1 - 20 of 22 Works by jholtzmann
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“Am I interrupting?” A voice cuts through the air.
Jayce spins around, hand still to his chest. At first he doesn’t see anyone, and then, following the sound of a small puff of exertion, notices the thin figure who’s just slumped back against the wall, cast in the overhanging shadow of the roofline.
“No.” Jayce hears the defensiveness in his own voice. Winces at his failure to be casual. “No, um… it’s fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” says the figure against the wall, tilting his head to the side.
“Thanks,” Jayce laughs humourlessly, stepping forward. The figure against the wall, now Jayce can see him a little better, looks kind of like a puppet whose strings have been cut, folding in on himself, deflated. “Neither do you.”
“Mm, very perceptive,” he holds up a finger, then returns his hand to where it was previously wrapped around his side, as though he’s holding himself together. “That is, in fact, because I am not.”
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Jayce meets Viktor post-panic attack in the beer garden of the bar near campus. Viktor invites him back to his dorm. But despite their instant attraction, science takes precedence.
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Lucienne finds the book easily, and slips the well worn tome from the shelf. Flipping it open to the most recent years, she finds the section that denotes a written journal, and is greeted by a familiar code.
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Lucienne reads Hob Gadling's book.
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“Dream, what’s wrong?” He asks it so softly, he’s almost begging. Trying not to scare away a shadow.
“It is nothing. It…” he is near horrified at his inability, his unwillingness, to find the words.
“Dream…” Hob whispers his name into the space between them, a sigh, a hope. And he reaches out, perhaps without realising it, clutching his fingertips into the sleeve of Dream’s coat halfway up his forearm.
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Dream makes a return visit to Hob, and is unable to hide the toll that rebuilding has taken on him.
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“Viktor?” He prods again gently, wondering if he’s about to huff in frustration and, rolling his eyes, turn to him asking ‘Yes, Jayce?’ But that doesn’t happen. Nothing happens. Viktor’s brows remain drawn, his eyes still and staring, his body curled forward yet rigid. His expression, one Jayce had initially confused with concentration, is wrong. His lips, often drawn into a pout, or bitten pink when Viktor is truly lost in thought, are instead pressed into a thin, pale line.
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The holiday season takes its toll on everyone; especially on an entity who has been exempt from its madness for the last century. At the end of the festive season Dream visits Hob.
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“It is beautiful,” he says, addressing the tree. As if finally having seen enough to pass judgement.
“It still produces fruit,” is all Hob can think to say.
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Two friends meet in the shade of an olive tree.
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There was a brief time when Edwin would respond to such queries with various affirmations about no question being stupid, and about the merits of curiosity above all else. Now he just gives a little puff of breath and glances at Charles as though he is trying, good naturedly, to not roll his eyes.
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Hob arrives home late. Dream is very patient with him.
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The stranger towers over Hob and at last, having unfurled to his great height, deigns to bend, head lowering back down. Hob watches in awe as the stranger arcs towards him, and something startles in his chest. It’s like watching an arrow curve back down to Earth, finding its target with impossible, unstoppable speed. It’s deadly, and fast, and its aim is narrow and sure and it feels impossible to predict from this angle and Hob has the terrified urge to scramble out of its way, if only he knew which way that was.
It is 1489, and Hob Gadling dreams.
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Thirty-three years late, Hob's stranger walks into The New Inn.
Follows on immediately from the reunion in 1x06.
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“What are we doing?” Her gaze briefly meets Jimmy’s before returning to his lips, almost past the point of caring about an answer.
He smiles winningly up at her. “Celebrating.”
Missing scene from episode 2x08 'Fifi' (ft. the infamous dentist's chair).
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In the doorway Jimmy makes a noise, a kind of grunt of disapproval. “You’re working too hard.”
“Mm, no such thing.”
“Mm, maybe such thing.”
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She sighs through her nose and shakes her head. “I’m sorry Jimmy.” She takes a drink.
Jimmy averts his gaze. “Yeah,” the word drops from his lips, low and pitiable.
He’s pretty sure they’re both staring at the carpet, his beer bottle warm and light as he raises it to his lips once more. Kim is cradling the neck of hers between her palms, elbows on her knees.
She raises the bottle halfway to her mouth then asks into it, hushed, “What did Chuck say?”
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"Just a tiny little town, barely on the map, on the Kansas-Nebraska border. You've never heard of it."
A series of non-chronological snapshots of Kim's life in Red Cloud. -
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just a selection of soft scenes for these beautiful dummies bc they deserve it
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Missing scene from 5x09.
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There are many people, he realises, who would consider this a perk of the job – a benefit of being Saul Goodman.
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Standalone mini fics based on tumblr writing prompts
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Very quickly Jimmy becomes reacquainted with the hairdryer. Having not needed it himself for more than a few minutes at a time the way he wields it now feels like a foreign object.
Kim’s reflection follows the movements of his hands with critical eyes, carefully avoiding her own image. Luckily the real Kim mostly blocks his view of the mirror as he slowly orbits her, allowing him to focus on the task at hand, the strands that rise from dark bronze to gold.
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“You fell asleep.” His hand is heavy and soothing on her leg.
“Yeah, I guessed that.” Her voice is thick with sleep and she lays her hand over his, holding it against the curve of her hip. Her eyes are locked on his, and she can’t quite tell if his are that dark because of the dimly lit room, or if it’s something else.