#Resume Check Score

[priya173]

Resume Check Score

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[honeykakkad]

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[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[productivefairy]

My goals for 100 day reinvention

My college is starting in Fall and I was thinking of doing this once my sem has started but these day all I do is slack at home so I thought why not make a good use of it. Also been inactive on tumblr for a long time, now its time to resume tumblr.

Health- 20 minutes daily exercise, eat healthy, sleep before 10pm, wake up before 5:30am, walk 8k-10k steps daily.

Mental health - do meditation daily, don't be on phone more than 30 minutes a day, do journal.

Hobby- Read a book per month, blog 3 times a week, watch one movie per month.

Social life- check on my friends regularly, talk with new people, join and participate in clubs in college, argue as less as possible (lol).

Acaedmics- score 9+ cgpa, spend 15-20 hours a weekon learning programming outside class, work on a skill that I can make money of atleast 25 minutes a day or 3 hours a week, complete assignment as soon as I am assigned, train myself to study for longer hours.

credits - venassa (I have literally copied her format and even the title)

[kotoku]

can i request an aventurine x stoneheart!reader whose cornerstone is citrine? lets say the both of them are close friends and one day in a meeting with the ipc one of the workers try to persuade you (citrine), to go to a date… aventurine sees this and gets jealous … then i’ll leave this to your imagination, i wanna see how creative you are!!! love your writings btw ❤️❤️

ᴘᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ꜰᴜᴛɪʟᴇ

synopsis - You and Aventurine are close friends and have been working together for a long while from the ground up. Though Aventurine had refused to believe that he had developed feelings for you, he eventually accepted them within time but never took the first step. Your friendship was something that he could not gamble with after all. But when a persistent subordinate makes his attempt at courting you, he can't help but feel that ugly twist of jealousy in his stomach. He had to get to you first.

pairings - aventurine x stoneheart! reader

content - pining, drunk! aventurine, drunken confessions, jealous! aventurine, citrine! reader, reader is done with the subordinates shit

warnings - alcohol, a couple cuss words, mentions of vomiting

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

“You know… A girl like you and a guy like me would make a great pair, don’t you think?” 

Your eye twitched in irritation, the polite smile you tried so hard to keep on your face faltering with each sentence this guy was spouting. The guy in question? Just a random subordinate who was flying a little too close to the sun. 

Diamond had requested a meeting amongst the Ten Stonehearts, so you were only making your wave over to the meeting room before being stopped by someone calling out your name. Thus putting you in the position you were currently in. 

“Er… I- sorry, I have urgent matters to attend to. If you could excuse me…” You tried stepping around the man but he reached out towards your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Hey hey, what could be so important that you’d have to skip out on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The man smugly smirked, a shiver of disgust running down your spine.

“You must not be aware of who I am.” You yanked your wrist back from his hold. “If you’d like to maintain your position here, I’d suggest you scram and get back to work.” You dropped the polite attitude, not tolerating his persistent behavior in trying to score a date with you. You didn’t have time for this nonsense.

“Huh?? B–” Before he could utter another word, you had already resumed walking in the direction of the meeting room. Thankfully, the man made no attempt at following you so you allowed yourself to relax a bit, shoulders falling. 

“You handled that pretty well, Citrine.” A smooth voice spoke, your head turning to face the source.

“Ah Aventurine, you saw all that?” You sighed, combing a hand through your hair. 

“Mmm, hard to miss when it’s happening out in the open. In the middle of the hallway, no less.” He chuckled, matching your pace as the two of you walked towards the meeting. “You should’ve seen the guy's face, he was absolutely dumbfounded.” You laughed at that, imagining the weirdo’s expression. 

“Good, he needed a reality check.”

You both laughed.

It wasn’t long before the both of you reached the designated meeting area, confirming your identities before stepping inside. Most of the Stonehearts were already in their seats, waiting on those who were making their way over. Immediately, you saw Topaz talking with Jade, seemingly discussing business matters as they both held serious expressions. You and Aventurine had started walking towards them, both of them noticing your presence and giving you a small greeting.

“Citrine! How have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately.” Topaz smiled, concluding the conversation she was having with Jade. 

“Mm, could be better. The last assignment I received was a lot harder than expected,” You answered, taking a seat next to her. “What about you? I heard about what happened on Jarilo-VI.”

At the mention of her previous assignment, she grimaced with a frown replacing her smile. “Ah… We don’t talk about that… Other than my demotion, I’ve been doing fine. There was a new game that came out recently so I’ve been playing it since.” You hummed, crossing your arms over the table. 

“Aetherium Wars? I keep hearing all my subordinates talking about it.” Aventurine spoke, mimicking your actions. “Speaking of subordinates, I’m sure Citrine has an interesting story to tell you both.” He poked your shoulder with his finger, a sly smile on his face. 

Rolling your eyes, you recounted the earlier event to Jade and Topaz, the four of you gossiping about that specific worker. 

“Oh, him? I’ve been hearing a lot about him from some of my female subordinates.” Jade rested her head on the palm of her hand. “Apparently he’s been trying to coax women into sleeping with him. Management isn’t able to do anything about him as these are only rumors.” She sighed disappointedly, “It’s best you avoid him, Citrine and Topaz.”

You made a mental note of Jade’s words, Diamond’s authoritative tone garnering everyone’s attention. You sincerely hoped that you wouldn’t run into him again. 

-----

Walking out of the meeting room, you stretched your arms above your head with a groan. It took forever for it to conclude, but when it did, you were excited to go back home and rest. The meeting had gone over the previous assignments each Stoneheart worked on, recounting specific details from reports and such. However, what stood out to you was the dinner that Diamond invited everyone to take part in, acting as some sort of team bonding experience. 

“Excited for the dinner party tomorrow, Citrine?” Aventurine hummed, the two of you walking down the hallway to head back home. 

“Kinda, I’m excited for the food.” You weren’t really much of a drinker, always the token sober friend at parties who made sure everyone was safe and having a good time. “You think you’re gonna get drunk?”

Aventurine laughed. “We’ll see how I’m feeling about drinks tomorrow night. If anything, you’ll take care of me, right?” He batted his eyelashes at you with an innocent look in his eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully punched his shoulder. “We’ll see. I might just leave you out on the streets if you’re not careful with your words.” Aventurine pouted at you, sighing dramatically.

“And here I thought we were best friends. You wound me, Citrine.” 

“Oh shut it, Aven.”

-----

The next day, you went about your normal routine. Reluctantly leaving the comfort of your sheets to work on copious amounts of paperwork in your office, spending your lunch break with your fellow Stonehearts Aventurine and Topaz, continuing where you left off, and then clocking out for the day. If it weren’t for Aventurine reminding you of the dinner party that would be happening later, you would’ve forgotten and gone straight to bed. So instead of changing into your pajamas, you dressed appropriately for the occasion, making sure you had everything on you before driving off to the meeting point. 

After parking your vehicle and making sure that it was locked, you walked up to the front of the restaurant, seeing your coworkers already gathered near the doors. Aventurine paused his conversation with Topaz, waving you over with a smile. 

“Citrine! You actually showed up.” Topaz grinned. “I thought you would’ve been too tired to come.” 

“Well, someone needs to keep everyone in check, especially this one.” You teased, rustling Aventurine’s blond hair. He swatted your hands away, huffing in annoyance as he tried fixing up his hair.

“Excuse me, I think I’d be just fine without your supervision.” Fixing his bangs, he shot you a playful glare. “You on the other hand… You probably couldn’t hold your liquor even if you tried.”

“Even if I couldn’t, at least I don’t continue to participate in drinking competitions only to end up throwing up all over myself.” You recalled the last time Aventurine drank too much he could hold. The poor guy had ended up puking all over his clothes and the smell could never be washed out. 

“Wha– Shut up about that will you!” Aventurine elbowed you, eyes darting around the area to make sure no one heard that part of the conversation. Topaz laughed at the memory.

“Goodness, the smell was horrendous! You should’ve seen everyone’s faces as we passed them while escorting you back home.” Topaz snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to forget that memory.”

“Shut up! Both of you!” 

-----

When everyone was accounted for, Diamond led you all inside, a worker of the restaurant holding the door open.

The interior of the restaurant gave off a sense of warmth, remaining both homey and lavish. The mahogany wooden counters went well with the beige walls, plants dotting every nook and cranny which gave the place a kind of liveliness. Placing your bag around the chair, you pulled out a seat and sat down, the cushion providing you with comfort. Aventurine and Topaz sat by your sides, eyes taking in the decorations and layout. 

Grabbing a copy of the menu, Aventurine scanned through the various meals and desserts they had to offer, flipping to the alcohol section with a grin. “Citrine, you’ll take care of me in case anything happens..right?” He turned his head towards you, his grin growing wider at your deadpan expression. 

“Duh–” “I knew I could rely on you!” 

Aventurine wrapped an arm around your shoulder, his free hand clutching at his heart. What a drama queen, you thought, letting him side-hug you. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a rich but light aroma that held a hint of vanilla. Realizing how close he was to you, you felt your cheeks heat up, nudging him away as you gave him a lopsided smile. 

“Don’t drink more than you can handle, Aven.” “I won’t, I won’t.” 

The dinner, so far, has been going smoothly. The atmosphere was lively and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time together, sharing drinks and laughs, chatting about the latest trends and events, etc… You were talking with some of your fellow peers before you felt the urge to use the restroom. Excusing yourself from the conversation with a polite smile, you quickly hurried in the direction towards the restroom. 

Aventurine, who had been glancing in your direction every couple of minutes, noticed your retreating form. At first, he was a little concerned due to the slight jog you were doing, but paid you no mind as he resumed listening to a coworker talk about his last assignment. 

Yet..something had caught his eye, a familiar man who was sitting at the bar had gotten up from his seat and went in the same direction as you.

Despite him feeling a little tipsy, he knew his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him just yet. It was that subordinate from earlier. The weirdo who had stopped you and started hitting on you, ignoring your attempts at turning him down. What was he doing here? 

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed, barely listening to his coworker at this point. He would never admit it to your face, but when he first witnessed the man trying to shoot his shot with you, he was ready to drag and throw him out to the curb, wanting to give the man hell for his unwavering persistence. His actions disgusted him, his stomach twisting and turning with deep rage when he placed his dirty hands on you. 

Yet you handled the situation well, remaining both calm and professional, something that was undeserving for a man such as him. And though Aventurine would be sure to teach him some manners, he could not, for the meeting would start soon and he needed to hurry. So giving the man a silent glare, he promised himself to never let you come across that man again. Yet here he was, walking towards the restrooms. 

Aventurine already accepted his feelings for you, yet he was too hesitant to make the first move. How ironic since he’s the one who usually flirts with you and teases you every day. The best he could do was give you a myriad of things, from expensive clothes and jewelry to simple trinkets. He knew what you liked, you were his close friend after all. Despite his yearning for something more, he didn’t want to risk the chance of losing you. It’s something he could never gamble with.

“--turine? Aventurine?” A finger snapped in front of his face, bringing his attention back to his coworker in front of him. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Oh- uh, yeah! I’m fine, just had a little too much to drink…” Aventurine muttered, eyes darting back towards the restrooms every couple of seconds. “I..need to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” Downing the rest of his cocktail, he stood up from his seat, the chair sliding back with a creak. 

Nearing where the restrooms were located, Aventurine could hear the familiar sound of your voice and a man’s. 

“Must I remind you that I am not interested?--” 

“Come on! Just give me a chance! I know a lovely spot where we could..get down to business.” Hearing those words made you gag, shoving the man away from you to gain some distance. 

“A chance? How about I give you a chance to get the hell out of here before I do it myself.”

“There’s no need for the feisty attitude! Let me buy you one drink, I’ll make it worth your time–”

“I think you’ve heard loud and clear that they don’t want anything to deal with you.” 

Both you and the man’s head snapped towards the direction in which the voice came from. It was Aventurine, with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted into a disgusted frown. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, magenta-cyan eyes burning holes through the man’s head. If looks could kill, that man would’ve been deader than dead. 

“Tch- who are you?” The man snobbily asked, attempting to stand his ground. Aventurine laughed, walking over towards the both of you. You could feel the anger seeping from his being, permeating the air with a thick tension that anyone could suffocate in. 

He was more than angry, enraged.

“I think the better question is: who do you think you are? Approaching members of the Stonehearts so casually and treating them like an item.” Aventurine towered over the man, the pressure weighing him to his spot. “Learn to respect your superiors, subordinate.” 

You could visibly see the color draining from the man’s face when Aventurine showed his ID as proof, tucking it away into his pocket. 

“You know, you’re quite lucky you’ve made it this far without getting fired.” Aventurine adjusted his coat. “But I’m afraid your luck has come to an end, I’ll be changing that.” Lowering his gaze to be eye-to-eye with the man, he gave him a condescending smile, “You’ll be fired, and that starts tomorrow.” Leaning back into his full height, Aventurine walked past him towards you, grabbing your hand and leading you away from the man who had not yet registered the blond’s words.

“F-fired…?” His voice was drowned out by the chattering of people and workers as the two of you got farther and farther away from him.

“Phew, now that that’s settled with… How about we have some fun?” Aventurine gave you a genuine grin this time, his personality taking a huge turn. Blinking at him, you were still registering everything that had happened. 

“Aventurine…”

“C’mon Citrine, the night won’t last forever!”

You stared at him before sighing, a drink could help after all that had just happened. 

“Fine… But I need to talk to you about something later.” His grin faltered but came back just as fast.

“Sure. Now here, I think this drink is something you’ll definitely enjoy.”

-----

As you promised yourself, you only drank what you could handle so you wouldn’t get flat-out drunk. And as Aventurine didn’t promise, he was flat-out drunk. 

The dinner had ended a couple of minutes ago and you were saying goodbye to the rest of your peers, parting ways while lugging a drunk Aventurine behind you. 

“Ugh Aventurine, how much did you drink?” Your nose wrinkled as you could smell the strong scent of alcohol radiating from him. He definitely needed to take a shower as soon as he got home. But there was a problem, a tiny issue.

He didn’t have anyone but himself at home so there was no way you could leave him alone lest he hurt himself. 

“Heh, one too many…” Aventurine giggled, dragging his foot behind him. You shook your head with a small grin on your face. “Clearly.”

Aventurine had originally hitched a ride with Topaz, so there was no issue about leaving a car behind. She had offered to take him home but you felt that it was your responsibility since you’ve been close friends for a while. So with one final goodbye and hug, she left, leaving you with a drunk gambler in an almost barren parking lot. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Opening the passenger door, you helped Aventurine buckle himself up, moving his legs so they wouldn’t get hit by the door closing. After getting in yourself, you made sure everything was cleared before leaving the parking space and heading to Aventurine’s place. 

Occasionally, you would glance in his direction whenever you were at a stop light, making sure that he was ok before looking back at the road. He seemed to be dozing off here and there, body jolting back awake every time he found himself leaning forward. You found it a little silly but decided not to say anything about it.

At last, you could see his house in the distance. 

Putting your vehicle in park, you carefully helped him out of the passenger’s seat and closed the door with your leg. Walking up the steps to his front door, you could hear the faint sounds of his pets from the other side. There was a ‘mrow’ at the door, soft scratching noises coming from behind it. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You smiled, turning towards Aventurine. “Do you have the keys?”

“Mm coat pocket…” He grunted, leaning on you for support as he fished out his keys. It took a couple of tries but eventually, you were able to unlock the door, pushing it open with your foot. 

Three gray cats greeted you at the front, looking up at the both of you with wide eyes. They happily followed you as you made your way to the living room couch, setting him down so you could take off your shoes. 

“You think you can shower by yourself?” You asked, placing your shoes in a small cubby. Aventurine gave you a small nod, swaying side to side as he walked towards his bedroom. You watched him for just a moment to make sure he didn’t trip, but with the help of his pets, he was able to safely make it to the bedroom and to his personal bathroom. 

With a sigh, you walked towards one of the guest rooms to go find some clothes. You normally left a couple of your clothes in one of his guest rooms since you’d have occasions such as these where he was too drunk to properly care for himself. And the occasional sleepover or game night with Topaz and Ratio. 

Fishing through the dresser, you pulled out some comfortable pajamas and a towel before walking towards the main bathroom. Honestly, you were a little jealous that he had such a big place with a lot of rooms. It made your place feel much smaller.

-----

The steam from the hot bath you just took evaporated in the air when you opened the door, stepping outside with a towel around your neck. You could still hear the water running from Aventurine’s room, assuming that he was savoring the much-needed shower. You knocked on his door loud enough so that he could hear, ear pressed against the door to hear for a response. 

“Aventurine? You okay in there?” 

The shower stopped, curtains shuffling which signaled that he was getting out. “Yes, I’m.. fine.” He softly called out.

“Mm..” Backing away from the door, you left to go make him a glass of water.

Plopping down onto the sofa, you grabbed the remote to the TV and flipped through different movies before settling on one that caught your interest. Soon after, you heard the door to his bedroom open and the sounds of multiple footsteps making their way to the living room. 

“Citrine..?” 

“Here, come take a seat. I got you some water, I figured you were thirsty.” You patted the space next to you, watching as he plopped himself by your side with his pets hopping around the two of you. They had settled at the foot of the couch, seemingly interested in the movie as much as you were.

There was a brief silence between the two of you besides the sounds from the TV and occasional yawn coming from the critters. Glancing at a nearby clock, the time had read 10:37 PM, yet you didn’t feel tired. You turned your gaze back to the TV, continuing to watch whatever movie was playing. You hadn’t bothered to check the title or description. 

Aventurine moved forward to grab the glass of water, drinking quite a bit of it before turning to face you.

“..You wanted to talk about something..?” He drowsily asked. Your eyes flickered to his own before settling back on the movie. 

“I wanted to say thanks for.. what happened today. I really appreciate it.” 

Aventurine smiled softly, “What are friends for.”

You smiled back.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his tongue. Would now be the time to tell you? What would he even say? Whatever he drank at the party certainly made him feel bolder than usual if he was certain of confessing to you. 

“_____…” You perked up at the sound of your name, directing your full attention towards Aventurine. Usually, when he called you by your actual name, he had something troubling him. And by observing his facial expression and body language, you knew something was bothering him.

“Is everything alright?” You turned down the volume of the TV.

“I need to tell you something,” Aventurine murmured, hands reaching to grab yours. He seemed awfully clingy, then again, he always is when he’s drunk. 

“What is it?” You interlock your hands with him, squeezing them comfortingly. “I’ll always be here to listen.”

“I—“ He took a deep breath, “—don’t want to be friends anymore.”

‘Fuckthatcameoutwrong—‘

You stared at him in stunned silence, feeling a piece of you die right then and there. What did he mean by, ‘I don’t want to be friends anymore.’? Is he finally fed up with all your shit after all these years? Did he— 

“I want to be more than just close friends, _____.”

Oh.

Oh.

That makes a lot of sense.

“Huh.” You idiot, is that all you can say? He gave you a flat expression, does he need to repeat himself? Please don’t make him say it again. 

“I—“ “No I just— sorry. I feel the same way about you, I was just in shock.” You interrupted, palms becoming slightly sweaty.  He let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank goodness. I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been holding onto that.”

“Really, when did you start feeling this way?” You were curious as to when this all started because you had liked him a while back too. Maybe if you had mustered up the courage earlier on, you would’ve been together by now.

Aventurine shrugged, “Dunno. One day you just walked in through the doors and after that, I.. felt differently towards you.” 

“But—“ he continued, “The more time I spent around you the more I started picking up on your little habits, what you loved, how you liked things done a certain way… No matter how big or small they were, I just seemed to notice it and I held onto it longer than I thought I would.” He coughed. “That was a mouthful.”

Laughing, you gave him a tight hug, soaking in his warmth. He hugged you back, clinging onto you as if you’d be gone within a blink of an eye. Oh how terrible that would be if this was a dream his hazy mind came up with… 

But you were here, breathing the same air as him and sharing your warmth with him. This was no dream like the ones he had in previous nights. He couldn’t be happier.

-----

Groaning, Aventurine slowly blinked his eyes open. His head pounded and his mouth felt full of cotton, the fuzzy memories from last night slowly seeping into his conscious mind. 

Right..last night. 

Aventurine slowly sat up, being mindful of the warmth next to him as he peered down at your slumbering form. Small puffs of air left you, chest steadily rising and falling before you shuffled in your sleep. He chuckled, moving a strand of your hair away from your face. 

Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he decided he would make breakfast for the both of you.

“Ugh…”

…After he took some painkillers.

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

[ninyard]

OBSESSED w mic’d up content nin

ME TOO im thinking

- Matt strutting over to Kevin and nudging him to say, “Do you think we could convince Coach to let Neil go in defense again? I’m getting kind of bored,” and Kevin’s like “Dude. You’re Mic’ed up.” And Matt just looks around the stadium into one of the cameras and waves before grinning like, “oopsie daisies”

- Of course Jeremy saying thank you every time he gets the ball is so real to me but his good sportsmanship showing up all the time because he’s Mic’ed up. Helping up his opponents with a “Are you okay, you good? That sounded like it hurt.” Him cheering on anyone else when they get possession

- Nicky dodging a check and running away like, “Cant touch this dunununnun dunun dunun can’t touch this”

- also Nicky yelling everytime someone gets close to him. Kevin telling him to stop screaming and he’s like “but it’s so scawwy 🥺”

- Kevin letting out a little “woohoo!” After he scores and it’s so unexpected and cute. Neil jogs over to him like, “Did you just… woohoo?” And he just tells him to go away

- Renee with her quiet little shows of support. Little whispers of “Yess” and “let’s go!” And “goooood shot very nice”

- Allison being fake flirty with her teammates. Walking over to Dan like “BITCH you looked so hot when you got that ball you’re KILLING IT”

- I think Matt would be the funniest. He spills water on himself and he’s like “Call me a basketballer the way I’m dribbling,” and Aaron is like “What did you just say?” “Don’t worry about it.”

- just the singing. I think Nicky would be dramatically singing all the time. Him doing a little Don’t Rain On My Parade like “DONT tell me not to LIIIIIVE just sit and PUTTAH” and the play starts coming towards him “Don’t rain on my parraaaaaaaad-“ before he screams and checks someone

- Aaron beatboxing while he’s waiting for play to resume

- Neil’s running commentary, “What are you DOING?” “What WAS that?” “Are you kidding me? Are you actually kidding me?” “Jesus Christ.” “No, the ball goes this way, Matt, what the hell.”

- Also Matt taunting the other side, “Hey buddy!” “Fuck off” “Oooooh that’s not very nice. Onto the benches with you. I’ll take the ball specifically from you now and it’s all your fault. And listen, man, I’m not even sorry.”

- They make the decision to mic up Andrew once, and to everyone’s surprise, he’s actually like. Commentating like Neil is. “Wrong way, Dan.” “I’m bored. Will someone do something exciting?” Followed by some oofs and ahs and when someone shoots at him he blocks it like, “Not today.”

[leah-lover]

Two hearts one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader.Angst

Part 1. part 2

“ Why did it take you so long to go out with me?” asked alexia. She sat opposite wearing a dress, heer hair was down, her makeup was minimal but she was absolutely stunning.  Her words were true though. It took her asking you out 4 times for you to agree. 

“ Well I wanted you to be sure that you wanted me. I don't want to cause you any stress especially because this is  a crucial part of the season.” you respond. “ I am happy you agreed to come with me. And yes, I really really want you.” she cheekily responded. 

Both the conversation, food and wine were great. Once you finished she drove you to your house. 

“ This was definitely the best date I have ever had.”  you say to alexia once you get to your door. “ i will be happy if this date continues?” she suggests. 

“ I am not sleeping with you, capitana. We have a game tomorrow, you need sleep. I am willing to kiss you though.” you say before giving her the sweetest most gentle kiss. Her hands on your waist, your on her neck. You last for a while before pulling out. “ go home and rest, capi.” you say before pulling out of her hold and entering your apartment complex. 

The next morning was matchday. You had a strict routine to follow and you did it to the T. However, flashes of the night before kept flooding your mind from time to time. Alexia’s smile, laugh, and lips were all what you were thinking about on your way to the stadium. 

Upon getting there, you also do your usual routine getting ready for a game you were starting, Alexia still on your mind. When you saw her in her game fit you couldn't help but let your jaw drop. She was in fact wearing a very sexy look that you wanted to tear it off her right then and there. When she saw your reaction she couldn't help but smile. 

The game started out really well. You managed to score 2 goals in 10 minutes which earned you an embrace from your captain, and the team was dominating like usual. however , it would all turn at the 60 minutes when alexia falls on the ground. You weren't far away from her when it happened so you ran as soon as you saw her ignoring the play happening. You knelt as soon as you got there and heard her say “ Joder, joder, no joder mi rodilla, no otra vez.” you understood that she was cursing about her knee. 

You then get the hai out of her face and tell her to calm down. “ Dulce bebé, todo estará bien.” you comfort her. 

You didn't hear the whistle blow, still in your bubble with Alexia when Parti urged you up to leave space for the medical team. You were shaking with fear for Alexia but the play resumed. She was the only thing on your mind for the next 10 minutes you were on the field before Jona subbed you out. 

You made an excuse for needing ice from the locker room so that you can go in and see alexia. 

Once you got there, she was laying on the physio bed alone and her knee was bandaged up.  “ ohh my sweet baby” you say to her when you see the tears i n her eyes. You go to her cup her face and kiss her lips and her red cheeks gently. 

“ It's gonna be fine mi amor.” you add but she is still silent. “ Can I stay with you?” you ask. “ Look, Jona is pretty upset about me re-injuring my knee. I don't want him to blame you or anything so it is best to keep our relationship a secret for now.” she says breaking what was left of your heart. You get up and leave immediately not wanting her to see you cry. You try and collect yourself before heading out to the field again. 

You keep your head down, meet the fans and shake the hands of the players. 

When you get to the locker room you change quickly and head to your car without saying goodby to anybody which they would later find weird. 

You cry the whole way to your house “ she is ashamed of me.” you say quietly between sobs. When you get home you go directly to your bed and fall asleep wanting this day to end. 

You wake up at 4 am and check our phone to find a text from alexia “ estrella i am just trying to protect you.” 

“ thank you capi.” you respond and shut your phone again. You didn't realize how much you felt for Alexia until you saw her down on the field,  an image that would haunt you.  

The next morning you got a message from the group chat that said that alexia was injured and needed another surgery. So you text her wishing her good luck and that you were thinking of her but she was radio silent. 

The following days were grim for you. You felt bad waking up and even worse going to training. All you thought about was how Alexia was doing. You were getting regular updates through the group chat but wanted to hold and sooth her knowing how badly she felt. You wanted to kiss  her and be with her but you couldn't since patri was at her house and a few medical staff members too. 

You were bad at training, you didn't sleep well or eat well and your negative state was obvious to the entire team. 

“ chica what’s wrong?” asked aitana one day after training. As soon as she put her hand on your back you broke down and started crying. You didn't realize how touch starved you were and how much you needed to be comforted. 

“ You need to talk to me right now.”  ordered aitana after you came down. 

“ I caused alexia’s injury.” you declare looking at the ground. 

“ We started dating a few weeks ago and we went on a date the day before. I think I distracted her and caused her injury. I just want to be there for her and love her but we are a secret so I can't.” when you verbalized  your feelings you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

“ re-injuries happen when you had an ACL it's not your fault estrella . if you want to go see the captain a can arrange that.” 

You look at her in shock before she says “ go get ready i go do some phone calls. “ 

When you park in front of her apartment, nerves settle in your stomach but you push through, go to her door and open it with the keys patri left under the mat. 

You enter as quietly as possible. When you set your gaze on her form you feel relieved. She was laying on the couch watching tv with her knee propped up on a pillow. 

When you see each other she smiles and you tear up. 

“ oh my god i missed you so much.” she says when you reach her. “ Amor, why are you crying?” she adds. 

“ I missed you.” you respond before meeting her soft lips. “ I was  so worried.” you say before she cuts you off. 

“ I know aitana told me. Amor, you didn't cause anything and I am sorry for pushing you away.” 

“ te amo” she added. “ I love you too” you respond before kissing her again. 

[blissfullyecho]

March 2023 "That Girl" Challenge

Helloooo :)

This is the 31-Day Challenge that I've created for us to do together this month. It's just something simple and fun. Enjoy! - BlissfullyEcho

——————————————-

DAY 1: Deep clean your living space (bedroom, apartment, house, condo, camper, etc)

DAY 2: Deep clean your car (if you don't have a car, deep clean something else that you haven't done but should do: junk drawer, dresser, yoga mat, makeup brushes, etc)

DAY 3: Try a new (healthy!) recipe-- this could even be a healthy dessert or beverage

DAY 4: Try a guided meditation on YouTube for 10 minutes after waking up and before checking social media

DAY 5: Spend an extra 15 minutes working on something for school, work, hobbies, or your own personal development

DAY 6: Unfollow, delete, and block social media accounts and phone contacts that are just not part of your life anymore (or those who you plan on not having as a part of your life anymore)

DAY 7: Delete social media pictures that don't fit in with the best version of you. This could be the overedited photos, the thirst trap you put on there because that one person made you upset, etc.

DAY 8: Try a new workout that you haven't done. Pilates, ballet, barre, tennis, CrossFit, kickboxing, F45, cycling, running, swimming, etc.

DAY 9: Pamper your pet. Brush, clean, trim their nails, give them treats, etc. Go above and beyond for them today. (If you don't have animals, pamper yourself today!)

DAY 10: Enjoy the sunshine. Go outside (wear your sunscreen, sunglasses, and a hat) for 15-20 minutes and enjoy your own company and nature.

DAY 11: No phone 30 minutes before bed. Set your bedtime tonight, and set an alarm 30 minutes prior to that. Once your alarm goes off, put your phone on DND and read a book before bed. Read until you are tired enough to turn off your lights and sleep.

DAY 12: Watch a documentary about something and learn! Maybe it's something you've never had an interest in. Just please make it positive! No heartbreaking or tragic documentaries. Let's not invite that into our "That Girl" challenge.

DAY 13: Buy a self-care item. This could be a yoga mat, face mask, cleansing oil, the Bible, perfume, etc. It can be as expensive or inexpensive as you'd like.

DAY 14: Go out on a date with yourself. Take yourself out to do something you've never done/been to before.

DAY 15: Aim to drink at least 60oz. of pure water today.

DAY 16: Spend 30 minutes learning a language you've always wanted to learn (and if you love it, practice for 10 minutes a day afterward)

DAY 17: Turn your notifications off.

DAY 18: No social media today.

DAY 19: Do something creative today. Buy a canvas, paint, and a brush, and follow a Bob Ross tutorial; maybe buy a jewelry-making kit. Take today and be creative for at least 30 minutes.

DAY 20: 10,000 steps OR walk for an hour

DAY 21: Go through your finances and see where you can budget. Take this time to audit your subscriptions and see if you would like to cancel any recurring subscriptions to save you extra money each month.

DAY 22: Avoid eating animal products today. Just focus on whole grains, fruit, veggies, nuts, seeds, water, and vitamins.

DAY 23: Schedule any doctor appointments you might have. If you don't have to, then take today to create a to-do list for the next 3 days.

DAY 24: Spend some time deleting pictures and making storage space in your phone. Any way you can-- it doesn't have to be from deleting your photos.

DAY 25: Listen to a new podcast or TedTalk.

DAY 26: Check your credit report/score and see if there's anything you need to do/complete.

DAY 27: Clear your email inbox and unsubscribe from the companies you don't shop from anymore.

DAY 28: Touch up on your resume.

DAY 29: Sort through your closet and throw away, donate, and sell your clothes and shoes that you don't wear (and that you know you'll never wear again)

DAY 30: Sort through your bathroom drawers and cabinets and organize them.

DAY 31: Create a vision board for April.

[see-arcane]

Before the journal opened

Before it saved his life

Before Hell staked a claim

Before he swung his knife

A storm rolled in with the spring

And hope paved his long way

Through monsters and their red wants

He takes step one today.

WARNING: Contains some grisly imagery towards the end.

All free preview chapters are available on my Substack.

Harker

C.R. Kane

March to April

Spring rolled in more grey than green that week. It dribbled rain through morning and noon, pondering to itself whether it would save an encore for evening in the way of a proper storm. The songbirds and the street noise went on as best they could between showers. They made up the only true din in Jonathan Harker’s corner, not counting the hammering of the typewriter or an occasional rustle of sheets. The usual low cacophony of the firm had been whittled down immensely due to the cough that had been shared at the start of the week and sent the greater part of Peter Hawkins’ small legion home to hack and sniffle in private.

This left Jonathan somewhat abandoned, not counting Hawkins’ presence behind the office door. It was just as well. He’d been splitting his attention between the eternal tower of logistical and legal chores that ruled his desk and the shorthand notes made in preparation for his exam. Such had been his constant state for the past two months. There had been ribbing from all directions, some bemoaning the imminent loss of a load-bearing clerk, others saying now they could draw lots and boot someone else out the door, and still more wheedling about whether or not they could still drag him in place as a shield when clientele of a certain incendiary temperament came around. Please?

Jonathan had remained ominously mum. Groans and lamentations ensued.

This was a joke, of course. Young Mr. Harker was nothing if not dedicated to the task of transmuting Hawkins’ charity to a whipcord child fifteen years prior into a proper investment. Case in point, using a lull in his own workload to get things in order for those bedridden solicitors who had the nearest deadlines pending. Bentley idled through with his tea as he did and shook his head.

“Don’t know what it is that comes with your kind, Harker, but it’s a busier thing that any of us idle English have. We’re down two thirds of the building and here you are doing three-quarters of the work. Get the examination out of the way and you may as well tell the old man to retire.” A thoughtful sip came from behind the porcelain. “Must be something they teach you Gurkha sorts, eh? Some kind of discipline our doughy little English schoolboys never get knocked in their heads.”

Jonathan weighed the decision of whether or not to give Arnold Bentley his bimonthly reminder that he was, in fact, English by birth. His parents as well. But the reminder would likely fall into the same pit between the man’s ears where all the others had gone. Worse, it might risk a tally mark against him in whatever invisible score was kept by peers. The one that determined whether the combination of Jonathan’s physiognomy and disposition really were enough to pardon his status or not. He finished this measuring of scales in less than a blink. A smile was summoned.

“Not at all. Just helping where things can be helped.” He straightened a sheaf of forms back in order. “That, and I cannot go a day without productivity, or else I shall have to go home and carve my hand with the kukri knife in penance.”

Bentley paused halfway through his laugh when Jonathan held his gaze. He gawped over his cup.

“God. Really?”

“No, not really. My penmanship would suffer terribly.”

This spurred a louder guffaw from the man, likewise a rattling clap of his open palm to Jonathan’s shoulder. Then he was out like a breeze to carry on with whatever it was he had drifted from in his own territory of the building. Jonathan resumed his interrupted rhythm. Read. Check. Write. Type. Read. Check. Write. Type. So he went for another hour before his watch told him it was time to check the post.

He stepped out during a lull of rain. The thunder talked with itself in the slate-dark clouds, debating whether or not to turn the spigot on the moment the wad of envelopes was out in the open. Jonathan applauded himself on dodging the first drops of the deluge by seconds. Peeking through the window, he saw there were even a few fitful winks of lightning hopping through the sky. What few pedestrians were left went running for shops they had no interest in, restaurants they had no appetites for, and cabs that turned frustratingly scarce within the minute. Jonathan grimaced in premonition of the dash he and Mina would have to make under the umbrella once she was free of her students.

But that was for later. For now, he flipped through the day’s heap and dealt them out to the waiting desks, occupied or not. The last in the stack was a familiar packet and one of extraordinary make. It was patterned with the stamps of myriad countries with ornate flourishes in the writing. A thick crimson seal sporting a rearing dragon marked it as the second delivery from the same foreign estate that had written to Hawkins in February. A castle set in the backdrop of the Carpathians.

Jonathan had felt his heart twist the first time he’d handled a parcel from the address and it twisted doubly hard now. There had been time in the interim to start combing through Exeter’s libraries for any beginning details to have ready should Hawkins want some background to aid one of the solicitors, especially in the case of a potential trip. If the latter came to pass, it would mean a visit to London and a perusal of denser material. A fine enough excuse to wander the superior bookcases and the British Museum on its own. But the luster of the errand was already gone in his mind. The first glimpse of the prospective client’s territory in the first book he’d cracked open, wrought in illustrations and sparse photographs as it was, sent a spear of longing through Jonathan’s chest that still hadn’t left.

Why would anyone living there want to trade such a place for England?

Jonathan was not oblivious to the advantages of the country. He understood his good fortune in access to modern works, from amenities to entertainments; at least in theory. With cautious budgeting. But all his life had been spent in cramped rooms or congested streets. The presence of a park, a farmer’s field, a distant beach, or a picturesque cemetery were the nearest he would ever come to the broad and chainless beauty of places not yet stomped flat with bricks and smoke.

Imagine! Meadows and hills, valleys and forests, all topped with the great serrated crown of the mountains. Cities and villages worn smooth with generations going back through centuries.

Imagine being there with her. Seeing sunrise flood over the peaks, walking old roads and footpaths, tasting and seeing and playing and breathing in a place without its laces drawn like a noose around throat and purse. The trains alone would be enough for her, true, but we would find somewhere to stop. Somewhere in every swatch of the countryside. At some point, as she became lost in a view, in a meal, in a walk, she would see me on my knee and what I held in my hand, and the wedding could happen right there in an ancient chapel, and then…

But the fantasy turned to dust before it could finish.

The required funds were cudgel enough to smash the whole daydream to atoms. At most they might manage a trip someplace other than their usual heights of hedonism. That was, a brief trip to Piccadilly and back. Maybe a bit of theatre. Possibly a picnic. Perhaps even some further place in the Isles. Somewhere rich with quiet and history of its own, but likely not across the Channel. Never a locale so far and mythic as the place Hawkins’ new client seemed interested in abandoning. Jonathan pictured Hawkins writing back to the noble on his behalf, wailing at the stranger not to forsake his fairy tale castle for the doldrums of a Londoner’s garish crate of a manse, no matter how crusted in filigree.

Save yourself! Do not trade your mountains for an English molehill!  Turn back, turn back!

But that would be a poor way to run the firm, wouldn’t it? Resigned, he brought the packet to Hawkins’ office and knocked at the door.

“It’s open, Jonathan.”

Jonathan ducked in with his smile already nailed in place. It was an expression he now had to work at as recent months plodded on and Peter Hawkins’ complexion failed to improve. The man behind the broad desk was only half as rubicund as he’d been the year before. He had insisted to everyone who dared ask that he was merely suffering from a particularly ugly attack of gout and that he would be fine in a week or so. As it stood, Hawkins could still sit up straight and bellow thanks when Jonathan came by with his delivery. He even turned a shade ruddier upon seeing the dragon’s seal.

“Well now,” he said through a grin. He turned the packet over and pointed it at Jonathan. “Have you taken lunch?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Go on and fill up quick. If this is what I believe it is, I expect I’ll need your ear within the hour.”

So saying, Hawkins slit the packet open and began to read. Jonathan dismissed himself with his fingers crossed in his pocket. Perhaps the British Museum wasn’t too far off after all. That and the London libraries. It would be too brief a visit for anything more extravagant than what Lucy referred to as his and Mina’s ‘academic holidays,’ but it would make an interesting exercise just the same. Plotting the trip was a pleasant enough distraction to eat to.

He finished just as he heard the tell-tale grunt and shuffle that meant Hawkins was hefting himself up to trudge around his desk. Jonathan flew to the door first, only just recalling to swat his knuckles against the wood before opening it. Hawkins looked up with a shock before gratefully flopping himself back into his chair.

“You have a dog’s hearing and cat’s feet. Ought to have a bell on you to give an old man some warning.”

“Apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Saved me dragging myself around unduly.” Hawkins thumped a hand on the desk as if patting a horse. “I suppose I need to throw this out and trade desks with you. I can make it past that little square of yours in no time.” He thought further on it. “Less than a minute, anyhow.” He made a face that couldn’t decide itself between a smile or a grimace. “My doctor, who only seems to tell me what I already know, declares that I am not fit for any arduous travel. In his terms, that includes going further than the street corner on foot. Even a train ride is apparently a gamble, being that I should be in bed resting and rotting like a good patient rather than hobbling my way to and from the cab to work. Already I press his orders and my luck. Which means this,” he held up an envelope, “is out of the question for me.”

Jonathan recognized the torn envelope and scarlet seal. What held him up was the recognition that it was the first of the two packets. The February delivery.

“That’s unfortunate. Who was the client?”

Hawkins grinned in earnest now, purposefully turning the envelope so that the address was hidden.

“You tell me.”

Jonathan offered half a smile back. It was an old game that had begun years ago when he was still just a bookish boy underfoot, helping around the office for whatever could be spared for a child’s wage. Even then his eyes had been hungry things.

“Count Dracula, from the castle of the same name, of Transylvania. The address is from a Bistritz postal service situated in the Carpathians.”

“True and true.” Hawkins set the envelope on the desk and tapped it with a thick finger. “Curious taste in property, this one. Likely has the cravings of a renovator. No trouble on our side but for the hunting. But the esteemed gentleman is so damnably far into the Continent that I couldn’t rightly offer myself up in the way he’s asking. I ought to say, the way he insists upon buying. The way our Count puts it, he would rather pay every fee of travel for his English solicitor to and from his keep in the mountains, and play host on top, rather than, he says, ‘Suffer bartering land through stationery.’ In short, he’s willing to ship a solicitor to his door rather than play at this back-and-forth for all his questions, all out of his own pocket. He wants someone who’s not just going to find and sell the manner of place he’s after, but someone who can play encyclopedia if he’s unsure of something.” 

“Hence him being prepared to rent out the owner of the firm for an in-person visit,” Jonathan finished. Hawkins gave a nod.

“And the owner might have been up for it a decade or so ago. But time marches and gout outweighs gold. So I fear that leaves me out of the picture.” Jonathan watched Hawkins fold his hands with a calculated laxness on the desk. “Your examination is coming up.”

Lightning flickered outside. More danced across Jonathan’s brain.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

“You have been my clerk since you were old enough to rent a flat,” Hawkins went on. “My apprentice and professional living plaster to this place well before that.”

“Yes,” Jonathan breathed more than spoke. He feared his vocabulary was leaking out both ears while his heart tried to climb his throat.

“And,” Hawkins half-leaned over the desk, “you have been holding onto her ring since last year. Haven’t you?”

Heat rushed up to Jonathan’s face as he got out, “…Yes. I have. Sir, are you—,”

Hawkins brandished the packet Jonathan brought through the door an hour ago. This he laid beside the February envelope so that the pair of them seemed like strange square eyes staring up at him.

“I need you to understand: This is not an offer as much as a prayer. If there’s no chance with you, that means Bentley is the next choice. He’s my longest running man here and is liable to set up his own firm before the decade’s out. But for all that, and for all that he is a trustworthy one to patter with most Englishmen, I would sooner trust a cat with a lame canary than Bentley to not choke on his own tongue with a foreigner. Clients of noble lineage included. The man can barely toe his way around an Irishman let alone anyone from across the Channel. And, since the door is shut and no one is around to cry nepotism, I can speak the unvarnished truth.

“You could do with one week what anyone else here could manage inside a month and have it done better. That is not me being rosy about the past or present, that is me having eyes that work and a basis of comparison between how things ran before you began working here and after. The after is smooth as silk compared to the pre-Harker gravel. Stable gravel, I allow, but not nearly as easy a burden as things became once you were attacking the paperwork. And the footwork.” Hawkins raised a caterpillar brow at him. “Any good finds in the local bookshelves?”

“Not as many as I hoped,” Jonathan thought he heard himself say. It was hard to tell as he seemed to have relocated to some remote island in his skull and could only register what was happening as if from across an ocean. “I wanted to stop by the options in London if I had the chance. Just to gather some background on the client’s location if it was needed.”

“I’d say it is,” Hawkins hummed. “Supposing you can tell me you have your schedule open for some traveling come May.”

Jonathan told him it was. Hawkins told him to go to the corner cabinet and move the bust of Alexander off the high shelf. Then to bring down the bottle and two tumblers. There were toasts and there was talk and there was a laughing chide from the older man as he shooed Jonathan’s pocket notebook back from whence it came. No notes today, young man. At least not right now. Actually, perhaps one for later. Did he have time open to visit a tailor? There was a travel budget that was about to go unused if the Count was to have his way. It may as well go toward a good cause. Hawkins could hardly send his best solicitor to a noble’s door without looking his best, and it was for the firm’s image, really, so it could hardly be helped, and the doctor couldn’t grudge him such paltry exercise as going to harangue a suit seller…

Jonathan’s eyes burned and his face ached with smiling. He was mortified to find himself close to a sob before turning the sound into a coughing laugh. Hawkins told him to drink, not inhale. That turned the next sound into a true chuckle. He couldn’t tell whether it was an effect of the liquor or his own imagination that made it seem as if the thunder was laughing too.

“Transylvania,” Mina said for the dozenth time.

“Transylvania,” Jonathan echoed. He turned to face her rather than cling to the charade that either of them were focused enough to continue their mutual study. His pile included the texts that had come to haunt his subconscious with its rules and rites of property law, now with the hypnotic temptation of the library books waiting just an arm’s length away. Mina, who Jonathan knew was as much or more a pillar of solid focus than himself, had not a mote of attention to spare for the papers taken from the realm of educational etiquette or her personal project of mirroring and translating his shorthand. The latter made a certain gleeful anticipation turn over in his stomach. It left him floundering between elation and anxiety with equal force until he thought he might lose his last meal on the floorboards.

Which would be a shame, as he and Mina had combined their efforts into a delightful result in Jonathan’s narrow kitchen. Jonathan had only half-jokingly implied that they were making a child’s ideal feast because he was, in fact, giddy as a boy who’d just shaken hands with Father Christmas. Mina had declared this was nonsense.

“A supper made of breakfast is an entirely sound culinary decision.”

“Yes, Miss Murray,” in his best schoolboy tone. “Did you want crêpes or toast?”

“Crêpes. Extra cream.”

They had giggled like children over their respective plates. Just as they did over the rapidly ignored chores they had planned for themselves after. It was the frightful intoxication of feeling the future unrolling into a new smiling mystery before them. One that whispered, yes, yes, this is real, this is coming true. A future that might include…

Jonathan gulped down a heavy lump of air as his gaze flicked again to the sheet of shorthand messages he had scribbled out for her to translate. She had stopped halfway through. Close, close, close. But he didn’t let his stare linger. Instead he found her face again, still glowing. Jonathan was forever surprised that he had not dreamt her up as a boy and continued dreaming her until now. It surprised him more that he had managed to earn her love and dumbfounded him entirely to think that she regarded herself in the same terms. More, that she insisted she was the luckier half of their equation. He did not follow her meaning then, nor did he think he ever would.

“Mina, anyone with a sliver of sense in their head would feel the same for you,” he had insisted more than once. Each time she had smiled and shaken her head. Her eyes forever bright with a sweet-somber knowledge he couldn’t decipher.

“There is plenty of sense to spare. Loving hearts as well. But there is a different lens that women see the world through and it shows things men shall never have to see. It shows so much to watch for. To be wary of, or to hope for, or to know not to expect because life has made it clear that so much of what’s dreamt of only exists for a few, while the rest make do with storybooks and stage plays.” Her hand had held tight in his. “You were not meant to exist outside the borders of a fairy tale, Jonathan Harker. That you cannot see as much for yourself makes me wonder if someone really did peel you off a page and if you will vanish back to a fair princess somewhere when I wake up.”

“That implies I am either a prince or some clever farmhand. I’m cut out for neither. I am a squire at best. Though I would not settle for a mere princess either way, however fair.” He had dared a grin at her. “Or have you already forgotten Mrs. Westenra’s unique stance on the matter?”

Memory had nettled Mina out of her glumness with a sputter that tried and failed not to turn into shamefaced laughter. She had improved somewhat in the years since the incident itself, back when the whole ring of persons involved had flamed with embarrassment over the misunderstanding of Jonathan’s presence when spotted with Miss Lucille Westenra and her companion Miss Mina Murray now that all of them had stretched out of childhood and into the far end of adolescence. Followed by the ensuing inquiry as to why Mr. Harker had been baffled at the very concept of seeking to gain Miss Westenra’s affection as anything more than a friend.

Jonathan remembered sitting in one of the gilded rooms of the Westenra estate, sat across from Lucy’s increasingly rose-faced mother as she came to the belated realization that Mina Murray’s young man was not trying to court anyone other than Mina Murray. Worse, it had been left on his shoulders to steer the conversation out of potential wreckage by thanking his hostess for clearly being concerned on Mina’s own behalf, as there were too many people in the world who took the notion of seeking out a secret paramour behind another’s back as a matter of course. He was heartened to know that Mrs. Westenra cared enough to be mindful should an actual cad come into the orbit of her daughter or her friends.

Still flushed, Mrs. Westenra had chased agreement in this, poured on apologies for the mistake and had thankfully never brushed the topic since. Though Lucy had words enough to spare on the matter for months afterward. She had languished at them in the garden about it, the image of woe in peach blossom tailoring.

“Jonathan, I fear we must become enemies,” she’d intoned gravely. “You must walk with a cane in hand and I must brandish my parasol so that we keep our distance and never risk breathing the same air. We cannot even deafen poor Mina’s ears with the Bard or eavesdroppers will take us knowing the lines of Hamlet and Ophelia as proof of a tryst. Perhaps we should go around with our hats pulled down over our eyes, lest we give into temptation and acknowledge each other’s existence while being the opposite sex. It is our only chance of salvation.”

“Miss Lindon again?” from Mina, her smile placid. Jonathan knew she wore the same callused shell he did when it came to the patter that trickled down from higher tiers than theirs. Those tiers were many and their squabbles almost alien in what they deemed worth sniping about behind their fans and cigars. The infamous Miss Lindon was apparently a thorn too serrated even for Lucy’s compassion to withstand.

“Very much Miss Lindon again. ‘He would just do for you, Lucy.’ As though she thought I would be doing a charity by going behind my friend’s back and she were doing a charity by her sneering compliment. At least nature was kind enough to spare me having to think of a similarly charitable rebuttal, as a beetle helpfully flew into her hair a moment later and she went running. One must take silver linings when they come. Unrelatedly, Jonathan, when you do become a solicitor in full, should Miss Lindon and her future beau ever approach you for a house..?”

“I shall do what I can to find them a lovely estate,” Jonathan assured. “In Northumberland.”

“Next door to an entomologist?” Mina asked over her cup.

“Of course.”

Jonathan blinked the recollection away, wondering whether it was the dizziness of the day or the ticking of the clock between Mina and the final line of shorthand that was making his mind slosh. Perhaps it was simply the subconscious’ effort to dodge the weight of the evening and what it might promise. His thoughts were fleeing to hide from hope and worry. But Mina knew him too well. She caught him with her eyes before pulling him back into the headiness of the present.

“You will do fantastically, Jonathan. Tell me you know it as well as I do.”

“I will not say I know it. Too much confidence risks laziness. I will only say that I shall give all of myself to the task. It must be done so it will be done. If I think any further than that simple fact, my head will burst.”

“If you do, I promise to sweep you up and put your pieces back in order.” Her smile softened an increment as her hand settled in his. “I mean it.” She squeezed. He squeezed back.

“The same goes for you. We are neither of us allowed to hold ourselves together with string and brittle smiles once the door is between us and,” Jonathan flapped his free hand at the rain-streaked window, “all of that. No acting when it’s us alone.” He flashed her a decidedly less-than-brittle smile. “I promise not to tattle to your girls.”

“You were bad enough today, Mr. Harker. Half the classes were watching.” Her voice tutted, but the grin showed in her eyes. Jonathan had arrived at the school with the umbrella in one hand and a bouquet in the other. A bundle of her beloved lilies that he’d used as a screen behind which to steal a kiss and drop the announcement of Hawkins’ assignment in her ear. Forgetting her audience, Mina had kissed him back, forgetting to mask herself behind the petals. They had absconded to the cab to the sound of a dozen girls cooing their farewells, Miss Murray, see you tomorrow, Miss Murray, has he got a brother, Miss Murray?

“Hardly a terrible thing. If you are one of their examples, mustn’t they have something to look forward to at the end of all their practice?” He assumed a pose of scheming innocence, lashes batting. “I could be especially nefarious come Valentine’s Day. Take a holiday from Hawkins and show up toting chocolates and train tickets and a florist’s worth of flowers.”

“You will do no such thing.”

“I can hire an orchestra to follow us around. Have them play waltzes the whole day.”

“Jonathan.”

“No, of course, an orchestra would be too cumbersome. A singer and a violin, perhaps. I can hire a paperboy to throw rose petals after us. Or else I could send them up to the classroom to follow you in procession out of the building…”

The typewriter hammered back to life. Its keys were struck with more force than they needed.

“Sorry,” Mina sang above the din, “no hearing you over this. You will have to be a foul minion of Eros a little louder.” Jonathan bit his tongue against a reply. Yes, she was typing again. Yes, she was reading the last of the shorthand. Tap-tap-tap, clack-clack-clack. So far it was all the lines of a love note—a common enough surprise, if one that fished more than the usual dimpled grin out of her tonight—and she had not caught on yet to the conclusion. “How long will the client need you over there?”

“Between the travel to the estate, the stay, and the return trip, the whole thing should be over within early May. I shall have time to hoard you a while before you and Lucy have your summer escape to the coast. Was it Whitby?”

“Yes, quite near the landmark Abbey. I mean to harass the townspeople with demands for any ghost stories they might spare about the place. Perhaps Marmion is but a single drop in a sea of waiting legends.”

Tap-tap-tap.

“Then I shall try to collect what I can abroad in turn,” Jonathan said from behind a fan of notes. He kept only the corner of his eye pinned on the swimming lines. “There should be spirits in abundance along the route.” 

Clack-clack-clack.

“I would think so. But don’t settle for ghosts alone! I shall happily adopt any devils or revenants or folkloric fiends the locals can share—,”

Her voice died mid-key.

Jonathan looked over the top of his pages. Mina sat frozen as a sculpture. Her hands still hovered at the typewriter, lax and immobile. But her eyes were in motion. Flicking back, forward, and back again between Jonathan’s shorthand and the five words they had translated to in plain ink.

Will you marry me, Wilhelmina?

By the time she finally turned her head back to face him, he was already on the floor, swift and silent at her hip. The box sat open in his hand. Set inside was a petite gold band whose stone gleamed like a fleck of starlight.

Mina looked from the ring to its holder with eyes that were already spilling.

“Yes,” Jonathan heard a dozen, a hundred times in the ensuing night. Yes, yes, yes, a thousand, a million times, yes. Between kisses, between tastes, between touches and takings that skirted the furthest edge of propriety between unmarried bodies. Yes.

“We are engaged. We must prepare for the wedding night as one must study ahead of an examination. Isn’t that right, Miss Murray?”

“It is, Mr. Harker.” Then, furtive despite her position over him, she grew a smile both shy and sly. A lure surrounded by the hanging curtain of her hair, “…Can you say it? For practice’s sake.” He did not have to ask her meaning.

“Mina Harker.”

Her teeth bared in a white moon.

“I didn’t quite hear you. Say again?” As she asked, her hand moved. He gasped in the trap of it.

“My pronunciation must be off. How is this?” His own hand moved. Her eyes went wide and dark. “Mina Harker. Mina Harker. Mina Harker.”

More practice unspooled. Harker, husband, wife, I do, I will. Around and around again until their tongues ran dry and they were left folded into the tangle of each other, their last fig leaf still reserved for the nuptial night itself. As midnight rolled past, the storm slipped off with it and left the moon to throw its rays through the edges of the curtains. Mina’s ring trapped its glow on her knuckle. He almost wept to look at it.

Real. This is real. I am awake and this is real. God, God. Thank you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into the top of her head. Her hair massed into a perfect curling cloud under his chin. The cloud tickled there as she lifted her gaze to him.

“For what?”

“You know.”

“If I must say, ‘You’re welcome,’ so must you.” Jonathan held his tongue. “Exactly.” Her hand cupped his cheek as she went on, “I feel much the same. Like a lottery was won and the prize is an unfair gift by dint of how precious it is compared to the recipient. By how that prize refuses to acknowledge their own value. But there is time yet to filter that all down into something better. We will have our vows to smother each other with and neither of us will be able to shush and insist, no, no, I am the luckier one. All while the pews roll their eyes. For tonight I ask that we have a truce. No deprecation, no hoisting onto pedestals. Just for now, we will pretend we each feel equal to the blessing of the other. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Good.” Mina lifted herself high enough to find his lips with hers. “I love you, Jonathan.”

“I love you, Mina.” He mouthed the words to himself long after she had fallen asleep atop his heart. I love you, Mina. I love you, Mina Murray. I love you, Mina Harker. I love you. Thank you.

Jonathan faced the covered window and the sliver of pane visible at the cloth’s edge. He spotted the moon hovering in a split among the breaking rainclouds. As sleep finally found him, he could not shake an unpleasant certainty that he was looking at a great glowing eye. And that it was staring back. 

Jonathan discovered Carfax Abbey on a clear blue day. His immediate impressions of the place ran in quick succession. First, that the location was so precise in its accommodation of Count Dracula’s specifications that it might have been commissioned. Second, that it looked like a place meant only to exist after dark on a sinister moor. This remained true despite the brilliance of spring stubbornly budding along the edge of its high stone fence.

He sent back a late thanks to himself as he’d been that morning, when he had tossed a coin on whether or not to bring the Kodak with him for the day’s hunt. Though the cab would be trusted to take him to the general area, it would be down to more literal footwork to inspect the properties he hoped to survey as far as he could without increasing the fare. Which would not bother him too much if he were going light. He did have a fondness for a run when it could be gotten away with sans pedestrians. But there would be no jogging with the camera to mind. Only a steady trudge.

Yet even that predicted march was trimmed down to a mere amble by dint of the cabman’s suggestion. He had heard out Jonathan’s description of his ideal quarry and first assumed him to be a tourist who’d gotten lost in a search for haunted houses.

“The area hasn’t much in that way, lad. Only place that comes close is old Carfax. Used to be an abbey, but looks more like a hideaway for the Dark Ages’ ghouls.”

“Do you know if it’s for sale?” This had earned him an odd look before the cabman admitted he had seen a sign staked out front that might have claimed the place was available. Supposing one cleared away the accumulated grime.

“I have to wonder if your buyer will bother with such a place. Ghosts can be dealt with, but it has more unsavory living neighbors to deal with.”

“Who are they?”

“Can’t say I know them personally, thank God, but I know for certain they’re perfectly mad.”

“Really?”

“Well, they’d not be in a private madhouse otherwise.”

The cab passed said lunatic asylum en route to the site. Jonathan was happy to note that it was at least a stately building, clearly a former domestic estate that had been expanded into suitable proportions for the inmates and staff. Better still, it was so far from Carfax as to be invisible through the facility’s wall of tended trees even when standing outside the latter’s stonework border.

Seeing the composition of said fence’s rough stones had plucked at Jonathan’s boyhood itch for play. If it were not for the cabman as a witness, he might have clambered his way up and walked along the edge as he’d done around his aunt’s home before he was declared too old for such nonsense. Still musing, Jonathan thanked the man again for the find and paid for the ride, promising another fare if he would return in an hour’s time. The cabman hesitated even after he had taken the first half of the pay.

“You’re certain you’d rather not go up the whole road first? There aren’t many houses, but they’re each of them empty and all far less a stain on the eye than that evil heap of rocks.”

“Do any of the rest have a chapel attached?”

“Don’t believe so. But if your buyer’s so keen on his prayers he ought to make do with a trip to church like the rest of us.”

“I imagine he means to refurbish it for that very purpose.” Jonathan offered a smile. “I’m certain whatever spirits might be lurking will have to clear out once he’s put the place in order.”

“Or torn the bloody thing down,” the cabman muttered not quite under his breath. He huffed and checked his watch. “An hour, you said? Just to wander around the place?”

“To wander here and across the neighboring grounds. I need to take note of the full landscape as well as the estate.” The cabman snorted at this in time with his horse.

“I hope your buyer is paying what you’re worth, lad. Any more on his list and he’d have you mapping out all of Purfleet to be sure it suits his fancy.” When the cab pulled away Jonathan began the photography. As much as he could manage from outside the fence. But then, because there were no witnesses, and because there was no way of opening the gate without ruining the rusted lock, and because it really wouldn’t be a thorough survey of the property without a glimpse of things on the inside of the towering stone walls, Jonathan shouldered his bag and scaled the rock as blithely as a spider.

He landed in the shade under one of the sundry trees that crowded the interior grounds. Jonathan marveled at how the trees’ shadows and that of the hulking abbey combined to hold a permanent dusk in place. So much so that it was a challenge to find any well-lit spots in which to take pictures without losing details. Up close the chapel was no less imposing than the abbey. It stood apart in its overgrown gothic solitude while the abbey puffed itself out with late additions to the structure. Jonathan made a note to reserve some pictures for Mina once he’d set aside an album for the Count. Sadly there was no letting himself indoors without becoming a full intruder, and so he satisfied himself with touring the rest of the land. A tour he was happy to make at a run.

The camera and his bag were set carefully aside with the chapel to manage this—for he must manage it, seeing as the grounds seemed to cover no less than twenty acres—and sent another belated thanks to his morning self for donning more active shoes than his workplace pair. While the place was no forest, it was an easy enough copse to imagine as such. A private patch of woodlands in which he had no one to be mindful of on a trail or blush over as they gawked at him, wondering what his hurry was. Here the exercise even bore fruit in the form of revealing a pond set at the estate’s southern end. A pool clear with spring water and trickling a faint stream through a grate into denser growth beyond the rear gates. Another run and a returning walk ensured this too got its photograph.

It was as he took these pictures that he saw the place even had some refreshment in the way of brambleberries snarling their way along the masonry. They were still some months away from being in season, but the desire to steal a piece of their thorny nest to plant his own shrub gnawed. At least until he reminded himself it would be hopeless with his current lodging. A mint tin of a flat slotted wall-to-wall with the rest of the street. Mina’s was worse still, he knew. When they married, they would pool their funds to find somewhere with a little girdle of a garden around it. Or else they would have window-boxes to grow things for the kitchen. Or both. Just a wedge of greenery to tame and taste for themselves.

 For now, he satisfied himself with adding it to the marital itinerary and took out his notebook to jot the impressions of Carfax Abbey as he had for half a dozen other estates, all of them falling short on one preference or another. Too new, too near to the hub of a city, too compact, too bright, and, most damning, not a single chapel to spare among them. At least, none that were not in use by the general public. He would likely run around for another couple weeks to check on other prospective options, but he held little hope for a finer match than Carfax.

Carfax, Carfax. I wonder…

The notebook was tucked away in exchange first for his watch, which showed he’d somehow burned only twenty minutes, and then a compass. A minor note from the Count had mentioned a desire to have, ‘an open sky with which to see all the night and day, the dusks and dawns, without men’s brick and smoke in their way.’ Jonathan could not fault such a wish and so had brought the compass to see if he might happen upon a house with the view clear for the east’s sunrise and the west’s sunset. The compass revealed he had done even better with the abbey.

‘Carfax.’ Quatre Face. A four-sided house with its walls facing the four cardinal directions. All clear of any rooftops and their belching chimneys. I’m sure it will please you, Count.

The thought sank his joy like a stone. Jonathan looked again at the abbey. Haunted and a relic of dead centuries, true, but a place of dignity and grand dimensions all the same. A voice rose up in him with smiling malice as he stared at it.

You will never have such space. You will never have a home so broad that Mina can have rooms all for herself and more for the daydream of children. You will live close to all the fruits of a metropolis, as near as the gutters themselves, and only ever know what it is to skim them, to borrow them, to daydream without laying your lesser hands on them except to use them for another. You will have neither the sprawling beauty of nature or the boons of modernity. Not for your entire life, Jonathan Harker.

And, because he could not stop the flow once it was running:

She should have found someone better. Someone with more than your scraps to offer.

He ground the heel of his palm against each eye until they dried.

“What would she say?”

Something kind you do not deserve.

Jonathan shook his head and marveled at the paradox that still found its way to nettle him even with the ring on her finger. Perhaps because of it. It was the miserable uncertainty of the hours preceding his examination turned up a hundredfold. Time, experience and evidence all stood in favor of him passing his tests on the professional and romantic fronts, yes, yes, he knew it…

…But what if he didn’t? What if he had somehow fooled himself and Mina and Hawkins and peers and the world itself into thinking he was more than what he was? What if?

What if you stop wallowing and get out before the cab returns?

Jonathan stopped long enough to skip a stone across the pond before following his route back to where he’d clambered over the wall. With half an hour to spare, he began walking at a healthy gait across the spread of land between the abbey and the asylum. If only to say he knew how many paces it was between the properties. One, two, three, four, five…

The pacing turned irregular once he had to cross through the border of trees that stood for a property line between Carfax and its company. Jonathan was stunned to discover there was no proper fence hidden behind the picturesque rows. Only a walled and gated section at the rear of the asylum that suggested an area for outdoor excursion or perhaps a private kitchen garden. He hoped it was the former. Even the insane needed leave to stretch their legs beyond the borders of a cell. As he mulled this, he heard a shout. It sounded like it held the weight of every expletive known to the English tongue and several more beyond it.

Following this was the same livid voice grating seemingly out of thin air, “Idiot! Fool! One damned page and you do this?” Jonathan heard a clatter of hollow things against a wall. “Imbecile!” He stepped fully beyond the wall of trees and saw the voice’s owner pacing back and forth inside a barred window set at the foot of the asylum’s wall.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Jonathan was almost as surprised as the man in the window to realize he had not only spoken, but come closer. There was an instant in which the man tensed. The picture of one who’s realized someone of influence has caught them in a bad moment. Yet upon actually seeing Jonathan and recognizing his lack of import, he relaxed enough to smile. Albeit sourly.

“Apart from this most inconvenient stint of homemaking, courtesy of concerned friend and kin, I am quite fine, young man. Ebullient, ecstatic, elated.” The polite rictus hardened. Jonathan thought queasily of wild dogs. “Apart from the fact that I have lost the last of my stationery to an overfilled glass. My cup runneth over. My cup ruins days of work and turns the remaining space to so much waste. Just look!”

The man thrust something up to the gaps in the bars, stopping just short of throwing the spoiled pinch of paper out onto the grass. For it was spoiled. Jonathan saw the stationery was really little more than a large cut of butcher paper folded and refolded until it made a sort of accordion-book. The whole thing was so waterlogged that Jonathan could barely tell tally marks from letters as the crayon bled together and the pages sagged.

“Ruined,” the man punctuated with what was either a sneer or a sulk. “At best I can try to mash and dry the thing out as a new sheet. But the stuff was already muddy enough to write on and I shall have to reduce myself to the penmanship of an infant with the bluntest marks just to make anything legible. And I had just started to make progress.” He cocked his gaze more fully at Jonathan. His look was one accustomed to giving brisk appraisal. “If you are a journalist, you are quite tardy with your pen. You’ve not even set up your camera’s tripod to record the travesty.”

“I am no journalist, unfortunately,” Jonathan admitted as he unearthed his notebook. “But at least that leaves some of this to work with, if you’re amenable.” Covering the shorthand of the last full page, he showed the man in the window the remaining blank sheets. Not a great many pages left, and certainly not of impressive size considering it was a pocketbook, but it would be a fair amount of writing space for a careful script. The man’s expression did not change, but his eyes brightened.

“I may be. Supposing I know the price at the other end of such a trade.”

“No price, sir. You would do me a kindness in taking it as I shall have to start a fresh one for another project soon. The predecessor would be left unfinished and forgotten in the meantime.”

“Ah, a worse fate than a journalist. An author. How many poor diaries have you left abandoned in their pretty bindings for the sake of a new volume?” The man clicked his tongue through a grin. “I jest, of course. You do not seem the sort to waste what he has.” The grin, still genuine, flattened an increment. Bloodshot eyes gleamed. “I fear I wasted a great deal of what I once thought mine on the other side of these delightful accommodations. Never make such a mistake as mine, young man. Do not doubt for an instant that what you trust today cannot turn on you tomorrow.”

“I won’t, sir.” Jonathan thought of adding that he had lived under that knowledge since the day he attended the funerals which ended his childhood. He swallowed it back. “May I..?” He held the notebook up, his shorthand sheets pinched between thumb and forefinger.

“I would be most grateful.”

Jonathan tore his filled pages neatly out. The remaining clean pages were barely thicker than a pamphlet, but clung sturdily to the little spine. Jonathan knelt low enough to lay it within reach on the grass. He noticed a small dusting of white powder at the window’s edge. A crowd of ants whittled away at the mound.

“Ants,” the man scoffed as he followed Jonathan’s line of sight. “Pitiful company. I had hoped the thaw would bring in something heartier. Flies, ladybugs, perhaps some early butterflies. But the real trouble is keeping them around. Ah, apologies, might you bring it a little closer?” The man raised his forearms into view. “I haven’t the best angle from where I stand.” Jonathan scooped up the notebook and brought it an inch nearer.

The man’s hands were abruptly out through the bars and clapped around Jonathan’s. Tight. Short of hurting, short of breaking, but locked as firmly as a vise. Jonathan tensed without pulling back. Again he thought of wild dogs. Of things that only seemed to be dogs until they closed in. Creatures that chased once they saw something run.

Jonathan was still. The man was still. Grasping Jonathan’s hand and the notebook in a pantomime prayer.

It’s my left hand. Smart enough for that, at least. I can still do my paperwork with the right intact and the other broken. Will the fingers heal in time for Mina to slip the band on? How mortifying to have to explain it all to her. I wonder if the asylum would make up a cast without charging for it…

“There is no need to shake upon it, sir,” Jonathan heard himself say. “The book is yours.” The man regarded him with less of a smile now. His lip still curled, but it seemed only to hold on by sheer will. It dropped entirely with the gust of a sigh.

“The book and a lack of tact, I fear. Even if I were not mad, I would still be a churl.” The hands relaxed and a set of fingers drummed once on the back of Jonathan’s wrist. “Though I suspect you are a soul used to them. I would tell you to be more wary on your way, but it is only a simpleton of a preacher who would bother teaching his flock wariness in a world where they must interact each day with wolves. Though I will advise that it is rather foolish to go around making conversation with confirmed lunatics up close. I am confirmed, you know. The facts are printed and signed all over by professionals. I saw the document myself.” The man’s look floated away from Jonathan and into a distance he couldn’t guess at. “Printed on far finer paper than what we settle for.”

One of the gripping hands came away, leaving only the one folded over the notebook and Jonathan’s palm. They shook. The notebook was collected in the same gesture.

“My thanks,” from the window.

“Quite welcome,” as Jonathan righted himself. He surprised himself with his own steadiness. The rote pitch of the office and a life’s worth of reflex steered his tongue while mind, heart, and stomach rattled where they hid. Because he had to do something with his freed hand rather than clasp it in its brother, he fished out his watch. Only now did a ripple of worry manage to rise to his face.

“Some trouble?”

“I fear I may have lost my ride.”

“You came from the by-road, yes? It hardly sees traffic. If your driver’s gone on without you, go around the front here and see if you cannot bribe our beloved head doctor into lending out the wagon. Just say you have managed to wring a whole quarter of an hour’s worth of nattering from his friend R.M.”

“R.M.?”

“Short for Mr. Rig R. Mortis.” The man chuckled at Jonathan’s look. “Pseudonym, young man. Can hardly have the family being shamed under my real title. He will know who you mean. Though I do hope you manage your ride instead.” With that, the man ducked back from the window and was gone. Jonathan had made it three strides away when the voice called behind him, “Here!” Something small struck the back of Jonathan’s heel. He turned and saw gold winking up at him. A sovereign. “It is not payment. You are merely ensuring the attendant who lost it when I had my last room search never gets it back.”

“Sir—,”

But the window was already abandoned. Jonathan picked the coin up. It was partially obliterated on one end, erasing part of Victoria’s face and the rider on the reverse. This was because the edge had been ground to a sharp edge that nicked his thumb open as he turned it over. Blood smeared Saint George, his steed, and the dragon hissing up at the sword and hooves.

Cold fingers seemed to walk up his spine as he examined it. Shaking the chill away, he tucked the coin in his pocket alongside the notebook’s harvested pages and dashed back the way he’d come. He made it to the waiting cab just as it was pulling up to the gate.

“Well, lad? Is it what your buyer’s after?”

“I believe so.” Jonathan smiled as he said it and held the expression admirably until the cabman turned his gaze back to the road. He gloved his hands despite the balmy weather, sheathing his thumb as it traced the thin impression of the cargo sitting against his breast.

“If you keep up with that you shall tear the whole cheek off,” she said at his shoulder. “You are awake, I promise.”

Jonathan stopped pinching at himself and split his attention between Mina’s face and the clock’s. The magic circle of Roman numbers seemed to shake a phantom head. No, it said, not yet. But soon.

“This is happening, then?” he asked as he turned fully to Mina. Mina, here at the last moment together until mid-May. Mina, wearing the ring he had saved a year for on her finger. Mina, who had clasped and kissed and kept him from collapsing outright in stupefied relief upon the announcement that he had passed his examination, her fiancé now a solicitor. Mina, who held his hand and kept him from floating off through the ceiling and into the sky. “This is really happening? Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Jonathan’s eye traveled to her neck and the glimpse of a cord peeking from her shirt collar. She caught him and spared her free hand to tuck it out of sight. “Just as I am sure you will not fly off with my treasure, you magpie.”

The treasure being Jonathan’s own plain gold band now worn as a necklace. He had been the one to slip it over her head the night before, mesmerized by the soft shine as it landed over her heart. It was done by mostly mutual agreement. Mina wished to hold a scrap of tradition close and leave his hand bare until they reached the chapel. And, though Jonathan suspected this was mere theatre, she said she wished to hold onto it as proof to herself that she was awake and that the engagement was a reality. Besides, it was practical! If he were wearing the cord on his trip, what if he should lose it in any number of countries as he traveled? It was one thing to risk forgetting it at the office or leaving it at home. Quite another to imagine losing it in a hotel in another nation. Even with all this logic at her disposal, Jonathan donned his best moue. Mina covered it with her hand.

“That is unfair.”

“I am not above unscrupulous tactics, Mrs. Harker.”

“Like trying to break me by calling me Mrs. Harker?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, you are foiled. My will is too great.” She brought her hand away to brush a strand of hair from his brow. “There is no need to scheme anyway. You shall have the thing back soon enough.”

Jonathan pretended not to hear the slight tremor at the word ‘soon.’ Yes, it was only a few weeks’ separation. A month at most if there were delays in train or coach. But even in this zenith of excitement, knowing unequivocally that this was where their future began—a future where they were taking their first steps up rather that walking the same flat circle in the dust—it felt strangely like waiting to leap into a chasm. A gorge that required endless paperwork to keep track of, plus what was required for the travel itself. Documentation, letter of credit, passport, polyglot dictionary, and, carefully packed, the first new suit he’d had in three years.

Mina had insisted on his modeling it before packing it away. After, she declared she must send a letter of gratitude to not only Mr. Hawkins, but to the tailor. They would have to see him again about the suit for the wedding. Lucy had already written back in response to Mina’s last letter with the announcement, erupting with insistence that, while she was not the sort of girl to live and die by fashion plates, she wanted to know the very instant she began hunting for a dress.

In the present, however, the only new attire was the coat Jonathan wore. A companion piece Hawkins had insisted join the suit before Jonathan could escape the tape measure. Jonathan’s hand drifted up to one of its pockets now and found it unexpectedly light. Worry spiked for a moment before his mind caught up to what it was he’d been feeling for. He almost laughed. Mina canted her head at him, searching. She never missed even the most minute shift behind his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Only I’ve realized I was so adamant about packing everything for the needs of the trip and the client that I forgot the one item I meant to bring solely for me.”

“Your books?”

“No, the law texts are there. A bit of Dumas as well. But I have forgotten my book.” He offered a bashful smile. “Ours, I mean. For your assignment.”

Her brow furrowed a moment before she recalled, “The journal?”

“Yes. I meant to grab one of the spare pocketbooks from my desk, but it’s not in its place. Maybe I bundled it in the case without thinking.” If not, he could shave out a little of his emergency budget for something en route to the castle. But Mina was beaming at him.

“An ordinary pocketbook might suffice for a clerk, but not a solicitor. Especially not when I’ve held onto this since you turned your back to peruse the dictionaries two months back.” She brought out her reticule as she spoke. From the reticule came a slim leatherbound volume with supple pages made to resist the traitorous smudges and tears of its precursor’s flimsy leaves. The whole thing was tied with a white ribbon that pinned a matching pen to its cover. “All shorthand. Promise?”

“Promise,” Jonathan nodded as he took the book gingerly from her hand. It fit so perfectly in the coat that it failed to even dent cloth. “Though I don’t believe the same applies to the recipes. Which I shall collect in abundance and inflict upon us both once I return. Is there anything specific you want me to bring back?”

“You know my tastes already.”

“Other than the cuisine, I mean.”

“Nothing comes immediately to mind. A good story or two would be nice, but,” again her hand found his face, cupped against the angle of his cheek, “as long as you come back, I will be satisfied.”

“I suppose that can be managed.”

The clock tolled and the call went out to the station. All aboard, come along. Mina’s eyes flicked with brief wonder to the train itself. Locomotives and their railways had been one of her chief interests for as long as Jonathan had known her. She regarded her copy of Bradshaw’s Guide with the same reverence as some did their Bible, to say nothing of the clipped articles she had collected concerning new routes and models being laid out within various countries. In sum, Mina loved the practicality and potential of trains. To her they were proof that their world was not limited by whether or not they could hail a hansom or how far it was willing to take them. But now her smile dimmed.

“It had better bring you back on time,” she said as they walked arm and arm up to his car. “I shall be standing in this very spot with my watch out.”

“I’ll warn the conductor.” Because they were among strangers, she had allowed him to hold her arm rather than the reverse. He gave a gentle squeeze first to her arm, then her hand. The lump of the stone stood out under her glove. “If it runs late, I will simply run ahead.” Her laugh did little to hide the dew in her eyes. It matched the mist in his. Their hands held tight.

In that moment, an absurd impulse leapt up in him. An animal-twitch of fear that went deeper than mere anxiety, deeper than love, deeper than concern of career or separation or wandering in unknown lands. It was the needling of a sense he had no name for. A thing that smelled or heard or tasted some imperceptible sign that bodily and mental awareness refused to acknowledge. It whispered:

Do not go. Do not do this. Go home. Go now. Before it’s too late.

The whisper froze him. Mina appeared to freeze with him. Her eyes reflected a feverish glimmer of his own disquiet. They stood locked in that second like a hart and doe with their ears pricked toward a huntsman’s tread in the wood.

But then they blinked. Mina’s gaze lightened and the uncanny sensation left Jonathan as quickly as it came. Only a shudder of nerves disguised as a portent. Really, he could hardly bow to it even if it had meant anything beyond a hiccough of his own fretting. Fact outweighed fear and the fact was he had a job to do. A job that began here, now, with the release of Mina’s hand so he might grab his other bag from her.

Thus unburdened, Mina abruptly trapped his face between her palms. Jonathan bent down until his mouth met hers. Here was the plush press of her lips on his, feeling so much like a reverie he thought once again that he must be asleep. He would wake any moment and the fantasy would fall away into foam. Now. Now.

“Now, I don’t mean to intrude, but there is a train waiting. I’m afraid you must save the rest of the young man for his return trip.” They both snapped up at once to see the uniformed man at Jonathan’s back. He was eyeing them with a look that spoke of a career forever encumbered with similar scenes. The man peered at Jonathan over his spectacles. “You are boarding?”

“Yes, sir. Apologies.” But an apology not even fractionally meant. He turned back to Mina who now steamed from the neck up as she avoided the gawking of an older couple taking in the show. The wife gestured at the sight of them, muttering something in a tone of mingled mirth and query in her husband’s ear, to which the husband rolled his eyes. Jonathan spared them only a mote of attention. “Mina.” She looked to him. “I love you. I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you, Jonathan. I’ll be right here.”

He found his seat at the window and did not turn his head away from the glass. Not while the train idled. Not while it pulled away in its hiss and puff of turning wheels. Not while Mina stood there waving after him, her feet tugging her forward a few unconscious steps so that she might see his window longer while he craned his head to keep her in view. Only when the station itself was a speck in the distance did he turn back around. Off to the future to lay an invisible track for them both. To collect countries as keepsakes and bring them home on paper like pressed flowers.

Jonathan tried to imagine what he might cross on his travel to and from the castle that would be a worthwhile souvenir. Images of books and baubles were conjured as he traced the edges of his journal. So he went on musing until excitement burned out to exhaustion and the first doze of his trip dragged him down into sleep.

A dream came and went.

He was still on the train, still at his window, but the seat facing his was no longer empty. A face he knew was there. One harvested from the far end of his school days and the nascent career as a clerk. So he believed.

It was a familiar countenance in the way that the sight of a stranger always seen in the same place amounted to vague acquaintance. Known enough to nod at in passing. Jonathan had nodded at this one and been given a nod back in student years. He’d thought of introducing himself once or twice, only for the young man to flush and hurry off like a frightened stray. Jonathan had never quite understood it.

Now here was his anonymous acquaintance again, finally sedate in his seat and hidden in his newspaper. While he was not Jonathan’s senior by more than a year, he looked to be in a more professional state of dress. Pressed and tailored and relaxed in that way men can be when they know they have a wardrobe full of similarly fine ensembles waiting at home. But it was his choice of accessory that gave him away as being on a similar pilgrimage to Jonathan’s. The unoccupied portion of his seat was taken up by the paperwork of a sale, carefully weighted by a discarded hat. His companion spared it no attention, having his gaze pinned on the newspaper open in his hands. It blocked the view of him from the whiskers down. Jonathan was still wondering whether to announce himself when a voice came from behind the newsprint:

“My way goes through Munich. Yours as well?”

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “Though I fear there will be no real stop there. At least, the Count did not pencil a hotel stay in the route.”

“Hm,” his companion nodded. “I suppose he would not gamble it twice. Even if he did set it right the first go around.” The newspaper rustled and the young man’s eyes finally lifted above the print to find Jonathan’s. They were bottle glass-bright. “What all have you packed?”

“Necessities, mainly. Everything for the sale, some changes for the overnight stays and—,”

“And what haven’t you packed?”

“I…” His hand traveled again to his chest. “Mina saved me at the station. I forgot a notebook, but she had one ready. I should be fine.”

“No. You are still missing something. Rather, I expect you will be missing it quite soon.” There was a sigh behind the paper. “All that practice and you go and leave the damned thing under your bed.”

Jonathan straightened in his seat. His right hand clamped reflexively, as if palm and fingers were dreaming of a hardwood handle. 

“I’m not going to the jungle.”

“There are worse things than animals to worry about. If you cannot cut them down, what will be left to you?” Another page turned. The bottle glass eyes slid to look out the window. Jonathan followed his gaze and saw that the world had gone black and white under a skull-faced moon. “But then, you might make do without the steel. You handled the worst of our schoolmates well enough back then without even raising your voice. Whatever you may lack as a full-blooded Englishman you make up for in softer stuff. Enough that one or two of the lads confessed over drinks that they wished you were a girl. I was not one of them. You gave me trouble enough as a boy. 

“All that said, you have skills that will help. Appealing attributes. Ones I could have used myself.” The unblinking eyes slid back to Jonathan. It was a greyer stare now. Almost filmy. “I had nothing to sell. Neither in English property or my personal wares, so to speak. I could not even muster charm enough to be worth an extra hour’s chat.” Jonathan watched his companion’s hands crumple the paper in two fists. He saw for the first time that those hands were red. They left dry maroon stains across the gazette. “Who is waiting for you, Jonathan Harker? Who at home? Your Mina, old Hawkins, and who else? Any names come to mind?

“Of those friends, are there any who will know to worry when it goes wrong? Anyone to ask questions? To watch the calendar and the post and wonder how you are? Because I thought I did. I even knew the difference between friends and amiable acquaintances, unlike you. Fellows in and out of my firm. Even a girl who understood my needs and was willing to play her part. They all said they expected letters from me. Said they’d be on watch if I was not back within half a month. That was a year ago. And still they do not know where I am. Nor have they cared enough to look.

“But you would have, I think. If I had ever gotten over my cowardice. If I hadn’t wasted boyhood cringing, so afraid I would give myself away. If I had not made a ghost of myself rather than a friend. I was so proud of myself for not daring at the time—I fear I would have made a wretched scene when I first realized you and the pretty schoolmistress were serious. Instead I took my wine and my pain in silence. Told myself how wise I had been not to try. Ha.” Jonathan watched pallid lips peel open on a smile glazed pink with bleeding. Red rivulets trailed out between the young man’s teeth and into the trimmed beard. “Not that it would have mattered in the end. If we had been friends, if we had been more, if we had been anything at all, there wouldn’t have been much for you to find.”

Jonathan leaned forward. It took an effort. A growing stench was starting to waft from the opposite seat. The stink of copper and rot.

“Please, just tell me what this is. Tell me how to help. What’s happened?”

His companion’s grisly smile wilted. The bottle glass eyes ran like his mouth.

“What’s happened is you have climbed onto the same train I took. You will ride on plenty more. The same coaches too. Perhaps that will help. They never caught on to the truth of things when it was me. After all, he does have work to do, being what he is. People must have made it to and from that place before in official capacity. They must have thought it would be the same for imported goods. Hopefully they will know better now. But then, so will he. Soon all you will have to rely on is yourself. Use what you have. All that you have. Play the game as best you can. As long as you can.” Red tears and dribble flowed in a thickening cascade. “I could not last a week and so lost everything. Or nearly so. I am restless, true, but it could have been worse. Much worse.”

“I don’t understand,” Jonathan almost rasped. Fear choked him like a noose.

“I know. And I am very, very sorry to say that you will.” His companion sighed, releasing a crimson haze of spittle into the air. “Well. This is all I can manage as I am. I suppose I shall not need this anymore. Here.” The newspaper was shut and held out for Jonathan to take. “Somewhat out of date, but well worth the read.”

 Jonathan spared barely a mote of attention for it. There was no headline or story that he could make out. Only a flash of what looked like the stanzas of a poem, though he couldn’t say for certain. He was too gripped by the sight of the young man below the neck. Seeing the fullness of it hooked something in Jonathan’s stomach and drew it up to the very edge of his teeth. He wasn’t sure if it was his breakfast or a scream.

That was when the hand fell on his shoulder.

Cold. Just as cold as the lips now pressed at the side of his neck.

Whatever sound he might have made was cut off as something sharp drove into his throat and the train went as dark as the world beyond it.

“Sir?” Jonathan fell against his seat as if thrown. The uniformed man started back himself, taking his hand away from Jonathan’s shoulder as he did. “We’re coming to the station soon. Can’t have you sleeping through your stop.”

“No. No, of course. Thank you. Sorry.” The man glanced at Jonathan’s lap with a look possessed by every father who has ever known better than his progeny.

“You could pick lighter reading to nod off on. You’re only setting yourself up for sour dreaming if that’s what you skim beforehand.” He didn’t loiter long enough to explain what he meant. Jonathan looked down.

He had picked a gazette to stuff into his things before he and Mina reached the platform. He’d had an idea that he was reserving his books for the far end of his travel and so would make do with some final updates from his native soil. At some point he had turned all the way to the obituaries. His hand rested on one describing the tragic loss of a young man at sea. A sailor fallen overboard in a storm, presumed dead.

They could be wrong, Jonathan thought with sudden desperation. Perhaps he lived. He made it safely to an island or some distant beach. They could find him alive and well. Couldn’t they?

The newspaper was shut, folded over twice, and tucked back in his luggage. Jonathan did not touch it again until he left the final station that spat him out by the shore, feeding it to the first wastebin he saw. He almost laughed to himself when it came time to board the ship. It would be May by the time he cracked open the journal and wrote anything of interest.

“I shall do better on the return trip,” he promised the naked pages. “I’ll record a view of the sunrise on the water, I swear.” And he meant it. But for this first voyage across the water, Jonathan stayed shut in his room. If he dreamt of a black tide coming up to swallow him, he was happy to wake without recalling it. 

[lushrue]

I don't know if this is good but maybe, you can write something about maybe ice skater! reader being unfairly graded (i don't know how the point system works) or maybe ice hockey! 141 getting in a fight during a game and it gets kinda serious? Just a suggestion ofcourse, no pressure!❤ (Sorry if i'm akward, this is my first time sendinag and ask.)

thanks for the request, anon! your ask is great, no sweat! i’m gonna expand more on the second part of your request cause i’ll be honest, i’m not sure how scoring works for figure skating either lol!

but if reader gets a score that’s anything less than what they were expecting, no one’s gonna be happy. johnny’s raising a stink and probably cursing at the judges under his breath with words only he can understand. price is trying to rationalize it, cause he was sure you deserved higher than that. ghost seethes quietly, but he lets it go because these things happen sometimes. and kyle is just there for you, there to provide comfort or reassurance, whatever you need.

OKAY SO if the 141 got into a serious fight on the ice, for sure someone’s walking away bloody. whether it’s them or the other guy, it’s gotta be bad if all four of them are dog-piling on the opposing team. it probably starts with some cocksure rookie mouthing off, chirping about someone’s mother or sister or worse, you. they just can’t let that stand, someone insulting your honor like that! they’re gentlemen above all!

it’s probably ghost who throws the first punch. he’s the defenseman after all, his position is naturally a bit more physical than the rest of them. he doesn’t need words to fight back, he’s got fists that work just fine. that’s where johnny comes in, our favorite resident hothead. he’s swearing up a storm, hurling insults just to keep tensions high. he’s not done with a fight until someone’s on the ground. and he hasn’t gotten the chance to knock someone out yet this season.

price initially comes in as the peacemaker, trying to call off his attack dogs. “always on a hair trigger, those two,” he’d mumble under his breath. but the minute he hears what they’re saying or gets a punch thrown his way, he’s right there in the fray with everyone else. he tells himself it’s in defense of his boys, but he can’t deny the fire that burns hot in his belly when someone insults you. kyle is the last to join, but that doesn’t mean he’s not as passionate as the rest of them. he’s been chirping across the ice the whole time, choosing to fight at arm’s length rather than engage in contact. after all, someone has to remain penalty-free in this whole mess. he’s easily provoked to lashing out, though. call his pretty thing a rude name one more time, he dares you.

you’re torn as you watch in the stands, the refs skating in and trying to break everyone up. you can see that someone’s injured; there’s drops of blood on the ice, so play isn’t resuming for at least another 10 minutes. you know this needs to stop, that they need to cool off. but something stirs in you, watching your men fight fisticuffs on the ice. you think you catch johnny look back to make sure you’re watching before throwing a particularly bruising right hook. but of course, it ends eventually. you’re there in the locker room while the rink staff scrapes the ice to clean it, nursing johnny’s split lip while checking in with the rest. they’re all fine, thank goodness, just a couple bruised jaws and egos. "y'should see th'other guy," johnny mutters around the paper towel you're holding against his lip.

cheeky bastards, you think to yourself. always getting into trouble.

[wosowrites]

In the End (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: mental breakdown

prompt: in which canada wins the world cup causing the reader to break down and jessie, her ex girlfriend, to comfort her.

a/n: had to get this one out before canadas game for my girl @woso-scotland

No one believed in Canada other than the canadian fans. English fans wanted england to win but knew Germany, Sweden and USA had a good chance as well. Canada was never on the list of possible victors in the mind of football fans. And yet, they shocked the world.

Germany versus Canada. World Cup final. August 20th. You were shitting yourself. Lena sat beside you, whispering words of encouragement. It was your second World Cup, but France 2019 hadn’t met your expectations. You wanted glory, and now it was in your reach. To be honest, you were scared about the football aspect, but you were terrified of the opponent. After a 0-0 draw to Nigeria, Canada had become positively deadly. But Jessie Fleming was the actual issue. You played for Arsenal, she for Chelsea, and after a game in 2021 you had started talking and eventually dating. But you couldn’t say no to a transfer offer to your childhood club, Wolfsburg when it came. You didn’t handle the situation well, basically ghosting your girlfriend and then telling her in a short text that you couldn’t be with her. It was unfair, but emotions were never your thing and they weren’t hers either so your younger self thought it would be fine.

It wasn’t. And you knew that when you got to Germany and realized how in love you were with her. Too late though. You thought it had been too late. But the second you walked out of the tunnel to roaring germans and canadians, you knew it wasn’t. Your eyes locked with your ex-girlfriends and you could basically see her pupils widen. She still loved you too. Your heart swelled with joy and you smiled at her slightly. She smiled back gently, her freckles brighter than ever due to the tan she had gained from the australian sun.

"Don’t look at the opponent like that, y/n," Popp scowled at you, grabbing your jersey and dragging you far far away from the Canadian side.

The game started off slower than a World Cup should have. Canada had most of the possession, passing confidently and trying to send balls through. But every time Ashley Lawrence, Kadeisha Buchanan or anyone else from the red side tried to send a ball up, your midfield would block it but not well enough so the ball would be sent back to Canada who would resume their passing.

Lena had the first shot of the game but it was an easy save for Kailen Sheridan. From then on, it was all Canada in the attack. The german box was crowded and any shot could happen any time. However, Jessie went down just outside the 18, holding her head after a collision with Lina Magull. You want to help her up as she was close to you but you felt Alexandra’s eyes burn into your skull so you looked away and placed yourself in the wall for the free kick.

It deflected off your head, pretty painfully you might add, but then out of nowhere, a whistle was blown and the referee signaled a VAR check.

Now a lot of people say Canada only win games through penalties, but during team talks, Martina had brought up that she thought that to be untrue. You can’t get penalties without attacking the opponents box. And Canada did that skillfully, and when they couldn’t finish, they drew fouls. It was a strategy and their strength. You thought you were going to throw up. Had it been you? Had you maybe cost your team the first goal.

It hadn’t been you. It had been Klara. She had pushed Jayde Rivière in the back to move her away from your keeper before the ball was kicked. And then the referee was pointing at the spot. Your ex girlfriend was standing in front of the ball, and she scored without a fail. Bottom left, no chance for Ann Katrin.

Canadian voices filled the stadium in the 44' minute. You couldn’t have been more angry and more happy for half time to come.

Martina was positive. Demanding, harsh, but positive. And her positivity was what drove you to score in the 56th.

A corner kick resulted in your continuous movement around the box. You went back and forth, in and out, anything to be a bother to the Canadian defenders. And that you were. In a rare Kadeisha Buchanan slip up, she had lost you as her mark. The corner went short to Lena who fired it into the box but Buchanan cleared it… right to you. One touch was all it took. You leaned over the ball and hammered it as hard as you could. The ball glides over the grass and slammed into the back of the net. You screamed so loudly your head went light. Running with your arms wide, you yelled, and cheered, and punched the air. Lena picked you up in her arms and held you high in front of the German fans. Alexandra kissed your head, your teammates screamed words of love at you.

But the Canadians weren’t done.

From then on, there was no break. Through substitutions came new legs but almost no shots were taken. It was as though a big game of keep away was hapenning between the two boxes. And then something so unexpected happened that you almost looked at the ref to see if it was aloud. Quinn scored. They got the ball from a clumsy pass from the German defence and shot the ball so hard you were almost scared for Ann Katrins safety.

The stadium erupted, Quinn looked almost scared of themselves.

But then you scored again, securing the golden boot. You didn’t care about that though. You wanted the big money. The big WC. A free kick taken by Lena Oberdorf in the 94th minute hit the cross bar and then went off your head and into the net, seeming almost accidental.

Extra time. You were exhausted.

But Canada ended it with a strike from Jordyn Huitema within the 18.

When the final whistle blew… well you wanted to die. You fell to your knees and let your head hit the turf. You stayed like that in child’s pose, plugging your ears to try and block out the Canadian celebrations for almost the minutes. Staff tapped your back, Martina tried to comfort you and tell you how proud she was of your goals but you just wanted to sob and never stop sobbing. So that’s what you did.

You sat up and sobbed to yourself. Head in your hands, heart in the most horrible pain it had ever been in, and mind full of doubts about what this meant for your future. Your body shaked so hard, harder than anyone else on the pitch. You sobbed louder, shook harder and felt worse than anyone else on that field. Maybe it was because you had felt the taste of glory and it had been taken away so suddenly, or maybe it was the fact that despite your goals you couldn’t secure the cup for your team, but whatever it was, it led you back to Jessie.

As soon as Jessie had congratulated and been congratulated by everyone, she looked to find you. The bright number 7 on your back was facing the Canadian side and she could see how hard you were crying. She basically ran to you, quickly kneeling beside you and cupping your face in her hands. This meant a lot. Jessie Fleming was not one for PDA.

Having her freckles so close to you once again almost made you feel okay, but then there was the fact that you couldn’t breathe. "Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You played so well, you were so good," she whispered to you, trying her best to help you close out the sound of the crowd. "I- I can’t breathe," you said, taking huge gulps of air. Jessie sat beside you and let your head rest on her shoulder. She brushed her fingers through your baby hairs, kissed your head and whispered words to you. Ten minutes later, however the ache still there, the shaking wasn’t. "I need to get back to my team," she whispered, looking over her shoulders at the screaming and crying Canadians. "Yeah, me too," you said.

She gave you a small nod and then said "we should talk. Later, tomorrow or in a week if you want. Whenever your ready," she said. You nodded absent mindedly and walked away.

Receiving the golden boot was an award you knew you would appreciate later on, but you accepted it like a zombie in a trance. Everything felt blurry and you faked a small smile for the camera before hurrying off stage. Kailen got the golden glove, Sophia Smith the young player of the tournament and you all took a picture together. Then, the trophy lift.

You sat down on the turf, under the players bench with your head in Lena’s arms. She cried and you cried as you watched the red, white and gold confetti litter the field. "In four years, Lena. I promise you," you cried to her.

A week later

You hadn’t realized how freeing it was not to be in World Cup mode anymore. You could breathe, sleep, and eat without asking yourself how it would impact your game. In your last day in Australia before going back home to your family in Germany, you set up a meeting with Jessie at this small café.

Jessie arrived a couple minutes after you. She looked perfect, but she looked as though it was her first day in a while of being sober. "First day sober for a week, huh?" you asked her when she sat down. "That obvious?" she smiled. "Yeah. But you still look perfect," you let slip.

Jessie blushed and looked down at her lap. "You deserved that cup. Convert to Canadianisme," she teased. "And how does that work. Do I just marry a Canadian or…" you smiled. "Your flirty today," she smiled. "Yeah I’ve been drunk for different reasons," you laughed.

"Drinking your pain isn’t good y/n," she grounded you. "And drinking your joy is?"

"Fair point I guess," she said. "You must feel on top of the world. Cause you are," you said to her after a beat.

"I actually dont. I feel stupid for not fighting for you," she whispered. "Don’t. Please don’t feel like that. I left without any warning. It was so unfair of me," you said to her, leaning closer to her. "World Cup, Olympic Gold, FA cups, League Titles, they’re all nice but they would be nicer if I could win them while calling you my girlfriend," Jessie said, looking at you with the kind of eyes only a psychopath would say no too. "Are you saying you forgive me for packing my bags and leaving you in the dust…?" you asked, not comprehensive of her words. "Because if this is some runner up pity party I don’t want it," you said. "It’s not a pity party. Listen you’ve lost a lot this year and I realized that the one thing I can change is for you not to have lost me," the freckled girl said.

You didn’t care who was watching, you stood up and kneeled next to her. You were a fair bit taller than her so being kneeled next to her didn’t make the biggest difference in height when she was sitting. You grabbed her face gently and lowered it and kissed her. Right in the middle of the café, right in front of everyone, right in the face of all the people who thought you were trash.

Because trash doesn’t bag Jessie Fleming.

[maikissed]

cherry flavoured lips part 4

Kylian Mbappé x reader

summary: “Do you even love him?” he chose this tool to at least create a crack. Her gaze empty as she finally looked at him. “I don’t know” and with that last answer she rushed in the direction of the door.

angst

note: sorry for misspells, wanted to post quick, probably will be fixing them later.. and know that at least one more part is coming! :-)

-Sunday, the day of the game-

She was in a sour mood today, the gloomy weather seemed to match her frame of mind. Although maybe she should interpret it as a particular sign that what she was doing could be a mistake. A forecast, a prediction, an astounding fall of the virtue. Deep, hidden somewhere in her consciousness was a worry, that she followed a wrong path, and her choices led her into a lie she chose to be her salvation. If that were to be true, she was not the only person hurt by it.

She dressed properly but despite so felt her skin prickling with the cold. She gazed up into the sky and wondered if it’s going to rain soon. Ian next to her seemed to be very enthralled by the game happening on the pitch below. She used to experience something similar or even more enlivening when she used to attend Kylian’s games in the past. She was always his big supporter, many times she concluded that every emotion he experienced when he played, somehow accompanied her as well, like they were connected. Like she knew exactly what was going on inside his head during any occurrences, the good or the bad, she felt it all. And she adored the sight of him while he was in his element -  focused, determined, brilliant. Today she could not find it, like someone have cut the string. Like she lost it.

He scored two goals already. It was a good game for the opening of the season, she supposed. Kylian’s mother was seated at the farer right to them, she greeted her warmly before the match started. She felt strange with Ian’s presence here, unnatural. She checked the clock, few more minutes for it to end. But there it came again, another shot, another goal, she watched Kylian run across the field, the crowd shouting, celebrating, she blinked and suddenly he appeared close to their stands, his teammates jumped on him, she observed with a straight face, but she clapped. A moment after when he was left alone, she realised he was looking her way intensely. A breath stuck in her lungs, she wondered was what about to happen. Bringing his palm close to his lips he kissed his fingers, pulling his hand away, directing it her way, sending this kiss to her and her only, and later putting said hand on his chest, right on his heart, with a smile on his lips that gave away a strong message. Few steps back while he still faced them, his hand keep on lingering on his heart. After that he run back as the game resumed.

He waited until he scored the fucking third and she knew that what he did just now was planned before. A show off, demonstration of domination.

She turned her head to look at Ian, even though something inside kept telling her that she should ignore it. There was a timid smile on his face, but his eyes were not participating. He noticed. She was preparing herself for explanation she must endure now since Kylian decided to behave like a fucking asshole tonight. But Ian did not ask, she wondered what kind of sign that was.

- Two days later -

Gia was worried for her friend, although y/n always kept on being a composed and clear minded person, she noticed many unsettling changes in her lately. She seemed shut out, kind of sickly, sometimes did not listen when spoken to, distant, what she could clearly spot in her eyes, thoughts fading and disappearing in them slowly when she tried to bring her back to the conversation. Y/n did not want to speak about it, didn’t want to speak about Kylian, any difficult subject she preferred to ignore. Y/n was always rather close and reserved but not to such extend. Gia did not mind. It was not much of an issue before. However she knew there was one person y/n could always freely open up to. One person that was not around now. It must have been a burden for her.

“It’s a pity you don’t want to party on your birthday this year” Gia started as they entered the apartment building.

“I guess I want it different now, I’m kind of tired” y/n concluded, searching for keys in her training bag.

Because it would be strange and unusual. Gia could see that y/n started withering without her closest friend being present in her life.

“Not even a simple night out with your girls?” she tried with a playful smile on her lips, but y/n did not reciprocate the enthusiasm.

“Don’t be angry with me Gi, I think I’ll go back to England for my birthday, probably spend it with just Ian”

Gia simply nodded, following y/n down the corridor. Visibly disheartened at her answer, but y/n was not paying much attention to notice it. As soon as they entered the apartment, a specific scent reached Gia’s nostrils, way too prominent for a simple air freshener and y/n’s reaction confirmed that it made her confused as well. And she could finally see the source of it when they entered the living room. Gia gasped in rapture. The whole room was covered in countless amounts of flower bouquets, some smaller, some so gigantic she was sure they would cover her whole if she picked them up. Roses, peonies, tulips, dahlias, freesias, hydrangeas, so many different colours, so many different variations. Gia was drinking the sight in front of her with wide eyes and mouth opened. The room was spacious and now almost whole covered with the most beautiful flowers she ever saw. Amongst this wondrous flower jungle she spotted Ian, seated rather unbothered and comfortable on the couch, a book in his hand. He looked poorly in contrast with these colours that surrounded him at the moment, almost drowning in it, she thought to herself. And of course she knew who send all these flowers. He outdid himself this year. She could not find any might to stop herself from asking:

“Did he buy out all the finest flower shops in Paris?”

Y/n stirred next to her, and when she looked her way she could finally see some prominent emotion painting on her face. She seemed angry.

“The delivery guy also left this with it” Ian called from the other side of the room, holding a small envelope between his fingers.

Y/n staggered, but after a moment quickly strolled to Ian, taking the papers from his hand. Gia watched the scene curiously. She could not guess what was happening in Ian’s head at the moment, most of the times he seemed to be way too cool and inscrutable for her, almost robotic sometimes. He could be friendly and kind, as she gathered from various encounters, but there was something about his personality that she found boring and repellent. She wondered what exactly y/n saw in him.

Y/n looked up from the paper still present in her hand. She glanced in Gia’s direction but then focused her attention back on Ian.

“This, um…” she started, unsure “This is kind of tradition for Kylian to send me flowers on my birthday week”

Gia could not fight the little smile breaking on her face.

“The guy has gesture” Ian simply emphasized, his gaze hard and sharp.

It clearly made y/n uncomfortable. She could see the distress in her stance, and her eyes when she looked back at Gia.

“Could you drive me to one place?” she cleared her throat “I forgot there was this thing I was supposed to do”

And before Gia could even answer, y/n ran up to her, harshly grasping her arm and guiding her back to the door.

-Back at Gia's birthday party, last weekend-

Y/n behaviour was unsettling, Kylian watched her silhouette disappearing amongst the crowd, wondering if he should follow her. But he happened to appear in a very interesting situation right now, as she left him alone with Ian just like that, and the curiosity got the best of him. It was a perfect opportunity for him to look into this whole charade, as he perceived it. His intentions were not pure at all. He was not exactly angry, he was disturbed and irritated. All of this seemed so fake to him it begun to be bothering.

“How did you guys meet?” he asked, his voice warm and friendly, encouraging.

“At the university” Ian answered, suddenly eyeing Kylian more cautiously since y/n ran off from them.

“You study the same course?” Kylian continued.

“No, I’m doing law” a short and simple response, no further dwelling on the subject.

Kylian suddenly realised that Ian started to consider him a threat. Good. He smiled a little bit derisively at his answer. Of course. Law student, tall and blonde, aristocratic. So posh.

He knew he could not keep it in for far too long. There was no use to it. He didn’t consider Ian a problem, just a temporary obstacle he had to move away. He simply hoped he would not have to drag him across this whole fucking apartment and throw him over the balcony. He hoped.

“I think you should back off” just like that, he simply fired it out, with a confident smile still playing on his lips.

“Excuse me?” Ian scoffed, visibly taken aback by such words, but something in his eyes told Kylian that he was prepared for it.

“Just back off, man. Before it’s too late” he shrugged playing with the glass in his hand.

“I don’t seem to follow, man” he articulated the last word as a mockery at his words. His stance not so relaxed no more, he sensed the attack.

“I don’t know what you believe you got yourself there, but the little game she is playing right now is not involving a very good ending for you” he declared surely, watching Ian’s face distort into a muddled frown, that brought even a wider smile to Kylian’s face.

Ian seemed to be a snob, but not an idiot.

“How so?” he asked, stepping away from him slightly, like a defensive position, like preparing himself for a fight.

But Kylian did not intend to fight with him at any point. Not when he had all the fights already won.

“Because she’s mine”

-Present-

The doors to his apartment turned out to be opened as he found out, unsuccessfully trying to turn the key in the lock. It surprised him, because never before he happened to forget to lock it. Maybe his mother payed him a visit. That was the most probable thought. But as he entered the saloon, to his further surprise, he spotted y/n seated on the big couch that almost swallowed her small frame. Her legs bent and placed at her side, she watched him enter, scowling.

“I see you kept the key” he pointed out, throwing his training back next to the kitchen counter.

She did not answer him, instead stayed silent, focusing her gaze on something outside the window. Whenever she faced a difficult conversation, she needed a moment to compose and prepare herself to speak out. He sensed her rage coming at him yet again. He was glad she was here.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, quietly, but he could hear.

He wondered if her smug puppet brought up their conversation to her. He was not going to deny anything.

“I could ask you the same” he retorted.

She turned her head sharply to look at him. There was sadness and there was longing, she was struggling with it. He could not stand to see her like this.

“The fucking flowers, Kylian?” she ignored his answer.

“I send you flowers every year a week before your birthday, what’s so knew, y/n?”

He circled the room and stopped in the kitchen, searching for a clean glass to pour them some water. Did he forget to turn on the dishwasher? Most likely.

“You outdid yourself this year” she sneered and the tone and reproach heard in her statement cut him like an arrow to his heart “My whole apartment is drowning in them”

“So you do like them?” the room was deadly quiet, his voice like tired.

But she did not intend to answer this question, ignoring everything he said from the very start.

“The kiss at the game?!” she asked now, more piqued.

“Another goal I dedicated to you, what’s so new, y/n?” now there was annoyance as he raised his voice, agitated, frustrated.

“It’s improper now, Kylian!” she almost hollered, feeling even more defensive “Are you trying to prove something here? Is this your game?! To torture me?! To ruin everything?”

It was a very strange situation for him to encounter, strange and unreal to the point that he started to wonder what has happened to her. How come that she begun to act like this towards him, like she has thrown away everything they have been through together, the life they’ve lived together. She accused him of things that did not make any sense to him. He was the main villain in her story, and how did it came to it?

“You’re being so unfair” he stated, his voice quieter and gentler, but there was a bold confidence in his walk as he neared her “You threw me out the door, distanced yourself completely, started treating me like necessary evil. Got yourself a boyfriend and with no further explanation decided to shut me out from your life. How does it make you feel, y/n?”

She blinked as she looked up at him, a little bit in shock and resentment. He was keeping his distance from her, not wanting to scare her since he could not really determine her behaviour. But still, he could see tears pooling in her eyes. He decided on sitting down on the armchair opposite her. No closeness, no tenderness, it was not a moment for it.

“If you did not came with a foolish idea to kiss me that day…” she started with a little sniff but he felt that she was trying to come up with another shallow excuse.

“What’s so hard about a normal conversation?” he hissed, knowing he was being rough now. But he was hurt and he hated that feeling “I kissed you, you had a boyfriend already, said nothing about it earlier to add to that, keeping secrets. Why did you push me away?”

He needed to hear an answer to that question. Because he had troubles to explain it to himself, to find a real reason. His whole body started buzzing with adrenaline. At this point he was determined to have this bold and honest conversation with her, wanted to spit out all his fury and pain, but at the same time he feared the consequences, feared she would leave his apartment and never spoke to him again. Shut him out for good. He did not know what to truly expect. It was frightening.

“We had a conversation” she started after few minutes, weakly.

He was quicker with responses.

“Not about that, not about us in this whole new reality”

“Whole new reality?” she suddenly acted offended, almost standing up from her seat, her hands at her sides as she leaned forward “So what, it did not came to your attention that one day I would find someone I would like to share something intimate with?!”

But now he was silenced. Although despite of that, he felt fury taking over his senses. Oh, God, if he do not stop himself… Still, he felt the urge to fight for them.

“Don’t do this” he stated, confidently, his cheeks heating “Come back to me” it was supposed to come out as a plea, but truthfully sounded more possessively.

“Kylian, we need to set boundaries, I…”

“Fuck that, I don’t want boundaries” he scoffed and she looked aggravated “Dump that tosser and just come back to me, please” but now it was an honest plea and it almost sounded pathetic.

“So you can have me when you want, how you want, and still play around as you like?” she breathed “Have you ever realised how many times I had to go through this?” she spat, standing up and now it was panic overtaking him, so he stood up after her, desperate for her not to leave him.

“I would never make such mistake again, please, just let me…” he stepped closer to her but she shunned away, taking a step back.

He could hear a pained groan coming from her as she turned to look away from him. She was acting cool and distant, but he could see that she was fighting with it. Struggling how to handle this situation well.

“I should go” she muttered, still not facing him, keeping up the wall, the blockade between them strong and unyielding.

He lacked the power to break through it. Helpless.

“Do you even love him?” he chose this tool to at least create a crack.

Her gaze empty as she finally looked at him.

“I don’t know” and with that last answer she rushed in the direction of the door.

Kylian stood there in this one spot unmoving, his heart beating but numb, his thoughts notable but messy, his breathing steady but painful. He seemed calm if you noticed him lingering there, in the middle of the spacious room, but the calmness disappeared quickly as soon as he reached for the elegant lamp standing way too close to him, on the little coffee table next to his left hand. The next second the room was filled with a sharp and piercing noise of stoneware shattering against the wall.

[revalition]

OCT 18 - ELECTROCHEMISTRY Go to party planet. Love and be loved by drugs.

.... (looks at calendar) yup definitely october 18th today, don't mind us. this didn't even take that long, I wish I could have done more for one of my fav boys. we were putting off a task we didn't want to do (update resume) which meant getting stuck doing nothing at all for 2 days :)))

tomorrow is full of stuff we dont want to do too so... might fall behind on skilltober a bit. it's ok. but it's almost 2am and we gotta be up at 8 so gonna stop rambling now!!! (much love from the main guy who runs this blog and echem!! we're both here!)

lotssss of stuff under the cut! of my wonderful guy!

fun facts:

- has a swear score of 9/10 (calculated by yours truly) second only to half light

- he damages volition only once and heals volition 10 times! that's also the most healing out of any of the skills

- this impolite guy never once says sorry or please. he does say thank you once (to idiot doom spiral for inviting them to party)

- calls you Harry 3 times, boy 7 times, son once, man 13 times (+ calls volition man twice lol), baby 13 times, darling once, buster once, sir once, chief once, buddy 2 times, brother twice, detective 3 times... he talks to you a lot! I'm sure I'm missing some too

- calls himself your mesolimbic reward pathway, your glands, receptors/GABA-receptors, your pleasure response/centres, your electrochemistry, your parasympathetic nervous system, your moral compass (uhm...), your brain (that's a bit presumptuous) again probably missing some

- the 30 screenshot limit is *evil* >:(

also, electrochemistry's name translates directly to electrochemistry in almost all the languages disco has been translated to (which is interesting on its own, electrochemistry is the study of the chemistry of electrons moving) except the chinese translation -- 食髓知味

I don't speak a word of chinese so forgive me if this is off but google translate directly translates it to "Eat the marrow to know the taste". Apparently it is an expression meaning that once you've had a taste of something (the marrow) you will want to have it again, and is used in a negative way.

it... describes echem's role in the game quite clearly. anyway this seemed way too cool to not share.

onto the quotes!

he's so sassy

true! true! tell him echem!

I love love love this one. echem recognizes joy. kim's joy!!

shhhhhh

volition only trying to rein in electrochem... he's all alone out here haha

so delightful, happy electrochem!!!

no 😭 why is he *like that* sometimes. rhetoric knows he's gonna suggest something stupid before echem even opens his mouth. actual idiot. this is a godly check too! he gets sooo stupid at high levels...

hitting this guy with a rolled up newspaper >:|

pleaseee volition make him stop talking. he's so bad. I know he's just doing what he knows, but he's doing it in a manipulative way

look how stupid he is <3 this is when you make the jump for your coat, while you're falling through the air...

alternate outcome!! this line is actually so sad ☹️ noooo... sweetie your precious friend is still there it's okay you'll be okay

electrochemistry making this horrible situation even worse! pleaseee dude not *THE EXPRESSION* I want to strangle him. volition fighting for his life out here

he wants to be famous <3

I didn't mean to put 3 quotes in a row of authority and echem getting along but here we are. echem just wants to buy stuff he doesn't know any better!

one millisecond before hurling the pétanque ball into the ocean... at least he had fun doing it

he praises you for pouring your alcohol on the ground to honour the people you and kim have killed in the line of duty. okay my dude...

YES shit on the kingdom of conscience! someone has to!

what is wrong with him? (affectionate)

these increasing difficulty electrochemistry checks... thanks for making everyone regret asking man. and regret ever leveling you up that high in the first place...

if you rejected the task to find a drink, echem doesn't want it!

echem turning down the opportunity to use the expression, and it's just cause he isn't interested... dying. dying here.

this is a classic and a favourite. I was like 3 minutes into the game when I got this and was like ohhh... what's with this guy. oh dear.

bad :( don't call him a *lamo* stupid skill. him referring to himself by his own name is funny, I don't think any of the others do that

idiot doom spiral cuts him off here. but electrochemistry is the only skill that talks about the basal ganglia (Ancient Reptilian Brain). After some research it looks like the mesolimbic pathway and basal ganglia are closely related, and certain structures are even shared between them. Which might explain why electrochemistry is more in tune with ancient reptilian brain than the other skills. There's actually a really similar thing with perception (smell) talking to limbic system, and the olfactory system and limbic system share pathways in the brain. fascinating. which then raises the question of if pre-martinaise harry knew these things -- knows what a mesolimbic pathway is, and an olfactory system and a basal ganglia, and then named them accordingly? or if it was something else...?

(hopefully this is right, I'm a programmer not a neuroscientist. if someone who actually knows about brains knows more please say something lol)

anyway. onto other quotes.

look at them, look at the idiots <3

he's so sarcastic. look at him, focusing on what really matters! good job buddy

he's gonna kill volition one of these days. also happened in my first playthrough lol, my very high electrochemistry meant I became very fond of volition very fast.

volition... volition beloved, trying to stop you. electrochemistry *lying*. I believe volition about the vow, shush. but also... it is sooo sad that he thinks you guys can't make it without speed :( it's clearly that thought process, that it's better to risk your own health and save as many people as you can, that got things to be as bad as they are... he's got so many issues.

anyway. I've never hit 30 screenshots so fast, yikes. I love this guy so much. I have *so* many thoughts about him... how his role in harry's life would change after being sober and clean for a while... he just wants you to be happy.

[bomberqueen17]

looks like i picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines

no no that's a quote from the movie airplane. i tried amphetamines, by prescription, and i know i didn't find them particularly helpful, but i don't remember why. i've spent the last couple of weeks aggressively checked out of reality almost completely lost in my attempts to write a novel about solarpunk tall ships and the hot bisexuals who sail them, and that has been hella fun (i should share a snippet sometime. i will.) but it also means my car is still overdue for inspection and i need to figure out how to pay my physical therapy bill and i have several other urgent tasks piled up plus i still have an enormous quantity of luggage and things i removed from my cabin to winterize it piled in my house's entryway etc. so.

so anyway i've resumed amphetamines, since i had a two-week supply and only took one of them. and we'll see how that goes.

(yeah other friends of mine who've gotten diagnoses have had doctors insist on them monitoring their like, cardiac health or blood pressure with these, and it is slightly surprising to me that nobody has asked me about those things, but on the other hand, i seem to have been fine, so i guess this is ok. i found this guy through my insurance company so this isn't like. well. i don't know. it's the finest supervision i can get through my shitty insurance i guess.)

anyway. tall ships bisexuals is actually going pretty well but extremely disorganizedly. i need to get that under some kind of control.

i bought a stand mixer but haven't gotten it yet.

I also just forgot what i was going to write here, so this is going really well, score another one for the vyvanse. yes yes i'm keeping a comprehensive journal.

wow no really i don't remember where i was going with this. heck! welp. oh yeah no, i've been queueing enormous numbers of political posts and then going back and deleting them as unhelpful, so you're welcome. facebook memories helpfully showed me my post from eight years ago on this topic and mostly i'm like oh wow i was on facebook eight years ago? but if i look, mostly i was not. lol i signed up for facebook almost twenty years ago and decided it was Not For Me almost fifteen years ago and it still sends me twenty emails a day about my friends it's holding hostage, this is kind of amazing. anyway.

well i've been sitting here trying to lure my agitated cat to sit down and kick me out of the recliner, and after literally half an hour it has finally worked. so, off i go to drink like three gallons of water because that is the one thing i remember about being on meth that was really really important. you think "ah i need some more water" and you pour yourself a cup of it and it's gone and you're like "where did that go" so you drink three more cups and then you're like "wow i'm thirsty did i forget to drink water" and you wind up drinking incredible amounts of water and never peeing so. anyway that's a lot easier now that it's winter and i'm living someplace with running water, so. thumbs up.

woof i took a multivitamin and a fish oil capsule at the same time and i can taste that fish oil capsule, well done me =_=

[futbol16]

Only One • Alexia Putellas

This ones short, I'm sorry!

Request: The only one who can give reader a hug during the match is Alexia because reader hates sweaty hugs and will only allow them from her gf 

Reader tackles an opponent. Opponent falling on top of reader and staying there for a bit to long for Alexias liking. Alexia going over and ripping the opponent off.

Word count: 780

Growing up you had one major pet peeve, which people were often confused by considering the team sport you played. You absolutely hated getting sweaty hugs. You were disgusted by the mere thought of having to touch someone sweaty for too long, especially when your clothes were soaked with sweat as well. 

Your teams have always been understanding and would celebrate your goals with a high five or a quick handshake, that’s how you thought it would always be. Until that one girl came along, Alexia was the only one allowed to give you sweaty hugs.

It was a well known fact by the Barca girls and they often teased you about it. How ‘don’t touch me!’ and ‘Let me hug you!’ got together was beyond them, but it was adorable and it didn’t take long for the rest of the world to notice just how close the two of you are. 

Barcelona have been on fire the whole match, leading 4-0, yourself scoring a brace and the second half has only just started. Still, you were adamant on getting your girlfriend a chance on goal and so the next time the ball is sent your way you immediately take off, making sure that Alexia would get the space for her shot. You’re already at the penalty box when you finally cross it to Alexia and with a few skillful moves she sends a rocket of a goal. 

In an instant you are running towards her, scooping her up in celebration and she grins down at you. Your teammates are quick to follow and you allow them to hug you for a few seconds, your attention still on the brunette in your arms. Soon though, with a polite smile you gently nudge them away from you and get back in position. 

The scoreboard reads 68’ minute when the game is stopped as one of the opposition players limps into a sitting position. While their medics check her you saunter over to Alexia and with your forearm placed on her shoulder you lean into her. Her arm wraps around your waist and she smiles at the side of your face.

“Can I take you out for a date tonight?” she purrs and a soft smile pulls at your lips.

“Only if we don’t concede” your cheeky reply has her letting out a laugh and she nods at you before gently shooing you away as the game is resumed.

 It’s not hard to keep the Madrid CFF players away from your team’s goal, but when González starts advancing you’re quick to go after her. You know the girls want to keep the score clean just as much as you do and so it’s a no brainer to risk getting carded as you tackle her. 

The ball is out of play as it rolls beyond the sideline, but the Madrid player looks rather lost after the unexpected slide tackle from you. She makes no effort to move as she lays half across you, her palm resting flat on your chest as she lifts her upper body to look at the ref. 

As much as you don’t want to shove her off you, you are a bit uncomfortable and you attempt to sit up. You clear your throat and she looks down at you, her cheeks a bright red color but before either of you can blink a strong hand lands on her upper arm and yanks her away from you. 

Alexia growls at González, who is on her feet in an instant and going after the ball. The brunette lets out a puff of air as she helps you up and you chuckle at her. 

“Be nice Ale” you tease her and she shoots you a look, however a squeeze of her fingers has her trying to hold back a smile and you pat her back as González gets ready for a throw in.

Before you know it the match has ended in a wonderful 7-0 score for Barcelona and you shake hands with the Madrid players, a wide smile on your face. Thanking their number 3 for the game González is next in line and she approaches you with a small smirk. 

Just as she sticks her hand out a body crashes into you and you hold onto their back, missing González’s hand by a mile.

Alexia smirks to herself as you tighten your hold on her and she makes sure the other girl is watching as she presses a sloppy kiss to your jaw. You don’t even notice Madrid’s number 20 retreat to her own team with a roll of her eyes, too entranced by your Captain.

“So about that date..”

[jtl-fics]

I'm glad I checked the TBD tag today! If it's not too late to ask, I would love to see more TBD! I can't take the cliffhanger of the most recent post djlshgrk

10/9/24 WIP Wednesday (Closed) | TBD AU

“Josten. Minyard. You’re going in for the last five minutes.” Andrew turns his gaze from Neil to Coach Peterson.

“Coach, Andrew-”

“Came out clean on his check-up and shouldn’t be in any danger so long as he isn’t an idiot. Same as any game.” Coach Peterson dismisses. “I need you to score and I need you to hold the line.”

Andrew sees Neil’s jaw work before he turns to Andrew, “Be careful? They’re gunning for you.” 

Andrew rolls his eyes, “They’re about as threatening as my socks.”

“I’ve smelled those, that’s pretty dangerous.”

“You two, get into position to be subbed!” Coach Peterson barks, “Josten you’re going in for Martz,” he adds as the two of them went to stand at the court door. The whistle blew and the two of them entered the Court to uproarious applause from the crowd. Sanders gave him a dirty look but Andrew couldn’t fathom giving a shit about what the guy thought about him.

He set his mind to it watching as Smith looked back momentarily and gave him a thumbs up before play resumed. The Puma’s offense came after Andrew as if they hadn’t played the majority of a game up to this point but if locking down the goal was a matter of willpower with most teams then it was a matter of muscle memory for his old one. He remembered the tell of each and every one of his teammates even if he couldn’t be bothered to call them by their names.