172-VOLBUN [Volt-Bunny] -Electric -The Static pokemon -Ability: Static - Vital Spirit(HA) -Dex: “With almost 2/3 of its body weight being only fur, this pokemon spends most of its life gathering static energy as it hops around. You may know one is nearby as the hair on your body will start to rise up.” -Moveset: -Nuzzle -Thundershock -Cotton Guard -Thunder wave
–>Evolves with max. friendship<–
025-LEPOX [Lepus-Box] -Electric -The Electrified Pokemon -Ability: Static - Vital Spirit(HA) -Dex: “This energetic pokemon is very sociable and will spend most of its time tossing around with its mates, accumulating energy on its long fur. LEPOX are known for the "boxing Matches” that seems to occur among them, used as a way to release saved up energy when it becomes too much.“ -Moveset: -Thunder Punch -Spark -Charge -Jump Kick
–>Evolves with a thunderstone<–
026-THUNDARE [Thunder-Hare-Daring] -Electric/Fighting -The Supercharged Pokemon -Ability: Lighting Rod - Heroic Spirit*(HA) -Dex: "This pokemon lives alone yet it will always remain nearby where wild VOLBUN and LEPOX live together, looking out for them when they need help. This noble behavior doesn’t stops there, if it hears a pokemon, or even a human in peril, it will jump on its aid immediately.” -Moveset: -Sig. Move: Lightning Kick “The user launches a kick that lands a critical hit more easily. This may also leave the target paralyzed” Type: Electric PP: 10 (max 16) Power: 85 Accuracy: 90% -Wild Charge -High Jump Kick -Reversal
*This pokemon can’t be put to sleep and its attack cannot be lowered.
Specs wasn’t really an engineer. Their friends took him to be more of the theoretical sort, someone who could crunch numbers but was never seen in the lab for more than the minimum amount of time. He could be relied on for knowledge, but anyone who’d been in group projects with him had heard he preferred working with people, and that splitting work with him and expecting it done was a lot less productive than sitting him down in a work space on campus and bouncing the work between you.
His flatmates knew he wasn’t in the flat that much, and assumed he spent the rest of the time with societies and work. If anyone had checked, they would have noted that there was always a two hour gap in his schedule, but since he seemed to be perfectly ordinary (or as ordinary as the majority of EU student body were, at least) no one paid it much attention.
The shop students knew him as the guy who’d borrow their time to get little things done on their machines. A pinch of solder and iron to fix a wire, a small bit of the forge to cast some metal bits in the unused space of a bigger project. The chemistry students knew him as the guy who’d drop liquids in the liquid waste bin. Never more than a glass, a good way of disposing something you didn’t want to drink or keep nearby. The physics students knew him as the guy who’d request a few minutes with some of their meters. Strain gauges were the most common, but voltmeters and pressure gauges were close behind.
He always had an air of detached interest whenever gossip about the Gentry passed around the lecture halls. It was always another student who’d had a run in with a shadowy figure down by the lot, or had met Jimothy to trade beads, or had carefully not looked too closely at their flatmate recently.
Specs remained a guy with a few good friends who was a nice enough person to chat to throughout his first year. Then, in his second year, his sister came to EU.
Frizz was a drama student, eccentric, always ready with a smile and with a temper that was righteous in its fury. She wrote her own plays, sang her own little songs and drew in her spare time. She and her brother met up every other day for a quick hug, her drama friends quickly becoming acquainted with the smaller group of second year chem eng students who accompanied the elder sibling. When Frizz began dating, in as quietly dramatic a fashion as always, her brother was the one who looked her partner in the eye and stared for half a minute before calmly patting them on the shoulder and giving them a grin when he felt them shaking.
It was only a few months before Frizz had racked up a substantial number of encounters with the Fair Folk, as the liberal arts students tended to. One of Specs’ friends caught the occasional glimpse of worry beneath his usual friendly demeanor, but since Frizz had seemingly taken her brothers words of mild caution to heart she’d not come out of any of them the worse for wear.
Then, halfway through the year, Specs went backstage after a production had finished, he and the rest of the group of friends who’d come to support those of their number involved, to find Frizz’s partner running to him, terror in their eyes.
“They took Frizz!”
Specs face lost all emotion, and the rest of the group took a step back to give him space. A couple of them followed him as he left the theatre with a steadily quicker stride, and lost him as he began sprinting out into the grounds. They hoped he would be alright, knowing that the loss of a sibling would be heartbreaking. One or two of them resolved to go to his flat to comfort him the next day.
What they didn’t expect the next day was for Specs to be sitting behind a table on one of the main university paths with a selection of gadgets and items in front of him and a big digital timer counting down.
The first person to approach him was met with a fake, friendly smile and asked if they’d like a free sample. When they asked him what on earth he was doing, he took a yo-yo from the table in explanation.
“I’m starting off with the smallest stuff. Wholly iron and steel, six metres long wire string. Get it swinging at two and I guess you could even wrap someone up in it. Time goes on, I’ll start getting rid of the bigger stuff I’ve got stashed around. There’s a spray paint system I worked on the other day, it’s got a lovely red finish at up to twenty metres. I put some red iron-based paint in it, easily replaceable.”
Of course, most people steered clear of his stall, afraid of angering the Fair Folk, but there was always someone desperate, and soon he’d given out about thirty of the smaller things. There were several people who observed a tall man, lines of red rising on his skin in a manner that suggested something had coiled round him, stride over to the table.
“You will stop,” he said in a sibilant, angry tone.
“Huh?” came Specs disinterested reply. “Oh, you’re right, two hours have gone past and still my sister hasn’t turned up. Time to move on to the next batch.”
The man seemed to grow taller, hands becoming more pointed. Specs pulled a hula hoop from the stand and tossed it over the man’s head, breaking a catch and allowing a spool of chicken wire to spring from within, encircling his interrogator. After a couple of minutes, he pulled the chicken wire down, taking a small water pistol from the table instead. The tall man glared and retreated.
After half a day, Specs was seen walking to several iron electric boxes and pulling out things stashed within, before returning to the stand to place his unearthed stash on display. Unlike the steadily grander toys he’d been selling, these things didn’t hide what they were made for. An ugly looking thing with springs held several iron bolas. A mass of batteries were strapped to a couple of electromagnets with a supply of iron filings to feed between the two. Swimming goggles with lenses and rocks. Flashlights with reticules and chemical warning labels. Ball bearings and a hand cranked handheld self reloading catapult.
For those who were desperate, the rumours that had spread around campus were enough to bring them in. Each piece of equipment was explained, warnings about not firing this through a glass window, it could put someone’s eye out, that shouldn’t be aimed at the legs in case it trips someone up, this should be handled with a paint mask and with no-one in the immediate vicinity.
In the evening, as Specs handed out the last of the things he hadn’t been holding onto for himself, a group of assorted people with burn scars, pocks of red and faces in assorted angry expressions that looked near inhuman came towards him.
“You’ve made a lot of people angry.”
“They can join the club. I still haven’t seen my sister.”
“You have no more threats to hand out. You will be sorry.”
“Oh? No, I’ve got a whole wardrobe full of these things. Then there’s the emergency stashes I made, just in case. Then the stuff I’ve left half finished. And, of course, I might start handing out copies of my designs, I had a bunch of people interested in what I offered today and I’m sure some of them would love to know how these things work, try a hand at making their own-”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I? I don’t see what the problem is. I’m just putting my frustration into something productive. If only my sister were here to calm me down…”
The next day a girl with Frizz’s face approached the stall. She left when Specs offered her a wire Chinese finger trap to try out.
It was midday when Frizz herself appeared, wandering drunkenly over to Specs stall and hugging him as though she’d never let go. Specs brushed her hair with a hand covered in iron rings, murmuring in her ear. He kept one arm around her as he packed up the stall, hefting the duffel bag and stall with difficulty with one hand before the siblings’ friends arrived from class to help.
That evening, in Specs flat, with Frizz lying exhausted on the couch in the kitchen, one of his friends quietly asked why he’d had all that stuff prepared. In the course of one and a half days he’d handed out enough anti-fae tools for a small mob, and he’d been hinting he had even more. One of Frizz’s friends, the one who never wore iron and smiled all the time, looked slightly scared as she asked why he hadn’t used it.
“My family have always been creative,” he said. “You can see my sister’s talent. My dad paints, my mum sings. I imagine things. And some of those things are not very nice.”
He looked at his hands. After two days of being either clenched or solid as a rock, they were shaking now.
“It was fun to imagine solutions to a problem I’d never faced. To make something cheap, effective and that I’d never need to use, but should have around just in case. Heck, I even said to myself that it was alright to design bigger, because it wasn’t as if it’d be used on anyone nice.”
Requested by Anon:
Will you write a one shot where the reader and Loki are together, and she is held captive by shield in an attempt to get information about the avengers? Thanks!
Pairing: Reader x Loki
Word Count :1397 (oops! I swear when essays had to be 1000 words long it seemed impossible yet narrowing this down to 1397 was so hard lol )
A/N: Ok. I will probably make a part 2 to this. It is already really long for a requested imagine.. I just had so much I wanted for this story lol. this is only my second Loki imagine/blurb thing, hopefully I’ll get better the more I write. Feedback is always appreciated if there are ways you think I can improve, just please be nice about it haha.
I woke with a jump and looked around the tiny room I was in trying to figure out where the hell I was. The last thing I remembered was relaxing on the couch at the tower with everyone watching a movie on our extremely rare day off. My head had been resting gently in Loki’s lap as he played with my hair absentmindedly. He had finally settled into life with the Avengers, he had finally allowed himself to become one of us and started to trust more people than just Thor and I. I remember getting a vision of something that had caused me to sit up suddenly and turn to warn everyone and then it all went black and I woke up here, tied to this chair. “If I have to be tied to a chair you could have at least made it comfortable… Does anyone want to tell me why the hell you ruined my perfectly good day off.” I yelled into the empty room, knowing I was being watched from somewhere.
Absolutely none of this is my work - I read this little scene in another favorite series of mine (Black Dagger Brotherhood by JR Ward and her spin-off series Black Dagger Legacy - I cannot recommend them enough!) and thought it would be great if our favorite characters from ACOTAR (by Sarah J Maas) were in it. This part is specifically from JR Ward’s book, Blood Kiss. I hope you laughed as much as I did when I read this scene, and enjoy it with the ACOTAR characters!
Nesta looked over at the archway from the library desk she had been stuck at for the past two weeks. She never realized being the Emissary of Prythian for the Human Realm would entail so much work. Standing together in the archway were Feyre, Elain, and Amren, glasses of wine and plumed pens in their hands.
“We’re prepared to scribe up and help with the invitations,” Feyre said. “And then we’ve asked for dinner on special service, because we’re doing girls’ night with a movie upstairs in the theater.”
“Magic Mike XXL just came out on DVD,” Amren chimed in. “We have a moral obligation to support the arts, even if they’re just the human ones.”
“I haven’t seen the first one,” Elain murmured. “They tell me his pelvis is double-jointed. Is that true?”
Amren came forward and took the paperwork out of Nesta’s hands. “Come on, you look like you need a girls’ night. Cresseida and Mor are joining us. So are Viviane and Nuan. We’re getting all of us together - it’s about time.”
For a split second, Nesta felt guilty about easing into the friendship that was being offered. It seemed….too frivolous when she thought about all she wasn’t able to do for everyone else.
Feyre leaned in. “We’ve told the males that they can’t come in. Mostly because if they see that Channing guy up on the big screen - “
Amren finished, “ -we’re going to need to do a remodel after they’re done with things.”
“Back to the double-jointed business,” Elain kicked in. “I mean, how does he walk?”
“Very well, sister.” As Feyre answered, she put an arm around Nesta’s shoulders. “Very, very well.”
Then they began setting down ink jars and papers and handed Nesta a glass of wine, who began to blink fast. Part of the emotion was relief at a break from all the work she had been buried under. The other half was a gratitude so great, her chest could barely contain the emotion.
“Ladies,” she said, putting her arm around Feyre’s waist. “Let’s do the addressing quickly - so we can get to the undressing.”
“I’m sorry….they’re doing WHAT?”
As Cassian spoke, he looked at the males-only group sitting around the mansion’s dining room table. Not one of his brothers or any of the other males were laughing or talking loudly. The bunch of sad sack losers was just sitting in front of half-eaten plates and untouched glasses of vodkas, bourbon and whiskey like a roll call of basset hounds who’d lost their anti-depressants.
Not what he’d expected to find as he came late to dinner.
When Nesta had texted him and told him she was working with the females on something, it had seemed like a good idea to take care of some trainee stuff.
He hadn’t banked on this funeral thing just because the ladies were doing a project.
“Hello?” he demanded. “You guys lost your hearing along with your sac or something?”
Rhys inhaled like he was about to break the news of a death in the family. “They’re having a movie night.”
Cassian rolled his eyes and went over to his chair. Yeah, it was a little weird to sit down without his Nesta by his side, but for Cauldron’s sake, it was nothing to go Prozac over. Besides, he was glad his female had friends in the house-
“They’re watching Magic Mike,” someone said.
“Is that a children’s show?” He started filling his plate with heaping piles of lamb. “Varian, pass the salt over here, would-“
Cassian stopped talking as he realized the entire table of males was looking at him. “What?”
“You haven’t heard of Magic Mike?” Lucien demanded.
“No.” He leaned back again as Azriel handed him a drink. “Thanks. Is it like Barney?”
“It’s about strippers,” Lucien countered.
Cassian frowned and lowered his glass from his lips. “I’m sorry?”
Kallias came in from the pantry with a scowl like somebody had shot his favorite fox courier.
“Naked,” Kallias muttered as he sat where Nesta should have been. “Buck-ass naked. And they’re humans. Cauldron, it’s like being shown up by a pack of dogs.”
“In thongs,” someone else bitched. “Dogs in thongs.”
Cassian followed through on taking a drink this time, swallowing the burn, welcoming the heat in his gut. Okay, fine, it was a bit of a surprise to find that he kept going until the glass was empty, but hey, he had a lot to think about. On one level, the fact that his mate was watching a movie with her buddies, even if it did involve some nakey, really wasn’t a big deal.
On another level, he wanted to find the electrical box and cut the power to that part of the mansion.
Then torch the DVD. And the screen.
And take his mate to bed just to show her all the tricks he had over some actor in a - oh, Cauldron, a thong?
“It’s fine,” he heard himself say as he motioned to Az for a refill. “I mean, first of all, they love us - and second, it’s not like it’s an X rated -“
“They show a cock pump,” Helion said with a wide smile, like he was helping. “And in action. You know, it’s on a cock and it’s pumping-“
Kallias unsheathed a dagger from somewhere and pointed the thing a Helion’s head. “You keep talking like that and I’ma trim your hair. With my eyes closed.”
Helion laughed. “Yeah, whatever, big boy. I thought you had more mojo than to get worked up over something like this. You really that insecure?”
“You want insecure,” Kallias said. “I’ll make you-“
“Okay, okay,” Cassian cut in. “Leave it, Kallias. It’s fine, it’s great - they’re just enjoying themselves. What’s wrong with that? It’s not like they’re sleeping with the guy.”
The collective growl that rose up from the males was so loud, it managed to agitate the crystals in the enormous chandelier hanging over the table. And the Lord of Day Court was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid.
Moving slowly, like there were multiple guns pointed at him, he put his hands up in submission. “Sorry. Whatever. I’ll stop before all this lame-ass uncomfortability you bunch of morons are sporting kills me.”
“Wise choice,” Cassian said dryly. “Not that I wouldn’t mind hitting you right now. Although that’s not specific to this sitch.”
Helion went back to eating, shoving food in his face.
The other males weren’t so quick to do a reset on things, those narrowed eyes still trained on the male with the big mouth.
“Come on, boys, it’s fine.” Cassian said. He cut a piece of lamb off and put it in his mouth. “Mmmm. Delish.”
In reality, the stuff tasted like cardboard, but he made a show of the yummies. He couldn’t keep it up, though.
Two minutes later, he was shoving a full plate away and nursing his second whiskey. “Really. They should have a little independence. They don’t need to be locked at our hips. It’s about time they do something just for them. This is great.”
Next to him, Kallias glared. “Is it. You like the idea of Nesta looking at some other male’s junk?”
“It’s not X-rated-“ As his voice squeaked, he cleared his throat. “I mean, it couldn’t be…no, it’s not-“
“I already checked,” Lucien muttered. “They have the DVDs - they’re probably watching the extended, uncut versions.”
“So the strippers aren’t circumcised?” Helion put his palms up again before the growling got even worse. “Cauldron, you guys are SO damn touchy.”
Cassian shook his head and decided the prick was on his own. “So, yeah, I mean, a little gyrating - a pec pump or two. It’s nothing to get worked up over.” Gesturing to a servant by the door, he said, “Can I have a refill over here?”
“Of course. Would anyone care for dessert?”
Cassian glanced at Varian. “What do you say there, Vari?”
When Varian just swished his ginger ale around in his glass, Cassian cursed and said to the servant, “This one here will have some even if no one else does.”
“Bring me the dessert,” Varian spoke up.
The servant bowed. “But of course, sire. I shall fix you a plate-“
“No. I want the whole dessert. All of the cake and all of the ice cream.”
Annnnnnnnnnndd that was how Varian ended up with a morose audience of however many playing witness to his consuming fifteen small chocolate cakes and two gallons of vanilla ice cream.
It was like watching paint dry, except there was no chemical smell and the room was the same color before and after.
The good news was that the booze was doing its job, fuzzing out Cassian’s mind, making his body both numb and horny. “May I have another?” he asked a passing servant who was removing the final chocolate-smudged plate. “Thank you very much.”
When his glass came back, he pushed his chair away from the table. “I’m out. I’ve got some work to do.”
And no offense to any of them, but hanging around their vibe was just making him more depressed. Any more of this and he was going to start braiding the noose.
Walking out, he paused in the grand foyer. Looked up the stairs. Tried to imagine his Nesta ogling some actor in his underwear.
“Really, it’s fine. Good for her.”
He took his phone out and called up their text string. Hesitating, he thought he’d just send her something, you know, to remind her that….
In years past, he would never have given a shit about something like this. Nesta wasn’t only the love of his life; she was a female of worth who would never cheat on him. And hello, it wasn’t like she’d checked into a seedy motel with the guy, for fuck’s sake. She was hanging with her friends just like he hung out with his.
This was ridiculous.
He was NOT the jealous type-
The sound of boots approaching had him glancing over his shoulder. It was Varian, and the male had a frothy glass of Alka-Seltzer in his hand.
Varian looked up the stairs. And dollars for dipshits, he was thinking exactly what Cassian was.
“I’m going up,” the male announced.
“Now wait, wait, wait.” Cassian grabbed that males huge forearm and squeezed. “It’s not like you can just burst in there.”
“It’s girls’ night.”
“So I’ll put on a dress.”
“Fucking hell, Varian. REALLY?”
Next out were Kallias, Lucien and Azriel. And then everyone else, including Rhys and Thesan, who, in spite of not being officially mated, was right there along the hound-faced rest of them.
“We are NOT going up there,” Cassian announced. “We’re going to go play some pool, and get drunk, and talk about all the training we accomplished at the camps. We’re going to have a great fucking day - night, whatever the fuck it is. Now pick your balls up off the floor and let’s start behaving like men.”
“He has skills. I’m just saying.”
As Viviane spoke up, the captivated audience that was focused on the big screen was in total, very unmuted agreement.
Nuan let out another of her now-trademark wolf whistles.
Amren cursed and threw more Milk Duds at the image, yelling, “Damn, son, you get that shit! You get it!”
Nesta just laughed again. She couldn’t decide what was more amusing, the movies or the company - probably the company. Although the humans were not hard on the eyes, she had to admit.
And then it was time for another round of hooting and hollering.
Cauldron, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard. There was something about being with the girls that made the jokes both worse and better at the same time, and the giggling louder, and the silliness more stupid.
All of which was a very beautiful thing, as it turned out.
It also reminded her of how great it was to be accepted for exactly who she was, no external expectations laid on her, no shortfalls she hadn’t volunteered cutting her down. No judgement, just love.
Plus a number of naked guys who were almost as hot as her male? Not a hardship.
When the final scene was over and the credits started to roll, they clapped like the actors could hear them all the way out in California.
“Can you teach me how to whistle like that?” someone asked Nuan.
“You just put two lips around your fingers and blow,” the female replied.
“Isn’t that a line from a movie?” somebody else chimed in.
“Are they doing a third one-“
“Magic Mike Ginormous-“
“We need to watch one and two again first as prep - we’ve got a tradition to uphold-“
“Anybody see Nine and a Half Weeks lately-“
One by one, they stood up from the padded leather recliners and stretched in the dim, windowless room, backs cracking, shoulders unknotting. And it was funny - Nesta felt the urge to cut through the conversation and say something profound and meaningful, just to acknowledge the space they’d been in. But the right words didn’t come.
Instead, she said, “Hey, can we do this again?”
Then again, maybe that was exactly what she meant.
Well, what do you know, the peanut gallery was so on board: The rousing cheer was as loud as the hoots at the dance scenes, and the idea that this special time wasn’t a one-off made her feel a piercing kind of relief.
“I think we need a Chris Pratt marathon next. Guardians of the Galaxy,” Feyre said.
“Is that the guy with the brother?” Elain asked.
“That’s Hemsworth,” someone answered.
Starting the line for the departure up the middle aisle, Nesta wadded her empty Milk Duds box and made a rim shot with it into the trash. Abruptly, she realized that she couldn’t wait to see Cassian - and not because of all the scenes of half-naked bodies. She missed him - which was ridiculous, considering neither one of them had gone anywhere.
Heading for the door by the glass display of candy bars, she was smiling as she pushed open the -
“Dear…..God,” she blurted as she recoiled.
The hallway beyond was filled with the males of the house, all sitting on the floor with their backs to the bare walls, their legs stretched out, propped up, crossed at the knees or crossed at the ankles.
Apparently there had been quite a bit of drinking going on, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey littered around them, glasses in hands or on thighs.
“This is NOT as pathetic as it looks,” her Cassian pointed out.
“Liar,” Kallias muttered. “It so fucking is. I think I’m going to start knitting for reals.”
As the females emerged with her, each one of them registered shock, disbelief, and then wry amusement.
“Is it me,” one of the males groaned, “or did we just perform our own mass castration out here?”
“I think that just about sums this shit up,” somebody agreed. “I’m wearing panties under my leathers from now on. Anyone joining me?”
“Helion already does,” Kallias said as he got to his feet and went to Viviane. “Hey.”
While the other pairs found one another, Cassian smiled as Nesta came over to him and put out her hand to help him off the floor. As they embraced, he kissed her on the side of the neck.
“Are you out of love with me now?” he murmured. “Cuz I’m pussy-whipped?”
She leaned back in his arms. “Why? Because you pinned after me while I was watching a dirty movie with my girls that wasn’t all that dirty? I think it’s actually - and brace yourself - really pretty cute.”
“I’m still all male.”
As she rolled her body against him, she let out a mmmmmm as she felt his erection. “Yes, I can tell.”
Warning: Swearing, angst (come on guys it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t a little drama in this) and umm sassy, witty, playful banter.
A/N: This is a spin off of Criminal Minds Penelope x Morgan relationship, only they end up together at the end. haha. There will only be like 5 or 6 parts to this at the most. Hope you enjoy, let me know if you want to be tagged.
You being the tech analysis for the Avengers, you’re at their call 24/7 specially when they take off on missions. You have a great relationship with the whole team, but the playful, witty banter you have with Steve is next level, your his favorite girl and he’s your blue eyed god. Little does he realize you’re harboring a deep, brooding love for him, now if only he returned the same feelings.
“Okay you wake up now.” You pace at the foot of the hospital
bed, your heels clicking under you with each short step. “I’m serious.” You
shoot a look at the bed. Steve remains unmoved. “Rogers, you wake up or I swear
I will be reduced to violence and you and I both know you clearly have had
enough of that.” You stop, turning to look at him, foot tapping.
were a lot of things Laura liked about her work as Carmilla’s tour manager/PR
person. The travelling, listening to Carmilla’s music, the interesting people
What she was less fond of was
cleaning up Carmilla’s messes, keeping her perpetually tardy ass to a schedule
and hiding their relationship.
Welcome to day two, Creampuffs! Did you like the last one? I
considered a different version where Laura and Carmilla were just two people
who didn’t know each other and kept running into each other at concerts, but
couldn’t make it work.
Not enough that I was actually
happy with it, at least. Eventually it became this and I’m pretty happy with
how it turned out. Let me know what you think, Creampuffs!
As described in a previous story, I serve as my campus’
midnight listener. During the day, I’m a student. But during the hours of
midnight and 2AM, I head up to my office – an old storage room, where I provide
listening services for students who need to express themselves anonymously
without fear of being judged or ridiculed. A thick, black curtain separates
myself and the students, providing maximum privacy.
Up til now, I’ve heard stories that intrigued, disgusted,
and impressed me. But none had actually changed my life. At least, not until I
It was 2.30AM, and I was finishing up yet another midnight
listener session. I was knackered from listening to an hour’s worth of
relationship laments, and was looking forward to retiring to my room in preparation
for my midterms the next afternoon. So you could imagine my annoyance when I
heard the door squeak open.
“Sorry, I’m done for the day. Come back tomorrow, please,” I
“Please. I need to – I need to talk to someone. If I don’t,
I think I might go mad.” A female’s voice rang out.
Now, this wasn’t the first time I had students approach me
after my specified listening hours. However, I’ve almost always turned them
away. But there was something different about this voice that made me pause. Unlike
that of most other students, this voice was laced with a tinge of desperation
that I simply could not ignore.
“Okay. Okay but let’s keep this short, please. We can
continue tomorrow night if you want,” I sighed inwardly and settled back down
onto my chair.
“Thank you.” There was a shuffle of footsteps, and then a
slight creak as the student sat down across the curtain.
“How may I address you? You can use a fake name if you
want,” I asked.
A moment’s silence, and then: “Carla. It was my cat’s name.”
“Okay, Carla. Whenever you’re ready.”
“I… I’ve been having nightmares lately. Really bad ones. I
wake me up in the middle of the night, screaming, and I can’t go back to sleep.
I know my roommate thinks I’m going crazy. She doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,
doesn’t want to look at me anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, have you tried speaking to her?”
Carla sighed loudly in irritation. “No. Look, I don’t want
to talk about her. I want to talk about my nightmares. It’s always of the same
thing. The same damn thing.”
“What is it about?”
“A fire. A big fire and I’m always in it. Sometimes the
nightmare begins when the fire first starts, but sometimes it just starts in
the middle. I’m in the middle of the fire, it’s so hot, everything is burning
and everyone is screaming. It’s foggy and I can’t see anything clearly.” As
Carla described her nightmare, her voice began to grow shrill in panic.
“Just shapes, running around! Screaming and crying. There’s
always books on the ground, going up in flames. Books, falling off their
shelves and catching fire! And I’m running around, trying to escape but there’s
no way out. There never is!”
Carla paused and I could hear her breathing heavily. It was
during this brief respite that I realised that I too, had been hooked up emotionally
into her story. I was sitting, quite literally, at the edge of my seat, and was
leaning forward in anticipation. I opened my mouth to speak, when Carla
“The air is thick and hot. I can’t breathe, I’m suffocating.
Everyone around me is falling to the ground. The flames are getting bigger and
bigger! I try to crawl for the exit, but I can never reach it.”
“And then what happens?” I croaked out.
“I wake up. I always wake up as soon as I pass out in the
dream. I wake up, and I’m screaming and I’m crying and I’m sweating and
thrashing. It takes me ages to calm down and I can never go back to sleep,”
Carla’s voice broke in mid-sentence.
For the first time in many sessions, I was at a loss for
words. I had so many questions in my mind. Eventually I spluttered out a
“You said there were books in your dream?” Yes, a weird
question, I know. But it was bugging me.
“It’s always in the library. The fire. It starts there.”
“I see. Well – since these dreams are getting in the way of
your sleep, have you tried taking sleeping pills?”
“No pill can help me,” Carla laughed darkly and snarled. “Do
you want to know why?”
I winced involuntarily in my seat. Up until this point,
Carla had displayed a wide range of emotions. She had gone from desperate and
pleading, to panicky and shrill. Now, she exuded a sense of cockiness and
cynicism. I couldn’t get a handle on her at all.
Warnings: Suggestions of adult themes, that’s probs it, this one is pretty tame, tbh
A/N: In receiving my friends Netflix password I have discovered a love for a certain Scot, as many of you could probably tell from the influx of Chibs fluff on my dash (I sincerely apologize, btw, I’m trash and I must be stopped). I decided to add to this. Hope you enjoy. (also, das gif ist nicht mein).
Halfway through the night Y/N had gotten out of bed, quite literally slipping from under her old man’s arm and creeping into the living room when she set an alarm for 5:30 the next morning, and hour and a half before Chibs woke up. Hopefully her alarm was loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough to keep him asleep, as he’d always been a pretty light sleeper. She piled the throw pillows under her head and curled up under the blanket they kept on the back of the sofa before shutting her eyes and falling back asleep.
Her alarm went off and she was quick to shut it off. She crept down the hall, peeking into her bedroom to find Chibs laying spread eagle on his stomach in the middle of the bed, the sheets wrapped around his waist, his hair poking in all kinds of directions and his mouth wide open. She smiled. He was still asleep.