#and it still burns!! because i should have known better than to bother these people with this inflated self importance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myfandomprompts · 1 year

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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟏)

Synopsis: You are a French girl that had the opportunity to teach in Manchester, and you had been lucky enough to be granted a bed at the Bennett’s place. As Europe is on the brink of war, you start to worry for your family back at home, and you are surprisingly consoled by the one man of the house you would never have thought capable of landing you an ear. It’s not that you like Tom, is it? Masterlist

Tags: fluff, angst, little slow burn, next part will include more tags (wink)

It was late, and you were in the Bennett’s living room, unable to sleep and because you didn’t want to bother Lois who was already sound asleep upstairs with your light, you had chosen to read on the couch, literature distracting you.

It has been three wonderful months in Manchester. The place was lovely, the people welcoming, the school you had begun to teach at everything you hoped for, and the Bennetts were absolutely adorable with you. Douglas was sweet, and had many stories to tell, Lois was kind and funny, and you two had got along pretty quickly. Even Tom, when he was around, was making efforts to be as delightful and troublesome as usual.

You had found the place by your connections, your brother playing in a band with a trumpeter named Eddie, whose wife happened to be Lois’s best friend. And now you were sharing the bedroom upstairs with her, having taken Tom’s bed as he now slept on the couch. He had not complained once about it.

The first time you met him, he had entered the house mere minutes after you had arrived, having just finished introducing yourself to his father and sister. You heard him before seeing him. “So, the reason I have to sleep on the couch from now has arrived, eh?”

His tone was playful, but you still felt guilty nonetheless as you turned around to see the infamous Tom, slightly blushing when you saw the tall blond-haired man in front of you, his blue eyes widening faintly as he met yours.

“Tom, be nice,” Lois had said. “This is Y/N.”

You had greeted him shyly, not sure how to act with him as you jokingly apologised for the loss of his bed, but his grin had just grown wider and he had chuckled.

“Christ, are they all this pretty in France? I should pay them a visit, I would be a very happy lad there.”

Douglas had sighed while Lois rolled her eyes, and you had not known how to react back then watching him laugh again before going upstairs with a wink to his sister, satisfied with the way your cheeks had turned pink.

But now that you had been his flirtatious self for over three months, you had grown used to his witty remarks and knew better than to take them seriously. You got along pretty well in fact. One day you had stumbled upon him in the kitchen as he played with a deck of cards, and had offered to teach you how to play. You had never seen someone as skilled with his hands as he was, and you wondered now if this particular talent had anything to do with the two weeks he had spent in prison lately. Regardless, you had spent a wonderful afternoon with him that day.

It was a stark contrast with your current situation, reading late and laying on the couch with the oil lamp as sole light, finding the activity the only efficient distraction from the thoughts that prevented you from sleeping at night. You were quite the anxious person, and since the news that Poland had surrendered and that Europe was on the brink of war, you had grown concerned for your family back in France. The word out was that Western Europe would be next and your family was living too close to the German border for you not to be concerned. The fact that you had not received any letters from any members of your family in a whole week did nothing to appease that worry. So instead of sleep, reading it was, and you were so focused on your book that you did not hear the front door open softly and you jumped when you saw a figure standing in the threshold of the living room.

“Mon Dieu… You scared me!” you gently scolded as you brought your hand to your chest, steadying your heartbeat.

“Sorry love, didn’t mean to,” came the quick response of Tom, fully dressed with his overcoat, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold he had just escaped from.

“Where do you come from this late?” you inquired, shivering as you felt the draught reach you as he took his coat off.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Are you still scrapping for metal, Tom? Can I finally have that tin man you’re building?” you teased as you echoed Lois, watching him as he made his way to the chair across from you, lazily dropping in it and lighting a cigarette between his lips.

“Lois talks too much,” he answered, smoke coming out of his mouth as he spoke. “And you won’t find me doing that again. Don’t plan on going back in a cell this soon.”

He winked at you, but the only thing now on your mind was what Douglas had announced to you this morning. “I heard… Conscientious objector, uh? Your father must be proud, you already have the genes for pacifism.”

“I doubt that. I’m not really into what he believes in so…” his voice was low, contemplative. “Sooner or later, I’ll still be a disappointment. No surprises there.”

“Don’t say that, I know he is proud of you. At least he is glad you’re not on the mend any more. Or in the army.”

“Yeah…I’m a real hero.”

You frowned, saddened by his words but you found nothing to say as he reached for the ashtray next to him. You hoped that one day the man before you would see his worth.

“So, can’t sleep?” he kept on, putting an end to the topic as you stared at the way the smoke passed his lips. “Why are you in the cold like that?”

“I just… thought I would have some reading done,” you half-lied, raising the book in your hands. “But don’t let me keep you from a good night’s sleep. You look like you need it.”

Tom’s demeanour shifted at that and a grin appeared on his lips, looking you over. “Well, I would, but since you’re sitting where I sleep…”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly remembered that he had taken the couch because of you. And now you robbed him of it as well. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that, I was just enjoying the living room... I’ll leave you be,” you said with slight embarrassment, closing your book and moving to get up.

“No, stay, you're warming up my bed so nicely already, you're not going to abandon me now, are you?" he teased, a sly smile on his lips as his face lit up. "There is enough space for both of us on this couch if we keep close."

The stern look you gave him at his inappropriate proposition amused him for a moment, but soon his anxious and serious expression returned, "No, honest, despite what you think I look like, I'm not tired. So stay. Please."

You hesitated, sensing that like you, he might use the company, but you still did not want to be a bother. He talked again before you could come to a decision.

“I know you read when you’re anxious, so tell me what’s bothering you. Why you can’t sleep.”

You were surprised for a second by the fact that he knew this about your personality, feeling something in your heart tingle as his blue eyes examined yours, waiting for your answer. "It’s nothing, it’s just, passing insomnia.”

He took another puff of smoke, not believing you for a second, “Worrying about your folks, are you?” he said as you lowered your gaze at your hands and nodded. You didn’t know Tom could be this perceptive, or that his eyes could have that softness you've never noticed before. “They’ll be fine. These Nazis won’t be able to do much if we have a say in it,” he stated, looking at how your pretty eyes had suddenly turned morose.

He didn’t want that. “What if they do anyway? Look at Poland, we weren’t prepared and now here we are. They don’t look like they are gonna stop there. Finland is-”

“You listen to the wireless too much. It’s always bad news nowadays, no point in listening to it if it makes you sad.”

You gave him a sorry smile, internally touched at his simplistic way of seeing things. “Stop listening to the news won’t make Germany stop invading its neighbouring countries Tom,” you replied softly, trying to ignore the way your heart ached at the thought. “What has happened is already so horrifying, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would look like if they really go all the way through with it.”

You felt tears come at the rim of your eyes against your will as you let the words you dreaded to say come out loud. Your lack of sleep was making you prone to strong emotions, and you had kept them hidden for a little too long. “It’s just… so scary. What if I can’t go back, or something happens while I’m here? They feel so far away! What if I end up never seeing them again? What if I have made a mistake coming here?” you went on, voice cracking and barely holding your tears.

Tom had straightened up on his chair. “Of course you’ll see them again,” he firmly said, but when he saw your teary eyes his voice turned soft, and he stood up at once. “Hey it’s alright. You’re alright love. C’me here.”

You watched him come over and sit beside you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you gently against him. You blinked at his sudden display of affection but did nothing against it, leaning into him as he pulled you closer, allowing you to rest your head against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, and you clung to the sound.

“Nothing will happen to them,” he whispered. “If they are half as smart as you are, nothing will get them. Trust me.”

His breath was tickling the side of your face as he talked. You giggled softly, now finding pathetic the way you had reacted due to your lack of sleep. “Thank you, Tom. You’re sweet when you want to,” you whispered, feeling your eyelids slowly flutter from the fatigue.

“I’m always sweet. You’re just not around often enough to witness it.”

“Then I am clearly missing out...”

Then it went dark, and you fell asleep in Tom’s arms. “Not as much as I am, Y/N.”

Tom watched you as your breathing became even, hand itching to prevent a strand of your hair from falling over your pretty face. Had it been anyone else, he would have woken you up and made you go to bed to be more comfortable, but as the minutes passed, he gradually abandoned the idea of moving even an inch as you felt amazingly warm over him. He gently took your book away from your lap before putting the cover over your form and leaned back against the couch, finding a comfortable position of his own.

Your peaceful expression suited you, he thought.

Sunlight filtered through the windows directly into your eyes, and you blinked yourself awake, the smell of smoke and sandalwood tickling your nose. It was nice, but as you realised from where, or from who it came from. Your face was resting against Tom, his chest rising up and down softly as he breathed and you straightened at once, the motion making him shift and blink in turn beneath you. You stayed still while you forced your memories from the previous night to come back. Tom lazily stretched his arm over him before dozing into sleep again. Oh no no no.

“Réveille-toi espèce de-” you scolded, hitting him on the shoulder to urge him awake. “Why didn’t you wake me up! We would both have been better off in our own beds!”

“Hey, easy!” he protested with a giggle, now fully awake and trying to take a hold of your wrists to stop you from punching him. “You’re the one that fell asleep on me, in my bed, and I’m not the one complaining here, love!”

His amused expression annoyed you more than it should have and you cursed in frustration, realising that you had to get ready for work very soon. You were glad that neither Douglas or Lois had woken up early to see you like that.

“If I’m late for school, it’s on you,” you warned, getting rid of the covers he had apparently put over you during the night and pointing an accusing finger at him, standing up to walk upstairs.

“What, I don’t even get a cup of tea as a reward for being your pillow? I clearly deserve it,” he taunted, taking his jumper off and looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, “Fine. But stop guilt trapping me. You still should have woken me up, I’m sure your muscles are killing you right now. No, I hope they are."

“My muscles are fine, thank you. And I would never have dared to wake you up, you seemed so relaxed in my arms, I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

His grin was enticing but you escaped it by fleeing into the kitchen and processing to make you and him some tea, taking care in adding milk, a thing you had learned British people liked, and you brought one of the hot cups back to him. He was now comfortably laying under the covers, ready to fall asleep again, but he straightened up to take the beverage from your hands, satisfied with the way your nose flared in frustration. But even though you seemed vexed, it did not reflect your thoughts in the least

“Thank you. For listening to me last night.”

Your words made him arch his brow in surprise but his sweet smile quickly came back as he sipped his drink happily. “Anything, Y/N.”

You gave him a half a grateful smile in response before turning on your heels, heading upstairs to ready yourself for the day. Tom smiled at the way the covers were now infused with your scent, and he was glad to fall back to sleep in it.

It was your turn to buy groceries, and you had taken your time in the market today, strolling through products before heading back to the Bennett’s.

Nearing the back door, you were put face to face with a furious looking Tom, storming out of the kitchen and almost bumping into you as you set down your bike against the wall of the small alley. He barely apologised and disappeared into the street. You stayed stunned by the encounter for a moment before cautiously making your entrance in the house where Douglas was sitting at the table, a dismayed expression on his face while Lois was ironing.

“What was that?” you asked, looking between the two. They looked at each other before Douglas spoke.

“Tom enrolled in the Navy.”

You dropped your bags of groceries on the floor. “The Navy? But… what about civil work?” you asked, stupefied.

“Yeah… He is not doing that any more. He changed his mind.”

You glanced at Lois who gave you a sorry look. No wonder Tom looked so upset and Douglas so sullen. “I’ll… find him.”

It had not been very difficult to find Tom. You had strolled around the neighbourhood before deciding to head to the local pub, almost certain that you would find him there. And it did not fail.

As you entered, immediately noticing his back turned to you, elbows on the counter at the front. You made your way to him across the crowd and settled yourself beside him, looking at his now almost empty glass of beer.

“Can I please have the same thing but smaller?” you called out to the barman, making Tom acknowledge your presence for the first time.

He examined you briefly before reporting his gaze on his glass. “Did Lois send you?”

You shook your head. “No, I came on my own. You should not be alone.”

He nodded, taking his glass of beer and emptying it in one gulp.

“So… the Navy, uh?” you tried.

He licked his lips and proceeded to play with the edge of his now empty glass, jaw clenching a bit. “What, are you gonna tell me I made the wrong choice too? Didn’t know you were this much into pacifism. With your folks and all.”

“No, it’s not like that Tom, it’s just a little difficult for your father at the moment. I don’t want you to leave, but it does not mean that I don’t understand your choices.”

His eyes shot up at you as you were handed your drink, not noticing how Tom didn’t draw his gaze away from you as you ingested the cold liquid, warming your throat in the process. When you put down your glass, Tom was still looking at you, a triumphant grin on his face.

“My my, are you saying that you’ll miss me or do my ears deceive me tonight?”

You blushed, opening your mouth to try to think of a witty response. You found none. “Just… Be serious for a minute and listen to what I have to say,” you managed, and he groaned in frustration, ordering another drink as you continued. “Your father loves you, that is why he is so upset. He just… doesn’t want his boy to go away. He lived it himself, he knows how it is, he is scared for you.”

He only made an annoyed sound as he took a sip of beer again, a defiant expression on his face. You try not to question why your eyes had been briefly drawn to his Adam's apple as he drank.

“If you leave things as they are with your father, you’ll regret it. I know you will,” you kept on, willing to not let his pride take the better of him. “When do you leave?”

“In a week,” he replied. “First to Liverpool for training and then off to wherever they send me.”

You bit your lips. You had not known Tom for very long, but you knew that it was unfair that he had to go. You were terrified that war would take away all that liveliness and light he carried around. You liked that about him, even though you didn’t show it.

“At least you’ll get to travel,” you shrugged jokingly, but your heart was not in it. Tom however, seemed to find his humour back.

“That’s true. Maybe to France, who knows? Always dreamed to see if they are all like you there, or if you're some miraculous exception. I hope they are not as serious as you, though, I would be very disappointed.”

You let out a fake scandalised sound. “Me, serio-! That’s not very nice of you to say, Mr. Bennett! I have my moments.”

“What, is the demoiselle jealous?” he smiled, leaning closer, and you could smell the same scent you had woken to several mornings ago in the living room, but this time mixed with the smell of beer.

“No, you’re just being rude,” you replied, forgetting to move away from his ever-closing face. “And your charming smile won’t be able to get you out of my wrath if you keep depreciating me like that.”

He arched a brow, and you knew you had made a mistake. “Charming smile? Well, that’s a first. But do go on, what else do you find charming about me?”

You scoffed, unable to stop the blush from creeping onto your cheeks and chose to hide behind your drink as you took a long sip.

“C’mon, I’ll even let you say it in French, if that’s easier for you,” he pleaded, eyes glittering in mischief as he leaned closer to your ear. “I like when you speak French.”

“Tu peux toujours courir, mon beau,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. You can forget about it, handsome.

“Mhh… What does that mean?”

“It means that you, sir, have drank too fast, and that you should stop there,” you replied, ignoring the way he was now looking at your lips as they moved. “I won’t say anything, but please remember what I said. Don’t avoid your father, don’t make that mistake. Oh, and don’t come home too late," you said, dropping a few pounds on the counter.

“You’re leaving me already? It was just starting to get interesting.”

You could not repress a smile as you internally agreed. “I’m hungry, and I am cooking tonight. Maybe if you behave, I will leave some for you.”

And you turned your heels, letting him there with a lost expression as you made your way to the door, satisfied and your body a little bit too warm. Mere metres from the exit, however, you collided with someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t paying attention,” you apologised, even though it was him that had not been paying any attention to his surroundings as he was talking to his group of friends.

The man turned with an annoyed expression on his face at first, but it quickly disappeared to be replaced by a cheeky smile at your sight, “No to worry miss, no harm done,” he reassured you, touching your arm in a playful manner. “Where are you from? Don’t recognise your accent.”

“Oh, I’m from France. I… didn’t know it was that obvious,” you confess, uneasy at his sudden interest and secretly wishing that you were already on your way home.

“Nah, I just have an ear for it. Staying long?”

“I work here actually. School.”

“Wonderful, it means that we will cross paths again, won’t we? I believe in fate you see, not a coincidence we met like this hon’,” he said, leaning in closer and making you take a few steps back.

You knew it had been no coincidence when his arm collided with yours harshly a minute ago, just plain inattention on his part. Your desire to escape him grew wider by the minute. “Uh, I guess we’ll see about that,” you said, trying to give him a genuine smile. “Now I’m sorry but I must go. Maybe next time!”

The tall man nodded, and you now noticed how gruff he looked. “Alrigh’, to next time then, dove.”

You shyly smiled at him before hastily opening the door and exit the pub, the cold attacking your already shivering skin.

“I work here actually. School.”

“Wonderful, it means that we will cross paths again, won’t we? I believe in fate you see, not a coincidence we met like this hon.”

Tom’s gaze had not left you for a second as he watched you leave, seeing you struggle to reach the entrance of the pub across the crowded place, and he did not miss the way you collided with loud guy either.

The man was a regular named Larry, but Tom usually called him ‘the loud guy’ as he never seemed to ever shut up. The fact was, that lad had already challenged Tom's nerves a couple of times, and his legs were now making their way to the two of you on their own. He had only heard the end of your conversation before he could get close and as you left, reassuring him, Tom was about to make his way back to the counter when he heard Larry’s boisterous voice.

“Pretty this one, and a teacher at that. She could teach me whatever she wants any time, eh?” he said to his red-haired friend next to him. “I’ll bet you she touched me on purpose, the naughty thing. She must get laid pretty easily.”

He then proceeded to have the fattest laugh Tom had ever heard, his friend on the other side only giving him an unimpressed glance, and Tom felt his blood boil.

“You want to repeat that, mate?” he defiantly said, staring straight at Larry who froze and turned at his voice.

“Repeat what? Don’t you know it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations?”

“Well you’re not really whispering there, are ya? You wouldn’t be able to have a private conversation even if you wanted to, with your ugly mouth of yours. Or do you lack the brains to understand that?”

You were right. Maybe he had drank too fast, and maybe although he was as tall as Larry, the fact that he was twice his size did not bode well for him. But he was very crossed right now, and it wasn’t the first time he had got himself into a situation like this one. He could take it.

“Watch it lad, wouldn’t want to damage your pretty face, don’t think your mum would be happy about it, yeah? Now piss off.”

“Big words for someone who talks about women like that. Did your mum forget to teach you some manners?”

Larry’s expression turned dark. “So that’s about the French lass, huh? Frustrated she took interest in a man rather than a boy like you? You wanted a taste, am I right? Well too bad. Let the big men play and piss off.”

Tom didn’t know why this particular sentence had infuriated him that much but it did, and the next moment his fist had landed on Larry’s face, making him reel backward and growl as his nose started to bleed. Rage took him and he punched Tom back in the stomach, making him huff and gasp for air as people started to yell around them, rushing to stop the fight.

“Stop this! Or take it outside!” yelled the barman as someone held Tom back, preventing him from punching loud guy again.

“Gladly,” sneered Tom, but Larry’s friend had another opinion.

“It’s not worth it. C’mon Larry move. I said move,” he insisted, pushing his nose-bleeding mate out of the pub. Tom had tried to follow them, still enraged but the hands retaining him did not let him go until the two men had disappeared into the night.

“You’re alright lad?” asked a man to his right.

“I’m fine,” he growled, shaking the pain from his hand and feeling his torso aflame by the blow he had received.

He didn’t know why he had reacted like that, but as he returned to the counter, he had definitely sobered up.

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

Part 2

#tom bennett #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett fanfiction #oneshot #ewan mitchell #world on fire 1x02 #wof gif #mygif #angst #short story #fluff #smut #aemond #Tom bennett X reader #gone with regret

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shyvioletcat · 1 month

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~ MASTERLIST ~

While we wait for Taylor Swift to break our hearts, thought I might dabble a bit in that myself. We get a bit of insight into Rowan this chapter and I lent into canon a little bit. This is the *ADVICE* prompt thanks to @throneofglassmicrofics.

CW: Off page character death

~~~~~

Rowan liked his new house, it was practical, easy to maintain and the neighbourhood turned out to be nicer than he was expecting. The street was quiet, nothing more than the occasional backyard party disturbed him the nights after work or on the weekends. Unless he fully committed to choosing the true life of a hermit and hid away far off in the mountains, Rowan couldn't escape all human contact. And besides his purposefully casual interactions at work and the obligatory check-ins with his friends and family he was managing to avoid the unnecessary kinds. He’d been informed more than once that this outlook wasn’t healthy, but it was how he managed. Especially today.

Today marked three years to the day the life he had known shattered into pieces. Time had dulled the constant ache, but this date still haunted him. Rowan had moved here once the haze had cleared enough that he had the drive to seek out a new job and a new start. Or he might just have been running away, his personal reasoning usually depended on his mood.

It had been like any other day, Rowan was making dinner waiting for his wife to get home when the phone had rung. In the middle of stirring the butter chicken that Lyria had specially requested out of the blue, he hadn’t bothered to note who the caller was. His blood ran cold at the first words: this is Doranelle General Hospital. After that he was given the instructions that he needed to get to the hospital as soon as he could.

The drive went by in a blur, but he’d got there. When he gave his name received a look that was full of sympathy and he knew. Rowan knew right then and there but he forced himself into denial. It was hard to ignore when a doctor rounded the corner next and led Rowan to a private room to tell him the devastating truth.

There was a car accident.

Lyria had died.

She was pregnant.

Rowan had sat there, stunned, devoid of feeling, because of the one little fact that he didn’t know. Lyria was pregnant, she was pregnant and she hadn’t told him. Rowan had left the hospital a broken man and three years later he still hadn’t been able to piece himself back together.

It was a rare thing for Rowan to take a day off work, but that was for the better. His mood was foul and people didn’t deserve to have that inflicted on them. Each year it got better—no, easier—and he didn’t know if it was a bad thing or a good thing. The shame and guilt of not being there when he should have would plague him forever.

To keep the demons at bay he chose running. This was his fourth lap around the block, everytime he had approached his front yard he’d told himself one more, he wasn’t ready to go home just yet. So he pushed himself for another, then another, and despite the burning in his lungs and the lagging of his feet he might just go around again. Rowan might just have if his neighbour pulling into her driveway hadn't pulled him up. He slowed down to a jog when he saw the car approaching the driveway so she wouldn’t have to stop for him.

It had been about a month since their first interaction and they hadn’t had another since. She remained the only niggling irritation Rowan had with living here. This woman had come at him so viciously and he was still feeling the need to defend himself. He had watched her almost drop her baby just to get the bins down to the curb. Anyone with any sense would have accepted the help instead of making a point.

That irritation rose when she slowed down so much that Rowan basically had to stop on the path. He got it, he really did, but anything and everything got to him today. In the end he used this as an excuse to go home. Maybe he could force some food down and see if he could sleep off the rest of his mood. Rowan walked on the path in front of her lawn and as he took out his earbud he caught sight of her waving him down. Confused, he stopped just watching as his neighbour walked across the grass.

“Hi,” she said tightly, obviously not pleased about the conversation she had been the one to start.

Unable to do much else, Rowan matched her energy. “Hi.”

Those unusual eyes narrowed at him, and not wanting to be the focus of her ire he shifted his attention to the baby she was holding. It was a mistake. Looking at her was like a shot to the chest. She had brown eyes and hair, her tiny fist was curled from where it clung to her mother’s shirt. What sent him staggering was that this child’s colouring was so similar to Lyria’s. An ill-timed reminder of what could have been. His neighbour talking gave him something else to focus on.

“I snapped at you, I’m sorry,” she said.

The scoff he made was involuntary, as were the words that came out of his mouth next, no chance to temper them against his anger. “It must have been so hard to track me down. It’s been a month. You’ve had plenty of chances to apologise before now.”

The woman all but reared back, at this point Rowan didn’t care about the verbal lashing he was going to get.

“Take my advice,” she all but hissed, shifting the baby in her arms—shifting her away. “Don’t be a dick when someone’s trying to apologise.”

That was their conversation done, the still nameless woman stomped across her lawn and into the house, the front door not quite slamming but obviously closed with some force. Rowan was well aware all he had done was add fuel to the fire, and it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as he did. He didn’t have the energy or time for this, the best thing for him to do was ignore his volatile and irksome neighbour. Something that would be more than easy for him to do.

~~~~~

After copious amounts of editing I only went over by 42 words, which is a pretty good effort.

#rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass microfics

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navxry · 2 months

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...

Birthdays are not widely known to the God of World Destruction. In fact, it was the opposite for them, as only a few cared to remember their birthday.

For them, the occasion is something they paid no heed to. What use is there for a celebration when they have work to do in the Void of Creation? Only their following bothered to remember it, and the majority either feared or hated destruction for what it's worth. It would only be counter-intuitive to even say that it should be celebrated.

But every time they spoke about that sentiment to others, they were met with either denial or divergence.

"Why do you not see your birthday as a worthy occasion?" the King of Hell asked them once, putting down his violin to face the other more clearly. "You seem to dislike it when it comes. You even stopped Azrael from informing others when it was clear he had good intentions."

The God seem to hesitate, their frown deepening at his comment.

"Many others in my past always forget it's my day of birth, Lucifer," they answered, reluctant to even spare him a glance. "It's almost like a normal day to them— a day where nothing is celebrated. It hurts when I have to make it obvious to them by mentioning its a special occasion for me, when they have never failed to remember others and their birthdays."

Lucifer frowned. He always hated it when Navina had compared themselves to others, especially on the topic of themself.

"That's because they're ignorant," he said, his hair moving to pat their head as gently as he could, for his arms ceased to work as it used to. "And even if they never fail to do that for others, why would they do it now? I say that they were doing it to their friends, not for everyone."

"Hah, I wish," they muttered with a frown. "They always celebrated others, but... It's like they forgot about me."

Forgetting... Such a painful curse that many would do.

"Lucifer, I know you and everyone remembered it and try to make it feel special, but... Before then, everyone always forgets its my birthday. Not even the people I call 'friends' in the flesh bothered, except for those who I've met from other countries that knew me better than those I'm with."

The albino can only look down at their hands, soiled from the constant burning of the worlds and the ashes of the lives lost. They felt tears built up from their eyes, the sorrow getting to them more and more.

It hurts to remember. They wish they simply forgot, so that they wouldn't feel the pain they do now.

"What use is celebrating a God they despised? What use is there to even acknowledge that God when all they have is blood on their hands?"

The King paused, but simply sighed.

"Your followers celebrate you because they know of your valiant efforts, Navina. Even if others have forgotten that occasion, they are but a dime of dozen that do."

His hair moved to grab the violin again, the other tendrils grabbing letters of people wishing them the same thing. Handing the papers to them, the God sniffed and opened each of them, their eyes widening at the sight.

So many of them wished them a birthday today— some from different worlds, even. Their messages were all personalized, with some (like Rosehearts) inviting them to his unbirthday party to celebrate theirs, while others (with the likes of Albedo) mentioning that he had an experiment for them to try with him.

There were even others, like Esther, Mei, Brynn, Jessamine, Carmine, Tae, Sam, Yami, Fifi... Their own companions wishing them the same thing. Those that still remembered them, and those that clearly still stayed even when they weren't human.

"See?" the violinist hummed in satisfaction, his wide grin returning once more. "Maybe the people you're with have forgotten about the occasion today, but there's far more that remember it. All you need to do is change your perspective."

The God was speechless. It was difficult to even say such a word with so many wishing them the same thing. But after a while, they managed to crack a smile.

Even if the tears fell, it was not out of sorrow, but of joy.

It was nice to be remembered for once, even if it's only for today.

AAAAAA HI Y'ALL HAIUHFSRUI sorry for the sad drabble, I needed the hurt/comfort because I've experienced people that seem to forgor my birthday, but I also wanted to give light to people that said their birthday wishes to me.

Special thanks for the people I mentioned for simply existing (and for greeting me) <3 y'all may not have gifts, or you guys are busy to make some, but being friends with y'all had been the best gift I ever want.

Anyways, here's to many years of being together. Cheers!

(tagging the people I mentioned/my mutuals: @mixed-kester ; @meimeimeirin ; @beloved-brynn ; @nice-chiaki ; @paperbcy ; @pastel-rights ; @fffiii ; @leftdestiny-posts ; + many others that I forgor but are my mutuals, pls rb if I forgor you Im sorry HAIUHDSFI)

#'navina' deciphers... ⟡ 𓆪 #about apeiron... ⟡ 𓆪

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thistuesdaynight · 7 months

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Invincible Part 3

read part 2 here! prongsfoot endgame, unrequited wolfstar angst

Remus was pacing back and forth in his room, fists pressed to his eyes. Wishing that he could erase the memory of Sirius and James from his brain.

Remus isn't stupid.

Anyone could see that James and Sirius were… close.

And as their friend, he knew that better than anyone. But somehow Remus had gotten the idea that he and Sirius could be something, that they were on their way to that. Sirius' smoldering gaze on him when they went out dancing. A flirtatious smile. Embraces that lingered longer than usual.

Naïve. He'd been so naïve to think…

A timid knock at the door, and it was Sirius, of course, but he didn't even bother responding. He just kept pacing and wondering how he could have been so stupid to think that Sirius was doing anything other than having a little bit of fun. He'd seen him do it before with countless other people: a little harmless flirting to pass the time.

Another knock at the door. "Remus?" Sirius' voice was muffled, but he could still hear the pity.

Angry, hurt, and annoyed, Remus swung the door open to reveal Sirius Black staring up at him with sorrowful eyes. And what did it say about Remus that he couldn't help but sigh and let him in?

Sirius ducked inside, as if afraid that Remus would change his mind and slam the door on him. And that's what he should have done. Remus should have told Sirius to go away and toy with someone else's emotions. But he didn't. He let Sirius inside his room and they just stared at each other in silence, because Remus was a glutton for punishment.

After a few moments Remus finally spoke. "What do you want?"

Sirius took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Remus clenched his jaw. "What are you sorry for?"

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut as if he'd hoped that he wouldn't have say it explicitly. But no, if Remus suffered, Sirius would too.

"I shouldn't have…" Sirius bit his lip, blowing out a heavy breath. "The kiss just happened. I didn't expect it. And I didn't know that James and I were… I didn't know he felt that way about me."

"You didn't know?" Remus scoffed.

"No!" Sirius exclaimed, eyes wide. "Honestly, Remus. I didn't know."

And it should have made it better, should have made the burning behind his sternum dissipate. But it didn't matter because Remus had known. Remus had seen how the pair looked at each other. He had witnessed it their entire childhood. And he had still allowed himself to flirt with Sirius. He'd still allowed himself to be pulled into his hypnotizing orbit.

"So, what about me?"

"You?" Sirius whispered, eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Yes." He ground out. "Were you flirting with me just to pass the time? Just for shits and giggles? To bide your time until James made the first move?"

"No! No, I-- I did it because I wanted to. Because-- because I liked-- liked seeing you blush, and--"

"So, to embarrass me then?"

"No, Remus! I--" Sirius looked at him like he was working out a puzzle in his head: confused, intrigued, and realization as the pieces finally fell into place.

"I like you," Sirius continued, his hands clasped tight in front of him. "I do like you. And I-- I-- but James-- James is--"

"You can be just friends with me," Remus interrupted, voice abrupt and matter-of-fact, "but you can't be just friends with James. You can't be just anything with him."

Sirius' eyes were swimming in tears, and he gave a sharp nod in agreement.

And even though Remus was the one to say it, his heart still dropped. He couldn't deny that he'd wished Sirius had disagreed with him. Told him that the one he couldn't be just friends with was Remus. Told him that he didn't want to let him go.

But that was the truth:

For Sirius, James Potter could never be just anything. He was everything.

Even if Remus and Sirius gave it a go, Sirius would have to have James too. He could never give him up. And Remus didn't want that. He couldn't handle that.

"Yeah," Sirius whispered, gaze falling to the floor between them, a single tear dropping to the rug. And Remus couldn't watch him cry. Not over this, not when he was the one who wanted to fall apart.

"Don't worry about it," Remus willed his voice to stay steady for a little longer. "I get it."

And he did get it. He'd spent his time flirting with other people hoping they would make him feel like Sirius did. How could he really be angry, when he'd known all along that it would end up this way?

But that didn't stop the ache in his chest from spreading and taking up residence in his belly: morphing into the kind of ugly jealousy that grew tentacles and claws to pull you under, to keep you close. He turned away from Sirius, not wanting to look at him that way, not wanting the jealousy to make him hate his best friends.

"You do?" Sirius whispered.

"Just get out," Remus croaked, voice wobbling precariously.

He squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for what felt like hours, hearing the door click shut, and feeling the cold stillness of Sirius' absence.

Read part 4 here!

#unrequited wolfstar angst!!#poor remus :/#don't worry he falls in love with either emmaline or severus in my head #part 4 is gonna be smutty!!#prongsfoot #bambibelle #james x sirius #james potter #sirius black #unrequited wolfstar #remus lupin #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #tuesdaywrites

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paulic · 1 year

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Something that always bothers me is how people talk about Paul taking the role of the manager after Brian's death.

Yes, Paul took the initiative and managed a lot of the projects like MMT etc. and especially John and George were pissed off by this, but when you think about it for literally two seconds, you realize why Paul did it. He's always said how important the Beatles were to him, has called them his second family. He never expressed any interest in managing the band while Brian was still alive and after the Beatles broke up, his focus was always on making music, not the managing part of his job. Everyone makes him seem like this power hungry demon who was just waiting for his turn at the steering wheel, but there are so many things that point to him just trying to literally save what was most important to him: this band.

He's been known to throw himself into projects when grieving, mourning by not mourning. John was devastated by Brian's death and (I assume) in no fit state to think about what project would make the most money or whatever. While everyone was sitting on their asses (I know this is a mean way to put it, but I'm pissed off), Paul actually took matters into his own hands.

"He was too bossy". Was he bossy? Probably, yes. But someone fucking had to be, or the Beatles would have crashed and burned. I do understand why everyone wasn't happy with how things were going, George who already felt like the little brother who was sort of tagging along but not being taken seriously enough was obviously pissed that this "power dynamic" for lack of a better word was only increasing, and John, who had always been equal to Paul in literally anything didn't like the idea of Paul having power like that and being "above" him. But really, what would have been the better scenario? John managing the band? The same person who pissed off entire countries in like every second interview and had to make public statements and apologies about half the things he said? I think John was very smart and I find his wit and candor very endearing, but if he had been the one in charge, chances are the Beatles would have blown up. He's a fantastic artist, but not very smart about money etc etc, so not exactly the perfect fit for the role of a temporary manager. George? Perhaps he’s smarter about money (although he apparently didn’t understand the importance of paying taxes?) and publicity, but at that time he was completely infatuated with India, Hinduism and meditation and so on. I don't mean to say that was inherently bad, but I think Paul was the one with the most common sense. He knew how to charm the press to keep from getting into scandals (I mean, even when he was arrested for weed, he managed to sort of wiggle out of it. Nobody gave a shit). If Paul hadn’t been born a musical genius, I think being a manager would be a good fit for him. As for Ringo, I love the guy more than I can say but half the time in Get Back while decisions were being made he was completely zoned out, staring at walls. I honestly don't think he was very much interested in managing. So, perhaps a democratic regime where everyone gets a vote? Sure, if you want to get absolutely nothing done at all you let many people decide. I don't mean to sound like a monarchist, but I very much doubt an anarchistic management would have worked.

Now when you look at the years that came after, everyone was half in love with Allen Klein, but Paul was weary and didn't want to back down. And who turned out to be the Judas in this Bible? Allen fucking Klein. I don't mean to say Paul should have become the official manager, but I just find it baffling when people make it seem like he was trying to gain power over his best friends or whatever. There was no ideal outcome of this situation, because Brian was fucking dead. Of course it wasn't all peaches and cream. But there weren't (m)any scandals and they got a few albums done. That's, in my opinion, more than what would have happened if Paul had sat back and watched.

#my thoughts #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #classic rock #beatles #richard starkey #brian epstein #mclennon #1967

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another-clive-blog · 7 months

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Don't want to burn you out with requests but what's the most tragic scenario we can make about Clive suffering

-φ

φ I want you to know that I would die for you. You are so sweet for caring about my health but I can promise you these asks are fuel to get through the rest of the day <3 If I get a burn-out, school is to blame. That being said, this is the occasion for me to go wild so I want to say a big thank you hehe !!

Alright so I had to get creative about this one because like- Clive already goes through it in canon, and also I exploded him yesterday, I'm killing him today, might torture him tomorrow, so really what more can I do right ? And then I realized. Tragic. Suffering.

What is more tragic than perpetuating the cycle of violence ? What hurts more than losing yourself in it ? What scenario could be worse than becoming who you were trying to destroy ?

(Re)introducing Bad Times AU, also known as the Ouch WIP. This is the Claire and Dimitri swap AU where everyone is extra miserable and unhappy. It may not be the angstiest AU of the game but I feel like its events fit well this request.

This takes place after the last WIP where Claire realizes Clive has doomed her. She has successfully caught up with him before he starts his machine, therefore giving way for one final confrontation between Claire and Clive !

Claire caught up with him right in front of the Thames Arms. It was funny, she supposed, because they had celebrated every major success in this very place : Dimitri had insisted on it, a way to build some team cohesion.

Team cohesion- yeah, right.

"Stop right there," she commanded, and he had the audacity to obey.

How could he ? After everything they'd been through, every effort she'd made- how could he do that ? How could he just condemn her and then move on to kill more innocents as if it was nothing ?

Did he even realize what he was doing ? What he had done ?

Clive turned around to face her. He was oddly calm, his expression neutral as he eyed her up and down. "I wasn't expecting you here," he simply said.

Claire had expected him to at least fake remorse, give a half-hearted apology that he would have never meant, but he couldn't even bother to do that. "What do you think you're doing ?"

They both knew the answer : starting up a giant war machine. Destroying all of London. Making sure no one would ever forget his crimes, because nobody would care to remember Bill's after this day.

Clive said nothing.

He turned to get away, and Claire moved without thinking : grabbing his arm, she jerked him closer. "Why won't you answer ? Is it because you know the truth ? That you're just like us- just like Bill."

He yanked his arm free, a look of sheer rage on his face. "I am not !!"

That was more like it. He wasn't that dignified, unreachable person- he didn't deserve to be unbothered by any of this, she decided.

She had come to stop him, but at that moment Claire realized that she didn't care about reasoning him. Why should she ? That man was the reason she was dying. She didn't have to save him if he had killed her. She wasn't a martyr, a good little lamb who saw the good in everyone. She wasn't an all forgiving God.

She was a human, and she had enough.

"Yes you are. You put yourself with the little people, thinking you're a hero who stands up against the bullies, but you don't care about the little people. You never did !"

"Shut up !" He yelled. He looked hurt and furious, as if he still had any right to feel either of it. "You don't understand !!"

"Oh, but I do. We've all harmed people because we were selfish. Bill wanted his money, Dimitri wanted fame, I- well I guess I wanted to live, but you know that."

"I don't-"

"But you ?" She cut him off, and she could see how unbearable this was for him to hear. Too bad- she didn't think she could stop herself if she wanted too, and she didn't. "You harm people for the sake of harming them. You're no better than us. You're worse, actually." Claire felt high and free, and was it what it felt like to finally fight back ? Or was it the feeling of her body giving out, of her mind losing touch with reality ?

Was she hallucinating, or was her whole body suddenly glowing ?

Clive wasn't answering anymore, his hands hiding his face and grasping at strands of his hair : he was shaking, a mess in his body and mind. Was he hurt ? Crying ? Claire couldn't bring herself to care. She was going to die because of him, he could at least endure a blow to his ego. And if that made her petty, mean or selfish ? She didn't care. She was dying. She was dead. And it was his fault this time.

Her vision was starting to get blurry, but she kept going anyway. "The truth is, it was never about scientists. It wasn't even about politicians. It's about people like you, who intentionally harm others to get what you want." She wasn't even sure he could still hear her. Was she talking to him or was she just getting it all out ? Why wasn't he reacting anymore ? "You are the problem, Clive, as much as we are : we, however, are not trying to pin the blame on someone else."

It felt good- it shouldn't feel good. Hershel would be disappointed. Well, she wouldn't get to see him again because of Clive, so did it really matter what Hershel would think ? She was dying either way.

She heard a muffled sound come from behind Clive's hands. Oh, so he was crying. This was quite pathetic and infuriating after everything he'd done- or well, planned to do. He hadn't started his machine yet, had he ? He could still... turn back, she realized. Then the only one he'd had killed would be her, although she was already dead.

She absolutely refused to comfort him, but his crying was making her more and more uncomfortable.

Except he wasn't crying.

His head jerked back as his whole body shook with uncontrollable laughter. He was laughing like a mad man, breathless and unstoppable. The sorrow, shame, horror Claire had seen him display- it was all gone, as if it had never even reached him.

Claire... didn't know how to react. She wasn't expecting that- she wasn't expecting much of anything, really. She had been- she had been thoughtlessly lashing out, she realized. Just like him.

"Well, maybe you're right," he was laughing like they were on in some kind of joke, a silly little secret they'd have shared during a sleepover or something, as if they weren't talking about destroying London. She clenched her fists, chills running down her spine. He had lost it- he had truly and finally lost it.

His laughter finally died down, but the smile remained : crazy eyes stared at her, piercing through her very soul. "But if you are, I need to do this more than I thought."

Claire took a step forward, tone firm and cold. God, she felt so cold all of a sudden. "Didn't you hear ? It won't solve anything. You're not helping anyone, not even yourself !! Hershel is going to stop you, and then there will be no second chance for you." Was- why was everything blending together around her ? Why couldn't she see the trees and boats and river anymore ? Why couldn't she hear the birds singing ?

Why couldn't she feel anything ?

Clive watched this, the result of his own actions. The death of his hero's lover. The professor wouldn't get there in time to save her.

Layton wouldn't get there in time to save him.

"I think people like us never get any real second chances."

-_-_-_-

I love Claire. I am so angry that she solved everyone's problems and never got to do or say anything about her own. She deserved that lashing out so I'm giving it to her.

On the other hand, I have always been fascinated by Clive listening very quietly and nicely to Layton's biography of him, and going all villainous laughter only AFTER Hershel is done. I think he snapped when he realized that there was no going back, that the trap was closing on him.

#Claire speaking only the truth and I love her for that #Clive is just messed up in this AU sorry #But yeah the tragedy is becoming worse than the man who destroyed your life #And being unable to stop yourself once you've realized it #Clive 'Deep down I feel like you're right but I can't reverse this change I've been through' Dove #clive dove #Claire Foley #professor layton and the unwound future #professor layton and the lost future #unwound future spoilers #lost future spoilers #My writing #Ask #Bad Times AU

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crooked-corvid-whump · 10 months

Text

Part 2 to this post

tagging @mj-or-say10, who requested a part 2! :))

Warnings: Implied/referenced noncon, noncon touch, noncon kissing (kinda), burns, collars, dehumanization, lmk if I’m missing anything

(PS-- Could possibly become a longer series, if anybody would be interested?? If so, should I give the characters names or leave them with the placeholders? Lmk!)

Caretaker had gotten off relatively easy that night. Teammate D was by no means kind, but he was better than the others, and, when all was said and done, Caretaker was left with only a couple of bruises splotched here and there. It hadn’t taken long, and afterward he was left to find what rest he could while Teammate D did the same.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t much rest at all. Caretaker rarely slept— and he never slept well— but tonight was even worse than usual because he couldn’t stop thinking about the concubus. About the way they’d screamed as Whumper B held their arm over the fire. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could still see the desperate terror that had danced with the reflected firelight in their eyes.

He knew he couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He knew that. In all likelihood, if he’d tried, both of them would have been punished and he would have made it worse. But that didn’t stop the guilt that threatened to choke him because he should have done more. He should have done something. He’d been their only potential ally in a crowd of people who treated their torture as a form of entertainment and he’d just sat there.

They hadn’t looked to him for help. They hadn’t looked to anyone; they had known no help was coming. That isolation, that knowledge that no one around you would intervene no matter what they did to you— it was a kind of fear he knew all too well, and his stomach churned. He knew exactly how they must have felt, kneeling there by that fire, all eyes on them as both people they knew and ones they didn’t watched with rapt attention as their skin blistered and bubbled.

Memories weren’t the only thing that kept him awake, though. From a few tents away, he could hear them crying. He could hear other things, too— things that made it clear that Whumper was not yet asleep— and Caretaker did his best to stop his mind from conjuring up images to accompany the sounds, to no avail. Images rose up to craft sorely unwanted scenarios of what was happening to the other demon just a couple of tents away. What Whumper was doing to them.

For hours he lay like that, trying not to listen to the sounds he couldn’t help hearing. Possibilities blended and blurred with memories until Caretaker was lost in recollections of hands in his hair, hands around his throat, hands roaming hungrily over his body, nails raking down his back, teeth pressed to his skin hard enough to draw blood. He shuddered as bile rose in his throat. His nails pressed into his palm, the pain bringing him back from the ledge he’d been teetering on, and he heaved a breath. Not now, he thought. Not here.

Caretaker pushed himself upright and slid off the cot, slipping, unnoticed, out of the tent. He wandered toward the fire pit and slumped on one of the logs, staring numbly at where the fire had been. The night air was cold, but he didn’t bother expending the energy to conjure up some warmth. Besides, the chill kept him present.

No one disturbed him as he sat there. No one came to drag him back into the tent to make sure he wouldn’t bolt. They all knew just as well as he did that Caretaker had nowhere else to go and very little chance of making it very far before they caught him again, so they didn’t bother wasting time or resources on keeping him locked down. It was almost worse than if they did put him in chains, and sometimes Caretaker wondered if it was on purpose. If it was just another way to taunt him, a display of power. Like he was a well-trained dog, so obedient that no leash was needed to keep him at his master’s heel. He scowled.

Not for the first time, his mind went to the plan he’d been cooking up to make his great escape. It was just a pipe dream, of course, just a comforting fantasy, but he sometimes wondered if maybe…

He had it all worked out. In this little daydream of his, he would barge into Whumper’s tent in the middle of the night and take the keys for the trucks. Whumper couldn’t stop him. He may have been half-starved, but he was still a demon, and Whumper was only human. If it came down to it, Caretaker could overpower him easily. Then, he’d get into the smallest, least conspicuous of the vehicles and simply drive away and never look back.

It was easy in his head. Easy enough that it almost seemed achievable, until he factored in the hundreds of ways it could and surely would go wrong. Even if he made it out, where would he go? To the nearest city, to be immediately discovered by the king’s soldiers? To the woods, with nowhere to stay and no human energy to feed on? Even going to a mage hideout would be a risk, considering what he was, and that was assuming he could even find one.

It was impossible. Of course it was impossible. It was a stupid plan. But sometimes he wondered.

At some point during Caretaker’s daydreaming, the noise from Whumper’s tent had subsided, save for the concubus’ gentle and unrelenting crying. Even that had gotten softer, so quiet now that Caretaker wouldn’t have been able to detect it if he was human, but he wasn’t. His heart ached for them. He wanted to go to them, to be one bright spot for them in the suffocating darkness they were both caught in. He wanted to break Whumper’s fingers for touching them because god, they were so small. Not physically— they weren’t young by human standards, not by a long shot, and maybe not even by demon ones— but Caretaker was an expert in reading people and everything about them screamed gentleness. Innocence. They don’t deserve this.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know them— they were the only one of his kind he’d seen since being cast out of his home, and he needed them to be safe. There was a bond there, an innate tie to one another simply because they were both foreigners to this realm and they were both hurt for that.

Maybe he was the only one that felt it. Maybe they hadn’t given him a second thought. But it didn’t matter because he did feel it, and it fucking hurt.

That half-baked escape plan was looking more enticing by the minute. If he could get them out of this…maybe it was worth the risk.

He shook that thought away. Hope was a dangerous thing for people like him, moreso when it was most assuredly a false one. It wouldn’t— couldn’t— happen, and it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He tried to reel in his wandering thoughts, bring them back to safer topics, but the only other thing he could focus on was the sound of the concubus’ soft whimpers. That, and the steadily growing urge to sneak into Whumper’s tent to see them.

It was only a few more minutes before he gave in.

Caretaker stood and made his way soundlessly to the front of the tent, pushing back the flap and slipping inside. The setup was sickeningly familiar to him, down to the placement of the cot and the flickering candle on the engraved pewter dish. On the cot, Whumper was sound asleep, his hair mussed and his torso bare.

Caretaker grimaced and turned away, immediately catching sight of Whumpee, who was curled in a ball on the ground. Unsurprising. Whumper had no problem fucking a demon, but god forbid he let one sleep in his bed. He’d always made his disgust at that notion abundantly clear.

A flimsy leash that was clearly more for show than functionality was clipped to Whumpee’s collar, tethering them to a leg of the cot.

Whumpee hadn’t looked up when Caretaker came in, and they remained motionless as he took a few careful steps toward them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure they knew he was there. He moved to the side so he was approaching them from the front, making sure to move slowly so he wouldn’t startle them, but when they still didn’t show any sign that they’d noticed his presence, he knelt down in front of them.

They jolted, then, tensing and drawing in a sharp breath as they blinked up at him, a soft whine catching in their throat. They bit their lip, their eyes flicking nervously back and forth, to his face and then away.

Caretaker offered them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, relaxing his posture to try and seem less of a threat. Whumpee glanced back at him, and when they saw his kind expression, some of the fear in their eyes melted into uncertainty.

It was a step in the right direction, at least.

Whumpee shifted, eyeing Caretaker cautiously as they pushed themself into a sitting position, their knees drawn to their chest. In the flickering candlelight, Caretaker could see the tear tracks staining their cheeks, as well as several fresh bruises. As his eyes travelled down, cataloguing their injuries, he found another bruise peeking out from under their collar, deep, violent purple ringing their throat. A bite mark above their collarbone. Angry red scratches curling over their shoulder. And, of course, the vicious burns on their arm. It was a struggle to keep the anger from showing on his face, but he managed.

When Caretaker looked back up to meet Whumpee’s gaze, their brows were furrowed in confusion, but their eyes were wide with— what? Recognition? Awe? Caretaker didn’t understand at first, but he realized after a moment that they were staring at his horns.

“You’re…” They trailed off. Their voice shook and it sounded raw— probably from the screaming, or the crying, or a combination of the two. They didn’t finish their thought, but it didn’t matter. Caretaker knew what they meant.

“Yeah. I am.” He smiled a little wider, a little softer. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen another demon.”

They just nodded.

The wariness had gone from their gaze, and they stared at him now with a reserved intensity that he found hard to describe. It was subdued, but at the same time desperate, and almost…almost a little hopeful. It was a strange thing to be on the receiving end of. Whatever that little flicker of hope was, he wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. To be whatever it was they were hoping he’d be.

At that moment, Whumper stirred. It was brief, a slight shift of position, but Whumpee jerked back as though struck. Their eyes went wide and wild with panic, their breath catching in their throat as a whimper slipped past their lips before they could stop it.

It was quiet, but it was enough.

As Caretaker tried to calm them down, tried to reassure them that they were safe, Whumper’s eyes blinked open. The grogginess of his sudden awakening lasted only a moment, and then he was on his feet, his eyes narrowed and focused squarely on Caretaker.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, incubus?”

Caretaker stood and plastered on his trademark smirk, shifting to the side to shield Whumpee from Whumper’s view.

“Just stopped by for a little visit. Got a problem with it?”

Bad move. Whumper closed the distance between them, and in an instant his hand was fisted in Caretaker’s hair, yanking harshly.

“I’ve got a problem with you. I thought I’d taught you some fucking manners by now. But if you need a refresher, that can be arranged.”

Caretaker laughed. He was already in deep shit— may as well commit to it.

“Have you considered that maybe you’re just not a very good teacher?”

Whumper’s eyes blazed with fury. He backhanded Caretaker across the face. Hard.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt him!”

Whumper turned to Whumpee, who had gotten to their feet as well, and grinned mockingly. “Oh look, the little toy learned to speak.” He cocked his head to the side. “I suggest you unlearn it, unless you’re looking for an encore to our performance earlier.”

They cringed back, fear flashing across their face, but they held their ground.

“Fuck you. J-just leave him alone.”

Whumper lit up with a sick delight. He released Caretaker, stepping around him and advancing on Whumpee. They stumbled back, but the leash clipped to their collar only let them get so far.

“What was that?” Whumper’s tone walked the line between anger and excitement, and it made Caretaker’s skin crawl. Whumpee just shook their head frantically as Whumper approached.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I-”

“No. Say it again.”

“J-just leave him a-alone…”

“No, no, the bit before that. Say it.”

Whumper was upon them now, and he hooked a finger in the front of their collar as they hyperventilated, still shaking their head. They’d started crying again.

When Whumper leaned in, his teeth scraping against their throat, they stopped moving, though their body still shook violently and their chest still heaved with panicked sobs.

That was too much for Caretaker. He surged forward, pulling Whumper away from Whumpee and shoving him to the floor. Whumper stared up at him in incredulous fury. Before he could get up to retaliate, Caretaker sent a surge of magic at him, stunning him.

“The keys. Where are they?”

Whumper only glared. Sensing that he might need a little encouragement, Caretaker focused, conjuring an invisible band of magic around Whumper’s neck and squeezing until Whumper started gasping for breath, his face turning a bright red, then blueish. Caretaker relented, then asked again. This time, Whumper twitched his finger, managing enough movement to point to his pocket.

Caretaker leaned down and snatched the keys. He sent another, stronger surge of magic at Whumper, and this time he made it hurt. He smirked when Whumper eked out a sound that surely would have been a scream had his throat not been paralyzed, then turned to Whumpee. They were still shaking, still gasping in short, hiccupping breaths, and still crying.

Caretaker went to them and reached for them slowly, giving them time to move away. When they didn’t, he rested a hand on their shoulder, waiting again for them to pull away. They didn’t. He took a small step closer, and they surprised him by closing the short distance between them, burying their face in his shoulder. His arms came up around them, holding them tightly as they trembled against him, running one hand soothingly over their back while the other came up to subtly unclip the leash from their collar.

He hushed them softly, cooing gently to them while they cried. “Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

When they finally caught their breath, Caretaker drew back reluctantly.

“C’mon. We’ve gotta go now, yeah?”

The concubus sniffed and wiped their eyes with shaky hands, nodding. When he offered his hand, they took it and followed him out of the tent.

They made it to the vehicles unhindered, and Caretaker unlocked the doors of the nearest one, helping Whumpee into the passenger seat. He rounded the front and climbed in on the driver’s side, then shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and as he backed the vehicle out of the circle and drove away from the camp, the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath the tires was music to his ears.

#whump #collar whump #demon whumpee #demon caretaker #not in the traditional sense of 'demon' but yk #whump drabble #whump writing #tw noncon #tw dehumanization #tw burns #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #multiple whumpees #caretaker is a whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #idk how to tag

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three--rings · 1 year

Note

Hello! Sorry to bother but I am waaay too curious

If you have time/energy/mood, could you please elaborate? I am curious about your perspective. Psychology is one of my biggest passions and I want to start a degree in it (with possibility to advance further with the degree maybe) I am aware of some of its flaws, and the fact that it can be biased and inconclusive and not exactly exact and precise like the other sciences. Is there anything else that perhaps I should keep an eye out on? Thank you for reading and if you reply, thank you for replying as well.

So the thing about studying psychology, especially at the undergrad level, is that you spend all your time being taught about these landmark studies that defined the thinking of decades of psychology theory and practice.

And then at some point, which may be during or after your education, you learn all of those studies were terrible research bullshit that can't be reliably reproduced even if they could get past a modern ethics board.

Psychology is a field that is really uncomfortable with itself because it desperately wants to be taken seriously as a hard science and not be thought of as just people thinking about people. But it is REALLY REALLY bad at being a hard science. The research is just not rigorous at ALL.

My senior year of undergrad for my research methods class my group of slackers who rarely went to class put together a research study where we drew up entirely new models and tools that looked far better than the published ones, applied them to a much larger and more diverse population of subjects and basically put the leading research in that little niche to shame. On the weekends. Our prof wanted us to publish but we were graduating and it never happened. We sent it to the leading researcher in the field and he was all...uh, yeah, I'm working on some new stuff too...but good for y'all. He was a known prick though.

Like, it's not that there's not good stuff in there somewhere. But my god there's so much chaff.

Then you get into the grad school degree maelstorm and...ugh. There are a lot of options. They are split into practical i.e. you want to help people in the real world and clinical i.e. you want to do shitty studies and publish.

I worked both in psychology research (so I got to see how the sausage was made on the ground) and in social work for mental health care and...most of my coworkers at both jobs had some kind of advanced degrees and were making something around $30K doing the same jobs as me. There are far too many people with masters in psychology because they are easy to get and even if you get your LPC they are still way too many people with them with no idea what they are doing. Like you can go to Christian College Number 304 and get your Marriage and Family Therapy masters and come out and have only learned to Pray On It and do some supervised hours and now you're licensed and yeah I worked with these people. (Go get your masters, they told me. It is SO EASY they told me. Uh, yeah that's not winning me over to your program.)

Anyway, if you can't tell I'm jaded. Besides the fact that the field is one that will eat you alive, burn you out, and then spit you up, with no money and no accomplishments. I also deeply loved it even though it destroyed me. (I mean also my spine exploded, which didn't help.)

If you want to do hands-on helping people stuff I like the social work programs out there. And if you want to study hard science of human behavior neuroscience is killing it. Psychology is...IDK. The most hopeful way to look at it is that it's a discipline going through a transitional period maybe. But I'm also fairly out of touch with the field these days so talking to someone actually in the field now would be a good call for further advice. Unfortunately most faculty in my experience are...deeply behind the times. You would not believe the kind of 1960s relics I had to deal with teaching me.

And most of what I learned about mental health I learned on the ground, in mental health crisis work, on the go. Most of psychology doesn't really enjoy dealing with "abnormal psychology". Which is literally the term for people with any mental health diagnosis. I had one class on it.

So that's my entirely personal experience based opinion. For more, look into the replication crisis of psychology research.

#wikipedie #asks #psychology

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timeoverload · 5 months

Text

I am feeling scared today. I have a lot on my mind.

I don't want to complain about it but my symptoms have gotten a lot worse. I can't walk normally anymore unless I rest for a while. I feel ridiculous and I hate it when people stare at me because I'm hobbling around. I used to run laps around them. It takes so long to get from one place to another. I was so anxious about getting out of bed this morning. The past month I have been experiencing odd vibrations in my outer thigh and it's happening more every day. At first I kept thinking that my phone was going off in my pocket. Every time I looked down to check, it was always in my pocket on the opposite side and I didn't have any notifications. The sensation is becoming stronger. It happens when I'm sitting now too. It's almost like someone strapped a cellphone to my femur and I keep getting phone calls. I don't know how else to describe it. My leg always feels like it's buzzing now. My foot is messed up from dragging it around for so long. I hate stairs.

I want another steroid injection but it's $1000 even with insurance. I don't even know what the new insurance plan I have will cover and I haven't been able to look into it yet. Someone told me the insurance company wouldn't cover any of the costs for the radiation for their cancer treatments and I think that's messed up. I think the new company we switched to sucks but my work will always go for the cheapest option so that's not a huge surprise. I guess I don't have high hopes that they will help me much either. I could try to find other insurance but I think that would be more expensive. I don't have the money to have that injection done anyway. I know it won't actually fix my problem but it does make it a lot easier to deal with.

My spinal canal is becoming more narrow due to my lumbar stenosis but I think I was just born this way and that it is partially congenital. Sometimes I wonder how different I would be if I hadn't been ripped from the womb too soon. The only thing that could make it better would be a laminectomy or lumbar spinal fusion. Those are major operations and I don't want to do that but I know I'm going to have to sometime in the future. I need to be in better shape. I have had to face the reality that I may become paralyzed and that terrifies me. It's already starting to happen.

I have so many things I want to do but I'm afraid I will never get a chance to do them. I don't feel like I'm thriving at the moment. I have less than 10 years to have a baby and I am afraid it's not going to happen. My biological clock is ticking and it has been bothering me so much lately. I'm not healthy enough. I have to get better soon. I couldn't care for a baby right now when I can barely take care of myself.

I don't know how I am going to get through the rest of the week. I'm so tired already. I think I need to go to bed early. I need to rest for a while so I don't know how much I will be on here the next couple days. I am just so far beyond burned out and taking time off didn't help much. I didn't accomplish enough. I don't know what to do about anything right now. I am very overwhelmed. I still haven't gotten my glasses either and I might not be able to go pick them up even if they do show up this week due to the weather. I should have known this was going to happen but there's not much I can do about it now. I will just have to deal with it I suppose.

I have been trying not to be so pessimistic but I'm having a hard time with that. I will keep trying to be happy. Hopefully things will get better soon...

Thank you for trying to help cheer me up today. I hope you all enjoyed your snow day and that tomorrow is a good day too. 💖💖💖

#personal

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dearamleo · 4 months

Note

do you have a date for the next update of the sinner's feast,,, absolutely no pressure just missing them

Ahh, I feel terrible for how slow I’ve been updating! My work schedule gave me a kick in the ass this month and it’s been killing my writing vibes.

BUT! I do have the majority of the next chapter done. I’ve got maybe another couple of scenes of it to write. And I’m hoping to have the next three done at the same time because they’re also mostly written.

So hopefully before the end of next week at the very latest I will have something for you!

In the meantime, have a deleted scene with an adorably sick Teddy to tide you over! ✨✨

Teddy was inconsolable for nearly three days. His fever had come down enough that he was permitted to leave the hospital after one night, but the experience had left the boy scared and clingier than usual.

“Padfoot, I don’t wanna.”

Sirius sighed, adjusting where Teddy was lying in his lap so he could try to tilt the spoon of sticky purple cough syrup into his mouth. “I know, Mini Moons, but remember how much better it makes you feel?”

“But it doesn’t even taste like grapes. The doctor is a liar,” he said, his bottom lip popping out even further in petulance. He was still very displeased that he’d been assigned to one of the pediatric doctors rather than Remus. “Daddy wouldn’t’ve lied to me.”

The sight of it made Sirius chuckle. “I’ll agree with you there, darling, but she didn’t lie about it making you better and you want to feel better don’t you?”

Teddy crossed his arms and seemed to think about this very hard for a few moments before he finally gave Sirius a small nod of acquiesce and took the spoon into his mouth. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and wrinkled his nose in a grimace. Sirius had to laugh at the dramatics of him as he kissed his still warm forehead, looking so much like Remus did when he was put out.

“That’s my big boy. All done,” he said, handing the boy his cup of apple juice to wash down the lying-grape taste.

“Padfoot, can we watch Narnia again tonight,’ he asked, pleadingly. He pulled out all the stops on Sirius, knowing he’d already made them watch the movie every night so far that week. His brown eyes grew big and his eyebrows tilted up in the way he knew made Sirius absolute putty for him.

“Of course we can,” Sirius laughed, not caring that he was completely wrapped around the boy’s finger.

It hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes for Teddy to crash from sickly exhaustion. He was sprawled out on Sirius’s chest, his leaking nose pressed to his collarbone and his breath only slightly rattling from the excess drainage. He flicked off the TV, content to just enjoy the quiet sounds of the little boy sleeping as he carded his fingers through the honey brown curls on his head.

Tilting his head down to bury his nose in Teddy’s hair, Sirius closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around him, tucking Teddy’s blanket closer as the boy nuzzled further into Sirius.

“Love you, papa,” Teddy mumbled.

The words made tears burn in the back of Sirius’s eyes. “I love you too, Teddy.”

It was true, in just a few short months this child and his father had become the most important people in his life. He thought he had known love with Regulus and with James and even Remus, but as he brushed fever damp curls from Teddy’s forehead he realized the depth of his love. The things he was willing to do to keep Teddy safe… well, they terrified even Sirius.

The moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, jammed down the side of the couch. Sirius quickly fished it out, not wanting anything to rob Teddy of much needed sleep. Not bothering to look at the name on the screen, he swiped to answer and held it up to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Padfoot,” Wormtail shouted, clearly energized about something. “Hey man, we’ve got something brewing over here. Should be some serious action, we could use-“

“I’ve got Teddy tonight,” Sirius snapped. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get shot at or beat up. “Make do without me.”

“Are you fucking joking? We’ve got an opportunity for some well deserved retaliation and you’d rather what- stay home and play house with your gay ass little-“

“You better think real fucking hard about what’s going to fall out of your mouth next, Pettigrew,” Sirius growled, forcing himself not to jostle Teddy. “Take fucking Crouch with you if you’re so eager for bloodshed.”

“Whatever you say, VP,” Peter spat before hanging up.

Sirius tossed his phone a little harder than he meant and the clatter of it hitting the coffee table startled Teddy awake.

“Hey, sorry, Mini Moons. Go back to sleep.”

Teddy blinked up at him, his lip trembling slightly. “Papa, I don’t feel good.”

“I know,” Sirius shushed. “Try and sleep, though. In the morning you’ll be feeling better. Do you want a story or a song to go back to sleep?”

Teddy nodded with a small sniffle. “Song, please.”

“Alright,” Sirius said, kissing his head and shifting him a little more comfortably on his chest. Thinking for only a moment he started to hum quietly, the words lulling Teddy back to sleep quickly. “And the songbirds are singing, like they know the score. And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before.”

#the sinners feast #marauders #wolfstar #wip #Dadfoot #teddy lupin

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lowlaif · 1 year

Text

I walk through my old neighbourhood and I stare. My mind's been running on whatever the energetic equivalent of a murky light in a mouldy basement is, so all of the coherent thoughts I could've theoretically had have now ended up in a shamble of notions and memories and white noise and that ugly green charging station at the corner to the old stationary store that definitely hasn't been there before. Lately, my thoughts keep gravitating to Elon Musk. To electric cars. To how the climate has decided it's going to burn baby burn and make one hell of a show out of it. What a lobster might feel, boiling alive. I have been thinking about laughter. The nice pearly kind. The kind that sounds a lot like a broken diesel motor on good days and more like scraping your fingernails against a blackboard on a bad one, the laughter that feels like a taunt. I double check my phone gallery for a photo of unplugged chargers so I don’t forget them in the outlet and wonder if a millionaire even knows where the outlets in their home are. Do they know? I've known these streets from nightmares and daydreams and scuffed knees on broken pavement, a patchwork of asphalt over potholes no one really bothered to fix, nooks and crannies I know better than myself because I used to hide in them, that’s what I know. I’m painfully aware that the mixture of grey houses and grey cement and grey me really doesn't blend with the atrocious green of that new charging station, a green so toxic it hurts my eyes, but there’s nothing I can do aside from letting it burn baby burn. My thoughts shift to electrical fires. To resentment. To sparks and ignition and exhaust pipes. To commodifying safety in order to make way for innovention. My thoughts shift everywhere so they can’t shift to the rest and facing them feels like hearing people breathe through the walls of a place you can’t quite call home anymore. When I take a moment to inhale air that's still too thick for comfort, I hear my younger self laughing and crying and asking who the hell I am and why do you look Like That. My thoughts keep gravitating to Elon Musk. He could probably launch himself onto Mars should push come to shove. This isn't a poem. It hasn't been. I'm just complaining. That outlet simply doesn't look right over there, so green and modern. There's not a single graffiti on it and I might, in childish defiance, catch myself hating it for a second like an old lady resents a new park bench for being new. "Times sure have changed," I muse under my breath and keep walking. But have I? Have I?

#poetry #Thoughts #words #spilled ink #poem

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romerona · 1 year

Text

Chapter 6: Dream Walking.

-In which the daughter of the Lord of Darkness who was born with the sole purpose of destroying the universe falls in love with Peter Parker.-

Masterlist.

-------------------------------------

"I'm not hungry."

Carina sighs, head falling back in annoyance as she stared back at Stephen Strange who holds an annoying look of his own. It was nighttime, dinner had just been served but Stephen wasn't there nor was he at lunch or breakfast or snack time.

She hadn't been the one to notice, Mordo did who told the Ancient One who told her to bring him some food, in others words to feed him.

Easy task, right? Just get Stephen to eat something... Wrong, after that afternoon a week ago she should have known better than to try and make him do something he doesn't feel like doing.

"Come on, Strange, you need to eat something," Carina said, waving the pasta plate in front of him. "It's good for your body, as a Doctor shouldn't you know that?"

Stephen scoffed. " I don't need a child to tell me what I—"

"You always seem to say 'child' as an insult.

"That's because it is."

"How can I be an insult when biologically I am a child, if anything you're the one acting childish."

"Oh, don't even." Stephen shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I'm not hungry, I'm busy so you've got no business here, Goodbye."

"How about you take the tray and in exchange I give you a book I didn't tell you about," Carina tells him, nodding her head in the direction of her bag. "An important one."

Strange's eyes narrow. "What book?"

"Key of Solomon, I've been reading it so that's why I didn't give it to you but now I can but only if you agree to eat dinner."

"What is it to you if I eat or not?" Asked Stephen, eyeing Carina and then the plate of pasta.

"Nothing really." Carina shrugged, her hands starting to get sore from holding the tray. "But I've been entrusted with the task of giving you dinner."

"Well, you can just leave it here and leave."

"I take my responsibilities very seriously Stephen, if I go knowing you won't eat that'll be on my conscience and I won't be able to sleep."

Stephen leaned against the threshold, his eyes still narrowing towards her but there was a hint of amusement shining too. "That sounds like a you problem."

Something about that bothered Carina. How could he sound so nonchalant? How he could sound so disinterested yet arrogant?

"Such a doctor you must have been." Carina huffs, lips pinching in annoyance trying to contain an eye roll. "I'm telling you something that might be crucial to my health and all you do is say 'that's a you problem', is that what you said to all your patients In need of help?"

"Don't be so dramatic, nothing will happen to you if you lose a night of sleep." Strange rolled his eyes.

Carina's eyes narrowed with unfamiliar irritation. "I am not dramatic, I'm only trying to keep you healthy and my mind at ease."

"It seems as if you're the doctor here." Stephen scoffs, crossing his arms.

She hadn't realized her outburst, making her cheeks burn in embarrassment. "I might as well be, and a whole lot better than you it seems." She mumbled, her tone went soft yet contained its sharpness. "Now take the warm food, which, I may also remind you, that there are a lot of people out there with nothing to eat... and I'll give you the book."

"You're guilt-tripping me."

"I'm not." Carina defended herself, cheeks still reddening. "It's a bargain, you take the dinner and I give you the Key of Solomon."

There was a second of silence as Stephen stroke his beard considerably.

"It's not bad, I swear... I even brought you dessert." Carina said, trying to sway his decision, nodding her head in the direction of the ice cream. "Unless you prefer chocolate cake... I have a piece in my bag."

"Ice cream's fine, you little prat," Stephen said sarcastically, the amusement present in his tone as he pushed himself off the threshold. "Give me the food already."

Beaming, Carina passed him the tray of food. Stephen moved inside his room leaving the door open for her to see inside of it, and although she knows she shouldn't, her eyes wandered around the room, falling on the desk where Stephen must have been sitting before she knocked. The codex imperium was open and next to it was a tablet open on google translator.

"Having trouble with Sanskrit?" Asked Carina, shamelessly tilting her head to have a better look at what Strange was trying to translate.

Stephen glanced back at her then at his slightly chaotic table. "Google has helped enough."

"Well, I wouldn't trust google so much," Carina said and before she realized it, she stepped inside his room and grabbed a pencil, a random paper on his desks and sat down on the chair. "For starters, क्रॉनिका बोएमोरम means Chronica Boemorum, and not to mention डाइजेस्टा, कोडेक्स, संस्थाः च means The Digesta, the Codex, and the Institutions. It's all really just about the old Roman laws and stuff like that."

She looked back at Strange who was looking back at the paper, at the book and then at her. "You're telling me you also know Sanskrit and Nepali."

"I..." she sheepishly moved out of the chair. "I know a few languages."

Stephen crosses his arms. "Like what?"

"Uh... Cantonese, Nepali, English, and Italian little bit of Spanish but that comes with learning Italian, I guess." She recounted, holding her fingers up. "And Sanskrit."

"Impressive," Strange said, making her smile proudly. "You're a brat in different languages."

That smile dropped, as she huffs moving towards the door. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Wait wait," Stephen called her just as she was going to leave, forcing her to stop and look back at him. "We had a deal, didn't we?"

Carina nodded, eyes shining in realization, she turned and searched around the inside of her satchel, quickly finding the leathery cover book she needed.

"Aha, the Key of Solomon." Carina passed him the book. "Lovely book, kind of old... I mean it was written back in the 15th century but very informative and—"

"— Nice doing business with you, now have a good night."

With that Stephen closed the door, leaving her to stare at the wooden doors.

"असभ्य." She huffs, with an eye roll before yelling at his closed door. "Remember to eat... I'll know if you don't."

"I'm shaking in my boots," Stephen yelled back.

"I'll come by tomorrow."

"Please don't."

With another roll of eyes, Carina turned on her heel and made her way to her dormitory but before calling it a night, she decided to take a detour.

In the dim lights of the library, Carina walks surreptitiously through the shelves with a few books in hand, hoping Wong wouldn't hear her, if she was lucky he was probably in the other section of the library, down where masters go, listening to his cassettes.

"Hhm... where is it?" She whispers to herself.

Her eyes gazed over the spine of the books in the universe section, she had a book in mind she particularly wanted to read. It was about the creation of the cosmos and its derivatives.

She heard a student talking about it earlier in the day, and she thought it sounded interesting so she wanted to read it.

Apparently, it was about the multiverse, a different outlook on it.

Her eyes settle on a red leathery cover with the title, The unseen macrocosm in Sanskrit. That's the one but it was three shelves up, too high for her to grab.

Sighing, Carina place her books down at a nearby table and climb the first two shelves, she stretch to grab the book but just as her fingers graze the leathery cover the dreaded voice of Wong said. "And what are you doing here?"

Luck was not on her side.

Carina gasped, she almost lost her balance but quickly recover. She turns her head, with a guilty smile. "Is... not what it looks like."

Wong didn't seem impressed, he look at the book pile on the table, at the book she was trying to grab and then back at her, still unimpressed before taking the book she wanted off the shelf. "The unseen macrocosm."

"Wait, wait..." Carina hurriedly hops off the wooden shelve.

"I thought I told you, you couldn't take more books until you return the ones you've taken." He said, placing the book under his arm before walking out of the section.

"But Wong." Carina groaned as she followed him. "I lend that book to someone and he's not even started it yet."

"I didn't realize you were the new librarian." Wong huffs, his eyes narrowing as he turns to look at her. " Nor did I know it was your book to lend."

Carina groaned again. "He needed it, and I–"

"You." Wong interrupted her. "Should be in bed."

"It's only like 9:30."

"Sleep early to wake up early," Wong said, sitting on his wooden desk, setting the book down on a pile of books next to him.

"I wake up early enough." Carina sulks, slumping on a chair near Wong's desk. "Why would I want to wake up even earlier than that."

"The early bird catches the worm–."

"You know I don't eat meat."

"--And it's always good to make the most of the day." He said before placing his attention on the parchment on his desk. Seemingly something he had been doing before he caught her.

"I suppose." Carina suspires, her face resting on her hand silently agreeing with him, she did enjoy having enough time in a day to do all her chores and homework and still have free time for her hobbies, like drawing, painting or reading... "Hey Wong, can you please let me have just that one book?"

"No," Wong said, eyes not moving from the paper.

"Please." She pleads, pouting.

"No."

Carina huffs, leaning back on the chair before straightening up as an idea strikes her. "Not even for a piece of cake."

That made him look up and regard her. "What cake?"

"Chocolate." Carina grabbed her bag and pulled out the chocolate deliciousness that was wrapped in a tablecloth. "It was the last piece too."

Wong stayed silent, eyes on the cake.

"I promise I'll give this one back by Monday," Carina said, smiling at him innocently. "Please."

Nodding, Wong reluctantly agreed. "By Monday or I'll hunt you down, young lady."

"Thank you." Carina jumped from the chair smiling happily, she put the cake in Wong's hands before taking the book from the other bunch.

"See you later," Carina said before taking off to her dormitory.

⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 🌍 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ 🪐. 　⁺ 　 🌔. . 　　 ⁺ ⁺

Carina hardly ever dreamed but when she did they were odd.

She wouldn't dream of falling into nothingness, walking around naked or being chased by a monster, no, her dreams were weirder. Usually, she would be floating aimlessly in a sea of endless colours and bright stars, walking through a cold, freezing, dark place or just waking up in an odd city.

It always starts the same, she'll wake up with a start, her irises scanning her surroundings but never being able to recognize them, and this time wasn't any different.

The first thing Carina saw was a bright light at the end of an odd, rock tunnel and the first thing she felt was the solid ground beneath her.

She took a deep breath, debating if she should walk towards the light because regardless of what the common knowledge says about 'walking to the light' she didn't think it applied to this situation... at least she hoped not.

Taking deliberate steps, she held her hand up to shield her eyes from the light as she crossed through the cave.

The first thing she noticed when she finally reached the end of the cave was that it was fresh, she didn't feel hot or cold, the perfect weather.

Then, after blinking to accommodate her sight to the brightness, her eyes widened as she took in the place.

As far as her eyes could see, the grass that cover the place was a rich green, all around her were verdant meadows. It looked like a mountainous region, as there were many mountains, some with holes through them, making them look like funny shaped donuts.

As Carina was observing her surroundings in awe, she felt something soft brush her legs, jumping away from the sudden feeling, she swiftly looked down to find the cause of it.

The first thing Carina noticed was the lack of head and face, making her gasp once more, taking another step back scrutinizing it, the odd creature had also four shimmering wings and six feet.

It took a step towards her making her take another back, the creature halted, its body tilting slightly, seemingly confused about why she was backing away from it.

Admittedly, the creature didn't seem threatening at all, it was little, like a puppy with several feet and wings.

It took another step towards her, this time Carina didn't move, she stayed put to just watch what it would do.

It was a dream, right? Nothing can happen to her in a dream.

Carina stiffened when she saw the faceless creature's body tilting upwards as if looking at her, and she had a feeling it was indeed observing her somehow.

Its wings flapping up and down, probably in wonder.

Curious — although Carina would call it braveness— she bent down slowly, a hesitant hand moving to it, hoping it wouldn't scurry away in fright.

When it didn't, she hesitantly ran a hand over the feather on his back, they were unreasonably soft.

The creature chipped happily, gazing up at her, its wings fluttering faster than before in what Carina could only describe as joy. They seemed to be enjoying her pets.

The girl couldn't help but smile, loosening up, she finally knelt next to it, laughing softly when it jumped on her.

"Whoa." Carina laughed an arm behind her for support. "Hi... hello."

Carina grabbed the faceless creature and held it up, being careful with its wings, to look at it better. It was an animal, that much she knew, but there was not even one detail on its fur, just soft fluff and feathers covering it.

Carina hums. "Funny, what are you?"

The animal chirped again when abruptly it used its wings to wiggle out of her hold. It started to move deeper into the green valley.

"Wait..." Standing up, Carina followed it.

It reminds her of this book she read once, where a girl followed a rabbit down a hole.

She thought it was dumb of the girl to run after the rabbit, because who in their right mind would just follow a rabbit down a hole, alas the rabbit could talk but that was still stupid... yet here she was, running after a winged creature with six feet and no face. It was stupider than running after a bunny.

Carina chases after the creature, who from time to time looks back as if making sure she was still following.

Suddenly, something white caught her attention away from the creature, halting on her steps, a gasp left her mouth as her eyes landed on a strange animal.

It looked like a fox, with long white fur, pointed ears, relatively short legs, and a narrow snout but what made Carina's eyes widen in wonder was the fluffy tail, or rather tails, the odd fox had nine of them.

There were many of them, and all looked at her from the tall rock they were resting in. They were beautiful.

"Oh wow," Carina said in awe.

The familiar chirping made her look away from the nine-tail foxes and back at the faceless puppy, who did a turn before continuing moving, giving Carina the impression that it was telling her to move on.

Glancing one last time at the pretty foxes she moved to follow once again.

The winged puppy sped up, making her pick up her pace, after a few fast seconds she saw it again.

Carina couldn't help but laugh. The furry winged puppy brought her to meet its family. Many of the same creatures are all just laying around and doing nothing.

The one she knew, holds its wings up and chirps happily, the others mirror the action as if greeting him.

Carina kneel again when a few made their way to her in wonder, she imagined. It was amazing, she laughed as the creature's wings flopped up and down and others nussle against her, chirping happily.

They were all like puppies.

The first creature she knew was easy to pin out among the others, for one it was smaller like it was the youngest of them, a baby, and two because it hadn't left her side either.

Just as Carina was wondering what they feed on, the sound of something walking on the grass made her turn.

Looking away from the faceless creatures she saw a weird looking horse, she even doubts it was a horse. It looked like a horse-dragon hybrid, it had two antlers, long eyelashes, iridescent scales, a mane, a long tail, and whiskers that give the animal an odd moustache, its beautiful eyes locked on her amethyst ones.

It didn't frighten her and she wasn't all that shocked to see such an odd animal, not after the few she had seen. Something in the animal's eyes made her stand up and move towards it slowly, hoping it wouldn't run away.

It didn't, thankfully, it just stared at her, with nothing but peace in its eyes, inch by inch she held a hand up maintaining eye contact with it.

The scaly horse sniffed her fingers, making her giggle.

Finally, she placed the hand on the side of its face only for the odd horse to huff and move its face away from her hand. It didn't like to be petted on the head, but even annoyed, it didn't leave.

So, Carina tried again, she slowly held her hand up but this time she petted its shoulder from the side, it wasn't soft like the faceless puppies, it was like petting a dry fish.

The hybrid horse seemed to enjoy that as it made delighted noises, Carina eventually grew more confident and petted the back of its horns. She laughed when the head of the animal tilted in the direction of her hand, expecting more petting.

Her subconscious never ceases to amaze her.

"Come to me..."

Now, that kooky voice was sketchy. It came out of nowhere, making her hand drop from the hybrid antlers.

"Free me..."

What? Carina cocks her head, eyebrows scrunched together as she tries to make sense of where that voice came from.

Without realizing she started walking deeper into the green forest, leaving the animals behind, eyes moving around as the voice continues to call for her.

It wasn't one she recognized, but it was alluring.

Passing trees after trees she arrived at a village. There was a group of people, picking up vegetables and farming. She stayed back not wanting to be seen, but unfortunately, she was.

People stopped doing what they were doing looking at her in confusion and warily, Carina tried her best to smile but the muscles of her mouth didn't want to budge, let alone when a very intimidating massive lion-like animal started to growl at her.

"Oh...." She backed away.

Soon, another group of people arrived, they were holding weapons, sticks with glowing tips, bows pointing at her, odd-looking shields and yet another giant growling Lion.

They were speaking to her, but she couldn't understand the language, although it seems oddly familiar.

This dream was starting to get a little too realistic.

"I'm sorry, I can't—"

"Free me, child of darkness."

The voice made her tilt her head up, to look at the grey mountains behind the village, entirely contrasting the liveliness of the place.

If she squints her eyes, Carina can see the entrance of a cave, or at least she could be if said entrance wasn't covered up.

"Is it calling you?" Someone said, forcing Carina to snap her attention back at the people around her to find the one who spoke.

Her eyes settled on a woman who was observing her, carefully. "Yes, I- I don't... what is it?"

There was a moment of silence, she seems to be debating what to say when yet again the voice called;

"Free me..."

"It's telling me to free it," Carina said frowning, settling her eyes back on the mountain. "What's in there?"

"Not a what but a who." The woman said, moving forward to her with small, hesitant steps. "What's your name?"

"Carina Agamotto." She said, sending a polite smile, holding her hand to her chest and bowing slightly as she had been taught since little. "And you are?"

"My name is Ying Nan, and we are the keepers of the Dark Gate." She said, pointing with her hand in the direction of the source of the voice. "It's a prison for the Dweller- in Darkness and the Soul Eaters."

Carina frowned. "Oh, that sounds... awful, but why is it calling me?"

A man from the group of warriors was calling the woman, he seemed agitated and angry but Ying Nan told him something in return that made him shut up.

"I don't know, my question is where do you come from." Said the woman, taking another step. "And how did you get into Ta Lo?"

"What do you mean?" Frown Carina, confused. "This is my dream."

And then, the beautiful sight of the village, along with the people, started to blur, before it all turned black.

Her eyes opened, blinking herself awake, as the light flooded inside the small familiar room. Carina groaned as she knew it was time to start the day.

She ran a hand over her face before using her elbows to push herself up, there was a weight on her stomach making her look down. It was the book Wong let her have the night before.

Picking it up on the last page she was reading. "The known and unknown of the multiverse..."

She'll read it later.

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