#anxiety strikes again and I need to get distracted

[vasattope]

[tojigasm]

Thinking about older!Logan and how he'd definitely clock the crush you have on him as soon as you meet him.

It's amusing to him, and unfortunately for you, Logan wasn't born yesterday and he absolutely catches your long stares when you think he's not looking or the way you avert your eyes from his whenever speaking to you.

He thinks it's cute and a little stupid on your behalf – a twenty year old something kid crushing on some fifty year old man old enough to be your father.

But it's when the two of your eyes meet from across the room that he knows he's completely fucked because damn if you're not the prettiest thing he's seen in a good fifteen years or so and damn if he doesn't want to treat you the way he knows boys your age aren't

When he finally gets you alone, it escalates faster than either of you could've imagined.

"Shy little thing arent'cha?" He comments from his seat beside you, "Am I really that mean and scary?"

For a moment, you don't realize he's speaking to you until you look up to scan the room before meeting his eyes.

Logan seems to have followed your eyes, scanning each nook and crevice along with you.

"See any ghosts?"

Your eyes narrow slightly in annoyance.

"M'not shy."

Logan hums from his seat, leaning forward to pick up his cigar from the table. Settling back into his chair, he takes a long drag.

"Sure y'rnot." He replies with a smirk, smoke pooling from his lips as he exhales through his words.

You don't break eye contact with him this time, and he's got you right where he wants you.

"M'not." You repeat.

"Oh, I know you're not." Logans voice suddenly shifts to a lighter tone, laced with tease. The switch throws you off for a moment. "Don't think I haven't seen you, do you?"

And there's no need for him to elaborate. You've been caught in your school girl crush that, in reality, you know you won't get in trouble for but it's the fear of disappointing the older man that strikes a chord of anxiety through you.

You don't say anything to that, and the two of you only stare at one another before Logan's placing his cigar back down into the ashtray and motioning for you to come towards him.

You obey without question, partially in response to your training with him and partially wanting to show him how good you can be, how good you are – you have complete trust in him.

Logan seems to sense the slight of your unease, helping to lead you to straddle his lap as you sit down atop him.

His thighs spread out beneath you, helping to keep you balanced.

"That's better, huh?" He asks.

You nod, eyes drifting downwards to where your hands have begun to trace over the detailed lines of his leather suit.

There's quietness to the moment. One that seems as though it could last forever as Logan keeps a gentle hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of the chair, content on letting you distract yourself for the moment.

"Jesus," Logan comments, making you look up to meet his eyes again.

He cups a hand to your jaw, softly turning your head left and right to look you over.

"Can tell you right now," he cuts himself off with a hesitant inhale, the pads of his gloves running along your hips as he slides his hands up and down the shape of your waist to your thigh, "– When I was younger I would've been all over ya'."

Something about the image that draws your mind makes your core ache and your legs weak – imagining a younger version of the older man in the moment, the whitesh grey streaks in his hair bring you back to earth just as fast.

Logan holds your chin with two of his fingers, pad of his gloved thumb stroking your soft skin, and in the same moment, the two of you are kissing.

His lips are soft against your plush ones. His tongue is rough as he takes his time to run the wet muscle up the insides of your cheeks and around your own tongue.

You run your nails through the short of his hair, tangling your fingers in the thick of his tufts.

Logan groans into the kiss, shuffling down the seat to spread his thighs out further beneath you.

His hand comes up to cup your heat, and you gasp into the kiss before grinding your hips into his large palm.

Logan smiles into the kiss.

It only takes him a moment before the pad of his thumb is deftly pressed against your clit through the layers of your suit and you're pulling away from the kiss to moan.

Your brows furrow, and your hands drop from his hair to rest atop his shoulders, letting out soft moans and hums as his finger circles your bud.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw, pulling back to lean against the chair, watching as you relax into his hold.

"That feels good." You manage through a whimper, humming lightly as he shifts his movements to figure eights over your clit.

Logan gives a half chuckle, "I bet it does." His free hand holds you by your hip, keeping you still as you begin to rock into his hand.

"Right there, huh?" He asks, and you nod weakly, rolling your hips into his hand.

"M'close." You breathe.

Logan nods, "Tell Daddy where you want him."

You're quick to obey, dropping your hand from his shoulder to hold his wrist in place, letting out a choked sob when he runs his fingers over your sensitive folds through your suit.

There's not much warning besides a moan that gets caught half way up your throat as you cum.

Logan only continues to run his fingers over your cunt, stroking your folds before your pushing his hand away, swallowing soft gasps for air as you relax against him.

You can feel him kiss the top of your head, his hand stroking up and down the soft of your back while your fingers are tangled with the other.

"Y'okay?" He asks into your hair.

You nod.

[elliescumslvt]

RUIN ME - Ellie Williams

Mechanic AU Ellie Williams x AFAB (assigned female at birth) reader. There is no use of Y/N, or a chosen name for the reader. 2.5k words

Content Includes: oral sex/cunnilingus (reader receiving), kissing, cursing, pet names (pretty, baby, ex), sub!reader + dom!ellie, and overall vivid descriptions of sexual activity.

A/N: I apologize for how long it took me to put out another one-shot. I hope to start writing more again soon. :D Please comment with any suggestions about how I can improve my writing, or characters!

My fingers grip the wheel as I turn into the garage. For the third time this month, my car has an issue. First was my brakes, then my spark plugs needed replacing, and now my oil needed refilling. I push down on the brakes with aggravation as I park the car. I twist the key out of the ignition with one hand, and my other flies to the door handle. My fingers curl around the plastic, and yank on it. I kick the door open, and slide my body out of the vehicle. An exasperated breath leaves my lips as I now push the door back into place. 

My feet work quickly on the dirtied concrete floor. I could hear grunting from across the garage, and assume it was my familiar mechanic. My previously furrowed brows lift as I walk around a car to see a woman with auburn brown hair. The person in question pushes themself out from underneath a Honda, and stands up. They brush off any dust collected onto their coveralls before looking down. 

“Hello? What's got you all riled up?” Her lip jerks into a smirk as she peers at my frustrated state with amusement. As I notice this, my eyes wander around the rest of her face. Freckles litter her skin in a way which almost contours her nose. Her hair is half pulled back into a small ponytail, and is ruffled around her forehead. Strands stick out in random directions, only effectively catching my attention for a moment. What distracts me more is the woman's striking sage eyes, and pink cracked lips. Overall she looks scruffy, but in an oddly appealing way. 

“I’m sorry-” My voice slices through the air with an intensity which wasn’t intended, “Is Jesse here? My car needs an oil fill.” Unbeknownst to me, my eyes were morphing into slits as I glared at the mechanic. Additionally my lips are pouty with anger, and my hips tilt with a similar sass. 

The woman only chuckles, and rips off a glove. My sight follows her hand as she wipes her forehead. “Sorry, but Jesse isn’t here today. I’d be happy to tell him that-” She sticks her hand out to point at me, as if to ask for my name.

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” I am fast to respond. Both hands of mine dart to my head, and push against my temples. I rub them in hopes to soothe my increasingly growing anxiety. 

The mechanic observes my stressed state, and takes a step forward. She rests a hand on my upper arm, and pushes the limb down gently. “No need to get your panties into a twist, ey?” Her tone is still one of amusement as she speaks, but now includes a hint of false comfort. 

Her eyes sparkle as her thumb starts to rub rhythmically on my forearm. 

“Lucky for you, I’m always happy to do extra work for pretty girls.” I watch as her lips stretch into a prideful smile. 

All of my facial muscles quickly relax, and my mouth gapes open slightly. “Oh uh, thank you-” My eyes wander down her coveralls and rest upon an embroidered name tag, “Ellie.” In comparison to just moments ago, my voice is a lot softer. I suddenly feel awkward, and apologetic for my previously uncalled for attitude. 

“Always my pleasure.” Ellie’s tongue passes over her lip as she talks. Her eyes momentarily glint with something devilish. She begins to walk over to my car, determination laced in her steps. Her short hair sways with the wind and I watch it intently as we cross the cement. 

I lean against my headlights as Ellie reaches down to grab the car hood edge. As she lifts it, I watch her muscles contort under the pressure. I shield my eyes immediately from the sight. However, my efforts prove fruitless. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand dive deep into the car front. I suck my lip to be between my teeth, and grind down on the flesh. Thoughts run wild in my head, and I curse internally. 

After a few moments, Ellie stands up straight. She lets out a heavy sigh, and stares at the engine with a perplexed expression. “The problem is definitely not your oil.” She confirms my growing suspicions with a solemn tone.

This time I curse aloud, and my lip returns to its previous position. If I wasn’t so enthralled with my self pity, I would have noticed Ellie tracing my mouth with an enticing look. “I can’t deal with this shit.” I mumble under my breath. My eyes search the floor frantically as I try to think of a solution. When my mind turns up blank, I look to the mechanic with extreme plead. 

“It’s alright..” She responds in a soothing tone before taking a short pause. Her brows lift almost as if she had a realization. “Let me give you a distraction” Ellies’ tone switches to something more sultry and all promising. 

I inspect her demeanor for a minute while I try to find the underlying meaning of her proposal. Her pupils are swollen and her irises sparke. The hands which had been on the vehicle now shake at her sides with anticipation. “What.. What do you mean?” I can not help to hide the intrigue in my voice. 

Her smile grows with a newfound confidence from my words. She moves fast, fueled by a secret determination. Soon enough, the car hood is slammed shut and she begins to pat the red aluminum. “C’mere pretty.” The words pass through her curved lips naturally, and cause a chill to pass over my spine.

I take a hesitant step forward, and slowly turn my body around. I use my hands to push down on the hood, which lifts me up. Ellies’ hands fly to my waist, and she assists me. Once I am sat, the mechanic inches closer to me. My legs are forced to spread open to allow her to stand between them. Surprisingly, her limbs never leave my form despite my stable condition. My face muscles lift into a shocked expression, and I’m left speechless.

“I have been non stop thinking about this ever since you walked your pretty ass over to me.” Ellie admits with a smug face. Her hands start to rub up and down over my hips, and a digit catches on my clothing. I watch her eyes trail over my curves and up to my awaiting face. 

I am practically frozen in a state of shock. My face undoubtedly exposes my uncertainty, though whether Ellie saw and chose to ignore it or was too ravished with me is unknown. In a pathetic attempt to speak, my mouth gapes open slightly. My company notices this in an instant, but only chuckles at my struggling. “Do you want me to stop? Because if not, you should know I only intend to ruin you.” She talks in such a sensual and commanding way that I cannot stop the groan that escapes me. 

At this, Ellie suddenly snaps. Her body pushes against mine and her mouth greets my lips. I am momentarily unmoving, but as her tongue runs along my bottom lip my consciousness slides back into place. I reciprocate her desperation as our lips slide together. Saliva soon coats our skin, only allowing us to kiss more effectively. My lips part open to gasp as a hand snakes around my neck, stabilizing me. Ellie uses her current height advantage as she pulls backwards to crane my neck. Our heads are essentially parallel as we collide. Her forgotten hand abruptly lands on my chest. She now gropes the fatty skin through fabric, her fingers applying rhythmical pressure. This entices a groan to rumble in my held throat. 

Our mouths never leave each other as she lifts a leg. A knee ends up between the middle of my thighs, but doesn’t move any closer to my core. Thoughtless in the kiss, I happily accept the bony intrusion. Ellie leans her body daringly harsher on mine, which forces my legs to spread even further. My hips allow this stretch, though it stings and is unfamiliar. I whine against the car enthusiast's lips. Our skin pleasantly vibrates against each other, and this time coaxes a moan from Ellie. Her tongue returns to my entrances, and pokes at it impatiently. As soon as my foggy brain senses this, my mouth moves to provide an entryway. The damp muscle presses against the fleshy roof, before the tip licks at it. I struggle to verbalize my pleasure since a hand is still wrapped tightly around my neck. Only weak guttural shaking presents itself. When Ellie feels this, she tightens her digits to squeeze even harder. 

Without warning, a knee shoves against my pulsing core. The sheer contrast of temperature in the skin creates an odd nerve rattling sensation. Her knee digs deeper before starting the move up and down. The polyester of her coveralls rubs against my thin clothing article. My thoughts become clouded with dirty sin.

Lost in pleasure, I lose momentum in the kiss. Ellie struggles to keep up the arousing clash of our lips alone. With a frustrated grumble, she pulls her head away from mine. Eyes flooded with lust glare at mine. “Can’t even handle my knee, Baby?” My cunt throbbing intensifies at her taunting words. “Such a pussy drunk whore.” She spits. I am not only shocked at the harsarity of her words, but also the reaction of my body. The degradation only adds to my overflowing pleasure. 

The combination of friction against my core and Ellies’ voice lures a loud whimper. A beating force in my groin becomes intoxicatingly present. I grind my hips down against her knee in desperation, my ass sliding along the car hood. As if overwhelmed by my pathetic display, Ellies' head falls into the crook of my neck. She lets out low grunts as she continues to grind her knee into me. Her lips are so close to my ears that I swear I am able to feel my drums quaking. They shake against my inner flesh, and rattle my mind. I am so bombarded with pleasing sensations that my eyes squeeze and I cry out into the garage. 

Her hand groping my breast falls off, and lands on the hood. She flexes her fingers before using the arm to steady herself. Now her leg thrusts are much faster and reach deeper between my legs. Soft cracked lips press against the skin under my ear. I squirm beneath Ellie, and my jaw goes slack, no longer preventing myself from expressing my bliss. “I… I’m-” My brain cannot fathom to form words as my nerves are being inflicted with such delight. 

“Aw, are you close?” Ellie teases. She speaks through low laughter, and the expulsion of air blows onto my neck. 

My core tightens with ecstasy. Filthy nothings leave me as I grow even closer to bliss than before. I can feel my arousal soak through the fabric of my pants and onto Ellie’s. Just as I am about to snap, Ellie’s leg retreats from between my thighs. She presses a feather light kiss on my neck pulse, before pulling away.

She watches my face contort into a distraught expression. A boisterous chuckle echoes throughout the garage as the mechanic tosses her head back. “I couldn’t end this so soon, could I?” Her lips morph into a taunting smile, and her head tilts slightly to the side. I frown in dismay at her obvious attempt to play innocent. 

There is a soft thud as she sets her foot onto the tar. A hand then slowly moves toward my face, and cups it. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” Ellie coos, her voice contradictingly soft in comparison to before. As she speaks, her knees start to bend. My eyes widen as I watch her slowly go down to crouch. Her face is now directly between my trembling thigh muscles, which slightly hang off the hood of the car. I can not bring myself to respond, as I am so shocked. Based on her previous statements, I anticipated Ellie to quickly get me off before fixing my car. However, that was everything but her intentions.

Rough hands travel to my waist, and experienced fingers work quickly to unbutton my pants. Her green eyes are narrowed into concentrated slits as she diligently unclothes me. Soon my pants are discarded somewhere on the cold flooring, my panties following. Her gaze twists into something more sinister as she stares at my dampened core. My folds glisten under the harsh overhead lights, and my clit is pink and throbbing. She observes my hole clenching around the air, and her lips turn into a frown. 

“El-” Just as I begin to say her name, Ellie’s face plants itself against my sex. Her tongue hungrily laps at my core, and her eyes flutter close as she admires the taste. On the contrary, my eyes grow wider. I pant out a curse, and my hands snake down into her hair. My fingers greedily pull at her auburn strands, pathetically attempting to pull her even closer. Abruptly, her muscle starts to drag up and down my folds. It gathers my juices before plunging inside of me. I moan at the impure sight of Ellie eating me out while I am sat atop my car. 

Her hands push down on my thighs, and pull them together. They cage her head in, though she seems to enjoy it. I highly doubt her ability to breathe, but she doesn’t seem to flinch. On the contrary, my entire body is shaking with delight. I cannot help but tighten my hold on her hair and yank her even closer. I don’t just need her against me, but enveloping my whole being. 

As my brain shivers with delight, it begins to dangerously wonder. If anyone were to stumble into the garage, they would be met with certainly a sight. One woman sat up on a car hood while another kneels before her and pleasures her. 

Ellie’s tongue works hard to bring me to my climax. My moans echo against the concrete walls. I suddenly feel her hum against me, which vibrates my wet folds. My core tightens and loosens uncomfortably, which causes my eyes to squeeze shut. 

“Come on, Baby. Cum on my face.” Ellie pulls her face just far enough from my sex to mumble. She speaks in such a soothing tone, that I feel I must comply. My orgasm washes over me, a slow calm wave. My nerves tingle underneath my skin as the sensation passes through. Heavy pants are the only sound being emitted from Ellie or I. Her eyes are wide and focused as she watches me.

 Once the climax has almost entirely run its course, Ellie finally draws her attention away from my lower body. Our eyes meet and we share a soft silent conversation. There is no doubt in my mind, and in hers, that I will be coming back to the garage again soon.

[salty-croissants]

Hi again! I’m about to send another request that’s absolutely tooth rotting fluffy: When their s/o finds out they’re ticklish. (with Rayman/Ramon & Bullfrog)

Thank you for the request ! 

This one was so cute , I really enjoyed writing it :D 

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

Okay , let me tell you this : it’s not going to be easy to sneak up on him , given how Bullfrog is always careful and aware of his surroundings , so usually he 

finds out when you’re attempting to catch him off guard .

< Hmm ? What are you doing , dear ? > 

< Ack - dammit , I thought I got you this time ! > 

< Heh , if you wanted my attention you should’ve just said so mon amour ~ >

He would then make up for the failed sneak attack by showering you with affection , always encouraging you to try again and that you’ll definitely get him next time …

He’s just so sweet :,//) 

However , the one time you do actually go for it when he’s especially distracted , you’re going to find out that Bullfrog is , in fact , very ticklish …

… and you’re quick to take advantage of that information .

< Aha ! I got you now , honey ! > 

< Pfft - non ! Ayez pitié de moi ! ~ > 

< Nope , I don’t think I’ll have mercy on you … you’re mine now ~ > 

Bullfrog has the cutest laugh , and you can’t help but blush while you’re tickling him … 

He could easily free himself from you , but he simply adores to see that look on your face , and plus he really does feel happy in those little playful moments the two of you share , so he just gives in .

… but that doesn’t mean that he won’t get revenge later .

If you also happen to be ticklish , you won’t even be able to hear him coming , and before you know it Bullfrog is going to have you in his arms while going for the spots that he knows will make it impossible for you not to laugh …

Believe me , you won’t be able to leave for a while .

< Hahaha - sweetie , pleaseee ! ~ > 

< Hmm , what was it you said … ? Oh , right , I don’t think I’ll have mercy on you , mon cher ~ >

Rayman 🧡

Since he’s often focusing on work related things , it’s actually pretty easy to sneak up on Rayman without him noticing you .

Especially when you see him being very stressed out and worried about his shows or something that the Directors have said to him , your determination to see your boyfriend smile is what leads you to try and take matters in your own hands .

< That’s not right … that meeting wasn’t scheduled until next week … ugh , this is a problem … > 

Rayman gets lost in his thoughts a lot , so he won’t even realize that someone has entered the room … until it’s too late . 

< y/n , love ? What are you - > 

< Tickle attack ! > 

The moment you hear him laugh , you get a warm feeling in your heart : he really deserves to have a break from all the anxiety that being the face of Eden puts him through .

Rayman almost forgot what it’s like to be tickled …

He is incredibly sensitive , you could pretty much touch him anywhere and it would make him wheeze out loud .

Needless to say … it’s really cute ://) 

< P-please - hahaha ~

 I gotta finish this paperwork - >

< Don’t worry Ray , I’ll let you get to it … after we’re done here , that is ~ > 

He is really grateful to have you by his side to brighten up his day , and weather you’re also ticklish or not Rayman is going to be giving you extra attention as soon as he gets done with what he was working on .

After all , it’s the least he could do for his wonderful partner .

< Thank you , y/n , I really needed that … 

I love you so much ~ > 

Ramon 🖤

So , this man has become incredibly paranoid since all that’s happened in the past few weeks , so in order to catch him off guard you should strike when you and Ramon are cuddling together and he’s not expecting it .

< y/n , what is th - pfff — > 

< Hehe , now there’s that beautiful smile ~ > 

< Alright alright , you … hahah - 

You got me good … ~ > 

Ramon might not be quite as giggly as before , but you can still definitely get a few good laughs out of him , and being able to hear that sound again is something that never fails to bring you joy : 

you’re the only one who gets to see this soft side of him , hidden behind his current intimidating exterior . 

Ramon is glad to have a chance to return to some sense of normalcy thanks to your playful behavior , it really helps to ease his mind and have at the very least a glimpse of hope in the future . 

As soon as you finish tickling him , you can be sure that he won’t be letting go of you for quite some time . 

< I got you now honey … you’re not going anywhere ~ > 

< Aw man … well , can’t say I’m unhappy about that ~ > 

If you’re also ticklish , Ramon is going to have the time of his life to use his hands to make you laugh and giggle when you least expect it , and another thing that he’s also a big fan of is to leave trails of kisses on your most sensitive points … especially your neck . 

< *gasp* Ram - you can’t just — 

Hahahah ~ > 

< Mm … but I can , darling , and I will ~ 

You should’ve thought twice before deciding to tickle me … > 

< Well , if this is - haha … ~ 

If this is the result , I might wanna do it more ~ > 

[ithebookhoarder]

Hi love! Could I request an Anakin X reader where he comforts reader after a panic attack?

Reacting to Reader having a panic attack: (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

A/N: Of course you can! Here you go. You can thank Ahsoka for breaking me and getting me back into my feels for this disaster of a human being 😅

Masterlist:

Anakin is much more a man of action rather than a man of words and will actively look for a practical solution for any problem, including panic attacks.

It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fully understand them, or that there isn’t necessarily a physical threat that he can fight on your behalf, he will do whatever he can to best help you. 

That would include using his trademark sass and boyish jokes to distract you whenever he senses you’re feeling low (something you both love and hate in equal measure). 

“Hey, Y/N. I was thinking, how does a moon cut his hair?" 

“Anakin… I swear to the maker-"

“-Eclipse it."

It’s easy to see why Obi-Wan started to turn grey the day he took Anakin on as a Padawan. 

Then again, as much as you may protest against it, it’s hard to do anything other than laugh at his desperate attempts to cheer you up. 

Anakin also creates private rituals for you both to follow whenever you feel an attack creeping up on you. 

These include things like going to exercise together, as you find sparring or racing around a local park is a great way to burn off any pent up anxiety (and often leads to you both rolling around on the floor, sweaty and too busy being wrapped up in one another to feel anything other than pleasure). 

It also sometimes involves him taking you aside and helping you to ground yourself to him and your surroundings. 

It even sometimes involves him crawling into bed and holding you whilst you sleep, knowing his warmth and his presence helps to keep your worries at bay. 

On that note, we know he has no problem bending the rules when it comes to those he cares about and you’d be no exception. 

Nothing else in the universe matters more to him and your well-being comes before anything else, including the Jedi code. 

It doesn’t matter if the council will reprimand him later, if you need him he’ll be there. He’d find a ship and get to you the minute you called, or the minute he sensed your panic through the force. 

A smaller thing Anakin would do, is he starts carrying around sour candies for you, knowing how you like them and how they help distract your brain when it starts to feel overwhelmed. 

You almost couldn’t believe it the first time he handed one to you without so much as a word. Instead he simply unwrapped one for himself and winked. 

You also can’t tell me he wouldn’t be keeping a special eye on you, reaching out at the first sign of trouble, just as he sensed his mother’s distress before. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, he’ll call you if he isn’t with you, just to make sure you’re alright. 

Even if it isn’t too bad an attack, he would still pull you from any duties you may have for the rest of your day, insisting you rest for a while even if he has to make you. 

He also strikes me as the kind of friend who tries to act like they’re less stressed out about your issues than you, but inside is panicking like crazy. So much so, he has to instruct Rex and Ahsoka to keep an eye out for you if he can’t, else he’ll be too worried to ever leave your side in case you need him.

He may or may not have written a very extensive list of things to do and not to do if you ever have one without him - something both privately tease him about...

[luna-writes-stuff]

Jackie and Wilson, Pedro Pascal

Song link

Fanfic, gn! reader

Meet-cute, fluff

Word count: 3168

Tw: I hate this fic haha, but enjoy anyway. Also, you’re a bartender now so obvious mentions of alcohol. Paparazzi, slight anxiety, mutual pining. Making fun of paparazzi? That’s it?

Summary: You work in a local bar when the building is suddenly surrounded with paparazzi. You knew why they were there - you had already served him two drinks. However, instead of throwing him out, you got talking with him. And after a day of keeping up appearances and minding rules, you are an incredibly comfortable distraction to him.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight. So deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine. For reasons wretched and divine.”

When a career finally takes off, it could offer one more than they bargained for. Take a wealthy lawyer, who bathes in money, but wallows in sunken dignity and dishonesty - or a proclaimed doctor, who performs surgeries and saves lives like no other, but returns home with dreadful stories of the day and baggage they wish they could have left at the hospital.

When an actor’s career begins to take off, they will gain fame. A fandom is built, money flows in, your name can be seen on billboards; it seems as if you are on the top of the world. But with that also comes the need to constantly watch what you say or what you do. Be professional during interviews, don’t spend too much time taking pictures with fans on a red carpet, don’t go out too much or the restaurant might have to close because it can’t handle its guests’ capacity.

It could bring stability, financial safety, a feeling of satisfaction - the ability to take care of those who you love and spoil them unconditionally. But regardless of how often stars will tell you that the famous life can be miserable, most fail to correctly grasp this concept.

You weren’t famous by any means. You worked in a local bar, serving local drunks and local students. So, when a crowd of people began to gather in front of your windows, taking pictures with obnoxious flashes with no apparent respect, you had been taken aback. After multiple warnings and questions for privacy, your boss had finally called the police to clear the situation. Then, after two hours, it was finally somewhat quiet again.

“She blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild. Laughing away through my feeble disguise. No other version of me I would rather be tonight. And, Lord, she found me just in time.”

However surprised, you were not stupid. You knew why they were here, or - more specifically- for who. You had served him two drinks at the bar before he retreated to the table in the far corner of the room, further away from the windows. He didn’t even have to say his name before you put the drinks on his tab. You didn’t hide the fact that you knew him, but he was a customer. You were not going to hinder his privacy or dignity if you could help it. Not during work hours, not after work hours. Which brought you back to the point that it was company policy that a customer on tap had to order at least one drink every thirty minutes, or they had to make room for new customers.

And thus, with the crowd finally cleared, you made your usual round of the room, taking orders and offering people their drinks. When you finally arrived at his table, you grabbed his empty glass, immediately drawing his attention to you. “Can I get you anything else?” A polite smile was shot from him as he nodded briefly, then turning back to his phone. As you grabbed a pen, you tried to strike up a casual conversation, not even thinking about your words until they were spoken: “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you all the way here?”

Shocked at your own words, you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, remembering his line of work and his reputation. “And if you do mind me asking, just tell me it’s work.” You quickly added, now grabbing the notepad as well. Pedro only chuckled at that, putting his phone on the table as he looked back at you: “I don’t mind you asking,” he answered. “But it is work.”

Raising your eyebrows, you nodded at him with a relieved smile. “Lucky guess.”

“'Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done. I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young.”

Seemingly pondering his next words, he spoke before you could begin your next sentence, a gentle expression on his face. “The place I’m staying at had cameras on me at every angle. Figured I’d have a little more privacy in a downtown bar.” You pursed your lips at that, nodding sarcastically: “Ah yes, that worked great.”

Again, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as you tried to correct yourself. “I’m sorry.” But instead of a stupid remark or an uncomfortable silence, you heard his laugh followed by a dismissive wave. “No, you’re fine.”

His eyes fell upon the pad before you, unseemingly changing the subject: “I’ll have another cola.” Observing his smiles and laughs made some part of confidence grow within you. All night he had ordered nothing but cola, and where you would usually tease your customers for it, you found yourself somewhat withdrawn with him.

You didn’t know if it was because of his entire reputation or simply the way he looked at you, but you were hesitant to speak your next words. But when he continued to gently smile at you, you couldn’t resist the light tease: “It comes with a lemon. You sure you can handle that?”

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby" Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

You didn’t know it then, but that simple remark had made him feel incredibly at ease. A day filled with formal greetings and the constant need to make himself look presentable faded the second you teased him over ordering another cola. He didn’t even have time to comment on your words, your figure already making its way back to the bar.

It was your coworker who later arrived at his table with his drink. When he couldn’t see you behind the bar, he stood up, grabbing his stuff as he made way to the long counter. He had sat down on one of the chairs, trying to subtle glance around the room trying to catch any glimpse of you.

You walked back into the building a handful of minutes later, announcing your break to be over. That had explained why he couldn’t see you. Your face lit up slightly as you noticed that he changed his seating, now in front of you as you would work. In a way, it didn’t seem distracting nor unwanted. If anything, part of it felt comfortable.

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

“Corner got lonely?” You asked, hanging your jacket up behind you before turning around, facing him from the other side of the bar. “Music’s better here.” He countered, pointing to the box above the doorway. You followed his gaze, rolling your eyes jokingly as you spotted the equipment.

“Here I thought you were beginning to like me.” You quipped, grabbing a glass as you began to clean it. He watched you work, unsure if he should interrupt or not. “You lied,” he suddenly said, gaining your attention. His hand raised slightly, the cola clutched tight in his fingers. “It doesn’t come with a lemon.”

You grinned at him, reaching for a slice of lemon before handing it to him. “I did promise.” You agreed, returning to your work as he grabbed the slice from your hand. Once more, a silence fell over the two of you.

“Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime. Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine. Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside. We'd sit back and watch the world go by.”

“You from around here?” He asked, trying to fill the silence. You shrugged at him, knowing it was no good idea to announce your address in a public space. But a vague idea could never hurt: “Ten minute drive,” you revealed. “Why?”

Toying with the straw in his drink as he pushed the lemon down, the man revealed: “I was wondering what there was to do around here. It’s gonna be at least two more days.”

You scoffed at that, finding pity in the fact that he of all people got stranded in a town not widely known for its publicity, media, or events. Yet, a world famous star was sitting in front of you, and you were about to announce that there was nothing to do here.

“Light shopping?” You tried to promote, referring to your local stores and perhaps three big brands. “Maybe the cinema plays a good film, but that’s about all you’ll find here.” Placing the glass back on its original place, you spun around with a dramatic gesture of your hand. “You’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, my good sir.” Humming lightly, you spoke the hooking cords of the infamous Eagles song: “Welcome to the Hotel California.”

“Happy to lie back watch it burn and rust. We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us.”

Pedro shook his head in entertainment, earlier anxiety slowly settling down as the nerves left his system. Being around someone who was somewhat nonchalant about him made him feel relaxed in some sort of unusual manner. It wasn’t unwelcomed, though.

“Any good restaurants?” He continued, his interest growing as he tried to build up to next questions. You remained oblivious to his intentions though, and happily answered him: “Like a handful. There’s not much here.” When he failed to respond to that, you grabbed a post-it, already jotting down some names. “I could give you a small list of recommendations.”

He simply hummed in reassurance, peeking over the bar to look at what you were writing down. He could not help but feel slight disappointment as he found out you were indeed writing down names of places that sounded a lot like restaurants and cafes. So, maybe flirting hadn’t been his strong suit, but he was steadfast if he was anything. He just leaned back, leaving you to finish your writing.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

When you handed him the note, he pretended to read the names, asking you a question while his eyes remained on the paper: “What’s your favourite place? One you can really recommend?”

Instead of a genuine answer, what he had expected, you laughed instead. When he looked at you, he noted the way your expression had also found slight humour in his earlier words. “Way out of my budget,” you chuckled. “Went there once for a birthday.” Then, you looked at him, shrugging as you remembered what he did in life. “Might be your alley, though. And otherwise, the local cafeteria serves amazing fries.” You put the emphasis on amazing, almost imagining the dish in front of you now. You could go for some good fries.

“Could you show me where?” His voice tore you from your thoughts, forcing you back to the bar, his eyes gentle. Instinctively, you reached for the paper, ready to start writing again: “I’ll write the address down.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues. We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

You didn’t see the slight defeat in his eyes as you mindlessly grabbed your phone and started looking up addresses. If you had, you wouldn’t have even taken the card to begin with. You would have decided to tease him back on it. But you hadn’t seen it.

In his eyes, it felt like another let down. Either he was being too low-key, you were being too oblivious, or this was your way of letting him down easy. You did stand behind a bar all night. He wouldn’t be the first, nor would he be the last to try to make a move. You must have mastered turning down flirting attempts during that time.

When your eyes finally rose, you did see the way his eyebrows had furrowed slightly, or how that friendly smile had lightly faded. When he noticed you were looking at him, he gave you a questioning look. Not one of curiosity, but as if he was asking you if you had understood him or not.

“Oh.” You sighed, ultimately catching onto his meaning. Your heart skipped a beat when he didn’t try to defend himself. He had been genuine. You could almost curse yourself for not having paid more attention.

“Cut clean from the dream at night, let my mind reset. Looking up from a cigarette, and she's already left.”

“If you would be okay with that.” He added, his voice more hushed than before, almost as if you had already rejected him. At that, a feather light feeling entered your stomach, the ability to form words finally coming back to you: “The cafeteria or…” you trailed off, unsure of where he wanted to go.

At your words, that same smile climbed back, neither of you missing the slight and - unsuccessfully - suppressed sigh of relief. “Your favourite place.” He cleared up.

You nodded at him, handing him the post-it, now filled with tiny scribbles of street names. “Cafeteria it is.” You decided.

“You sure?” He asked, putting the note in his pocket, his full attention now on you. You hummed in affirmation, waving your hand off in the distance. “I can’t afford that restaurant.” You shared, but interrupted him as he went to speak. “And I am not going to let you pay for everything.”

Though he wanted to, he hadn’t argued with it that night. Nor did he the night after, or the night after that. It wasn’t until you officially started going out, that you allowed him to lay for your dinner every so often.

“I start digging up the yard for what's left of me and our little vignette. For whatever poor soul is coming next.”

And now, three years later, you were seated in that exact same cafeteria you had dined in back when you first met. When your boss had to call the cops in order to get the paparazzi to leave. It was insane to consider you had not become used to them, even if that was not a fond thing.

To him, you felt like a moment of pure nothingness; he didn’t have to pretend or hold up to any expectations. There was nothing he needed to say or needed to hear. As insane as it might have sounded to him, he simply felt like a normal person around you again. As if he had never become famous, and never played in award-nominated shows and films. And that was why he had initially fallen for you. It was because of your calming demeanour. And none of that had changed through the years.

“They’re not making it subtle, are they?” You joked, as you watched a man with his long lens camera with flash on sitting on a terrace on the opposite side of you. Fries were stuffed in your mouth as Pedro was munching away on some greasy burger. Opening your mouth in an undignified manner, you turned to the camera, flipping them off, before returning to your meal.

Pedro laughed at you, holding his hand in front of his eyes as he tried to hide himself. Grabbing the straw from your drink and the straw of his own drink, he fumbled with them for a while, before turning to look at the camera, the straws now dangling from his teeth like some sort of vampire with a new set of pearls. You snorted at the sight, banging your fist on the table as you held your hand in front of his face, pulling the straws from his mouth: “Now it has your gross bacteria all over it.” “Ew,” he returned in a high pitched voice, mocking your speech.

“She's gonna save me, call me "baby", Run her hands through my hair. She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn't care.”

“This is how you get cooties,” you laughed, pointing the straw at his face in an accusing manner. “Disgusting,” Pedro agreed with a grin, pulling the straw from your fingers. Then, he stuck them in his drink, ignoring your betrayed looks. “Asshole,” you scolded with a chuckle

“You know, about three years ago, we sat right there?” His finger pointed to the bar at the end of the street where you used to work. Having now been together for more than two years, you quit your job soon after, noticing the publicity wasn’t working for your job. It wasn’t helping the bar and it wasn’t helping you. You remembered how guilty Pedro had felt when you told him, even after you had reassured him how you knew this going into the relationship. It was all the more reason for him to spoil you even more now.

“I think we caused the manager to grow grey hair prematurely,” you confessed, forcing another chuckle out of his throat. “That may have been my fault.” He added. “I walked into that bar to get a moment of peace. And that’s where I found you.”

“We'll steal her Lexus, be detectives, Ride 'round picking up clues.”

You smiled at him, fondly remembering that moment. “You could have had any model or superstar, and you choose someone who catered to local drunks.” “An important job,” Pedro added in a joking voice. You joined him: “I’m sure there are some who would agree with you on that.”

From over the table, his hand found yours, squeezing it fondly. “I don’t think I would want any model or superstar now that I know what I could have missed.” “Sap.” You interrupted, yet you returned his affectionate gesture all the same, silently letting him know you were appreciative of his words.

“I’m glad you walked in too,” you admitted. “Even though I had no idea what to say to you.” “You said the right thing,” he assured. “Besides, who else would I bully paparazzi with?” As he said that, he waved to the man with the camera with an unenthusiastic expression.

And moments like these were a perfect depiction to him why it was you and would always be you. Even with cameras on him and his privacy being scarce, you remained beside him, taking it upon yourself to mess the pictures, sometimes marking them unpublishable due to certain symbols being made on them. You were his distraction and his moment of solitude. Perhaps he would have found it in anyone else, but he had no desire to figure that out. You were with him now, and he would hold onto that for as long as he could.

“We'll name our children, Jackie and Wilson. Raise 'em on rhythm and blues.”

[valkyrie138]

A Court of Ice and Shadow - Chapter 2

Pairing: Half-Seraphim/Half-High Fae OC x Azriel

Summary: After the war against Hybern, Astrid, a young half-seraphim half-high fae, is struggling with a growing power with little to no answers of how or why it's happening. After an incident at her home in Cretea, Miryam and Prince Drakon send her to train with Rhysand.

With the threat of Koschei looming, Azriel has been running himself to the ground, trying to find more information. The search has been a helpful distraction from a certain Archeron sister, but what will happen with the new guest in the house of wind that he seemingly can't stay away from?

Overview: Astrid meets Rhysand and learns troubling news.

Note: We're off to a slow start, but I really wanted to lay the groundwork before we get into the meat of everything. I just need to finish editing, so the next few chapters might be coming over the next few days. Again, I'm open to constructive criticism!

Word Count: 1.8k

»»————-　✼　————-««

The court gossip of the High Lord’s striking appearance proved true. He embodied the night sky with sleek black attire, dark wings, and violet eyes that sparkled like stars. Despite his near-perfect appearance, Astrid felt a low panic beneath his cool exterior. The panic had been steadily growing throughout dinner, and as a result, so had her headache. She had to hand it to the male; if she couldn’t feel his outward panic, you wouldn’t be able to tell that anything was troubling the High Lord. He was vivacious and had Prince Drakon and Miryam howling with laughter more than a few times over the meal. The dinner was full of news of how the other courts and the Night Court were fairing after the war against Hybern. Despite the emotions he was pushing onto her, she was trying to focus on Rhysand’s report that the Illyrian legion had taken significant damage but was recovering well enough. She had been quiet most of the evening, only uttering a few words here and there while she tried to separate her anxiety from Rhysand’s. 

“The Seraphims are still recovering; there were many wing injuries, some are still rehabilitating but hope to fly again. But we have been focusing much of our attention on the warriors that lost their wings.” Drakon said, his voice low. 

Astrid’s throat tightened, her white wings fluttering slightly, a small reminder that hers were intact, that she hadn’t them like some, like Lucy. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her friend. The low thrum of pain in her had now grown to a sharp pounding; whatever anxieties Rhysand had were increasing by the minute. Astrid looked to Miryam, her sapphire eyes catching the Lady’s green ones. Astrid gently let her fork down on her plate before moving her fingers up to her temple and tapping. Miryam replied with a slight nod. With that, Astrid let a soft knock on the door to Miryam’s mind. 

“Yes, Astrid?”

She had to approach this with tact. Astrid didn’t want to cause Miryam alarm over the fact that it felt like her head might explode at any moment. 

“While the High Lord is an exceptional conversationalist, his anxiety is beginning to give me a headache.” Miryam didn’t need to know that he had felt this way all dinner or that it had affected her the whole time. She smiled at the Lady before she retreated from her mind and picked up her fork; Miryam answered with a slight nod.

“Rhysand,” Miryam said, turning her attention toward the High Lord, “You know we are delighted to see you, but I believe if this were a social visit, your lovely mate would be accompanying you. What other news of Prythian do you have to share?’  

The High Lord let out a sigh as his shoulders caved in for a moment. Astrid could see how exhausted Rhysand’s eyes were for just that one second. 

“Feyre is pregnant.”

“Oh, Rhys, that’s wonderful,” Drakon beamed, Rhysand only nodded. Drakon’s smile faltered. “That is wonderful, is it not?”

“The babe has wings, with Feyre being made Fae, she doesn’t…” The High Lord trailed off as if trying to find the right words. 

“Her pregnancy is proving dangerous for her,” Astrid deduced, looking at the High Lord with sympathy. 

        “I am doing all the research I can to help, but birthing the baby is likely…” Rhysand couldn’t quite utter the last few words, as if he couldn’t accept the reality of them. She had heard whispers of the High Lord and Lady’s love affair, one of the ages it seemed. But Astrid knew what those unspoken words meant. The babe was likely to kill her. “I came here to inquire if you knew of anything that could be of assistance.” 

Astrid let the High Lord’s words wash over her. The pain in Rhysand’s eyes was evident; he was losing hope of finding anything that would help his mate. Drakon spearheaded the conversation from there, speaking of Seraphim's birth techniques, new methods, and the anatomy involved in safe births. In short, her Prince and Princess knew nothing that would be useful to the Night Court’s High Lady. Miryam began discussing far away places that Astrid had never of that might have more information. In the selfish part of her mind unease began to spark, they couldn’t ask the High Lord for help when his wife, his mate, was in such distress. To ask for his assistance when her lack of control of her abilities was significantly less dire would be insane. Her mind began reeling. Her palms quickly became slick. 

“Fuck,” she thought to herself. She was back to square one. There would be no training and no help, and she now had to find a new way to fix this stupid mess she was in. She felt sharp talons graze her mind before she could dive further into her rising panic. Her eyes shot toward the High Lord, his violet eyes meeting her sapphire ones. He raised a brow at her, almost as if he was curious. She brushed gently against his mind, and then she was in. 

“Can I help you with something, High Lord?”  

“It’s Rhysand or Rhys if you’re feeling particularly friendly, and while I adore how loud your thoughts are, they are beginning to give me a headache.” She tore her eyes from him as heat rose to her cheeks and ears. It was clear that he had heard her before, her shields not strong enough. She took a moment before she responded. 

“One might say it’s rude to eavesdrop on a host.”

“I suppose you would be right if your thoughts weren’t so loud. Even so, I am interested in what you think I can help you with.”

She could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. She met his eyes with that same evaluating stare.  Miryam and Drakon had told her that he was one of their closest friends, someone they both trusted. Even so, it was hard to grapple with admitting her failure at mastering her daemati skills. She was about to reply when Miryam interrupted, “Would you two like to share what you are speaking about.” 

Astrid sat there, her eyes burning into Rhysand’s, waiting for him to reply. “I was just asking Astrid what she needs help with. Her thoughts are rather loud.” There it was. The High Lord didn’t take to sugarcoating things, she supposed. She looked towards Miryam and Drakon, eyes pleading for some help. There was a pregnant pause where no one said anything. Astrid let out a sigh. 

“In terms of being half High Fae and half Seraphim, my powers are quite…,” she paused. Astrid didn’t have the words to describe what her powers had become. Everything was so simple till about twenty years ago. “Unique,” she finished. Glancing towards Drakon, her eyes pleading for some assistance. She had no clue how to continue this conversation or express to Rhysand something that she didn’t understand herself. Thankfully, Miryam watched her scramble that pathetic excuse of an explanation and stepped in. 

“Astrid’s power is something we don’t have any answers for either. Her powers changed a few decades ago. She’s mostly mastered her powers, but her daemati ability has been cumbersome for her.” Rhysand glanced at her as if urging her to pick up where Miryam left off. 

“I can enter and leave minds rather easily. I can shield my thoughts,” a small chuckle left Rhysand. She glared at him before she continued, “Most of the time, but I’ve started to feel the emotions of those around me. The part I am struggling with is that I can’t figure out how to shut them out.” Astrid’s eyes fell on the potatoes on her plate, and she didn’t want to see Rhysand’s reaction to her admission and her failure. 

“What other powers do you have exactly?” Astrid didn’t miss the curiosity in Rhysand’s tone and how he offered no advice on the matter.

“Besides being a daemati, ice and winnowing,” she replied. The High Lord seemed to enjoy the news like he almost found her entertaining. Miryam then launched into an explanation for the first time Astrid accidentally slipped into her mind. A slight cough tore her gaze from the High Lord. Drakon’s eyes slid to hers, his fingers touching his brow. Message received. With a soft tap on Drakon's walls, she was in.

“You could be of assistance to them. Your powers are growing every day. We all feel it. If you were to train under Rhysand, you might be able to help in some way.”

Astrid tried to keep her face neutral at Drakon’s suggestion. She would have to leave Cretea and go to those courts her mind often wondered about. She pondered his comment for a moment.   

“I’m not sure I’m what Rhysand desires to help his mate. And I am no healer, so what assistance could I provide?” She replied, raising her eyebrows at the prince.

“Rhysand’s court is made up of…what was that word you used? Unique. His court is made up of uniquely powerful individuals. If there was any place that could help you and tell you more about your powers, it would be there.”  Astrid bit her lip as she pondered the thought before nodding her head.

“Rhys, its important for you to know that Astrid is one of our best soldiers, stronger and faster than any of her peers. She could be of assistance in training others or at least another set of eyes to help research Feyre’s condition while Astrid trains and looks into answers of her own.”

  Drakon’s words were still echoing in Astrids mind as she turned toward the High Lord. He was already looking at her, more like weighing her, seeing if she was, in fact, worth the risk of bringing her around his pregnant mate. She would normally say he was being an overprotective territorial bat because of the gaze he had on her. But given his mate’s current predicament, Astrid understood the worry of bringing an unknown variable like her around. She would be a distraction more than she would be of help. His eyes moved from her eyes up to the diadem on top of her head, he raised a brow as he examined it. Despite herself, Astrid wanted to impress him, and ease the anxiety that she felt boiling beneath Rhysand’s surface. With a feather-like touch, Astrid brushed against the walls of the High Lord’s mind for a second time. His eyes snapped back to hers. She only answered with another feather-light touch to his mind. 

“I understand your hesitation, Rhys. I would not fault you for declining. Feyre’s health is more important and it should. I would be happy to stay here and do more research for anything that could help…and when Feyre does survive labor, we can reevaluate.” With a small smile towards the High Lord, she retreated from his mind. 

      The High Lord regarded her for another heartbeat and then simply nodded. Despite herself, Astrid felt something profound within her deflate.

»»————-　✼　————-««

@rcarbo1 @annamariereads16

[olivescales3]

The Forgotten Legends of Chima Episode 2

Check out episode 1 [here]!

Laying down on the ground, the lightened gloom strikes at us by the moon, tinting our surroundings with various monochromatic shades of purple. 

No matter how much Cragger counts the stars, or how much we spend time blathering about our lives, the purple moon sits still in the spotlight, stagnant; nighttime has never been this slow and peaceful.

Everything seems serene– it's impossible to not feel refreshed, absorbed by the calm, soothing wind.

I notice Cragger get up, ripping off the grass with his feet. He stands still, stiffening his body into a square, although moving his tail side by side, as he crosses his arm and mumbles.

Unable to hear him properly, I reach out to him in anxiety,

"Hey, Cragger… what's the matter?"

He lifts his lip, exposing his gums, "I want to leave", he replies.

Instinctively, I seize his hand onto mine, out of fear that he rushes away from me, yet, even then, I might lose him– my vision is dim, we don't have enough light near us. The worst part is… that I don't even know where we are.

Cragger… please don't go. You'll hurt yourself.

He growls, rasping his voice in an unusual tone, "Why are you grabbing me? Can't I walk around for a second?"

I try to drag Cragger down, but he agitates his hand, making me lose my grip.

"Please, stay! I don't want you to—"

An unfortunate event happens, as my friend runs towards the unrecognizable horizon.

No… not again! Why can't he stop abandoning me like this?...

I don't want to be alone. I don't.

Why does he need to be so reckless?

…I won't let go of him. This world is too dangerous.

I push my paws forward and sprint with the speed my feeble legs can gather, the wind flies on my fur, everything around me blurs uncontrollably—

Thud!

I crash onto the ground. Cragger's shouts echo out of nowhere, hiding light whimpers of nervousness, blending in with my cries.

The moment we shut our lips, leaves crunch from the distance. I turn around, and for a millisecond I encounter a wolf, with pitch black fur, staring at me, with a long, macabre snarl, as if it's smiling. It pounces at me—

I fling my blanket across the room, gasping for air, as tears flood out of my eyes. Paralyzed, I can't cry for help. I'm alone, afraid. Each word I utter turns out as sobs. My rapid breathing suddenly starts to strangle me. Am I spiraling out of control? 

A gentle touch falls upon my shoulder; my dad, who pants as if he just ran a thousand miles, squeezes me comfortably between his arms.

"My son! What happened? Your hands are cold…", Lagravis whispers.

My ribs clamp, heart pounding stiffly.

Without self control, I end up shouting, "Wolf! The wolf jumped at me!"

Blood pressure skyrockets.

Head feels light.

Pain spreads throughout me. It irks me with its adrenaline.

Dad pets my head, and, despite my panic, his soft paw pads warm my chilling skin. I lean onto him, in for a hug. It feels good.

My breath… is returning back to normal.

Phew– I meditate, breathing in the fresh air in my room. 

…What happened? What? Was that even real?

He looks at me, confused. Of course, he asks if it was a nightmare. It probably was, thank goodness.

There's no need to lash out like this.

"Laval.", he holds my hand, "Was there anyone else in your dream?"

Ohh. No, no, no. No. I don't want to make my dad worried. I don't want to hear about the incident, but lying is not an answer.

"I dreamt about Cragger running away from me."

Dad itches his chin. He's going to piece everything together. He'll take my nightmare seriously.

"I see… It's normal to relive our worst fears during our sleep. Don't fret, my son. I'll take care of everything."

He tucks me on my bed and kisses my forehead.

It is now morning. I look at myself in the mirror to distract myself: my red mane is starting to grow into little tufts, which means that in the near future I will no longer be a cub, but a teenager.

I tidy my sapphire blue tunic and put on my golden belt, locking it with my lion-faced buckle. My pale tan fur, after the nightmare, has become frizzy. Petrified amber eyes highlight the sickly dread on my muzzle. My paws are trembling. 

I relax by the windowless stone arch. The view of our city from the temple is amazing and comforts me a bit; I can observe the forts forming a hexagon shape, the agglomeration of housing glued to its corners, and the tall, spherical towers at each edge. The center of the Lion Temple is bustling with animals from all tribes to visit the monthly Chi Market to sell their products. At this angle, everyone inside our kingdom looks like ants. 

I might as well leave my room and take a breather.

We're sitting on the first step of the Lion Temple's entrance. The sun shines on Cragger's scutes, as the light spreads along the grassy plains, which feeds the plants and makes them grow. Spring is a beautiful season, where Chima blooms with all kinds of colors.

Today's a special day, better than the ones before– an eventful morning like this means that there is going to be a Speedor Race! We're not old enough to race yet, and I unfortunately can't ride my Speedor for fun either, but my buddy has another idea.

"Laval, my papa is going to do something huge today!", he leans near my ear and whispers, "He's been practicing his tricks for this race. Want to see?"

"That's nice. I didn't know your dad went on Speedor Races at such an old age!.."

He stares at me, twitching his jaw hinge a little.

"Uh… Cragger, are you alright?"

He giggles, "I'm aight. It's okay. Don't mind me."

I see… His body is intact. No scratches, no wounds. It's like… nothing ever happened… but I doubt that he forgot about it, speaking such bittersweet words.

After a few hundred steps, we reach our destination, where its horizon is cluttered with Speedorz bolting left and right, in and out of our view. The animals here drift around the scattered obstacles with a tilt so tight that they seem to skim over the earth's surface; at first glance, such skill is admirable and desired by many, although we're quickly reminded that these racers are amateurs– their try-hard tricks backfire in style, as they're thrown out of their bikes.

Heavy rumbling trembles our eardrums and attracts us to a huge stone ramp pointed in our direction. It's too late to do anything now, we've been standing on its track without noticing. The sounds strengthen each passing second, while a vehicle sprints from afar whilst racking up momentum– and, in a matter of seconds, before we were given time to react, our gaze redirects towards the smirk of the scaled driver, as they propel their rectangular Speedor off the ramp, gracefully crossing the sky above us whilst gushing away a streak of dust on top of our heads. Mesmerizing.

I'm unable to take my eyes off this mysterious motorist, though the spectacle ended just as fast as it started. Knowing we're surrounded by nonprofessionals, the first thought that has come to mind was an assumption about this performance being a mere hobbyist's fluke, had the pilot not revealed himself as Crominus.

Yikes. Bold of me to dismiss pure skill as luck. Better than being crushed by a fool's bad attempt at tryharding.

His curved posture might fool you, but, despite the short and fragile appearance, Crominus is a healthy and humble king. He waves at us with a welcoming smile.

"Papa! That was crazy! Would you teach me this trick, please..?", Cragger climbs onto his dad's lap and hugs him.

"Hey… you know you got to wait, eh? At my age, I only got my Speedor when I was an adult.", the father cackles, "You have no clue how much time papa took to get this good! Lucky for you, I'll show you my super-duper secret techniques when you grow up."

They both laugh and crack jokes, untroubled about the incident. I'm glad Cragger is unharmed and continues to be a joyful kid– Crominus doesn't mind his son's lack of manners, nor does he expect maturity from him. 

It's all about his dad now… Hmph. Does he even have a clue about the incident? Speedorz this, Speedorz whatever, biggest race of all time… Haha…

A soft breeze caresses away my soft mane tufts, shoving away the water from my tear ducts, and, standing here, the background blurs beneath the water lacrimating off my eyes– meanwhile, they tussle, one running after the other. In silence, I hold my hands together and tap my toes, awaiting their return.

Enough time has passed, I think, because the area is emptying by the minute, the drivers are rushing at the stronghold as their unicycles whip further down the road in a hurry up to the main gate. until only the three of us remain. Then, a bunch of lion guards start to gather the objects lying everywhere, marching throughout the circuit like ants, skipping to and fro.

Groanings call my attention to an unusually short lion, crouching down in front of a boulder. He manages to latch onto the giant rock, pushing down his tendons to extend his claws, but it seems that the disproportionate size of the object counters the feline's strength. Sometimes, big muscles aren't enough– you'd need another pair.

In between the mass of workers, marches my uncle, who's in charge of the guards in my tribe. He observes his employees' work and compliments each and one of them with pats on the back. He manages to notice the struggling lion; with his much needed help, he comes to the rescue and shoves his claws on the bottom of the rock while chanting a rhythm, as to hint a cue for when the worker should lift.

"C'mon boys, let's do this quick. The race's starting pretty soon.", warns Lavertus after he gets up, signaling with hand claps.

My uncle turns around and our gaze meets– be it joy or worry, he wasn't able to resist ignoring me, though it's not like he would choose to do that anyway; the last time we were able to play with each other was a week ago! I stretch my arms and shut my eyelids in hopes of a hug, a head pat, or any kind of attention I can receive, but I'd really like a hug.

Lavertus!

Come here!...

And yet…

I've only felt the same emptiness as before, of the wind embracing my body and arms, caressing my short fur, only to seep away and roam back to its ephemeral trail.

To spy with my little eye, to witness my uncle's grin dissolving by each step, might've been a mistake.  I turn around, unfortunately Crominus' glee begins to dissipate in synchrony, his posture slouches even further.

Lavertus' tail whips sideways. Crominus' golden teeth shine with the slightest amount of brightness. I imagine their heartbeats gushing at an all time high whilst they fixate their energy into a threatening staredown; no one wants to say anything, intimidated by another one's thoughts. Courage must arise for the silence to be broken.

My uncle has always been outgoing. However, his eyes are now hollowed by… chagrin? No– it's not anger, but displeasure; his well-built chocolate body tenses up in reflex, he sticks out his claws out of his paws in disgrace.

The crocodile king leaves his Speedor, grabs his staff that was tucked on the vehicle, then pushes it down on the ground.

With such qualms seething from the two adults, intoxicating the ambience with distrust, I wonder… What happened between them? Why express such childish attitudes in public?

Actually, why would my uncle have personal issues against the king of the crocodiles?

By coincidence, the guards' work was already done, and they disappear without a trace. Lavertus' time here has ended. He, however, persists still, growling in murmurs.

My toes freeze, my lips shut tight, chills run down my spine. I can't move. Adrenaline paralyzes each of my nerves while it drowns my blood, climbing throughout my veins up to the skull. My head feels light.

The clean blue sky showers the horizon with clouds, which patch shadows on us, sewn decaying light into intricate patterns.

Cold scales touch my hand and clutch my torso. Its soft cold soothes my body, meanwhile I observe the staredown. Thank you, Cragger.

"What are you doing here..? Shouldn't you be elsewhere, Crominus?", Lavertus snarls.

Crominus doesn't reply, doesn't utter a single word, neither does he twitch a muscle. Instead, he seems too immersed in his mind, as if this situation didn't concern him much.

Finally, he lowers his head,

"Yes, I suppose…", he sighs, "Please excuse me. I shall now take my leave."

He pats my head prior to departing, his face drowned in sorrow as he walks to his Speedor, just when Cragger waves at me with his trembling arm, hiding fear under an awkward smile– his mouth lifts a bit, though he's interrupted by the rumbling noises of Crominus' unicycle. He waddles behind his dad at a slow pace, before I'm able to move or react.

Suddenly, Lavertus locks my neck on his arm, then later plays with my hair, showers me with lion kisses; he's laughing without a care in the world, seemingly relieved about the clean, empty space, like a burden was lifted off him.

Despite these distractions, I've witnessed, all by myself, my friends climb up the stairs and merge with the mass of visitors, until they reach the fortress' gate. Afterwards, the sculpted lion head raises high, leaving space for the swarm to be eaten by it as they go through the entrance. 

Lavertus rubs his knuckles on my head with force and laughs. I roar in reflex,

"Ugh! Stop it, you goof!"

He lets go of me, his face miserably attempting to hold his grin.

As he throws his hair backwards with his paws, Lavertus' mane flows out of his head and neck, reaching his shoulder blades; it waves right at the tips, resembling the perfect shape of a sand dune molded by the wind. Even with this disheveled look, he's the opposite of dry, as he's constantly overflowing with personality and character. No wonder my tribe respects my uncle's wit and charm, but sometimes he can go a little too far. Oh– this isn't about the unceasing amount of lionesses who swoon over him. I'm referring to his nonchalant nature, a trait that is something rare among lions, and one that he overuses a lot. To see him tense is beyond improbable.

"Buddy, you're grumpier than I thought...", he whimpers, "Exactly like my brother."

"Why wouldn't I be? Did you even pay attention to your actions? My uncle would never do something like this— "

He pushes air out of his nostrils, forcing his muzzle to fold upwards, "Kiddo, ignore what happened, please. This issue doesn't concern cubs– don't butt in adult matters, okay?"

Really? Does he think he can get away with these kinds of excuses..? Adult this, adult whatever, blah blah, they make me feel like I'm not good enough to be a prince. It's just that… I haven't heard such words bleed out of Lavertus' mouth. Not even once throughout my life.

"Anyway, 'bout your arm…", he murmurs in a sudden change of subject, "I understand how you feel. We couldn't find enough clues about the perpetrator, though I believe you were attacked by a rogue animal."

I sigh, "It's alright, uncle. I won't feel bothered as long as nothing else happens."

He kneels before me, caressing my cheek with one of his paws, subsequently giving me a warm grin.

"Okay, buddy! The race is about to start in a moment, so I'll leave you there."

The Coliseum is huge, its beige color contrasts well with the lush grass that corners it. There are a few gates perforated into this amphitheatre, which are all linked to race tracks that cross every biome in Chima. Although the exterior is quite barren, everything changes up when you're able to rush inside the megastructure: dark granite canopies cover the first few inches of the entrances, with one of them built large enough to support the metal gong behind me, used to signal the end of a race; seats for thousands of animals molded onto the canopies; artificial waterfalls garnish the circuit with blue light reflected from the sun; the floor and it's coherent, exquisite patterns are made out of cobblestone, delicately chiseled to help Speedorz slide and overflow with speed. 

At this height, we can monitor the racers, cornered by more than thousands of spectators, whilst being able to watch the entirety of one of the racetracks.

Cragger and I embrace each other in excitement, hopping in circles. After an entire month of waiting for this moment, we're finally here, inside the Coliseum! We hop, dance, shout and sing, frolicking around the gong and Eris. She crosses her arms while grunting.

Dad stops our happy moment with hoarse coughs, as he lays his back on a stone throne, then rests his head atop his hand– meanwhile, the other paw holds an open book, flipping pages by the thumb. I hear the paper swoosh and my dad grunt under his breath.

Shouts arise from the crowd, catching us in surprise, after Crominus gets off his Speedor, waving at the viewers. The other racers enter the Coliseum seconds later, mounted on their stone bikes.

Before the competition starts, a white eagle flies off to the skies, revealing his famous orange goggles and his loyal blowhorn– that's Equila!

"Why, hello everyone who's watching this amazingly exciting Speedorz Race today! Very glad to see that a lot of animals are gathered here, because—", he dashes towards the participants, "a very special guest is on his way!"

Eris pulls my hand close to her, shaking her tail feathers, beak open wide.

Equila points at a shiny blue Speedor that's far away in the distance and screeches:

"Dom De La Woosh!"

Clapping from all corners of the audience reverberates with the strength of waves hitting the shore; it is as if the folks here witnessed some kind of miracle. I mean, he could be considered one. Dom is the only peacock in Chima and the best Speedorz Racer alive. His bright, flashy feathers and style, in addition to his unique personality from the extinct Peacock Tribe, make him beyond iconic– he's is an image.

The peafowl starts running his unicycle all over the  place, blowing kisses to the crowd, before the event even started.

"Bom dia meus amores!", he says, "I am absolutely flabbergasted to see all of you who came to cheer me on!".

Flowers are tossed at him and he catches all of them in a fell swoop, even placing one on his beak for extra pizzazz. They shower Woosh with confettis, love, attention, as they chant his name in a thunderstorm of excitement; Uncle Lavertus told me once that this kind of hype has always spread like wildfire since the dawn of time.

He almost beat the peacock in a big race once; I doubt he really did that, as he's the only testimony about this great achievement.

Dom returns to the starting line, flashing his attention-grabbing blue and green feathers. Meanwhile, all of the participants are in order, latching onto their Speedorz– some of them are grinning, a few are chit chatting, others seem focused.

As Equila counts down to one, his high-pitched voice leads everyone to jump and shout in excitement. Cragger and I are quite anxious, and I imagine that they also share the same feeling as us. The race feels like it's taking forever to start.

Wait— 

Even with all of the excitement and hype, my gut itches me with an unnerving sensation. Something's wrong, I can feel it; everyone becomes silent in point blank, and Lagravis' page flipping gets louder, before he shuts his book closed.

I turn around to look at the animals around me– Eris is gone!

The crowd's movement and noises explode the area, overwhelming me as I attempt to spot my friend.

I'm finally able to catch a glimpse of someone running towards the racers. As I push Cragger's arm, we both have the same reaction: our mouths drop wide open.

Everyone freezes in silence, again; not all animals have the courage to interfere with an organized event, especially one that's this big.

Equila strips off his goggles of orange tinted lenses, clenches his blowhorn near his beak, and screeches:

"Wait– wait! What are you doing, Eris? Get back here!"

Needless to say, we had already caught on that Eris was missing… but what she's doing right now is absurd!

"Damn it, Phoenixes!", he murmurs in vain, as the megaphone that's hung on his back exposes his frustrated mumblings to all of us, "I– I meant… Eris, stop that, right now! Lagravis is witnessing all of this, you know that!"

Amongst all of the animals watching this mess, Eris is on the racetrack getting her wing signed by Dom de La Woosh himself. Equila swoops down and snatches Eris off the ground. I don't know if Dom knows how to tackle fan service, or if it's just his eccentric and carefree personality. Maybe both.

She's returned to her place, followed by a light intervention from my dad; he knows that my eagle friend isn't mischievous, and that one warning will suffice. What a privilege!

Between the moment Equila begins to fly over the arena, Cragger tugs the raptor's left leg, pleading to hover above the race with him. He hugs the hatchling, still holding onto his megaphone, and returns to his place. Eris and I do the same, by holding me with her claws mid flight. 

At this height, we're able to spectate the racers; they sprint over the humid dirt, avoiding the obstacles in their way. 

A puddle of mud, camouflaged on the ground, splatters as one of the riders crosses through it– he loses control of the Speedor and spirals head first onto a tree.

Meanwhile, Dom sways between the tree trunks in a perfect rhythm. With his constant speed, he drifts along a sudden turn to the left. The others are way behind him, playing safe.

Chi awaits inside big stones in the middle of the road. The peacock snatches each and one of them—

Until Crominus flies from the curve onto first place, using his Chi to dart towards a ramp, projecting himself onto light boulders. Part of the obstacle course, Chi crystals cascade from them upon contact. The crocodile picks them up seamlessly.

"What a spectacular turn of events!", Equila shouts, "Who would've imagined that the king of crocodiles could surpass the legend himself, La Woosh?"

The crowd's cheers explode, as Equila describes the unforeseen; Dom has lost his lead against the other racers. They follow suit and pick up the remaining Chi.

Though, the end is still yet to come– he maneuvers left and right to regain speed.

A lion bumps his bike onto another participant and sends them flying at Dom's direction. In a pinch, he twists around before the Speedorz could collide. Such foul play!

All of the competitors waste their crystals, causing them to flock near Crominus at high speeds. He slows down– and they clash against each other. The vehicles crash everywhere. By then, a massive cloud of dust has started to cover the scene.

Equila accidentally drops his goggles in disbelief.

"No way…! The king of the crocodiles managed to eliminate his opponents!", he gawks.

The crowd cheers, clapping their hands at an improvised tempo. Now, only two racers remain.

La Woosh surges from the dust– he giggles while he dashes through the pile of leaves scattered around.

Vines swirl on and on, falling from the lush jungle, threatening a mighty slap if one dares to get on its way. Timing is necessary to get over this.

Dom and Crominus weave a trail on the ground between the vicious vines. A big one hits the crocodile's bike, shoving him straight to the side– the spectators scream in horror. Fortunately, this was not enough to take him off his vehicle.

Beyond them is their last trial: a trap. If one of them were to fall into this lake near the finish line, it's game over.

The peacock doesn't hesitate to propel himself forward at steep stone, and, with his speed, he defies gravity in a marvelous spectacle of skill, flying as the wind rushes through his feathers.

Crominus, however, has a trick up his sleeve; he uses his Chi to dart at the bridge above the waterhole—

but it was too late.

Dom has already pulled the trap's lever, making the bridge fall down and throw the crocodile off his unicycle at the last second.

Bang! Bang!

Guards hit the gong with enthusiasm– flags rise from the towers, before the harmonious toot of the trumpets begin to flow a melody. The race has just ended, and now is the time to start celebrating this amazing victory. 

"Amazing!", Equila squawks, "In an astounding turn of events, Dom de La Woosh has come first place!"

My friends and I land on the ground in the middle of the arena, where the winner stands victorious, blessing everyone with grateful good wishes. He's showered in roses and confetti by fans, an act of unconditional love, phenomenal passion that's able to unite animals from all tribes.

Lagravis walks down the canopy; he orders his workers to bring the Golden Chi, reward for finishing the race in first place. They march in formation: one guard is in front, holding the magnificent prize, Longtooth and Leonidas follow behind him while wielding decorated spears, and the rest remain behind.

My dad grabs the Golden Chi, whose sparkle shines so bright it resembles the sun, preparing himself to begin the ending ceremony.

After breathing in fresh air, he says:

"La Woosh– as always, the skill you displayed today was astounding. It was a tight match, and yet you managed to outsmart your opponent."

The crowd cheers, satisfied with the resolution of this beautiful competition, and while it was fast, it lasted enough to have an impact on all of us.

The gray-maned lion sighs in relief.

"I, Lagravis, king of the Lions and protector of the lion temple, hereby bestow Golden Chi, a powerful and sacred present created by Mount Cavora. Use it well, use it wisely."

He hands the crystal over to Dom, who proceeds to bow and blow kisses to his fans, before accepting his prize.

The peacock cries, "Thank you, obrigado, my loves! I wouldn't be able to continue my passion if it weren't for all of your constant support!"

Bang, bang!

Brave soldiers hit the gong once more, marking the end of this event– its booming noise spreads around the air, and, upon hearing its echoes, the audience starts to leave their seats, going down stairs, as they form a rockslide of throngs that accidentally block out everyone's exit from the Coliseum. Dom, however, noticed this craze and hopped on his Speedor, but in vain. We're surrounded.

Gunshots thunder nearby.

I lose sight of Eris, but manage to hold onto Cragger.

The swarm of fanatics escaping the arena jostles us around amidst steps and pitterpatters, as they clomp and run after the glorious winner, who's running away from this mess with his Speedor.

I can't help but look behind me– there, a small gap opens; a tall, pale olive green crocodile smirks, his arm pointed straight at the sky, as he's holding a gun. His macabre amber eyes show no remorse at all, his smile grows more sinister while our gaze meets.

Cragger snatches my hand. Together, we squeeze in between the crowd, shoving the animals away from us, and notice a breach to the outside slip— now is our chance!

I push my friend forward, then I latch onto his tail– our bodies fly through this mess, and with our vision cleared out, we find ourselves holding onto Dom's vehicle.

The cocky peacock, now terrified, croaks from the top of his lungs; he loses control over his bike, which starts to whirl around at high speeds, almost shaking us off it.

Swoosh!

A strong turn to the right lifts me and sprinkles sand into my eyes. It burns and scratches my eyeballs to bits. Trying to get the stuff out of my eye, I end up letting go of Dom–

Wind blows on my back as Cragger pulls me by the collar.

"Carambolas! Why pounce on my precious Speedor?", Dom shouts.

"Uh– duh! Why shouldn't we?"

I giggle after Cragger's defiant speech. I mean, we had no choice, after all. 

La Woosh rushes straight into a bush, covering our faces with a bunch of flowers that block our view. Wooden sticks and dead leaves crunch as the wheel spins, small birds flap their wings at the sight of a speeding vehicle turning at each lush tree.

Desperate, Cragger shakes the driver and fiddles with his feathers, in an attempt to pressure him into parking somewhere– after we get smacked by long vines and tree branches.

Ah. To be surrounded by greenery instead of tumultuous fools feels so, so nice.

"Uh… Dom?...", words spill out of my mouth into a full stop.

He's static, face deep inside the humus. A humiliating scene for the best Speedor racer ever, for sure. Cragger kneels before the blue fowl, contemplating the fall of the last remaining master of the craft. Then, he attacks the body with tickles.

Dom rolls around and play-wrestles my friend.

Meanwhile, the light dims from inside the forest, followed by rattling fronds. They diffuse penumbras all over the tall grass, even beyond our view, before its colors fade away in the distance.

A mysterious sound howls out of the faraway depths– it grows louder as the moon emerges from the sky, cornering our eardrums in a sound barrier.

It's followed by a stampede of wolves that obstructs our path, they dash and crawl without regard to the trees and shrubs in their way and form a muddy fog of black and gray pelts.

Though, one of them sits still, menacingly staring at us. That wolf snarls, their bare fangs drip with blood, and their elongated body twitches, with their fur void of color while brimming purple shine of the moon, stained with gore– it's the image of a vile creature unaffected by this chaos.

We jump on Dom's Speedor and he drives as fast as he can. This is too dangerous– no, everything after the event became dangerous.

He manages to run around the gaps left between the animals, but they close down quickly and leave us with no other choice but to run over a few of them.

A harsh turn to the right forces us out of the mob, but the wolves sprint behind us. We're being hunted!

"Dom! I don't think we can flee from them much longer", I shout from my trembling throat, "They're after us!"

"And what am I supposed to do?"

We look behind us for a second; they're getting closer in less time than we expected.

Cragger squeals, "Use your Golden Chi!"

"You're crazy! I'm not going to do that—"

They begin to gallop at our pace, and one of them latches onto our vehicle.

Dom plugs in his Chi without hesitation– the Speedor speeds like crazy in zig zags, and we get hit by whatever is obstructing us. It rumbles on the bumpy road, but manages to keep its ground.

By a miracle, we find ourselves further near the grasslands. I can see Mount Cavora from here! Now's our chance!

From the top of my lungs, I growl desperately, hoping my cries can be heard nearby.

Dom brakes his Speedor in a drift, which kicks behind a cloud of dust that flinches the wolves cornering us– but this doesn't stop them from approaching in large numbers.

Fog seeps from their eyes. I can see the shine reflecting on their pupils… Their foam drools off their teeth, and their howls echo from the distance, as these menacing creatures crawl on the ground, penetrating their claws into the dirt.

I can't do anything, neither can my friend. We are surrounded, alone, afraid, defenseless.

That's unfortunate.

As I close my eyes shut and squeeze Cragger between my arms, despair seeps into my thoughts and reality.

Sweat drips from my shivering paw pads, freezing at the touch of my friend's cold scales.

if this is my final moment, then so be it.

"Halt! You fiends, stay away from my son!"

This loud, tenacious roar catches the wolves off guard, ceasing their rabid intimidations on the spot.

A swarm of small lion tanks rumble at high speeds, shooting their Chi lasers on everything in sight, as growls and barks screech from around all corners, muffling down the cracking bones of those dead wolves who flew amongst the clouds and crumbled underneath tracks.

The night sky brightens at every spark of light bolting out of their cannons and sizzling the canines' pelts, but a few of the victims manage to jump on top of lion warriors, as if their bodies haven't been mutilated to a crisp.

Loud rumbles shake us– Dom places himself in our front, hiding us from harm behind his giant and glamorous tail feathers.

We're trembling, confused, afraid.

"Woosh, there is no time to waste! Jump!", Lagravis' voice shrills in agony.

The peacock grabs our arms to lift us both, one at a time; seconds after my body is raised, when his plumage brushes off my face, the view reveals itself, with piles of wolf corpses scattered everywhere, drowned under their rancid blood. The damp moon hazes the horizon.

I turn my head around: Eris and Lagravis are standing on his Royal Fighter, he's stretching his hand to grab me.

After my friend is rescued, Dom hops onto the vehicle and hugs us for dear life. We're petrified, from head to toe– eyes shrunken and mouth shut, as we wait for this hell to finish. I hide my face on Woosh's feathers.

This… this is a nightmare. I don't want to be here, their excruciating whimpers haunt me…

Lagravis, while resting on the Lion Temple's throne, presses his fingers against his eyelids in absolute disdain, as I hug his leg, sobbing and trembling. 

We couldn't get enough sleep, even after dawn. The blood, the pile of corpses… all of it kept me awake. I've never seen anything like that, and I wish I didn't.

It all happened so fast; the gunshot, the hysteria, the bloodbath– so many tragedies, and yet… How come? Why?

"My lord", Longtooth kneels before my dad, visibly worried, "I am not in a position to give my input, but…"

"Go forth. Tell me about your findings."

The bodyguard gets up, then walks up to us, before bowing in gratitude.

"There have been two consecutive incidents in the past few days. Isn't that suspicious?"

Dad sighs, his hope gone thin– he can't argue, because that statement wasn't false. Instead, he nods, though in aversion, as he snarls and sticks his hind claws out.

"Yes, that is true. It has only been two nights since my son was attacked.", he stares at point blank, and, in a quick turn, looks at Longtooth with an earth shattering expression, "Are you implying that they're correlated?"

An ominous silence establishes itself in the Throne Room, the harbinger of chaos, a warning. It drowns us in fear, the one that lives inside our anguishing anxiety. Though, it gives us time to think, to plan ahead.

"I believe so. The gunshot was fired by one animal the day after that, and even if we don't have clues about who did it, it's obvious that both actions were made as a threat."

Ah– I've seen this perpetrator before, maybe?...

I add, muttering, "Yesterday, there was a pale green crocodile in the middle of the crowd… He had a long grin."

Lagravis' golden eyes water, as he leans his body to pick me up and places me on top of his lap.. An emotional smile spreads across his muzzle.

He pats my head, silently sobbing, "My son, I'm truly, truly sorry for what happened. I'll make sure to solve everything, whatever it takes."

This morning, my dad decided to inspect the Wolf Lair. Guards caught me by surprise while I was playing with Cragger, and I had no choice but to leave. My friend, who had insisted on following me, hopped onto their vehicle.

The land is barren, lifeless– so arid, in fact, that I can feel its dust grate my feet. My lungs ache a bit everytime I breathe this dry air, but maybe that's because everyone is tucked inside their base, except for Wakz and Winzar, his trusted escort.

Lagravis raises an eyebrow, as he places his hand behind his back.

"Let me ask you a question, Wakz. Have you noticed anyone missing last night, after the Speedor Race ended?"

The elderly wolf tenses up– his ears and tail stiffen in opposite directions, a sign of alertness; he makes eye contact with his guardian, who replies with the same reaction.

Dad takes a step closer to Wakz, glaring at him with the coldest, piercing stare I've ever seen.

After a brief moment of doubt, Winzar approaches my father, stretching his chest, not afraid of the king's presence. The patches of black hair on his muzzle and muscular build are already intimidating enough, even if he's covered with velvety gray fur.

"Your Majesty, do not treat our elder like that.", he growls.

Wakz pats him on the shoulder, "Hush… now is not the time."

He tilts his head downwards, losing himself at the sight of the dry dirt; a million memories seem to flash before him, as he pants in disbelief, unable to move. Terror consumes him whole, desperate by sorrow.

"Lagravis… forgive me for not knowing sooner. Wilhurt is on the loose."

"Wilhurt? Are you serious? He's been gone for years– this isn't a mass murder, but a hundred wolves gone rogue!"

Lagravis covers his face, pinching his nose bridge. Dumbfounded, he huffs; an incident like this surely couldn't be caused by one individual– a force beyond our imagination needed to be what caused this. Wolves can't just snap out of the blue, right?

"Your son was attacked the day before, Lagravis."

Cragger holds his arms together, waving his tail in fear. He's upset enough to leave me and join Wakz' side.

"But I'm asking about yesterday's bloodbath!", Lagravis slips out of his mature mannerisms, folding his face into a macabre yet horrified snarl.

"How hard is it for you to understand that you are threatening Chima?", he raises his voice, failing to maintain his composure, "How could you let all of this happen?"

Wakz pants, hugging Cragger. His entire body is trembling, closed up in dread, as his pale yellow eyes stiffen after that sentence.

"Your pack, Wakz. Think about the hundreds of wolves that died yesterday! They're wreaking havoc all around our lands, and you're here, refusing to do anything!"

I nip my dad's tunic, pressing my tears onto it.

Is… is there a way to stop them? Are we even able to end this war, finish it all without pointing fingers at each other? There needs to be a solution, somewhere. We can't sit still the entire day and expect problems to disappear by themselves.

Dad's tone returns to normal, "Wakz. I will send my guards to monitor your lair. From this day onwards, we will scout every nook and cranny of this place in search of the missing wolves."

"That'd be of great help, if you didn't just accuse our elder of treason!", Winzar barks, holding himself to no lunge on my dad.

In a matter of seconds, Lagravis grabs my hand, ready to leave, as he glares at him. 

"Soldiers, keep an eye on them. I don't have time to waste."

While the moonshine barely manages to spread on the ground, the training area's horizon is painted by its soft light– the painted battlefields shine bright, echoing blood red paint. 

Besides me is the armory, crammed onto the walls of the Lion Temple, where each and every armor produced and displayed has been delicately forged to perfection. Weaponry such as saws, scythes and spears were left here by soldiers after their scheduled training.

"Hey kiddo, right behind you!", this loud, sharp voice emerges from the distance.

I turn around and find myself face to face with my uncle. His disheveled hair looks heavy, falling onto his shoulders. 

He runs at a mannequin, picks it up and brings it over.

"What about we train while your dad's busy? You can't be defenseless for the rest of your life, you'll make Lagravis worried."

My arm is still hurt, I can't go on like this. It… it has been too much.

An itch crawls all over my fur, as the unnerving sensation transforms into the abominable sickness from that time at the Fangs.

"Sorry… I don't want to.", I stutter, "No– I mean, I can't. My body feels weird."

He leans towards my face, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. Seems like he's looking out for signs of illness.

When he gets closer, my skin begins to frost; the cold sweat dripping from my snout bothers me, it tickles and it stings my nerves, so I lick it.

He pokes my snout, "You can't fool me out on this one, buddy! I know you're just nervous. C'mere now."

I equip a silver light armor Lavertus grabbed from the armory, then Lavertus lends me his sword, a Royal Valious, one of the four legendary swords of the Lion Tribe. 

Its magnificent black blade bounces the sunlight off into the faraway sky, reflecting my face onto its shine. No blacksmith in Chima can recreate this beauty without black leochium– a raw, scarce material extracted from the few mines in the middle of Chima. It is actually so strong, it can only be molded in extreme heat, with fire combusted by Chi. Due to its rarity and sheer power, only a few of the Lion Tribe's royal family possess this weapon.

I wield the weapon, admiring its uniqueness and surprising weight. It pushes my wrist down a bit, but I hope this doesn't matter much.

"I'll teach you how to swing that sword with your weak hand."

He kneels, points his wooden sword upwards, before slashing downwards with one hand, then pushing the wood up to the side.

"Repeat after me, Laval."

In synchrony, we kneel, then slash with our sword from down to up—

The hilt of the weapon is heavy enough to pressure my hand from pulling it upwards, which makes me fall and cut the mannequin in an ungraceful manner.

With a mediocre final result, the unrecognizable mannequin remains frozen, unaware that its insides of cotton scatter away into the ashes of a corpse.

Its only purpose was to embody the fragility of oneself, a weakness that forces our soul to remain captive inside us: life's ephemeral existence. It is by no means alive– but it's supposed to represent an animal, the enemy, as a target, one that's waiting patiently to be killed. If this sword, prized heritage from my family, is capable of obliterating this doll, then what could it do to someone else? Why am I being trained to murder people?

Is this what strength truly is? Destruction? I don't think I can do this – every fiber of my body paralyzes at the mere thought of it. 

Lavertus worryingly looks at me, "Yo, buddy…", he murmurs, "are you okay? You look pale."

I breathe deeply. What should I do?...

"Uncle Lavertus, do you think that there's another way to solve problems without resorting to violence?"

I let go of the Royal Valious, and it bounces a fee times before sinking into the dirt ground.

His muzzle falls open, eyebrows skyrocket; he's clearly never seen me like this. 

He sighs, "I know I'm a commander… but war really rubs me the wrong way, you know?"

He itches his head, shaking his tail sideways.

"But if someone tried to attack us, we'd have no choice but to defend ourselves. That's what my brother ordered me to do, teach you to—"

"...Why? Why do we need to use brute force? Why can't I be the Lion Temple's shield? If this is how it is, I'll leave."

[NEXT]

Taglist: @fenth-eiria @aspiringfictionwriter @deadhunter-series @jasper-the-menace @tigeryasou @olive-riggzey @fretgoon

(@rekinus20 and @the-lesbian-demon-queen1 I unfortunately couldn't tag, but I'll try to fix this soon).

[positive-meme-experience]

Introduction to safety planning: The Stanley-Brown Safety Plan

TW: Suicide, mental health crisis

Hi! I wanted to try giving a primer on safety planning as it is something I have a lot of experience with. I will be focusing on the Stanley-Brown Safety Plan and touching on means safety as part of that.

What it is

https://988.ca/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Stanley-Brown-Safety-Plan-8-6-21.pdf

The Stanley-Brown Safety Plan is an evidence-based document that is meant to assist a person who is building up to or having a mental health crisis. Think of it like a fire drill. We do them because, in moments of crisis, the part of the brain responsible for rational thinking and problem-solving tends to go quiet. Fire drills get practiced so that, even when you can't think clearly, you know what to do. Similar sort of thing. When a person is having a mental health crisis they probably aren't thinking clearly about what they can do to stay safe. This document, if referenced during a crisis, can help remind them of their options.

Who should do it

Anyone with a predisposition toward mental health crises of any sort. It's often used with people who have suicidal ideation, but I've also done them with only slight modification with clients who are prone to substance abuse or anxiety attacks. It's better to have one and not need it than the other way around. I have one that I fortunately haven't needed to refer to because I believe in leading by example.

When should it be done?

Before crisis strikes! While the person is stable and able to think clearly. If a crisis is already ramping up and you don't know what to do, call your local mental health hotline (988 in the US) or emergency services such as 911.

Filling it out

I'll go through and talk about each question individually. Most questions have spaces for a few answers, depending on which format you use (an app or the form I linked)

Warning signs

These are anything (thoughts, feelings, behaviors, situations/triggers) that let you know that you're starting to go into crisis. Note that feelings can be emotional or purely physical. Can be immediate (rapid breathing, panic, thoughts of self harm/suicide) or longer-term (not sleeping well for a few days, not bathing, not taking medication etc.) These will look different from person to person and require some introspection. If you're helping someone else fill it out, you can mention things that you've noticed are precursors to bad mental health. The idea behind this section is to recognize when things are getting bad early enough to start intervening.

Internal coping strategies

Coping strategies that don't involve other people. Something you could do if you're home alone and your phone is dead. Can be coping strategies you learned in therapy (square breathing, mindfulness, etc.) Or things that just help you take your mind off of things until you're regulated again (hobbies, listening to music, going for a walk, spending time with pets, etc.) Should focus on non-harmful strategies, so avoid things like drinking or getting high. There are lots of possible answers, so it's really just whatever helps the person get back to baseline.

People and social settings that help provide a distraction

Anyone you could potentially call to talk or hang out that would help you take your mind off of things. Can also be people you live with. Doesn't have to be someone you're comfortable spilling your heart out to, just someone who can help distract you until you're feeling better. Similar thing with places. Sometimes just getting a change of scenery can be helpful. If being somewhere dark and quiet helps you regulate, you can put that, though the idea is preferably somewhere you're not alone, like the library, a park, the mall, etc. Again, try to avoid things like the bar as alcohol can make things worse.

People you can ask for help

Distinct from the last question in that these should be people you trust a bit more. Once distractions and coping skills have failed, who would you contact saying, "I need help?" Someone that you can talk to about what's going on, and who could feasibly help you call emergency services or drive you to an ER/crisis center. Can be friends, family, caregivers, staff where you live, etc.

Note about the people sections: Should include phone numbers on the plan so that you don't have to think at all to reach them. Also, best practice is to let people who are on your safety plan know that they are, especially in the "ask for help section"

Professionals or agencies you can contact during a crisis

Generally, people like mental health or medical professionals. If the person has a therapist, you can put them here. Or a trusted doctor. Someone with a bit more training than the typical person.

This section is also where you put down the address of the nearest ER or walk-in crisis center so that, safety permitting, you can go there in person without having to call 911. (Calling 911, while sometimes necessary, often leads to having to deal with police, which can be less than ideal when dealing with a mental health crisis depending on where you are.)

Making the environment safer

This step is where you think/talk about lethal means safety. There's a lot to it, and if you're in a position where you need to support someone who is a high suicide risk and you have limited access to professional help, I recommend you look into "means safety" and "Counseling on access to lethal means" ( aka CALM). In brief, you want to identify any specific methods the person may have thought of. Typically, when someone has suicidal thoughts, there's one or a few specific methods their mind tends to go to, and research has shown that if they actually become actively suicidal their mind will go to that method. If You can limit access to those methods such that it takes even just a few extra minutes, you can save their life. Things like hiding knives in a lock box or having someone else hold onto medications until they need to be dispensed can make a huge difference!

A note about guns: firearms are incredibly deadly to a suicidal person. Some people are very resistant to giving up their firearms, but as I mentioned, even just delaying access to them by a few minutes can be helpful. If you're trying to safety plan with someone who owns firearms, look into local laws about storing them elsewhere, letting a trusted family member hold onto them, etc. Gun safes where the at risk person doesn't know the combination or even just storing ammo separately can make a difference.

What is the most important thing to you that is worth living for?

This question isn't on the one I linked, but it is on the one I use for work. I think it's worth noting, even if you have to write it in. The only "correct" answer is the honest one. What is the one thing (are a few things) that will stay your hand if push came to shove?

Additional resources

Suicideprevention.mhrrg.com has some excellent videos about suicidality and means safety

Zerosuicide.edc.org has some great info about suicide, including a course on CALM. I don't remember if you have to pay for the course or sign in through an organization, but if not it's a great thing to learn about.

Also, I would recommend looking into whether or not your local community mental health centers run walk-in centers (WICs) as they can be a resource if you don't want to call the police or go to the ER.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x Student!reader - just breathe

Mr Evershed x Student reader where they end up having a severe panic attack due to overwhelmed because of how crowded the corridor was - ends up losing consciousness and then when she comes to, she feels like she cant move her body but she just needs calming down which he helps with? - Anon💜

The corridors seemed twice as full today as they did yesterday, you kept bumping into people, and you tried to calm your racing heart.

It was getting warmer, and it was getting harder to breathe and you tried to find somewhere to go but you couldn’t.

So you stopped, leaning against the lockers as you gripped your shirt tightly, breathing nearly impossible now and your vision looked like it was pulsing.

No one seemed to stop what they were doing, and you felt yourself fall.

Students immediately stopped and they started shouting for a teacher to help them as they tried to clear some space around you.

Mr Evershed was sat in a meeting with someone’s parents when he heard someone running into the room.

“Mrs Carp I’m in a meeting!” He snapped.

“A students collapsed in the hallways!” She rushed out.

He nodded and quickly stood up.

“I’m so sorry I’ll be back as soon as I can or we can reschedule!”

With that he ran out the room and followed the woman down the hallways to there teachers were pushing students into classrooms out outside.

Mr Evershed dropped down next to you, placing his hand on your wrist.

“An ambulance won’t be here for a at least a two hours.” Mr Hyatt said.

“We have a collapsed student!” Mr Evershed snapped.

“And they can’t do anything, they’re spread thin at the moment with strikes and such.”

Mr Evershed sighed and nodded his head.

“I know sorry. Get all these students out of here, and Mrs Paracha to bring some water.”

The teachers went off to clear the area and Mr Evershed placed his hand on your forehead.

You weren’t sick, you didn’t have a temperature, but as he was checking your pulse he noticed it was racing.

He knew you had anxiety, so he was trying to list all the possible reasons for you collapsing.

Without knowing the reason he couldn’t do anything else to help but sit there with you.

You slowly blinked, opening your eyes and you started to breathe heavily again.

“Hey, calm down. Calm down.”

Mr Evershed came into your view and you tried to sit up but you couldn’t.

“I.. I can’t move.. I can’t move..” you cried weakly.

He gripped your hand tightly.

“Okay. Okay. (Y/N) Breathe. Breathe.”

You nodded and took slow and deep breaths to try and calm yourself down.

He kept instructing you to breathe for a few moments before he nodded his head, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Good. What happened?”

“Panic attack..”

He nodded his head and helped sit you up, leaning you against the lockers.

“Okay. You just need to stay calm okay? Everyone’s in class, this hallway is closed off. Just calm down, you put you body into shut down mode, so you just have to calm down.”

He lifted your hand and held it out, and it was trembling violently.

“Okay. You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“I.. I can’t calm down.. I can’t..”

Mr Evershed looked around trying to find something to distract you before he thought of something.

“Tell me about that song you were showing your friends this morning.”

“The song..?”

He nodded.

“You were playing a song. It sounded good, what was it?”

“Oh.. that’s my favourite band..”

You slowly started to tell him about the song, about your favourite band and what other songs they did and he kept asking questions.

He kept it simple, music related to music you liked.

He kept looking at your hand, and he noticed the trembling had slowed down.

Reaching for the water bottle, he opened it and held it out to you for you to take a drink.

“Do you think you can move.”

You shuffled a little and furrowed your brows a bit.

“Yeah.. but I don’t know if I can stand..”

“That’s okay, I’ll help.”

He stood up and held his hands out to you, letting you pull yourself up, and you leant against the lockers.

You seemed unsteady on your feet so Mr Evershed shook his head.

“Okay, no let’s sit back down.”

He helped you sit back down and carried on talking to you.

He was hoping you’d be able to get to the office by yourself by the time the next class ended or by the time the ambulance got here

[roseianxiety]

End the Crown Prince

Roceit Week 2023, Day 2: Assassination

Content Warning: Knives, Killing (mentioned), Attempt assassination

Author's Note: This was supposed to be really long but I was straying too far from like, the actual prompt so I just made it an open-ending.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

There was a masquerade ball being held in the castle celebrating the crown prince's 21st birthday. Nobles and other royalties from all around the realm are going to attend, for this will also be the time that the Crown Prince will choose the person he will be betrothed with as his future spouse. Everyone right now will be busy preparing for the celebration, a perfect way for him to enter the palace without suspicion. He was hired by a secret society to assassinate Prince Roman, the crown prince of the kingdom. Janus had been studying Prince Roman's every move for months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Janus stepped out of the carriage on the royal driveway. The palace doors were wide open and the people were milling about the area, getting ready for the evening festivities. He was disguising himself as a duke from a faraway kingdom so that everyone would assume he was just one of the guests attending the ball. He adjusts his mask slightly and then walked towards the castle entrance. He walked into the palace gates and felt a slight sense of unease. He had never before attempted assassination in such a high-profile event and the risks were at an all-time high. Despite this, he ignored his anxieties and reminded himself that he must carry on with his mission.

The palace was more magnificent than he had envisioned, with stunning chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling and golden ornaments embellishing every wall. Janus had to focus on his objective and not let himself get distracted by the grandeur of his surroundings.

He walked through the crowded halls, carefully observing the guests as he passed by. Eventually, he spotted the crown prince, Roman, socializing with the other guests from a distance. He spotted the crown prince, Roman, in the distance, mingling with the other guests. Now all Janus needs to do is formulate a plan to approach the crown prince and distract him away. His mind flashed through various scenarios and it appeared like one would have the most success. He must charm the crown prince and keep him occupied enough until midnight.

Janus took a deep breath and approached the prince with a calm and confident demeanor. As he drew near, he saw Roman's eyes flicker over to him with curiosity. Janus put on his best smile and introduced himself as a foreign duke attending the ball.

"Salutations, your Highness. I am Janus Cassidy, Duke of Delvor. It is a pleasure finally meeting you face to face." Janus purred as he bowed slightly. "Prince Roman Goldenberg. And likewise," Roman replied with a grin. Roman seemed intrigued by the newcomer, and Janus knew he had to keep up his act to maintain the prince's attention.

Janus straightened his posture as he spoke once again, " I wish you a happy birthday, Prince Roman. Though I apologize, I have not brought any gifts with me.".

"That's quite alright, Lord Janus. Material things are unnecessary, your presence here is enough," Roman said sincerely with a bright smile. Janus couldn't help but feel a little taken aback by the prince's kind words. He had expected the crown prince to be arrogant and entitled, like many of the other royals he had encountered. But there is more than meets the eye.

Their conversation was cut short when the announcer announced, "Let us begin the dance!". Immediately, everyone started clapping and cheering and music filled the grand hall while servants carried around trays filled with liquor. Roman raised his glass in acknowledgment of the cheers, but his gaze quickly went back down to the duke. He sets his glass down on the nearest table and offered his hand to Janus, " May I have this dance with you, Lord Janus?" Roman asked.

Janus grinned, " Of course, the pleasure is mine, Your Highness.".

As they danced, Janus continued to keep up his charming facade, making small talk and complimenting the prince on the grandeur of the ball. Roman seemed to enjoy his company, and Janus was starting to, as well. But he must not stray away from the mission he was tasked with, tonight, he shall kill the crown prince. He can't afford distraction.

As the night wore on, he and the prince were now on the balcony. The prince was trying to escape the many princes, princesses, and other nobles trying to court him that night. Roman was telling Janus his woes of having to choose a spouse.

"They simply do not understand that I take no interest in them! I am not ready for marriage, yet they persist. How annoying!" Roman exclaimed dramatically as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. He looked out to the grounds below them, "Being a crown prince is a hassle, there are too many responsibilities to keep up with.". He sighed and turned back to Janus. "How about you, Lord Janus? Tell me about yourself. I've been talking too much of myself, I might've looked quite egotistical to you.".

"I don't think so, your Highness. It's nice hearing you talk." Janus replied nonchalantly. Roman chuckled and smiled softly, "Thank you, I'm glad to hear that". Janus notices a small blush tinting on the prince's cheek, his plan is working well. A few minutes later, Roman speaks up again. "So uh, tell me about yourself. I'd like to know you more, Duke Janus.". There was a hint of curiosity lingering in the prince's voice.

Janus quickly concocted a believable story at the prince's question, "I come from a small kingdom far from here, Your Highness. Our land is rich in natural resources, particularly in precious stones and minerals. As a duke, I oversee the mining operations and the trade of these valuable resources. It's a modest life, but one that I find fulfilling." Janus answered with a smile.

Roman seemed fascinated by Janus' story and asked more questions about his kingdom and his life as a duke. Janus answered them all with ease, never faltering in his made-up story. However, he was constantly reminded of his true purpose for being there. The clock was ticking, and he had to make his move soon.

As the night grew late, the guests started to leave one by one. Janus saw this as his opportunity to make his move. He had noticed that the crown prince was already enamored by him, how naive. While the crown prince was babbling on and on about something Janus did not bother to listen to, Janus slowly drew out the dagger that he hid and leaned close to Roman as if trying to kiss him.

Roman notices the duke leaning closer to him and his face grew redder and redder. "May I kiss you, your Highness? I've been wanting to do this all night," Janus whispered in Roman's ear. Roman's heart raced as he felt the duke's warm breath on his ear. He was taken aback by the sudden question, but the look in Janus' eyes was so intense that he couldn't resist. So, he nodded his head and leaned closer. His lips were so soft against his own...

Janus felt a foreign feeling in his heart, one that he had never experienced before. A tingle spread throughout his body that caused him to drop his dagger below the balcony and wrapped his arms around the prince's neck loosely. Everything else faded to white noise, nothing else mattered except for this kiss. Maybe Janus can put his mission aside for just one night and indulge himself a bit at this moment.

Janus continued with his façade as a duke and still tried to assassinate the prince he always end up failing at his mission because he found himself conflicted between his mission and his growing feelings for Roman. He couldn't deny the strong attraction he had towards the prince, and the guilt of betraying his trust weighed heavily on his conscience. Eventually he had to admit all of this.

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Writing Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @extraintrovertedalien (please tell me if you want to be added or removed in the tag list)

[shootingmorningstar]

Hello! I was wondering if I could maybe perhaps have a match-up? 👉👈 Appearance: Female, (She/Her/They,) very long curly hair! very soft, very bouncy, very thick, like a sheep!, skinny as a stick and physically weak, have a baby face and I hate it so much..don't know if any of this matters or helps but!

Personality: (idk if you like zodiac or if it helps you at all either, but i’m a Gemini Sun, Aquarius Moon, Virgo Rising!)

I’m generally a very quiet and reserved person, especially during first impressions! I’m kind of a shy and anxious lurking shadow who assumes the worst until I get a good enough feel of a person, you know? Then I'm comfortable popping in!

I tend to gravitate towards being "Designated Mom Friend" or "Big Sister Friend?" I love being able to make others feel better about themselves or to help them out. Maybe it’s because of some rough stuff in my past, but I never want anyone to feel similar to the ways I have. If you hurt someone I care about, I am never going like you. But if you hurt me? Eh..it’s not really new? I’m kind of..soft? I cry very easily, be it happy or sad, and it frustrates me! I’m not a soft and squishy person !..okay yes I am but I’m also trying super hard to be the shoulder people can lean on if they need me! Growing a backbone is a work in progress, and sometimes I worry I come off too harsh or mean when I actually use it. A friend once described me like glass; it’s fragile, but a broken piece can still really mess you up, you know? Glass-ness aside, my sense of humor is honestly very dry and sarcastic and you probably wouldn’t expect it out of me! I can get kind of angry over petty things and sort of clingy, but I’ll be fine after some time to let it all pass.

I like playing crocheting and sewing, drawing and writing, and reading tarot cards! I like doing things alone, really, but I love the company of others when they want me to join in. Because it does indeed get lonely being alone sometimes!

I have some really gross depression bouts and lots of anxiety disorders that I do my best to juggle, but, sometimes I just have to shut down for a bit and sleep.

Values: Someone who can make me smile when I’m really having a hard time! I guess that sounds a little silly, but even something small to distract me from my thoughts is huge. Loyalty also? Admittedly I get kind of jealous and clingy when people I like hang around others too much..especially if I don’t like those others. I also really like um..acts of service I guess it is? Little things matter to me most!

NOPES: People who takes themselves too seriously. Disinterest/poking fun at in my hobbies or insecurities. Being completely babied/not letting me try to grow. Making assumptions based on appearance or first impressions alone.

OH- I'm Demi with a male preference? Is this enough to work with? Hopefully so, thanks again!

-🐑

Of course you can, anon .ᐟ Don't worry, this is more than enough. I love the details, it really helps me be able to envision a matchup .ᐟ

Anon, I'm matching you with . . .

Sir Pentious .ᐟ

From what I understand about you, it seems like you really need somebody loyal and willing to make you happy, to cheer you up through the times where you're not feeling your greatest, and who's more loyal than Sir Pentious .ᐣ He's the first sinner soul to ever make it to Heaven, and for good reason .ᐟ He is devoted to his cause and the people around him, and your mom friend like behavior would endear you to him.

Not to mention he already seems to be fond of the sarcastic type .ᐟ I think he would absolutely adore your sense of humor. Snakes are typically solitary creatures, so your more reserved nature would really strike a chord with him. You mentioned your long hair .ᐣ He would love to comb it out for you. He has to be really gentle with his scales so I think he could sort of relate in that scenario. Sew or crochet him his Egg Bois some sweaters and he will be absolutely over the moon. Maybe you could help him fix Alastor's coat to make amends .ᐣ Either way, I think he would be a great match for you .ᐟ

[rabbitindisguise]

oh man I don't have holiday plans this year and I know why (it's because I basically haven't hung out with any of my friends for the past 8 months) but it still Sucks especially because I know the past couple months I have just been all over the place mentally and emotionally so I wouldn't but up for it anyways but mrehmreghrhehgugh

it is the first time since *checks watch* 2019 where I genuinely didn't have anyone to spend time with to distract me from the Everything so I dunno I'm really feeling it this year I guess. Doing this without a therapist is really hard. I can tell I'm rapid cycling but it's hard to climb out of it :/ plus the group meeting social thing I go to felt unsatisfying for a number of reasons like I was hoping it wouldn't be. I just feel. Bad.

So like, all of these are the problems, which means once I understand them I can start planning out a way to reframe it and even potentially think of solutions . . . . so okay there's a lot of reasons why this is different from last time. I do have plans just not the day of. It's not that people don't want to hang out with me, most of them are just on the east coast. The last time I had a really good experience but also it was a lot of physical and mental strain and I might react to it more poorly this year. The past couple weeks I've been ruminating, participating in a lot of negative self talk, sleeping poorly, and my routines are still all thrown off. I haven't been talking the breaks I need. This is even a good opportunity to sort out my priorities on how I want to spend my time and strike a balance between online hobbies (which tend to trigger mania) and physical in person meetups (which tend to give me more psychological stability).

It's not even online vs in person, because these negative emotions are affecting me even when I'm talking to friends online. Plus I can use this as a good opportunity to catch up on things, like editing photos from flower piano and other trips and that link collection I promised. This gives me time to work on gifts and black friday too- I want to get the most bang for buck on things I typically can't afford, and having some time available to do that is nice. And for the rest of the time pre-holidays, I can finish updating my bullet journal like I haven't done in forever and go over all the good things/important things that have happened to build a more accurate perception of my progress with my mental health over the past year. Frankly I feel like most of my progress stalled in feburary and it's been awhile of just putting my coping skills to the test. But I do know that even if it feels that way, I have really made progress in some areas, and I should continue to do the habits that I found to be the most helpful in maintaining the best conditions for me to communicate successfully with others and make people feel comfortable. I can send cards again and stuff too as a treat because I find that relaxing.

Other than that this is making me think I should make plans in my budget to get a light therapy lamp because this aligns too perfectly with daylight savings (some symptoms, the particularly concerning ones like anxiety and panic attacks as well as overwhelming dread over social interactions). I don't need to get a new bullet journal, but I should probably consider getting copic refills at some point since I'll be picking it up again and that's a big part of my journaling . . . process? technique? it's what I do when I have some extra energy to devote to it.

List of things to do:

light therapy lamp

catch up on bullet journaling

edit photos

shop for presents, make presents, and send cards

calendar the different events I want to go to (maybe big day holidays in person, smaller less celebrated holidays online, etc)

sleep before 2 a.m.

wake up before 10 a.m.

take my multivitamin (and frankly the rest of my "extra" medications like benedryl) consistently

stay hydrated and fed

make plans for copic budgeting

I also need to be reasonable with myself with what I can actually afford and what I actually need. I've felt an increasing pressure financially because of a bunch of *waves hand* debt stuff but ultimately I can't live my life waiting for that to resolve. So I can sort of make the assumption that I will have money going forward and should start using my savings account properly now that I'm planning on doing that.

[jakesullysleftnipple]

A Mission With Miles

Chapter 3 (Training day 2)

It’s getting closer till the mission has to be taken out. As time grows so does the connection shared with the colonel. Is it out of spite? Admiration? Whatever that answer may be, both parties can feel it. The only question is will it continue to grow or cease?

A/n: this chapter will contain slight nsfw and degradation towards the end!

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Once again you’re up early before training. But this time you’re up even earlier. Thoughts of having to engage in combat with him only fills you with anxiety. You know you won’t be at your A game today so that troubles you even more.

“I’m not gonna last long today..”

You groan to yourself and rub your eyes as the thoughts consume your head. You eventually shake them off and start to get ready once again. Since you're working on hand to hand combat you decided to wear tights and a tank top. You pull your hair back into the same messy bun and try to wake yourself up more. You splash some water on your face in your bathroom before you decide to head out. You sleepily walk your way to the training room. It was still pretty early so you decide to catch a short nap before your next session. A few minutes pass before you’re abruptly awoken by him.

“Wakey Wakey small fry, ain’t get enough sleep im guessing?"

You jet awake and look around hectically trying to remember where you were. All the memories flood back and you calm down once you realize where you were. You rub your eyes and let out a pretty big yawn.

“Yes sir, had trouble sleeping..”

“That won’t stop training now would it? Would be ashamed if it did.”

“No sir, not at all..”

You quickly respond knowing he wouldn’t be pleased if you chicken out. He closes and locks the room door to avoid outside distraction. He takes off most of his heavy equipment and only has his regular uniform on. He walked over across the room and waited for you to stand. You gathered all your strength and stood up. Your heavy eyes met his eager eyes. His tail slightly sways from side to side, his ears perked to the roof, his growing excitement couldn’t be contained. Even if there was a disadvantage between you to.

“Come on sugar cube, don’t keep me waiting now.”

“What did he just call me?”

You question while looking at him with a confused look. The nickname caught you off guard, coming from him it was a bit weird but you decided not to dwell on it any longer. You take a deep breath before you make an attempt to fight quaritch. You walk up quickly to him and try to jab him in the chest. Before your fist could make contact with him he roughly grabbed your wrist and flung you back. You stumble backwards a few steps but catch yourself before you fall. His tail swayed more and he smirked at you. He knew you wouldn’t be able to beat him in this state. He was gonna enjoy teaching you.

“Again. This time watch your footing.”

You nod and strike him again. You managed to hit him but he didnt move not one inch. He wrapped his tail around your ankle and pulled your leg from underneath you. You fall back and land on your back. Thankfully you didn't hit your head but you were quite annoyed with this training already. Why did you need to fight him if you’re just getting samples? You start asking yourself.

“Why do I need to fight you if I'm just getting samples? Shouldn’t I learn to just use a gun? I don't need to fight you. It's useless. ”

You stay on the ground too tired to get back up. You let out a few small huffs and await his response. He didn’t like it one bit. His ears stretched backwards and his eyes glared at you. You walked over to you and got on all fours. He placed himself directly over you. Your small body underneath his tall blue na’vi form. He grabbed both of your wrist and held them over your head with one arm and firmly grabbed your throat with the other. Your eyes widened and your body squirmed tiredly from his grip. He had you and he wasn’t going to let you go. Not just yet.

“Y/n. I don’t know who you think you are but you’re not big or bad. When you’re working with me you are below me. You are My underling. You will act like it and you will do as I say. I don’t appreciate your tone nor your attitude. Don’t question my ways and you Will do as I say. Do I make myself clear y/n?”

His grip tightens around your wrist. The glare in this man's eye was sharper than the double edged sword. Your back arches and you grab his hand trying to get him to let go. You look up at him with a look in your eyes that lets him know you were defeated. Your eyes softened and you squirmed under him more. You let out a small whimper before you began to plead.

“Y-yes, I-i understand."

You let out weakly while letting out yet another whimper. You look up at him flustered from his closeness.

“Yes what y/n?"

“...Y-yes sir.”

Hearing your pathetic pleads and whimpers made him smile. He looked at the pitiful expression and his excitement grew even more. His tail moved swiftly and his eyes were glued to you. He licked his bright blue lips right before he decided to respond.

“That’s what I like to hear buttercup. You’re clearly no good at fighting like this so go back and get some rest. I want you to be on your A game tomorrow, I won't be so merciful this time around. Now get up. ”

Yet another nickname he gives to you. He finally lets you go and gets from on top of you.

“Thank you sir..I will”

You nod your head and quickly escort yourself out the room with your hands close to your chest. His actions shocked you, You didn’t know how to feel. Seeing him tower over you like that, You were stunned but in some odd way, you did like it. Your face flushed red as you scurried your way back to your room. You swiftly close the door and lock it. You back pressed and against the door and you slide down the door onto your bottom. Your heart raced as you relieved that moment in your head over and over again. You were unable to form words but you knew the way you felt was intense. You wondered how quaritch felt, if he had the same intense feelings as you. You tried to shake the thoughts by going back to bed. You laid down in your bed and stared at the ceiling. You doubted yourself, trying to push your there's no way he could feel the same way. But little did you know that was a lie. Instead of dwelling on those feelings you decided to show him what you were capable of tomorrow.

Quaritch was back in his office sitting down at his desk. His foot tapped the ground frantically, his tail moved quickly from side to side, his ears perked up, and his pupils were dilated. He bit his lip in frustration but why? He couldn’t get the look of your face, the sounds you made, nor the way your body squirmed beneath him. Seeing you, so pitiful, so obedient, only drove him crazy. His face was a deep shade of blue, his heart almost leaped out of his chest with excitement. He enjoyed every second of it. He enjoyed feeling and being superior to you. He loved putting you in your place, where you deserve to be. Below him. Hearing your pathetic little whimpers as you responded to him. Just thinking of what he did made him hard. He could feel himself grow more erect with every passing minute.

“ D-damnit y/n..”

He groaned to himself while getting filled with more frustration. He covered his face with one and with the other he slipped his hand down to pulsing dick to hold it. He wouldn’t give into his urges, but you made it so hard for him. Right as he did that, Parker came bursting through the door like usual. What an inconvenience for Quaritch that was.

“There better be a good reason for you busting in my damn office like this Selfridge.”

He glared up at him with an annoyed look in his bright yellow eyes.

“How’s training going with Y/n? The mission is a week away and we need them ready by then.”

“ Oh..It’s going just well. They’ll be ready soon. That’s a promise.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear colonel!”

He grinned at him and left the room with the same quickness as when he entered. Quaritch was still erect but he controlled his intense urges. He smirked and chuckled to him while leaning back in his chair. He dragged his hand from down his face to over his mouth. Who knew you were able to make a man like Miles Quaritch this crazy. He looked forward to what tomorrow may hold for the both of you during training. One thing was for sure, this man was starting to feel something for you. He hasn’t paid much attention to you but now his interest in you is steadily growing.

[equustenebris]

The Very Noisy Night

Moon hated thunderstorms. They were loud, distracting, dangerous for electronics of all sorts. But he didn't hate them as much as Sun. And putting Sun down for a "nap" overnight during a vicious storm proves a lot more difficult than the Naptime Attendant anticipated. [Read on AO3!]

Set sometime before the events of Security Breach, when everything is fine and Moon is just a regular feature of the Pizzaplex instead of a homicidal stalker ✌🏻 Though I like to headcanon that to some degree Moon was always just Like That. A little rough around the edges, a little (unintentionally) sharp and curt, lol. Short, snappy sentences, feels kinda predatory, yadda yadda. 

This is technically a Whumptober 2022 prompt, but it's not really...uh...whumpy, lol. I just find them really inspiring. :>  I always like to use the Whumptober titles when I use those prompts so that's where the title comes from, but I think I probably could have just called this one Daycare Attendant Has Overstimulation Meltdown lmfao. 

I haven't read, like. a ton of Security Breach fic or anything so I don't know how conventional this is, but I'll be using <> to denote Sun/Moon's internal speech to each other. Blame Animorphs.  lol nvm Tumblr keeps eating my italics so y'all get French quotations on here. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

prompt: caught in a storm

Another deafening boom shook the walls of the daycare, causing Moon to leap up several feet in surprise for about the twentieth time that night. The summer storm overhead had been raging for hours, and the thunder and lightning was near constant. The Pizzaplex still had power, for now, though it was nearing two in the morning and the daycare's lights were off, leaving Moon in charge.

Moon was pacing, skulking around the floor of the daycare, knocking over and fixing various stacks of toys over and over again for want of something to do. He desperately needed something else to focus on, to distract. Too much pent up energy, too much anxiety. Putting lightning safety first meant no staying in the comfort of their high-up room or using his ceiling-connected cable to get around, and so he was grounded for the time being, slinking around the middle of the daycare floor. Stressed.

He hated storms. He hated the lightning, the electric bursts were incredibly dangerous for the animatronics. He hated the thunder, explosive and sudden, overwhelming and scary. And he hated the pouring sheets of rain, loud and distracting, too hard to hear anything else around him whenever he was trying to focus on security.

However, as much as he feared and hated the storms, he still wasn't as bad as Sun.

There was a strangled scream from somewhere deep inside his head as another lightning strike cracked thunder nearby; the screaming was louder than the thunder itself and Moon put a hand to his faceplate.

"Sun!" he growled aloud, patience already worn thin from the stress of the storm.

«Sorry, sorry,» he whimpered in response, strung tighter than a violin and twice as screechy. «It's so loud, Moony!»

"Go to sleep," Moon snarled audibly, leaping on top of a pile of stackable barrels. "If you would go into sleep mode, you wouldn't have to hear it!"

«Sleep? Sleep? Hah -- I can't sleep! Who could sleep with all this racket?» Moon could tell by the crackle of Sun's voice in his head that if he physically could be pacing around like a headless chicken right now, he absolutely would. «Nooo no no, it's too loud, much too loud! And there's the danger of the lightning, maybe hail, oh, or the ceiling could get water damage --»

«You need rest mode tonight,» Moon tried again, internally this time, more snarled than comforting despite his position as the Naptime Attendant. He couldn't help it, he was frustrated. Sun was driving him crazy with all of his anxiety, and the hammering of the torrent on the roof of the Pizzaplex was already enough to set him on edge. He drummed his fingertips against the sides of the barrels before leaping off again, crawling on all fours along the floor. «Running too long. Need garbage collection.»

«I keep my threads tidy enough, thank you!» Sun replied stiffly, momentarily distracted out of his anxiety by the utter audacity.

Moon paused for a moment, silently calculating, and drew himself up to full height. "2,378 open processes," he replied aloud. 

«I -- but that's not -- Moony!»

"Using my cores right now," he continued. "Sleep. You won't hear the storm. I get my processors back. Everybody's happy."

There was a soft grumble of frustration somewhere deep internal. «...I'm too scared to go to sleep, Moony,» he replied, soft and timid.

As if on cue, a bolt of lightning arced the sky outside and the thunder rattled the very floor of the Pizzaplex. Moon jumped, Sun shrieked, and it distracted him into a misstep on the landing; his ankle joint caught on his other foot and he tumbled forward, head over jingly heels, face first into the ball pit. 

For a few confusing seconds, Moon couldn't tell which way was up, lost in a sea of rainbow colors -- or, more accurately, a sea of off-green, with his nighttime infrared cameras active. Finally he broke the surface, springing up and out of the ball pit, landing in a crouch at the edge and giving a stray ball an angry slap back into the pit. 

«Sun,» he growled, frustrated. But Sun wasn't paying attention, softly whimpering instead. Moon softened and hesitated, listening, feeling for his other half. «...Sun?»

«I hate storms,» he muttered lowly, almost a whisper, highly uncharacteristic of the bright and vibrant animatronic. Moon couldn't help but soften at that, slumping a little.

«...me too, Sunny,» he tried, putting a hand to his faceplate. He paused for a moment, just listening to the sound of the rain hammering the roof. Then suddenly, he brightened. «...I have an idea.»

Sun appeared to pause in his anxious, racing thoughts for just a moment. «You do?»

«Just wait,» Moon mumbled, taking off on all fours toward the daycare's stash of costumes and supplies. 

---

It took him a few minutes to prepare, ignoring Sun's near-constant questioning the entire while as he dragged a massive pile of fabric, blankets, and costumes out into the center of the room. He got to work quickly, Sun metaphorically hovering over his shoulder as he started stacking up towers and laying down blankets. 

By the time he was done, it had really taken shape. A large tent made of a hapdash mishmash of different items, piled high with essentially all of the fabric available in the daycare. A colorful mix of blankets hung off of the sides, dotted occasionally with the odd princess dress or cowboy pants. 

Satisfied with his handiwork, Moon quickly closed the distance between the tent and the side wall. He plucked a large, hard plastic ball off the shelf, giving it a twist that turned on the soft glowing light within in the motif of a sun. They used it sometimes during naptime whenever a child was particularly scared of the dark; it wasn't bright enough by any means to trigger a shift, but it might bring a touch of comfort to the otherwise pitch black daycare. Moon tossed the ball aimlessly back and forth between his hands before returning to his makeshift tent, peeling back the blanket of the "door" to toss it onto the middle of the pile of fabric on the floor.

He could feel Sun's confusion as he climbed inside, sealing the tent behind him. He took a seat cross-legged on the floor, lit by the gentle glow of the sun-ball in front of him. The tent was wide enough underneath that the both of them could fit together, if such a thing were possible, but only just tall enough that Moon had to sit a little slumped. 

«Anti-storm tent,» Moon announced finally. He paused a beat, tilting his faceplate. «Cozy.»

Sun didn't immediately reply, but Moon could sense his curiosity, anxious, but tentatively inquisitive. «Moon --» he began, but was cut off by another strike of thunder. 

Sun yelped, but this time, Moon didn't jump -- the sound of the storm was muffled by the layers and layers around them, the thunder brought down from a deafening roar to a deep, low rumble. Moon's eyes narrowed to slits and he tilted his faceplate again. «See? Quiet now.»

He could feel Sun's hesitance, but also the slight relaxation of his hold over Moon's running processors. «...it is quieter in here,» he finally agreed. 

«Yes. Right. Quiet. Warm. Restful.» Moon spread out his legs before lowering himself to the ground, gangly limbs curled up in the mound of clothes around the sun ball. «See?»

Sun didn't respond. Moon drummed his fingers along the ground. «Safe,» he tried again. 

«...safe,» Sun repeated, «yes. Yes. Yeah. Safe. I do feel pretty safe in here. Okay. Thanks, Moony.»

«Rest mode now?» he queried, flexing and twitching his fingers.

There was another aching pause as Sun considered. «...will you sit with me?»

«I'm always with you,» Moon retorted, tone equal parts comforting and teasing, nearly mock-annoyance. He pulled himself back up into a cross-legged position nonetheless.

He could feel Sun pull away, like a wave ebbing from the shore, freeing up resources. Memory slots opened, closing open processes, relaxing.

Out loud, Moon softly hummed some gentle notes, a familiar lullaby he would often sing to his naptime group. There was a sense of amusement from his other half as Moon began his song; now that he was finally calming down, it was at last hitting Sun just how much Moon had been treating him like one of his children, doing whatever it took to put him down for a nap.

«...you should use this tent with the kids,» Sun offered, a little embarrassed, a little deflecting, overwhelmingly grateful. Moon gave a soft, audible shh in response before resuming his tune.

Sun took the hint. Before Moon was able to finish his song, he pulled himself into sleep mode, finally relinquishing the hold he had on their shared resources. Moon visibly slumped with relief, his own anxiety lifting. He was much more comfortable in his makeshift tent, being buffered against the crashing storm, but more than that, it scratched a familiar itch to finally get his other half put down for his nap. Like fulfilling a deep purpose, he was more than calmed, he was satisfied.

Moon closed his eyes, grasping for the sun-ball in front of him, hand resting loosely.on top of it, grounding. He would sit in the tent until morning, when the storm was finally over and the Pizzaplex was bright again, and gently wake his other half before leaving the darkened tent to start the day.

[olivescales3]

The Forgotten Legends of Chima Episode 2 (part 1)

Laying down on the ground, the lightened gloom strikes at us by the moon, tinting our surroundings with various monochromatic shades of purple. No matter how much Cragger counts the stars, or how much we spend time blathering about our lives, the purple moon sits still in the spotlight, stagnant; nighttime has never been this slow and peaceful. Everything seems serene– it's impossible to not feel refreshed, absorbed by the calm, soothing wind. I notice Cragger get up, ripping off the grass with his feet. He stands still, stiffening his body into a square, although moving his tail side by side, as he crosses his arm and mumbles.

Unable to hear him properly, I reach out to him in anxiety, "Hey, Cragger… what's the matter?"

He lifts his lip, exposing his gums, "I want to leave", he replies.

Instinctively, I seize his hand onto mine, out of fear that he rushes away from me, yet, even then, I might lose him– my vision is dim, we don't have enough light near us. The worst part is… that I don't even know where we are. Cragger… please don't go. You'll hurt yourself.

He growls, rasping his voice in an unusual tone, "Why are you grabbing me? Can't I walk around for a second?"

I try to drag Cragger down, but he agitates his hand, making me lose my grip. "Please, stay! I don't want you to—"

An unfortunate event happens, as my friend runs towards the unrecognizable horizon. No– not again! Why can't he stop abandoning me like this? I don't want to be alone. I don't. Why does he need to be so reckless?

I won't let go of him. This world is too dangerous. I push my paws forward and sprint with the speed my feeble legs can gather, the wind flies on my fur, everything around me blurs uncontrollably—

Thud!

I crash onto the ground. Cragger's shouts echo out of nowhere, hiding light whimpers of nervousness, blending in with my cries. The moment we shut our lips, leaves crunch from the distance. I turn around, and for a millisecond I encounter a wolf, with pitch black fur, staring at me, with a long, macabre snarl, as if it's smiling. It pounces at me— I fling my blanket across the room, gasping for air, as tears flood out of my eyes. Paralyzed, I can't cry for help. I'm alone, afraid. Each word I utter turns out as sobs. My rapid breathing suddenly starts to strangle me. Am I spiraling out of control? A gentle touch falls upon my shoulder; my dad, who pants as if he just ran a thousand miles, squeezes me comfortably between his arms.

"My son! What happened? Your hands are cold…", Lagravis whispers.

My ribs clamp, heart pounding stiffly. Without self control, I end up shouting, "Wolf! The wolf jumped at me!"

Blood pressure skyrockets. Head feels light. Pain spreads throughout me. It irks me with its adrenaline.

Dad pets my head, and, despite my panic, his soft paw pads warm my chilling skin. I lean onto him, in for a hug. It feels good. My breath… is returning back to normal. Phew– I meditate, breathing in the fresh air in my room. What happened?... What? Was that even real? He looks at me, confused. Of course, he asks if it was a nightmare. It probably was, thank goodness. There's no need to lash out like this.

"Laval", he holds my hand, "Was there anyone else in your dream?"

Ohh. No, no, no. No. I don't want to make my dad worried. I don't want to hear about the incident, but lying is not an answer.

"I dreamt about Cragger running away from me."

Dad itches his chin. He's going to piece everything together. He'll take my nightmare seriously.

"I see… It's normal to relive our worst fears during our sleep. Don't fret, my son. I'll take care of everything." He tucks me on my bed and kisses my forehead. It is now morning. I look at myself in the mirror to distract myself: my red mane is starting to grow into little tufts, which means that in the near future I will no longer be a cub, but a teenager. I tidy my sapphire blue tunic and put on my golden belt, locking it with my lion-faced buckle. My pale tan fur, after the nightmare, has become frizzy. Petrified amber eyes highlight the sickly dread on my muzzle. My paws are trembling. As I relax by the windowless stone arch, the view of our city from the temple looks amazing, comforting me a bit; I can observe the forts forming a hexagon shape, the agglomeration of housing glued to its corners, and the tall, spherical towers at each edge. The center of the Lion Temple is bustling with animals from all tribes to visit the monthly Chi Market to sell their products. At this angle, everyone inside our kingdom looks like ants.

I might as well leave my room and take a breather.

@fenth-eiria @aspiringfictionwriter @shrimps-e @axl-ul