#and as much as some of her friends can be terrible

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alba's Version) IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath

*TW: parental neglect, aftermath of suicide*

It takes Alexia nearly a week until she realises you're missing.

You're self-sufficient and independent. You've never needed much and it's not weird for Alexia to not see you for days on end.

You come home from whatever you spend your days doing and go straight to your room.

You make your own meals, she's pretty sure because she never has to make extra. Just enough for a family of three. Two when Olga is away from work.

It's a fleeting thing really, the only way that she realises you've disappeared.

She knocks on your door, intent on finally having that conversation about what you're planning on doing with your future.

There's no answer.

"Now's not the time to sulk, y/n," She calls through the door," If you don't come out then I'm coming in!"

Still silence.

"One! Two!"

Alexia doesn't wait for three, shoving open the door.

She expects to see you on your bed, sulking or whatever it is you do when she's not around.

You're not there though.

Your bed is made. Your clothes are packed away.

There's nothing out of place. Nothing to prove that this room was even really yours apart from a few neat stacks of paper on your desk.

Alexa glances over them, frowning as if they'd give her the answer to where you've gone.

She's been home since last night, the first one up and awake in the house. There's no way you could have snuck past her.

"Jaume!" She yells out," Where's your sister?"

"I don't know! Out with friends or something?"

That's odd.

Alexia can't remember the last time you mentioned a friend to her. To be honest, Alexia can't remember the last time the two of you actually had a conversation.

She shuffles through the papers on your desk.

Yes, she thinks, you must be with friends because there's three tickets to a ballet performance on Saturday.

You must be wanting to take them with you.

It's only when Alexia sits up that night, waiting for you to come home, that she gets the sinking feeling you're not coming back.

She waits for hours until the early hours of the next morning and the sun begins to rise before panic lances through her chest.

You've not come home.

She checks her phone, wondering if she missed a text saying you would stay at a friend's house but there's nothing.

She checks your room, just to see if you've climbed in through the windows but they're locked.

You are nowhere.

She pulls Jaume out of school for the day. She calls Olga to come home from Madrid.

She scours all of the places she thinks you hang out but you're nowhere to be seen.

It's almost like you've never existed in the first place.

The call comes in the evening.

It's Alba.

"I can't talk right now," Alexia says after two missed calls," I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Alba says instead.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Alba chokes her words out like they're so physically painful she can barely say them. Like she's so numb that even talking is difficult. "I tried but..."

"Alba? What's happened? Listen, I really can't talk right now. I'm-"

"I really did try. They did too but it was already too late."

"Alba, what is going on?"

"We should go to the hospital," Alba says," I'll send you which one."

In the deepest pit of her chest, Alexia already knows what has happened. In some deep, dark part of her, she's known since Alba called. In the worst, most hidden piece of herself, Alexia has known since the beginning.

It's an awful thing for an aunt to see.

It's a terrible thing for a brother to see.

It's even worse for a mother to see.

A picture goes up at the ballet company.

(Alexia didn't even know you joined one).

It's of you smiling, the headhsot that they used on the website, displayed proudly in the main foyer.

'Rest In Peace' sits under it and a little plaque with your name and how long you lived. It states your interests with no hint about trains at all. It talks about your reserved disposition but mentions how you endeared yourself to everyone.

Flowers sit under it, bouquets upon bouquets from the dancers and the staff and audience members who have seen you perform.

(Alexia has never been to a performance once).

Support pours in from people Alexia hasn't spoken to in years. Old coaches. Old teammates. Old friends.

Everyone seems to have a fond memory of you but all Alexia can think about is the last words she said to you.

She can't remember them.

She can't remember what she said or how she felt or what she was doing.

There is a gap in her memory from that moment.

Everyone talks about you so fondly, with such clarity that Alexia can't replicate.

You have gone on a wisp of breeze and Alexia is left trying to catch the impossible.

Her mind circles around herself, trying to work out where this all went wrong.

She loved you. She loved you so much.

Her beautiful baby girl who was a little nervous and a little quiet but beautiful all the same.

The little girl who loved trains and ballet and doing all the super feminine stuff that Alexia had to learn when she was a bit older.

The people around her tell stories of you, like Ingrid talking about how you used to love having her braid your hair back but Alexia sits there numb.

She's been numb since she saw your body in the hospital morgue.

She's been numb since the funeral where you lay in your coffin, perfectly peaceful like you were taking a long sleep.

She's been numb since they all returned to Eli's house for food and drink to celebrate your life.

Alba is not talking to her, has not talked to her outside what is needed since she called.

Alexia hasn't even noticed, too preoccupied with the realisation that she's a mother that just had to bury her daughter.

It was not a disease that took you. It was not a heart attack. It was not a random attack on the street.

It was you.

You made this decision, decided that this world was not worth living in anymore. That you could no longer cope with everything happening around you.

Things that Alexia has no knowledge on and, now, will never have any knowledge on.

You thought that this path was better than returning home.

You thought that everything would be better, more peaceful if you took your life away.

People have been cautious around Alexia, seeing just how close she is to tears.

She didn't cry during the funeral when you were lowered down into the ground with nothing but a neat blouse and a skirt.

Nothing to take with you now that you're gone.

Olga had to pack your things away in your room because Alexia could not force herself to even step through the doorway.

Your things are gone.

You are gone.

And Alexia will never know why.

[shanastoryteller]

Meg is the first choice, of course, but she’s not suited to this type of long term mission and they all know it. The problem is, almost none of them are. The nature of the beast, she supposes.

That’s why it ends up being her, in the end. Well, it’s almost Ruby, but there’s one thing she has that Ruby doesn’t.

How she ended up here in the first place.

She thought Clyde loved her. She thought he’d take her away, from her father and her terrible life, and so when he died too young, before he could fulfill any of his promises, she’d sold her soul to bring him back.

But he hadn’t kept a single promise. She’d died in her father’s house.

“You remember being in love, don’t you?” he asks, cruel in his callousness, which is different than his other types of cruelty. It’s all he has, shining out in a thousand different ways. “You’ll be better at faking it.”

All she does is fake it.

“Yes,” she says.

This mission gets her topside. It’s worth it for that alone.

~

She slips into a pretty blonde named Rebecca first but by the end of the day, the girl’s screaming has given her a headache, and she slips right back out. She’ll probably just think she had a bad trip.

He’d offered to arrange something for her, but she wanted to pick herself, and she’s not interested in having someone crying and moaning in the back of her mind. But it’s not like there are a lot of options.

She could kill one, of course. But she’s never – she hasn’t been topside, before. Everything she’s killed before had already been dead. So she hovers for the next week, looking for some sort of opportunity, for something she can use that’s not going to scream at her.

The day before she’s going to have to either pick someone or risk being sent back, there’s a car accident.

The girl’s heart is still and her body’s warm, blood pooling down her head, but that’s nothing she can’t fix. She settles into the body, jumpstarting the heart and can feel the skin on her head knitting back together. It’s also blessedly, thankfully silent, with her the only one inside this body. The driver who hit her is dead and people are crowding in, a crying girl pulling her free. “Anne! Anne, are you okay, oh my god, I can’t believe that happened-”

She wrinkles her nose before smoothing out her expression.

The name will have to go. She’ll say she’s reinventing herself after tragedy, or something, but she’s not going to walk around responding to Anne. That’s not her name.

Anne’s a sophomore, which isn’t ideal, but she’s beautiful and doesn’t have that many friends and barely talks to her family, so she’s actually perfect.

She’s also blonde.

She’d been blonde before too.

~

All the demons who had run these sort of missions before give her advice, tell her things that will help her. Some of their assignments had lasted months, but no one’s tried to do it for as long as she’s supposed to.

He likes smart girls.

Be confident. Be flirty. He’s shyer than he looks.

He never had a mother. He likes it when girls take care of him.

He likes to take care of girls too. He wants to feel useful.

She’d had dreams, before, of all the ways she’d could escape her father. It wasn’t common for girls to get more than a basic education, but she’d been smart. She could read and do complicated sums and enjoyed the quiet evenings when she balanced her father’s books. She’d thought she might like an advanced education, thought it could get her out of her life, but hadn’t known how to manage it.

Clyde had seemed easier. More attainable. More realistic.

She’d sold her soul for nothing in the end. She hadn’t even got the full ten years of her bargain.

She doesn’t know how much of their advice she can take.

She can be smart, but considering the school they’re at, all the girls will be smart. She hadn’t been confident or flirty, which is maybe why she’d latched onto the first boy who smiled at her. She never had a mother herself and doesn’t know to act like one.

She’s never been taken care of and doesn’t know how to do that either.

There’s no way for her to do this. She’s going to be replaced and sent back below and he’ll be angry at her and she hates hates hates when he’s angry at her, what he does to her.

“Are you okay?”

She looks up, something cold on her tongue, but falters.

He’s standing there, warm hazel eyes and long dark hair, hunching to try and make himself smaller, and a smile on his face that does nothing to hide his concern.

“Do you ever feel like,” she starts, her dead stolen heart beating too quickly, “everything is falling apart around you and you have no idea what you’re doing and like maybe your whole life is one huge mistake?”

Well, fuck. She’s definitely being replaced now.

Except Azazel’s favorite throws back his head and laughs, smile stretching into a grin. “Every day of my life, more or less.”

“How do you deal with it?” she asks, scrubbing a hand over her face.

He shrugs. “Well, my brother would say women and liquor.” He seems to realize how that sounds a moment later and he pales, “Um, not that I’m – I’m not saying, I wasn’t trying to. He’s just sort of a cad, and – I wasn’t trying to, with you, uh.”

She feels herself softening in spite of herself. “So you’re not one to apply that method yourself?”

“No,” he says firmly, eyes wide. “God, I’m just – I’m sorry. I – I’m Sam.”

“Hi Sam,” she returns, with a smile she doesn’t have to fake. “I’m Jess.”

~

She’s not supposed to fall in love with him.

She’s to worm his way to his side. She’s to keep him from running back to his family, to keep him from rebuilding the bridges he’s burned. She’s to keep him distracted and focused on her until his powers activate and then she’s to guide him into using them, to be supportive and loving and to push him straight into Azazel’s arms.

Sam loves his family so much.

He talks of his brother all the time. His father less, the emotions there more tangled, but love no less fierce.

She nudges him away from it, talks to him about how it’s normal for families to grow apart, to say that they’ll understand when he graduates, that he’ll show them they type of man that he is.

By the time he graduates, his powers will start manifesting, and he’ll avoid his family without her prodding. He knows what they’ll think of him, then, and Jess tells herself that she’s helping him. That this is for Sam’s own good.

If he’s with her, then he’s safe. His father won’t kill him while he’s safe at school. He can’t kill Sam for powers that he’ll never know about.

It’s easy to dig into the anger for his father, to use his last words to Sam as a way to hold him at her side. His brother is more difficult. Jess doesn’t do much with that, in the end, tells herself that it would be too complicated, too suspicious, and as long Dean is sticking with their father it amounts to same thing anyway.

The truth is more complicated.

His father will kill Sam if he has to.

She doesn’t think that his brother will. She thinks that maybe he’d choose to protect Sam, over their father’s wishes, over everything he’d been taught, no matter the consequences.

She fears that she and Dean have a lot in common.

She invites Sam over for holidays, makes summer plans with him, holds as much of his attention as she can manage.

She studies and makes friends and laughs and spends so much time with him, but not all of it. It has to be believable after all, has to be constant, in a way that it didn’t have to be with all the other demons sent to take care of him.

Jess lives a life that had been denied to her and tries to do what she was sent to do and does the one thing she was definitely not supposed to do, which is fall in love with Sam Winchester.

~

His brother shows up in their apartment and she knows that she’s going to lose him.

Sam tries to act angry, but she knows him too well. He’s moving around his brother like a flower following the sun and she asks him not to go, tries to find the words to keep him here, but they all get caught in her throat. If she begged, if she threw a fit, if she demanded it of him, he would stay. He’d tell his brother he’s sorry but he’d stay with her and not help him and burn their relationship for good. He loves her enough to do that for her. She knows it.

She loves him enough not to make him.

He kisses her and she knows it’ll be the last time. He doesn’t.

“What did that take, five minutes?” Azazel is right there, breath on the back of her neck, and his anger fury rage pressing down on her even closer. “Over three years at his side and you lost him in five minutes. What a waste.”

“I kept him for over three years,” she says, tries to keep her voice steady, but knows she fails.

She had him for over three years.

“Not good enough,” he whispers, lips on the shell of her ear. “Guess I’ll have to send Meg in after all.”

Pain erupts hot across her stomach and her screams mix with his laughter.

~

Love always burns her in the end.

[wosoluver]

Bad guy

misa rodriguez x reader

Billie Eilish x woso prompt list

Misa Rodriguez Masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Sitting on the couch, watching a thriller movie she knew to well, and constantly rewatched just 'for the plot'.

Misa's concentration had been whisked away, when she heard a knock on the door.

It was late, and she didn't plan on getting it at all, until she heard your voice.

"Misa?"

That caught her attention immediately.

Opening the door she had found you standing there, with a bag hanging from your shoulder. Eyes bloodshot.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?"

If you didn't look the way you did right now- with eyes puffy, tear stained face and entirely disheveled - maybe, just maybe she would have considered not letting you inside the apartment.

Besides being teammates, you were friends, in a complicated way. But this whatever it was- had been torn apart by your recent relationship.

It had been strained, especially these last couple weeks, after you two had a nasty argument, over the fact that she didn't like your boyfriend.

For the last six months she had tolerated the guy. She didn't like him from the beginning.

In part because she resented the fact that she wasn't the one taking you home at the end of the night.

But also, he seemed really shady.

First he started showing up everywhere you were, uninvitedly. Which she brushed off, noticing the way your eyes twinkled when you looked at him.

But then he slowly pulled you away from your friends.

You no longer hanged hang out, outside of training.

Despise wasn't a strong enough word to describe how Misa felt towards him.

"Can I?" you said snapping her out of her thoughts. She nodded rapidly, taking a step to the side, letting you pass.

Misa watched you with hawk eyes, placing your bag down, looking at the tv, trying to lighten up the situation, with a comment.

"This movie again?"

"I like the plot."

"You mean the leading actress?" you said with a small dry laugh.

"We are not changing subjects." she knew you. "What happened?"

"Uhm we just had a fight, don't worry. Normal couple stuff. Can I stay on your couch for the night?"

"Normal couple stuff? We barely talk this days, and you randomly show up at my apartment in the middle of the night? And asks me to not worry about it?" taking a deep breath. "No can't do."

"I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. I'm going to Sofie's."

"No!" she said getting in your way before you could leave. "Just, please tell me what's going on." her face softening. No matter what had happened she would always care.

"You were right."

"About?"

"Him!" you said sitting down at the edge of the couch. "He's a fucking self centered piece of garbage! Can you believe we was trying to manipulate me into leaving football? He wants a stay at home wife that doesn't travel around all the time."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Maybe a month or two,"

"Two?" her tone intensified.

"Since our argument. I started to reflect on what you said. When he brought up the idea of letting go of my job, I went over the edge."

She moved to sit next to you, placing a hand on your knee reassuringly.

"When he found out how close we were, he tried to make you the bad guy.

And I was so desperate..." she hadn't seen you like this in a long time. "But as he became more rigid and demanding, I realized maybe this wasn't good for me at all.

I tried breaking up with him."

now looking into her eyes, your vision blurry again.

"Tried?"

"He got out of control, I was quick to grab some of my stuff and get out."

"If he laid as much as a finger on you-"

"He didn't!"

"He could have! And I wouldn't be there to protect you!" she got up, angry at herself unfairly. Wiping her palms on her sweats.

"Misa, you can't protect me from everything."

"I can try." eyes glossy.

You immediately got up to hug her, taking in her scent you didn't know you had missed it so terribly.

Reaching to give the taller girl a kiss on the cheek, that was a more like the corner of her lips. It was normal between the two of you.

"If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened. I put myself in this situation."

"I shouldn't have let you pull away so easily." she said moving a strain of your messy hair out of your face. "Are you really going to sleep on the couch?"

"If you want me to."

"Ay, no seas tonta." letting out a slight laugh. "By the way, all your stuff is still on the top two drawers." she said following you to her bedroom.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You woke up with her soft breathing on the back of your neck. How you had missed this. You were now used to waking up to an empty spot next to you, this reminded how much you loved cuddling.

Glad that there was no training today, you turned facing her and went back into deep slumber.

The loud noise of your phone ringing nonstop in the living room had shaken both of you awake. You decided to go check it or at least turn it off.

Seeing his contact on the screen made you scoff.

"He's unbelievable." throwing your phone on the bed. When the phone had started to buzz once again, the goalkeeper was quick to pick it up.

"Diga."

"I want to talk to my girlfriend. Why do you have her phone?"

"Where else did you think she would go after running away from you?"

"Misa!" you whispered yelled standing close to the door.

"I can hear her voice, can you just pass the damn phone?"

"The only person you will talk to from now on, is me."

"This doesn't concern you."

"I beg to differ." and that was her final words before cutting the conversation off.

"Thank you. But you don't need to burden yourself with this."

"Come here." she said from where she was sitting on the bed.

You walked to stand in front of her as she placed her hands on your hips, looking up to you with her beautiful chocolate eyes.

"You know why I sleep on the side closest to the door, when you're sleeping over?"

You nodded, reciting the words she'd always say "If anyone breaks in, they have to go through you first."

"Exactly. You told him you don't want anything to do with him. And now he's going to have to go through me, if he wants to get to you ¿Vale?"

You nodded taking her into your arms as she hugged your torso. She managed to pull you back to bed, joining the warm covers.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Mierda!" you hissed, looking through your bag.

"¿Qué pasa?" she asked from the doorway holding a cup of cafe con leche for you.

"I forgot my computer's charger."

"Use mine for now, do you want to go get the rest of your stuff?"

"No, but also it might be the best if I do."

"After breakfast then?" and you only nodded in agreement.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Okay." she said parking the car, ready to open the door. "Stay here."

"Is that a question or?" you teased her.

"Sorry, I just-"

"Relax, I really don't want to face him." you were thankful for her protective nature, although Misa felt like it could be a bit much at times, you had never felt that way. "But please don't physically hurt him."

"Trust me." she said with a kind smile, getting out of the car.

She would honor her words, but to say she didn't want to punch some sense into him would be a lie. Although that probably would do nothing. If having you by his side didn't make him want to be a better man, she was sure nothing in the world would.

She knocked twice on the door.

"I knew you would come aroun-" he said opening the door, shutting up and gulping at the sight of the intimidating woman on the other side.

"I'm here to get her things." she stood tall, like she did often, arms crossed and face scowling.

He had the audacity to take a step into the hallway, looking both ways, desperate to see if you were there too.

"She sent me."

"Right." he said turning to get a box that was sitting by the door. "Couldn't wait to take my place, huh?"

She had never rolled her eyes so far back, bitting the inside of her cheek then letting a laugh out.

"Still trying to make me the bad guy, huh?" Misa said dryly taking the box from his hands, not waiting for another word and returning to the car.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

I need your guy's help, what should go on next? I don't feel like it's done at all, but I wanted to put it out anyway, maybe someone comes up with something.

I'm also taking in requests! Will add new players to my request list.

As always like & share!

buy me a coffee!

[myers-meadow]

Fear and wonder: Jonathan Crane x reader pt. 2

Part one here

Summary: After your bad day, your boss up and quits. What a relief! Later during the week, you go to a concert and meet someone. Jonathan doesn't like that much, though.

This is a slice of life insight into life as Jonathan Crane's best friend - who he has a terrible, obsessive secret crush on.

Warnings: for this chapter, some jealousy starts setting in, some very 'protective' best friend shenanigans. Fem reader.

Divider by @saradika-graphics. Reblogs, comments and feedback are very appreciated! I'm so insane over the Jonathan x best friend reader - the intimacy of knowing each other so well, of his obsession just growing and growing, him controlling every aspect of your life, but how could you notice? He works from the shadows, he is a master manipulator. Ugh god I just love him ok

The Monday after that bad day, your boss didn't show up to work. It was weird, but it was too much of a relief for you to ask questions. Besides, you didn't know her well - and why would you? There were whispers in the break room, but you let it all pass you by, just glad to have her off your back. The intern who messed up apologised to you - they'd heard about the treatment you received on behalf of them the week before. All seemed well.

Later that week, a lot more relaxed, your friend Morgan invited you out to see her girlfriend's band play in a pub on Wednesday. She texted you the address and you went there straight after work, picking up some fries for Morgan and yourself on the way there. The band was great fun, and beside you in the crowd Morgan beamed with pride. After, you got to talking with the bass player, who bought you a drink or two, and put his number in your phone.

During work the next day, you couldn't help but think of what a great night you had, and you texted Morgan a 'thank you for inviting me, it was a great time!', before texting Georg the bass player that it was a great show and other formalities. His reply was immediate. If you would like to go out for a beer sometime? It had you smiling all day.

The only night he was available was on Friday, and he'd visit family in another state for the whole month after, so begrudingly, you called Jonathan that evening. After some small talk, you finally dared to get to the point.

"Something's come up for tomorrow, do you mind we meet another night? I'm free all weekend." It was implied the weekend would be at least partially spent with him already, as that too grew into your routine. The Friday night would often turn into a sleepover, as you'd have a glass of wine or two, or make yourself a mojito, and it was just easier to stay over, or let him sleep over. Some nights, when you missed your bed and looked forward through a relaxed morning sleeping in by yourself, it felt like maybe it had grown into too much of a routine. At least, that when you kept your drinks to non-alcoholic ones, and got up to leave at 1 am, that Jonathan's twinge of disappointment was just a hint too intense. It was too subtle to even consciously register, but here you were, treading lightly when cancelling your weekly Friday meet-up, as though you didn't meet up two times a week every week ever since meeting him.

The slight pause at the other end confirmed your suspicions. "Of course we can reschedule," he said, emotionlessly. "What's come up? Is it work?"

"No," you shook your head even though he wouldn't be able to see it. "Something social." Even through the phone, you imagined him frowning. "What would you like to do on Saturday? I saw adverts for a new horror movie in theatres, we could see that, if you're in the mood for a film," you suggested, hopeful that a subject change would work to distract him. 

"Who are you meeting?"

You hesitated before answering. Something about his tone, as impassionate as it was, felt off. "Someone new I met," you decided to go with the truth. Knowing him, he'd read you like an open book on Saturday anyway. 

"I see. Well, I'll see you Saturday then. I'll think on what I feel like, talk to you later. Goodbye." And he hung up without another word.

Even as you enjoyed your cocktail with Georg, you couldn't help but feel a bit restless. This indeed was you and Jonathan's night. But you weren't together. You've never had this kind of friendship before, this intense. It was hard to put your finger on what exactly it was, and you racked your brain on what it could be - thinking of the many times there were hints of possessiveness, of how he preferred you to see him as often as you could - instead of other friends. It made you space out a bit, but as soon as you zoned back in, you were taken with Georg's kind eyes. His gentle features, the softness of his features and his body, the strenght in his arms were all so different from Jonathan, Georg lacked the sharp edges and was all the more endearing for it. After two drinks, you reluctantly called it quits, citing having to get up early in the morning, although that wasn't necessarily true.

Georg wanted to drop you off safely, or perhaps he hoped to get invited in for a nightcap, but as you reached your door, he politely only kissed you. You looked at him for another moment, fumbling with your keys. He chuckled as he watched you, shuffling his feet. Was he as nervous as you were? God, it's been ages since you'd been with someone. Perhaps you should. Even if only because you wouldn't see him for at least another month. Live a little, you told yourself. Do what feels right. Every thought about consequence, about the morning after, all dissapeared as you wrapped your arms around his neck for a much deeper kiss. His hands groped you all over as you finally managed to get the key into the lock properly, and he was eager to get you to bed.

Jonathan didn't feel like the movies. Instead, he choose a quaint tea house. You'd been there before, just once. It was a little higher end than you'd prefer, but their tea selection was incredible and really high quality. Everything else, including the jam for the scones, was made themselves, as well. The café had no background music, so when you sat down at a table with him, the chatter of the people around you punctuated the slight discomfort you felt. A tension that was punctiated by how you still buzzed from last night. And fron this morning at the breakfast table - God was he good with his tongue.

"So," Jonathan started, leaning forward over the tiny table in between the two of you, "how was your date?"

"Date?" you echoed, stalling to buy more time.

He nodded, reaching out for the menu and flipping through casually, as though he wasn't eyeing you like a hawk, observing every microexpression. "You always dance around the subject of dating when you're with me. I wonder why."

You considered him for a moment, rubbing your lip. Of course he noticed. The downside of having a psychiatrist for a friend. How could you navigate this best? Coming off accusatory was a bad idea, as was being apologetic because that would admit some kind of guilt you didn't have. You mean, you felt a bit guilty, but only because it felt like one measly date soured Jonathan's mood to the point of ruining your day together. Honesty and vulnerability have so far proven to be the only cure for one of his moods. "I haven't noticed, I don't tend to date that much," you admitted. "Perhaps I'm private about that part of my life, even with you." The way he glanced up at you, just briefly, taken aback at your careful phrasing, you knew you had him. "My mom was very controlling while I was in uni - as you well know, so perhaps I still feel the need to 'hide' it, or pretend its something it's not."

His hand found yours, giving it a brief squeeze before returning to the menu. "You know you don't have to do that with me. Mask, I mean."

Was his use of the work 'mask' here a personal one, or professional? You gave him a smile. "Baby steps," you breathed, relieved. "Which tea are you getting? The 'orange bliss' sounds really good. It's a green tea though." You scrunched up your nose a little, not fond of how bitter green tea could sometimes get.

"The 'autumn spice' would be more your taste," he directed your gaze to a black tea further down the list. "Anise, orange as well, cinnamon, fennel, cloves..."

You pressed your finger to his suggestion. That did indeed sound wonderful. "Which will you have?"

He hummed, eyes scrutunising every option. "I choose this place for their variety, but now that I have to make a decision..."

"I can choose for you. And we can share, too, if you want."

With a look to you, eyes dancing over your face, he shut the menu suddenly. "Alright, you choose."

When the waitress arrived at your table, you ordered your autumn spice, and a peppermint-rose white tea for him. 

"No treats? No cakes?" Jonathan asked you teasingly, referencing the last time you two were here and you wanted to try everything they had.

"I'm sweet enough for two," you joked, glad it seemed he was back to his usual self. You wouldn't call him cheerful, but at least he wasn't being passive-agressive anymore. The two of you chatted idly, about your weeks and your it was still so strange your manager just disappeared like that.

"Well, not that I'm complaining," you said, wryly. The server came back and set the teas out for each of you. You thanked her and she was on her way. They let you have bigger pots of water, with smaller cups, and your own saucer of tea leaves. "God, that smells good."

Jonathan followed suit, pouring steaming water over the leaves after putting them in the sieve of his cup. He poured yours too, like the gentleman he was.

"I'm curious to taste what you choose for me," he murmured, inhaling the steam, watching the subtle colours of his white tea swirl in the glass. His glasses fogged up a little.

"You still didn't tell me how your date was," he said, gaze sharp behind his glasses. You swallowed. "You said it was someone new and special."

Some part of you sensed it, yet were too afraid to confront the thoughts surrounding such discovery: what if Jonathan's protectiveness hid... love? A crush? What would that mean for your friendship? Not to think of how much Jonathan didn't seem like the person to be relaxed about the topic of dating in the first place. He seemed to know obsession, and only that - if his work was anything to go by.

"I really like him, we had drinks at that place Vee likes to go to."

"Who is he? Anyone I know? A friend of a friend?"

You shook your head. "No, we met at a concert last week. His name is Georg, with the beautiful rolling r," you gestured as you spoke, unable to stop a smile from forming. "He plays bass guitar in Morgan's girlfriend's band. They're quite good, too. A heavier version of indie rock, with some post-punk influences."

He clicked his tongue, before leaning forward to take a first, careful sip of tea. "Do you think you can trust him?"

"You sound like my mother."

He looked at you, blinked and let the accusation slide. "I worry about you, considering your past love life. The last one ghosted you after you slept with him, it was painful." He raised an eyebrow at you. Ouch. "Will you see him again?"

"I hope so. He's in a rather different field work-wise, but I understand not having personal and professional intersect, and we had such interesting conversations about that. How's your tea?"

He decided to go along with you and let the subject rest for now, his expression softened a little. Even thought it's only been months, once you started paying attention, it was rather easy to read him. Perhaps it was around you that he felt comfortable, and didnt try to hide so much of himself anymore, you thought aimlessly. The idea of that tugged at your heartstrings as he combed a hand through his hair. He tried a good sip of tea. 

"Hot," he grimaced, but then smiled gently. "It's wonderful. The freshness and sweetness combine really well with the white tea. Here, give it a try."

The tension dissapated and you were more than glad for it. Eager, you took the tea glass from his hands, not failing to notice the way Jonathan looked at you as you tried his tea. It was warm on your tongue, indeed, the flavours were delightfully light and airy.

"It almost tastes like a floral tea. Is that lavender?"

He smiled, almost proudly. "Very perceptive."

"Here, try mine," and you let him have the first sip. He nodded after he tried it, pushing it back to you.

"Very strong flavour. It's good, you'll like it."

And you did. It was exactly the tea you'd been craving; sweet yet spicy, warming you all the way down as you drank. The smile was audible in your voice as you said: "You know me so well."

[gabessquishytum]

I know it’s not terribly creative, at least not compared to all y’all, but-that Dream/Hob/Calliope with plant biology? I’ve been turning a similar concept over in my brain for longer than I’m gonna admit, and with Gabe’s permission, I’m releasing it into the wild.

Mermaids, but make them like seahorses-a female to produce the eggs, a male to fertilize, and another male to do the carrying. And if it so happens that one of the males is more human shaped than the others, that just means he’s extra safe from predators, and absolutely perfect for Dream and Calliope’s clutch.

Anon you say it's not creative but this is actually incredible!!

I'm imagining a Hob who gets shipwrecked in some unexplored corner of the ocean. He's treading water but resigned to the fact that eventually, he'll drown. Until he spots a pair of mysterious creatures lurking nearby. Dream and Calliope had originally come along thinking that Hob would be a tasty snack, but now they have other ideas... Calliope's mother was a sea goddess, so she has strong enough magic to essentially give Hob gills and allow him to breathe under water. Dream is the one who wraps Hob in his arms and takes him down deep, deep in the ocean... where Hob sleeps for a long while, and eventually wakes up in a beautiful, dark cave.

Dream and Calliope learn to communicate with their new house guest, and enjoy trying to feed him various different foods. Hob is very grateful and respectful but that doesn't stop him being fascinated by his new friends! Especially when they mate with each other, right in front of him... Hob watches and blushes and tries not to think about it too much, but then one day, when Hob has acclimatised to the deep ocean and built up his strength, Calliope beckons him close.

She proceeds to explain, through words and hand gestures and a diagram drawn in the sand, exactly how she and Dream would like Hob to join them in mating. She explains that they want a family, and that Hob could be a part of it. Despite the utter strangeness, Hob finds himself agreeing to the plan! He wants to repay his friends for their kindness. He also really really wants them both to fuck him.

And they do. First Calliope fills him with her eggs, and Dream eagerly does the same with his seed. Hob can only cling onto the seaweed and let the waves of bliss take him! He adores Dream and Calliope so much, with their cold smooth bodies and sharp teeth. He wants to be good for them. He wants their babies inside him. And oh, he certainly gets his wish.

Calliope and Dream dote on their beloved mate as he carries their spawn, day after day growing a little bigger. He's so beautiful, such a perfect creature. Their treasure to be guarded from the world. They can't wait to breed him again - this was exactly what he was made for.

[awkward-imaginations]

| Reunions and Rivalries |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. He didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had just transferred to Nekoma High and somehow you had piqued his interest.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff, slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my silly story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, enjoy).

word count: 2659

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The familiar sound of Karasuno players shouting to each other filled the air as the Tokyo team approached. You walked next to Yaku, chatting casually, when suddenly two familiar figures came sprinting toward you.

“Y/N!” Nishinoya shouted at the top of his lungs, while Sugawara waved enthusiastically from behind him. Before you could even react, Noya wrapped you in a tight hug, nearly knocking poor Yaku off his feet in the process.

“Noya! Suga-Chaaaan~!” you grinned, pulling Sugawara into the hug as well. Noya, now gripping your arm dramatically, suddenly shifted his expression to one of exaggerated misery.

“Y/N!” he whined, pushing you away just enough to meet your eyes, still holding onto your arm. “You have no idea how terrible school is without you. It’s been torture!”

You laughed, playfully pushing at Noya’s shoulder. "Oh, come on, Noya. It can't be that bad."

"It is that bad!" he insisted, throwing his head back in exaggerated despair. "Ever since you transferred, it's like the life has been sucked out of our classroom. I can't even focus on anything anymore!"

Sugawara chuckled, shaking his head at Noya's antics. "I think you just miss having someone to cheat off of during tests."

Noya pouted, clutching his heart as if he’d been gravely wounded. "How could you say that?! I would never cheat! I just… I mean, maybe I miss having Y/N to help me out once in a while, but that's totally different!"

You smirked, crossing your arms. "Uh-huh, totally."

Nishinoya groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You don’t understand! It’s like no one else gets me. The energy in class is so dull now, Y/N! I'm completely doomed."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, patting Noya on the head. "You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

"Not dramatic enough!" Noya cried, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. "It's been painful without you. Seriously, how do you survive at that new school? Do they at least let you sleep through class?"

You chuckled. "It’s not so bad, actually. I’ve made some new friends, and I still get plenty of sleep."

Noya looked betrayed, his eyes wide. "New friends? What, and you didn’t miss us at all?"

"Of course I missed you guys!" You reassured, smiling. "But you know, life moves on. Besides, we still get to play Guild Wars together."

„Yeah, nice raid yesterday,” Nishinoya exclaimed, fist bumping you.

Kuroo, watching the scene from a few steps away, furrowed his brow slightly. “So, she's close with the volleyball team at her old school too?” he asked casually, glancing over at Kenma.

“Hm?” Kenma blinked, only half-listening. “Obviously,” he said with a shrug. “Why? You jealous or something?”

Kuroo scoffed, his expression tightening for a moment. “What? No,” he replied, though his gaze drifted back to you, now laughing a bit too hard—at least from his perspective—at something Sugawara said. His jaw clenched involuntarily.

“You sure?” Kenma muttered, still not looking up. “Because it kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Why would I be—”

His words trailed off as Daichi approached you, a calm but warm smile on his face. He greeted you with a firm hug, his arms wrapping around you in a way that spoke of years of friendship. “It’s been too long, Y/N,” Daichi said, his voice soft. “It’s a nice surprise you’re here.”

You smiled, your face lighting up. “It feels like ages.”

Kuroo watched the exchange, feeling his heart sink just a bit. Daichi’s hug wasn’t overly affectionate, but there was a sense of familiarity between you two that stirred envy in him. He tried to brush it off, forcing a smile, though it felt stiff on his face.

“The third years used to be in the same class as her brother since Kindergarten,” Kenma said quietly, as if reading Kuroo’s thoughts. “They’ve known each other for a long time.”

Kuroo exhaled, rolling his eyes, though the slight tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Great. Old friends,” he muttered, his smile feeling more and more strained.

Kenma smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”

"Wait… she has a brother?" Kuroo asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Kenma gave him a surprised look. "You didn’t know? Yeah, L/N Ryouta—he goes to Nekoma too."

Kuroo’s mind raced. "L/N Ryouta? I don’t think I’ve met him."

Kenma shook his head. "Probably not. You’re in the university prep class, and he’s in regular courses. Still, kind of strange she didn’t mention him during one of your study dates."

Kuroo’s lips tugged into a slight frown. "We’re studying, not chatting." The fact that you had a brother he didn’t know about made him feel a little out of the loop. He didn’t like it.

Kenma shrugged. "It makes sense she'd be close with them. They’ve been hanging out since she was little."

Kuroo watched you laugh with Daichi and Sugawara, Noya had left you to help Tanaka “protect” Shimizu. You clearly had a lot of history with these guys. The way they greeted you, how easily you fit into their circle—it was obvious you were used to attention from boys. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Just as he was about to look away, you caught his eye and waved, your smile brightening. For a split second, you seemed to hesitate, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as if you hadn’t expected him to be watching. Kuroo smirked, feeling a little more at ease now.

Daichi, noticing your reaction, raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?" he asked, his tone casual but curious.

You turned back to Daichi, still smiling. "Oh, that’s Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain. You should probably go introduce yourself."

Daichi nodded, though his expression became a little more guarded. "Right. I’ll go say hi."

As Daichi walked over, Kuroo straightened up, masking his emotions behind his usual confident grin. Daichi extended his hand, his smile polite but strained. "Daichi Sawamura, captain of Karasuno."

Kuroo grasped Daichi’s hand, matching his too-firm grip with one of his own. "Tetsurou Kuroo. Captain of Nekoma."

Both captains forced smiles, but in the back of their minds, they had the same thought: I don’t like this guy.

“So… you’re not their manager?” Sugawara asked, giving you a playful nudge as he leaned against the wall next to you in the gym, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Nope,” you chuckled. "I’m just here for moral support.”

Sugawara laughed. “Then I can support you supporting. We've got a cracking new setter, so I'll probably be on the bench the whole time.”

There was an ease between you and Sugawara that came with familiarity. You caught up on everything—school, mutual friends, and volleyball, of course. Time slipped away as the two of you talked, oblivious to anything else happening on the court.

Except someone was paying attention.

From across the gym, Kuroo’s gaze flickered toward you more than once. He tried to brush it off, but the more you laughed with Sugawara, the harder it was to ignore the twist in his chest.

“Oi, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, not even looking at him as he noticed the subtle tension radiating off his captain. “What’s up with you?”

Kuroo blinked, dragging his gaze back to the court just in time to see one of Karasuno's players miss a spike. “What do you mean? Nothing's up.”

Kenma sighed. “You’ve been staring over there for the last ten minutes. You’re distracted.”

“Distracted?” Kuroo scoffed, though his eyes flicked once again in your direction—watching as Sugawara leaned in to say something that made you laugh. Why does he get to make you laugh like that? Kuroo felt his jaw tighten. “I’m not distracted. Just… keeping an eye on the competition. You know, strategy.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Sugawara isn’t even playing.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, “You mean Suga-Chaaan~,” he mocked your greeting only to feign indifference afterwards. “I’m not watching him. Why would I care about some third year who isn’t even in starting lineup?”

Kenma looked at him blankly for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Why would you care?”

“I don’t,” Kuroo huffed. “As I already said, it’s not like I’m jealous or anything.”

Kenma eyes flicked toward Sugawara, then back to Kuroo. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo added, a little too quickly. “I mean—”

“Kuro,” Kenma interrupted, his deadpan expression growing sharper.

“I—" Kuroo hesitated, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m just looking out for her.”

Kenma’s lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smirk. “Sure.”

Across the court, Sugawara was finishing a story, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. You laughed, leaning in a little closer. Kuroo’s eye twitched.

“It’s not like they’re flirting,” Kuroo mumbled under his breath, though his voice lacked conviction.

“What was that?” Kenma asked, not bothering to look away from the ball on their side.

“Nothing!” Kuroo snapped, a little too loud, drawing some curious glances from nearby players.

You and Sugawara, still chatting, were blissfully unaware of Kuroo’s growing frustration. Every time Sugawara made you laugh, it felt like a small jab, not because he disliked Sugawara, but because… well, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Or at least, he wasn’t willing to admit it yet.

The match was in full swing, as Shimizu joined you and Sugawara at the side, observing as the teams went back and forth on the court. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Sugawara, catching up and making jokes, but now that Shimizu had joined you, the conversation was a bit more reserved.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Shimizu turned toward you. “You’re not their manager, yet you’re wearing their jersey,” she remarked softly, her eyes following the ball.

“Yeah, it actually belongs to Kenma, we're about the same size, thought it would boost the team spirit” you replied, smiling fondly.

Shimizu nodded thoughtfully, glancing between you and Kenma on the court. “He seems to enjoy your company.”

You blinked, catching the subtle implication in her tone. “Wait, do you mean…?” You hesitated, feeling a slight blush creep up your neck. “You think I like Kenma?”

Sugawara, who had been listening in with a bemused expression, chuckled under his breath. “Oh no, Shimizu,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re way off.”

Shimizu tilted her head slightly, giving Sugawara a questioning look. “Really? I thought—”

Sugawara waved her off with a smile, clearly amused. “Trust me, I’ve known Y/N for a long time. She doesn’t go for the quiet, brooding type.”

You narrowed your eyes at Sugawara, half-embarrassed. “Hey, I can like quiet guys,” you defended, though it came out more as a weak protest than anything else.

Sugawara gave you a teasing smirk. “Maybe, but not that quiet.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Kenma’s great and all, but your type’s always been more… I don’t know, bad boy. The kind of guy who’s a little rough around the edges, gets under your skin.”

Shimizu blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Bad boy…?” she repeated thoughtfully, then her gaze drifted toward the court where Coach Ukai stood, arms crossed, observing the match with his intense focus. She nodded in his direction. “Ah. You mean someone like Ukai?”

You nearly choked, waving your hands in protest. “What? No way! He’s… hot, sure, but he’s way too old!”

Sugawara burst out laughing, and even Shimizu’s usually calm expression cracked into a smile.

“Nah, I wasn’t talking about Ukai,” Sugawara chuckled, nudging you playfully. “I had someone more… age-appropriate in mind.” He pointed subtly across the court to where Kuroo was setting up for a block, his sharp gaze focused on the game, his usual smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of that bad boy.”

You froze, suddenly feeling like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs. “Kuroo?” You hadn’t even realized it, but the moment Sugawara mentioned it, something clicked inside you—like a light had been switched on.

Sugawara’s grin widened as he saw the realization dawning on your face. “There it is,” he said, his voice smug but not unkind. “Ryouta told me you just can’t shut up about him.”

You could feel the blush deepening, the heat spreading up to your cheeks. “I… I don’t…” you stammered, not quite sure how to deny it now that it was out in the open.

Shimizu watched you carefully, her quiet gaze perceptive. “So, it is Kuroo?” she asked softly, her voice neutral as ever, though there was a trace of curiosity.

You glanced at her, feeling a little trapped but knowing you couldn’t lie, especially not with Sugawara there, reading you like an open book. You sighed, defeated, and ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, fine,” you muttered, embarrassed but kind of relieved to admit it. “Yeah… I think I like Kuroo.”

Sugawara looked like he’d just won a game. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I could tell from the beginning.”

Shimizu gave a small nod, her expression thoughtful. “He does seem like someone you’d get along with,” she said quietly.

“Well…” you began slowly, a shy smile creeping onto your face, “he is pretty great. He’s been really nice to me, even when he’s annoying.”

Shimizu gave you a small, knowing smile.

Sugawara’s grin softened a bit, turning more genuine. “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Don’t make it sound so cheesy.”

He chuckled. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just glad you finally realized it.”

You groaned, half embarrassed but secretly hopeful. “Great, now I’m going to be overanalyzing everything he says to me.”

Sugawara laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “That’s part of the fun. Just keep me updated.”

Later that night, the team piled into the bus, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as the Nekoma players settled into their seats. You slid into a spot next to Kenma, Kuroo sitting in the row just ahead, his head tilted back against the seat.

As the bus started to roll down the road, you pulled out some flyers Sugawara had given you earlier and turned to Kenma and Kuroo. "Hey, by the way, Sugawara invited me to a festival nearby. His and my brother’s band, Secondhand Youth, is opening." You held out the flyer so they could see. "You guys listen to pop-punk, right?"

Kenma glanced up from his DS, raising an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Kuroo replied a little too quickly, "Sure!" His voice was overly enthusiastic, and his eyes darted to you for a reaction.

Kenma blinked, clearly unimpressed. He gave Kuroo a sideways look, stifling a smirk as he mimicked, "Sure." His tone was flat, dripping with sarcasm.

You snorted, trying to hide a laugh, but Kuroo shot Kenma a mock glare. “What? It’s not like I don’t listen to it.”

Kenma couldn’t resist. “Name one band.” He leaned his chin on his hand, watching Kuroo with a blank stare, knowing full well his friend didn’t have a clue.

Kuroo paused, clearly stumped, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a band name. “Well, Secondhand Youth, obviously.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and Kuroo turned to you, his expression a mix of mild panic and frustration.

"Okay, fine, maybe I’m not a huge fan," Kuroo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I’d still go. For the experience, you know?"

Kenma rolled his eyes but kept a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, the experience of pretending to like music you’ve never heard of.”

You nudged Kuroo’s seat playfully from behind, your smile softening. "You don’t have to, Kuroo. But… you’re welcome to come, if you want."

Kuroo’s eyes met yours, his expression softening as well. “Nah, I wanna go,” he said, his voice sincere this time. “Could be fun.”

Kenma returned to his game, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes as he watched you and Kuroo interact.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 24th

I hadn't the heart to write last night; that terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him.... And yet that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him.... Poor fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of thought.... He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding-day he said: "Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane." There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity.... That fearful Count was coming to London.... If it should be, and he came to London, with his teeming millions.... There may be a solemn duty; and if it come we must not shrink from it.... I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted; then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him.

Can we talk about how cool Mina is for a second? Her first reaction upon finding out is disbelief, of course, but she turns around so quickly so she can A. support Jonathan and B. potentially save the world. She knows her skills are valuable and she immediately puts them to good use. It’s not hard to see why Jonathan fell in love with her!

It also means that everything we’ve been reading so far is courtesy of her work, by the way. Which immediately prompts two thoughts:

She apparently wasn’t jealous at all upon reading the Three Weed-Smoking Girlfriends bit Jonathan was so worried about, otherwise she would have edited it out;

She had to transcribe Lucy’s journal and her own letters… She had to add the “unopened by her” mention herself…

Everybody say thank you Mina!

And now for the bit where I genuinely shed a tear:

I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask—to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles—that may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon, madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your husband suffer; so I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, lest it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me.

I’ve said it before, but there are some similarities in the way Dracula and Van Helsing talk. Well, there are some in the way they write too!

You may remember this little bit from May 3rd:

"My Friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well to-night. At three to-morrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.

Your friend,

DRACULA.

The letter opened and closed on a fake declaration of friendship, foreshadowing Jonathan’s imprisonment.

Van Helsing does something very similar here, but A. with desperate apologies and B. recognising his status as someone who is very much not Mina’s friend (yet?). So what does it mean?

It means he is breaking down

We saw him run himself ragged to save Lucy and fail. We’ve seen him fall from witty and pretentious banter (with Seward) to hysterical sobbing and laughing (also with Seward) in the span of a few weeks. We’ve seen him hide the truth while also giving out clues, we’ve seen him break down because he knows, and doesn’t want to burden anyone else with this knowledge, but realistically can’t bear the weight on his own.

So when he reads Mina’s letters — the ones Lucy never got to open — he has no choice but to reach out. Mina is not a doctor like Seward, she’s not a Strong Young Blood Donor like the suitors, she’s just a young woman who is also struggling and also loved Lucy, and this fifty-something genius finds a sense of kinship in her, and immediately decides she is the only person who can help him.

But that means she must know, and therefore be trapped in the same Hell he is. Hence the structure of the letter. I LOVE THIS BOOK

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[disposal-blueeee]

halloween thing i drew for an art trade with @cherry-207 ! she asked for edgar and scri dressed as angel and devil . you can see her part here !

edgar vargas belongs to jhonen vasquez

scriabin belongs to @zarla-s

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[meixiaotian]

still thinking about how each animorph's fate is directly related to how much they enjoyed the war

[fridayyy-13th]

i'm pretty worn out from today. i might go to bed early.

[calenhads]

act 2…. done?

[sheyshen]

no no i'm not thinking about varian again, not at all

[pantoranqira]

"Anakin/Obi Wan/Yoda/Padmé/Shmi is the most tragic character in Star Wars" you are WRONG actually. L3-37 HOWEVER.....

[wizardnuke]

i do really fucking love not living in the town i went to high school in. there's only one goddamn person in that town i still like and i drive the hour it takes to visit him pretty regularly and i get to hear all the stupid drama that's going on with people and then i get to leave again. it's amazing

[sfiltron]

Not to be a hater, but I'm tired of watching so many posts (on Instagram, I have been using it a lot lately bc of friends and it is destroying my brain /neg) talking about "boyfriends" and "girlfriends" and "I'm great at flirting *gives a heart to an story and never talks*".

I had been living in a blissful world where having a partner was something that some people on the internet and my sister had, not an overwhelming constant of teenage worry that had people crying because. I'm so tired of friends thinking about it constantly, friends being desperate to "not be alone", hearing all these stories about friends' friends having terrible miscommunication with their partners.

I'm tired of hearing about something I kind of get the appeal but don't really understand, I'm tired of hearing my friends getting hurt by feelings I can't get and at the same time feeling like I can't help them. I want them to not feel these complex feelings about someone they don't really know, I want to see them happy, meeting people they don't get overly attached before knowing if those people are at least decent human beings, and I want everyone to stop playing this games of trying to meet others without "looking like a creep", and I want them to not be scared, and I want them to be strong enough to cut contact with people that does them wrong.

I don't know how to help them, because, by literal words, they are both getting weird chemicals in their brain that makes them not control for who they fall over, AND there is this weird societal expectation for when you want to get to someone that I can't BEGIN to understand, since NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT, but it still looms over people's actions, it is an implicit vibe, and I don't know if it's people's anxiety derived from having a crush, or if it's something deeper, but it MADDENS me.

I'm just- My personal mental health is exponentially better this time where I have a good chunk of friends, and I have gotten socialization and all that shit, but it also feels like I'm still an outsider, like I'm looking through a window at all this people with their own struggles that I'm having trouble to comprehend because I don't have them, and I'm supposed to just accept it, accept that this is reality, and the only thing I can do is recommended better forms for them to communicate.

I need less romantic love in this world. I want people being friends, I just want good groups of friends, and everyone working on having better communicate.