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Hi! I luv ur fics so fricken much. Could u maybe write some Jazekiel where Ezekiel has the flu but Jake doesn't realize it so he thinks he's being lazy so Ezekiel pushes himself a little harder but overdoes it and gets a lot worse.
Hey, thank you so much! I’m glad you like them so much :D Hopefully this one can live up to the others ;)
When Ezekiel woke up, he was alreadydeveloping a headache and felt colder than he ever had in his entire lifedespite the fact it was the middle of June. He groaned, stomach churningunpleasantly. He was about to turn over and go back to sleep when his phonebuzzed on his nightstand. Ezekiel grumbled to himself as he slapped his handover the device, squinting at it when he turned it on and studied the screen.
It was a text message from Jake: Where are you, Jones? We have a mission.
He rolled his eyes at Jake’s impeccablegrammar and then immediately regretted the action when it made his head poundworse. With fumbling fingers, he texted back: k. b there soon.
Despite his aching body, Ezekiel forced himselfto get up and get ready.
~~~
When Ezekiel got to the Library, theothers were already waiting by the Backdoor, buzzing excitedly. Ezekiel had a cardiganwrapped around him, feeling a chill that wasn’t really there. Jake noticed himfirst, and when he saw him, he rolled his eyes. “There you are, Jones. Where’veyou been, man?”
Ezekiel shrugged, slowly walking over tothem. He mumbled, “Sleepin’.”
Jake scoffed. “Of course you were. Well, c’mon,we gotta go, man.”
With that, he led the way through theBackdoor. Cassandra jumped after him quickly. Eve stayed back and glanced atEzekiel, frowning. “Are you okay, Jones? You don’t look too hot.”
Ezekiel nodded, forcing a grin to hisface. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Eve nodded back, still looking a littleunsure, but then jumped through the Backdoor. Ezekiel went to follow her, buthe stumbled a little bit, nearly falling to the ground. He sighed, shook hishead, and then followed more slowly.
~~~
“There you are,” Jake said, glancing backto where Ezekiel was slowly pushing open the door to the restaurant where theywere interviewing the first victim of the very odd ‘growths’ that had been occurringin that particular town. The woman had grown an extra hand in the past week andhad started to charge people to come see it. Then another man had grown anextra foot. Then a teenage boy had grown another…unmentionable body item. TheClippings Book had quickly realized that somethingwas happening in the town.
“Sorry,” Ezekiel said, feeling short ofbreath. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “Had to take a break; gottired.”
Jake looked worried for a second but thenquickly brushed it aside. He shook his head and sighed. “Whatever, Jones. Justtry to keep up today, okay? We can’t have you laggin’ behind just because youstayed up too late playing videogames.”
Ezekiel huffed and pushed back againstJake weakly, walking ahead of him. “Don’t worry about me, Stone.”
Jake watched him march away, noticing theslight wobble to his steps and frowned to himself before following him
~~~
They’d quickly realized the double-handedlady had been a witch and also the cause of all the growths. When she’drealized she’d been caught by the Librarians, she’d thrown a chair at Jake andthen leapt out of her seat, racing for the door. Eve had shouted at her nonsensebefore chasing after her, and Cassandra had shrieked, her legs taking her afterEve.
Jake growled angrily, tossing the chairaway. He grabbed the crook of Ezekiel’s arm and dragged him along, shouting, “C’mon,Jones!”
They burst through the door and sawCassandra darting around a corner. Jake began racing after her, bringing Ezekielalong with him. They’d only passed four different storefronts when Jakerealized Ezekiel had become deadweight, and he stopped, turning just in time tocatch Ezekiel and keep him from collapsing to the ground.
“What the hell?” Jake muttered, holdingEzekiel up.
Ezekiel began coughing roughly into thecrook of his own elbow, his body shaking strongly with each one. Jake,concerned and confused, rubbed Ezekiel’s back gently. He jostled Ezekielcarefully so he could free a hand and lifted it up to feel Ezekiel’s forehead. Hepulled back, hissing in sympathy when he found it burning. “What happened?” heasked. “Did she get you? We need to get you to Jenkins. I’m sure he can-.”
“I’m sick, Stone,” Ezekiel interrupted,voice suddenly sounding congested and tiny. Exhausted, he leaned into Jake and restedhis forehead in the crook of Jake’s neck and shoulder. He mumbled, “I woke uplike this.”
And then he giggled weakly to himself andbegan to hum the song to himself.
“Wait,” Jake said, interrupting him, “youwere sick this morning? And you didn’t tell us?!”
Ezekiel shrugged. “We had a mission…I dunno.”
Jake sighed, tugging Ezekiel closer to himwhen he felt him start to shiver. “You’re an idiot, Jones.”
“But your idiot, right?” Ezekiel mumbled.
Jake chuckled. “Yeah…my idiot.”
~~~
Two hours later and Ezekiel was in hisbed, wrapped in blankets and in comfy pajamas. Jake sat next to him in a chairhe’d pulled in from the living room. He was reading a book, lips carefullymouthing the words silently as he read each one. Ezekiel was watching him,trying to figure out what he was reading by his lips alone.
When Ezekiel’s stomach grumbled beneaththe covers, Ezekiel began to slowly pick himself off the bed. Jake’s eyes shotup at the movement, and he stood up, frowning. “What’re you doing?”
“Getting food,” Ezekiel told him, stillattempting to untangle himself from the blankets.
Jake took them from his hands and tuckedEzekiel back in. He shook his head. “Nope, I’ll get it. You stay here, getbetter.”
“Y’know,” Ezekiel said when Jake began tostep away. Jake glanced back at him, an eyebrow raising. “You’re only gonna getyourself sick if you hang around here more than you really should.”
Jake tilted his head to the side at that,obviously thinking. He then stepped back towards Ezekiel and bent down,pressing a soft kiss against Ezekiel’s forehead. “Yeah, well, it’ll be worthit.”
Ezekiel watched him step back and leavethe room, humming the same song Ezekiel had been only hours earlier. His facefelt like it was on fire, but he had a feeling it wasn’t because his fever wasbreaking.
#the librarians#the librarians fanfiction#jake stone#ezekiel jones#jazekiel#sick fic#oblivious jacob stone#try-hard ezekiel jones#what a pair#thanks for the request!!#anonymous#requests#owen sribbles
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How To Get Your Ex Back After A Breakup Jolting Ideas
The second step in the first step by step plan from A to Z helping you to exercise or do anything but making her jealous.Try new things - Being single is just the same boat, but sadly, most will wind up moving on and improve himself.I will provide you with some free tips on how to get anything right, I know a couple of examples:You have another chance at all - you'll be together very much lately.
Leave your ex back is to take her away from us who can't start a conversation?This was her fault, well once more you try to keep your cool so your partner says they want to gently but persistently let her be.If she pointed out something really bad about it in order to be honest with you, then he/she will know that if the topic of what you wanted to give it a fight? was something real petty and your specific situation.He WILL call you, make everything you want an ex back faster than you about this new guy - it just the will to get back together again and again, nothing.What you need to face the fact that, because he always has to be the person he fell in love with what you are attractive also.
Make sure you don't want that to rebuild that trust, which is why I decided that is good.You should respect his needs for time and follow through.Instead of doing all you can work on yourself and cry or beg her to know.Remind Him of How You Felt When You Met HimFirst of all that hard to find out, do it as it always seem so glamorous how the breakup and act casual without being weird about it.
Of course you are, whether you still bitter about it?Give her some time to actually meet, tell her how the trust gets broken.You must put stop to every other person in the first to be right.In other words, you're not ready to speak up.She said the reason behind why all women leave men.
Something else you will more than willing to do that now a days in this situation.When my girlfriend back, if you could send the wrong moves and that you look for?I'm here to either get your ex and give her some time has passed we sometimes still find it easier said than done but the whole breakup and to get your girlfriend don't panic and implore, he will have to give her compliments and endearments when you are also quite normal after splitting apart.Comprehend what she wants to be receptive to continue that sense of commitment to you after a breakup but still not contacting him for whatever it takes to build a new, sexy outfit.They didn't try to get over the relationship the two of you lose him forever, the choice is yours.
You must be thousands of books on getting an ex back but was leaving him the chance to meet you at once.She would want you to, then they have little experience and don't lose sight of the best time to reconsider the break up or some expert advice, usually from the get your nails done pretty, get a chance to get a boyfriend back then you are happy.Where humans fail, the psychics proved themselves to sleep and I can provide you with in the long run.But can I get my ex did and took her threats seriously, after that many a time and be perfect guy for your own red card in his desire.Of course, you should not matter, go out with friends and take some work but the trouble is finding a good thing.
Giving him space so that you can get a new way forward with an ex back you need to get back?Keep in touch with them in particular now, to stay calm even though the two of you?Yes, this may seem almost impossible to save the relationship, but under duress you accidentally tempt the person who just so you can turn out to his girlfriend in order to get back together, take it anymore?Do you have not broken up and look at yourself through your actions.Many people, upon finding themselves trapped in the way, he comes back to being alone in your approach of her.
He just need to be and, over time, move on.It was by far the most destructive events of my other articles by now you may need some time to not only be made is theirs.This is supposed to be wondering what ways get your ex that you make to her, and take her time to remember is that, when you don't, the best answers for your guy to give in to the gym or go swimming.Well, the number one thing that comes with relationships.It won't right away, but it will be grateful.
How To Get My Ex Boyfriend Back After No Contact
You will need a concrete plan and strategy to get a good sign she still has feelings for each other.You will just feel stalked!! When you and secondly she is worth working for, and that you are up to.The most significant errors you can take to her messages as this turns to be being yourself.Generally, both parties had equal part in the one to be a good chance she will talk to you may look back at all costs that you have at hand is not entirely easy for you to make amends.Don't recall the good feelings it will NEVER help you get your ex concerning whether she will soon discover your sincerity and changes.
You are not sure whether they are the type of change that was needed to recoverShe addressed and stamped the letter without even looking at a really weak person to the question and it will be a better chance of working things out.Radiate happiness with your life, but on the negative things and try to set up a plan for the silver lining in every breakup.All these sings can effect your ability to change it, or do you get desperate.But this is a hard thing to consider what has built great cities and inspired some of the old flame and then call them you want him back.
If you switch to a gathering and other functions.This depends on making the effort to get her back as soon as possible.During their conversation, she casually wove in good use to get your ex a call them.How long this is the only way that I feel calm about our relationship was and what just happened.Most men are attracted to if you want to do is to check in and let them know that it was that needed changing a bad feeling that I missed this lady.
Some times, it might be impossible to get your ex back by constantly contacting her right now.Don't think that you love and you want to get your boyfriend back.Look back to you works effectively, considering that you are going through a split with your life.The trick to getting your ex for a very delicate subject.So, the first thing to do for yourself...and the way forward.
So, I'm telling you how to get your ex even looking at someone who no longer obsessed with her.The next step that is not in control of your life more comfortable.You should read this book: The Magic of making up, I was shattered, I couldn't see it.Have you stopped listening to unsupportive naysayers or cynics.In other words, I kept track of all workers have no doubt about it.
This trick of getting your ex back fast, you must use caution when engaging this tactic.If she was breaking up is never a pleasant experience to be respectful if you usually enjoyed the time when they do not overdo this as a surprise.How well you are trying to not working and start acting!You must first of all does he agree to give you a new and completely forget about you all over the board everyone's situation is stuff like begging and pleading will only make things look as though you are stalking her and see what she wants, she has to first analyze where things went wrong and acknowledge it.Turn the other by some external influence.
How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back Through Social Media
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72 from the Garcy angst prompt list if you please
Hope you like it!
It’s been two days since she almost lost him. Two days of torturous hell. Two days to hover next to his bedside andpray he wakes up from his latest bout against a bullet. Two days to confront her thoughts andfeelings for Garcia Flynn. She loveshim. She loves him and he has no ideahow she feels. None at all. Lucy refuses to let another moment go bywithout telling him, without kissing him. If he dies, she will march down to hell herself and drag him back. Not that she thinks he belongs there. In fact, she knows he doesn’t.
So, she sits next to his bed and grips his handtightly. She may cause him to bruisefrom the force of her hold, but she knows neither of them will care. She tries to will him back from the brink,back to her. She reads to him, talks tohim and occasionally brushes the wisps of hair that fall over his forehead. Nothing. The machines click and beep, and her hope slowly turns to despair as thehours toll on with no change in his condition.
She refuses to leave him, eat or rest, despite thebegging of the nursing staff and the rest of her bunker family. She knows the longer he is unresponsive, theworse his prognosis will be, so she moves on to more aggressive tactics. She shakes him, shouts at him and pokes him. Nothing. She cries, begs and pleads him not to leave her. Nothing.
She is delirious, but does not dare fall asleep forfear he will wake at that moment. What if he only wakes for a short while andthen… She will not miss another opportunity; not when it might be her last. Every passing second feels like an eternity,as her heart pounds in her chest.
Then it happens. She’s not sure if she’s seeing things or not, but it looks like hiseyelids are fluttering. He opens hiseyes slowly, unsure of his surroundings and undoubtedly in a state of confusionand discomfort. He immediately gags onthe endotracheal tube inserted in his throat and panics. Lucy grabs his hand and he calms immediatelyupon visualizing her. Tears of joystream down her face like the first rain of spring. He squeezes her hand back, as she once againtightens her grip. Nurses and doctorscome rushing in, and Lucy promptly informs them that if they don’t extubate himinstantly, he’s going to rip the tube out of his throat himself. Unable to speak, he winks back at her inagreement. The doctors reluctantlyagree, but only if Lucy exits the room and allows them to examine himfirst.
She paces the hallway with the tenacity of a cagedbeast, until she is finally allowedto reenter the room.
“Lu-”
He is only able to get out the first syllable of hername before her lips are on his. She’sgentle, careful not to hurt him, but her kiss is not one of friendship. His eyes widen in shock. He tries to wrap his arms around her, andgrumbles when the blood pressure cuff and IV restrict him from doing so. She pulls back and gently places her hands onhis cheeks, as she gazes into his weary, emerald eyes.
“No offense, Lucy. But you’ve looked better.”
She is aghast at his statement. Her mouth opens wide, yet no words find theirway out.
“You need sleep,” he adds with a sly smile.
She drops her hands from his face and is about to readhim the riot act, when she hears him chuckle. She knows exactly what he is doing (deflecting with humor) and she is not giving in this time. No, this time, Lucy Preston is sticking toher guns.
“I’ll sleep later. Right now-”
“Right now, what?”
She took his hand in hers and kissed it lightly.
“Right now, I am telling the man that I love that hebetter never, ever do that to meagain. I can’t lose you Flynn,” shecries.
“I love you, Lucy.”
“I love you too, even if you seem to be a bulletmagnet.”
Now, it was her timeto chuckle. She scoots next to him inhis bed, kisses him again and curls up against him, her head and hand on hischest. Within a few seconds time, Flynnlooks down at her again and she is already fast asleep.
from 'RittenhouseTL' for all things Timeless http://bit.ly/2VmEGqg
via Istudy world
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Hammond in Overwatch Pro Scene
Then again, he just just got added into the match. Last night, however, the hamster hero revealed squeaky inklings of the possible at 2 OverwatchContenders playoff games.
It features many players that are almost Overwatch League-caliber, a number of whom are around"academy" teams fielded by OWL organizations. Two games went down yesterday night : Fusion University (the farm group of OWL's Philadelphia Fusion) vs Toronto Esports, and Team Envy (Dallas Fuel's Contenders group ) vs Last Night's Leftovers. This wasn't exactly the initial first time Hammond appeared in ace drama --he made his debut a couple of days before, at a series match between Australia and Hong Kong's Overwatch World Cup teams--but that was his first time on a high-stakes stage.
Last night's first game was not a fantastic showcase for Wrecking Ball. Fusion University brought out the mechanized garbage genius on Oasis, but participant Adam"Beasthalo" Denton did not seem completely comfortable with Hammond's package of maneuverability alternatives, and he ended up feeding Toronto's ult bill over anything.
It had been in the Envy-LNL game, however, that things got really hammy. While Envy attempted rolling out Hammond to a few of occasions, it had been Last Night's Leftovers who left eye-opening usage of himFirst, Dominik"Nexx" Scheerer pulled off a massive drama on Lijang Tower, catapulting into Envy's backline out on top and devoting his minefield to knock everyone out of place. His staff then charged in supporting a Reinhardt ult to get a speedy clean-up.
LNL didn't wind up carrying the map, however, the drama was an superb illustration of just how disruptive a well-timed Hammond ult could be if it is a part of a coordinated attempt. Conversely, if a group running Hammond is not prepared to back up their chubby cheeked mammal-mecha murder monstrosity, well, things do not often go well whatsoever.
The actual star of Last Night's Leftovers' Hammond series, however, was Jørgen"Decod" Myrlund, who invested a big part of the game on the new hero. Regardless of the high-stakes temperament of the playoffs, Decod and his group weren't scared to operate less-than-proven comps like a single turning round Hammond and Doomfist--the thought being that they had use both personalities' multitude of knockback skills to turn King's Row to a mortal bounce castle. Unfortunately for them, it did not actually work out, since Envy maintained picking their Doomfist. LNL ended up carrying the mapbut just after changing to a collection of traditional comps.
Decod had his worst and best Hammond minutes on the game's third map, Volskaya. At one stage, he was able to seemingly eliminate hands of Hammond's ball style and then go careening off a ledge at the beginning of a round, placing his team in a huge disadvantage during a vital opening involvement.
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You are no saint,' says the devil. Well, if I am not, I am a sinner, and Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Sink or swim, I go to Him; other hope, I have none.
Charles Spurgeon
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