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silkscream · 2 years

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𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞

ੈ✩ pairing: eddie munson x reader

ੈ✩ summary: a late night at lover’s lake has eddie falling head over heels for you.

ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+), unprotected sex, drug use, choking

ੈ✩ wc: 2.6k

ੈ✩ a/n this was supposed to be a blurb um rip

eddie munson is afraid to break you. he treats you like glass, though crystal would be more accurate than anything tempered. he’s afraid to touch you, really touch you, even though you had beckoned him like a river goddess down at the lake with your soft smile and doe-eyes, and god, you’d been invading his dreams since the moment you’d arrived in hawkins.

eddie doesn’t do anything half-assed — not as hellfire club’s DM, not as corroded coffin’s guitarist, certainly not as a lover. it’s what you like about him, that underneath all that sterling silver is calloused bravery.

but now, in the dead of night at lover’s lake, he stands there shivering just a bit and refusing to break the gossamer abstraction of whatever web acts as a barrier between the two of you. he fiddles with his rings as he watches you lick the joint into place. the tension is threadbare and aching to be cut with a knife.

he’s mesmerized by the glow of the flame nearly licking your face when you light the joint. you blink back, blowing smoke at his face with a grin.

“all yours, munchkin,” you murmur.

“that’s new. y’come up with that on your own?” eddie scoffs, taking the joint from you. he thinks that maybe he needs something stronger than weed right now to calm down. he doesn’t know why it feels like every electron in his body seems to shake the closer you get to him. maybe it was yesterday’s acid trip.

he thinks briefly about what that high would be like with you, imagining the two of you peaking at the same time and seeing stars in each other’s irises. maybe one day.

“yes, actually.”

he mumbles some smartass comeback, but you don’t respond. the earth seems to stand still — even the slow current of the lake is eerily stagnant while the two of you wordlessly pass the joint back and forth. "come on eileen” comes on the radio and eddie makes a snide remark awaiting your approval or denouncement, but you’re too busy watching the reflection of the moon on the lake. within minutes, you’re pulling off your denim shorts.

“what’re you--”

“you coming or what?” you tease him as your hair billows around you, framing your face. your back is turned as you strip off your— eddie’s — hellfire club t-shirt. you’d insisted on borrowing his earlier because you wanted your own, and secretly, he wants it back just so he can keep your scent in his room. as it lands on the ground, eddie’s wide eyes trail up your bare body, which gets smaller and enveloped in darkness as you walk away from him.

“fuck it,” he curses under his breath, quick and clumsy in his movements to follow your lead. he contemplates whether or not to take off his boxers but the splash of the water makes him panic, so he runs in after you instead with them still on.

he gulps down the lump in his throat once he sees you floating on your back, eyes closed and brain shut off from the world. you look so peaceful that he doesn’t want to disturb you, but you open your eyes just to smile at him in a way that looks like more. eddie doesn’t know how to describe it, but there’s something different — maybe it’s the moonlight, perhaps it’s the weed, but he swears something shifts.

you swim over to him, splashing him on the way. in fits of giggles, the two of you play like little kids until the endorphins in eddie’s brain make him fearless. suddenly, he disposes of his inhibitions -- he can touch you again. fingertips dancing across your naked waist in retaliation, in innocent tickles, until the gesture feels almost obscene. after you calm down from your hushed, breathless laughter, eddie is hyper-aware of your naked form in front of him, obscured by the lake, but naked nonetheless.

after the upside-down, eddie’s been cautious. it’s against his very nature, but the nightmares hold him to a different standard. but the way you look at him right now makes him want to break free — he’s been good for too long now. two blinks and an exhale and he realizes that he feels lightheaded. maybe you are a river goddess after all.

you lean into him and it takes his breath away. with wide eyes, you look at him with something unfathomable. he’s about to kiss you, but you raise a finger to your lips. shhh.

rustling leaves and footsteps steal your attention from eddie for a few moments as he watches the gears in your brain turn, your ears fine-tuning from the sudden presence of another. when you look towards land, there’s nothing there.

“hawkins is definitely fucking haunted, huh?”

“it’s that damn hellfire cult,” eddie jokes. he’s relieved to hear your laugh, but part of his spirit is broken from the sudden burst in his bubble. he thinks that maybe he’s still high enough to kiss you. maybe.

but you swim to shore before he even has time to think. the humid july air licks your wet skin as you shiver, draping a blanket from eddie’s truck bed around you as you watch him come back to you. he follows your lead, covering himself up with a blanket as he plops down in the grass next to you.

“what’ve you been waiting for, eds?” you ask him slowly, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean.”

it’s this time that you look at him, actually look at him, with your libertine gaze muted under coquettish lashes, mouth pulled into a deceptive, innocent pout. you know exactly what you’re doing. eddie has a hint of it, too, but he doesn’t have the usual confidence that carries his eccentric personality. no, with you, all of his walls are torn down without as much as you trying. the mere proximity of you makes his stomach drop.

he gulps. tries out that cocky attitude of his that he normally parades. he’s high enough, anyway.

“gotta be more specific, sweetheart.”

at this point, you can’t wait any longer. the moment between blinking your lashes at him and closing in the gap between you feels like an hour for him, but a split second for you. but when it happens, when he feels your soft lips on his tasting of sweetness with a hint of weed and mint, he takes the lead that you’ve been secretly prompting him of — strong, silver-adorned hands gripping your jaw as he moves into your space.

you’ve wanted him long enough to not care at how you’re perceived at this moment, which is a miracle that you’re willing to unpack at a later date. when you kiss him, you think that maybe you could consume, be the succubus for once. how beautiful he is when he’s all over your mouth.

you stumble in your balance, too lost in his lips to even be aware of your own body. when you’re conscious of yourself again, you unravel the blanket draped around your shoulders to set beneath you, leaning backward onto its soft cloth. eddie follows your lead and descends his kisses down your throat to suckle on your collarbone. he wishes he could bottle up every sound out of your mouth for later.

“was that specific enough?” you whisper, pulling away. you grin at him and it’s like the moonlight illuminates your face and nothing else. his giant brown eyes trail your bare face and your chest, and he remembers that you’re fully naked under him. and jesus christ, he’s fully naked above you besides the stupid striped blanket bunched around his hips.

“think so,” he grins.

he resumes kissing your mouth, using his teeth to nip you in a way that leaves the slightest red mark, but not enough to linger. you’re still too elusive for him to know whether or not a lovebite would be acceptable, but god knows he’d love to mark you as his.

your tiny mewls encourage him further, so he presses his lips onto your collarbone, then your chest again, until he suckles onto your nipple with eagerness. you moan in response, gripping his dark locks from his scalp as hard as you can. your eagerness makes him harder. he has to tell himself to calm down, convince himself not to completely rut against your thigh, but god, it’s so hard.

“stop playing with me,” you whine in desperation.

“isn’t that what you wanted, huh?” eddie taunts you. his anxiety has dissipated and he’s himself again, that little shit. grinning his little fangs at you before he gets your permission to devour you completely. and you thought you were the succubus.

“was just trying to get a rise outta you, eds. i need you. now,” you demand, bucking your hips upwards as you tug at his still-damp curls. “’m not gonna fuckin’ beg.”

“mm, but what if that’s what’ll get me to do anything to you?”

you let out an irritated huff. two can play at that game.

without a warning, you rise from the ground to flip eddie onto his back, switching your positions. now, you straddle him, the moonlight from the lake slightly backlighting your silhouette in a way that makes you look like a vision from heaven. it’s funny how much eddie wants you — wants you so bad that his mouth is dry from all that thirst but he realizes he’s salivating from the sight of you alone.

you’re on top of him, his naked body, and his dick is hard and raised to hit the small trail of the lining of his stomach. he doesn’t have the time to blush or be embarrassed, so he merely sets his ringed fingers on your hips while he gazes up at you.

“not so used to being controlled, munson?” you tease.

“not used to… much,” he croaks with honesty. his high makes him vulnerable around you. he doesn’t care. “’s been a while.”

“really?”

“mhm.”

“y’know, as the hotshot dungeon master and all, i thought you’d be getting the most pussy.”

“please. i barely have the time. and the time i do have has been for you. ever since you stepped foot in hawkins, i’ve wanted to make time for you.”

“shut up. not the eddie munson getting all soft for me.”

he’s about to retaliate with one of his smart-ass responses but you grind your pussy onto his hard length and it makes him shiver completely. the grip his hands have on your hips get even tighter, clutching you as if you’re about to flee.

“excited, are we?”

“hurry up before i change my mind.”

it’s a first for both of you — this spontaneous intimacy, this lust that each of you is acting upon despite the bottled-up desires lasting for months on both ends. neither of you had ever made the assumption that the two of you would hook up despite the thought lingering in the back of your minds. and tonight, it was only to become a reality.

he pushes his cock into you gently, easily losing himself once he feels how warm and tight you are while you hold back tears from the feeling of his thickness. maybe it’s because you’re high, but you think this is what it feels like — divinity in its purest form.

“you’re so beautiful,” eddie slurs into your neck when he rises his upper body while he pushes into you, stamina at a sudden all-time high.

“you are,” you breathlessly reply.

he’s mesmerized by the way you ride him, the languid shift of your hips as your cunt pulsates around his cock, gripping him like a vice. he brings his hands to cradle your lips and you shiver from the cool silver of those damn rings of his. the feeling of his fingertips dancing around your sides, rising to palm your bouncing breasts.

with a grin, you grind your body forward and moan lewdly. he can’t take it — he nearly bursts right then and there if it isn’t for the fact that he switches your positions.

even in his domination, he’s still gentle, still handling you like you’re a fallen seraphim. you huff at him and buck your hips up aggressively to report otherwise — that you want to be treated roughly, that you want to achieve a certain level of catharsis with his passion.

eddie seems to understand at least a part of it considering the depth and speed of his thrusts, ramming into you mercilessly as you cry out in pleasure.

“holy— shit—”

“eddieeee, think ‘m gonna cum soon,” you gasp as you writhe underneath him. your body feels like it’s vibrating, so you use eddie as a reminder that you’re alive. tugs to the hair, slaps to the skin.

“yeah? cum for me, sweetheart. i wanna see it all over your face.”

his comment alone makes your heart pound even faster. it’s fitting, really, considering that the moment you want to say anything, you realize how much you want to impress him. how much you adore him, how much of those hours of examining him in his quieter state during senior year physics had paid off. he really is a sweetheart, that eddie munson. how could anyone say otherwise?

“oh, god, that feels so good—”

you gasp softly, keening into the warmth of his palm on your face as you kiss his fingers, taking them knuckle-deep into your mouth before he even has the idea to ask. his jaw is slack, watching you.

with a pop, he lets go of your mouth so that he can drag his canines against the swell of your throat, arching along with the rest of your body under him. gripping the towel underneath you, your other hand tangled in his hair, you whine softly.

“yeah?” he murmurs against your skin, and you swear that the raspy sound of his voice, breathless, contributes to the blatant intoxication you have from his touch.

it’s like you’ve gone dumb, your breath rugged and head spinning. he’s lifted himself up now so that he’s supporting his body with his knees. eddie spreads your legs wider, hands gripping your thighs and pulling them upward for easier access. at this angle, you think you’re about to lose it.

there’s no sweeter sound in the world than the sound of you begging for him.

“eddie,” you whine. “oh my god—”

“you gonna let go for me?”

“y-yes. fuck, i’m gonna—”

“fuck— fuck! shit, i’m close, too,” he grunts.

he widens his eyes at the sounds coming from your mouth and suddenly his hands are over your mouth as he chuckles breathlessly.

“y’gonna wake the ghosts up, baby.”

“shut up,” you muffle underneath him. he’s barely holding you down, so you take his hand in yours and move it to your throat.

he squeezes slightly, just enough for that sweet head rush to flow through your fucked-out head. you swear you lose your vision for a second when the threshold comes. it’s tectonic, earth-shattering, the way his cock plunged into you so deeply. you nearly wail as you orgasm. how fragile you are, his poor little thing. underneath the moonlight the slickness of your skin makes you look like you’d been washed ashore.

within seconds, eddie is able to release himself with a guttural groan, his head buried into your shoulder, soft curls tickling the underside of your chin. his hair is still a bit damp, so it’s a cooling sensation. he kisses you right then, swallows up your exhales while your naked chest heaves up and down to calm down from the adrenaline.

eddie attempts to get up but his legs are slightly disoriented. he’s too drunk on your body to leave it, anyways.

he decides to bury his head into your chest, breathing heavily as he watches the swell of your belly move up and down as you breathe with him.

“do you wanna see a movie with me on saturday?”

“you’re asking me out?” you chuckle.

“obviously.”

“thought you’d never ask, munson.”

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬!

#reposting bc it isnt in the tags sry #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson oneshot

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thatone-brightstar · 6 months

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More than all the stars (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader) (The Bear & The Fox Series)

Chapter 3: My darling, my dearest, my dead.

Words: 4k

a/n: Hi, hello!! so we finally meet the dreaded ex and even though you can imagine who you like, since writing it i always had Oscar Isaac in mind bc THAT MAN MAKES ME FEEL THINGS and also he makes one hell of a villain so you can't really blame me.

anyway, enjoy the chapter and remember that reblogs and comments are the way to show appreciation for your favorite creators and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Chapter 2.

He could have done more than just stand there- looking at her with that stupid expression over his face- the one many use when all the words have evaporated into thin air. But then again, what could he say, especially to someone he assumed he’d never see again? Her expression sat stoic, apart from the slightly raised eyebrows waiting in expectation, there was nothing in her face that revealed the storm inside her head.

“So?” She spoke over the ringing in his ears and brought him back from his memories. “You gonna say something or just pretend I’m not here?”

“Uhm, H-hey…?”

“Hi.” She repeated with certain disdain and a dry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He felt like a fish out of water, mouth rounding around the words but never able to truly push them past his throat. “Wha- what uhm, what are- uh…”

“I’m on holiday.” She answered for him and shrugged, cutting his torture short, though he thought that was more than he deserved. “I wanted to see what the great Beef of Chicagoland was all about…” Ross added and let her eyes wander from his to the dimly lit and emptied room.

Something about her analytic gaze made him stand straighter and rub the back of his neck in anticipation for her verdict.

“We’re, uh, renovating.”

Ross offered a single nod and a weak hum as her serious expression landed back on him. “Makes sense.”

A still silence fell over them again, forcing Camry to fidget with his knuckles and take another long drag of the already wavering cig. He wondered if the lack of conversation had always felt so stagnant between them- like the middle of July- or if time had truly taken a toll on their interactions. He heard her shuffle against the newspaper covered glass once more, but didn’t dare to raise his head until she spoke again.

“I heard about your brother…” She started, cracking her knuckles out of habit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“S’fine.” Carmy answered instantly, the words had already nestled into a permanent space in his mind, but at least for her, he knew they were genuine. “Thank you.” He said and added “I’m sorry for, y’know… everything.”

A slight curve around her mouth broke the cold glare settling over him and despite the somber tone around them, the simple action let a wave of fresh air pass into his lungs.

“What part exactly?” Ross asked, digging her palms into the back pocket of her jeans and moving slowly in direction to the dusty counter. “Leaving with no explanation? Not even letting me know you were alive… or for being an overall idiot for as long as I’ve known you?”

The refreshing bluntness of her tone pulled out a soft chuckle from his knotted chest and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Carmy reached again towards the packet resting beside him and lit another tube between his lips, waiting, as if the words were magically hidden between the embers and smoke.

As she waited for an answer, Ross pulled out the stool a few feet beside him and took out a cigarette without asking, it’s not as if he would have said anything anyway, at least nothing other than:

“You smoke now?”

Ross shrugged again and sucked the smoke into her mouth. A gleam from her left hand caught his eye. Carmy couldn’t help the surprised expression falling over his face at the sight of a thin gold band wrapping around her delicate finger, or the shimmering stone that was placed upon it.

He signaled with his head in direction to ring. “That’s… new.” He said.

She pulled her hand back at arms length and admired the perfectly polished stone with a new spark behind her eyes, as if the owner of said promise reappeared in her memories each time she looked at it.

“Yeah… you remember Frank?”

Carmy’s expression grew even more surprised at the mention of his former co-worker. The one that Ross, if he remembered correctly, didn’t even give the time of day.

“Yeah…shit, Frank?” He asked, incredulous.

“Ugh, gross no.” The girl answered and Carmy’s shoulders fell in relief. “One of his cousins.”

Her eyes went from the shimmering rock to the plastic covered pop machines they had yet to take out and Carmy could almost see the memory of her lover replaying over her softening features.

“We uh, we met a month after you left… I guess it just clicked.” She shrugged and finally turned to him.

From up close, he could see how much her face had truly changed. There was little trace of the jovial features he had known, yet the spark in her eyes remained. It wasn’t for him anymore though, that much he knew, and it would have probably affected him more a year ago than it did then.

“Finally someone my age-“ Ross joked and slightly swayed in his direction. Carmy sniggered back, relieved that the tension was slowly withering away.

“I’m glad.” He responded sincerely as a gentle smile unfolded over his features.

The girl nodded slowly and smiled back, tearing her gaze away and refocusing it back to the lit tube dangling from her fingers.

“How’d you know?” He blurred out the thought that had been kneading itself in his head for a few weeks now.

“What?”

“Y’know… that he’s- that they’re, y’know-”

“The one?” She answered for him in a teasing tone that made him roll his eyes but nod back.

The room went quiet as she thought, only his foot continuously tapping against the floor in angst was heard. Ross’ brows slowly raised up as her eyes examined his nervousness closely, then she turned her body fully towards him and leaned against the counter.

“I dunno, honestly.” Her response was simple and he tried to swallow discreetly so as to not show his disappointment. “It’s different for everyone.” She reassured. His eyes rose expectant to her face once more. “I felt… peace. Like I can finally breathe and I’m not struggling to hold my head above the current anymore.”

Carmy knew the feeling she was referring to, the consistent pressure crushing his lungs that no amount of cigarettes could numb out but that suddenly, the single thought of you, fixed. The weight that fell off his shoulders as soon as he crossed the entrance to your home and the glee on your face as you saw him, that was the peace she was referring to. You weren’t the bandaid that temporarily taped up his shitty moods, but the whole damn antibiotic that eradicated the virus altogether.

“Listen, I-” Ross stopped abruptly to gather her scattered thoughts, exhaled loudly, then continued. “I just wanna get it off my chest. I did like you, Carmen, like a lot, but… we would have torn each other to pieces.” Her sigh came out like a nervous chuckle.

He nodded again and swallowed hard, taken back. “Right- yeah no, definitely.”

“With Jonathan it’s easy. It’s like breathing, just second nature. And in spite of everything that went on with us, I still mean what I said before… I do hope you find that one day.” For a second, her features softened into the girl he had known more than a year back, the one who had truly seen him when no one else had.

Your face instantly appeared in his mind. That morning at the farmer’s market, the cold breeze had tainted your soft cheeks pink and the fuzzy knitted scarf swallowed half your face whole. His chest felt like it could concave suddenly and he felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing it sooner.

An uncontrollable grin spread around his face, raising his flushed cheeks up to his eyes. He coughed slightly to clear his throat but it only fused with a soft snigger that filled him with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Yeah…” He exhaled as his eyes caught the same shimmer as the stone. “Yeah, I think I have.”

“I’m glad.” Ross repeated his words back, nothing but honesty clear on her face.

**********

The dull and foggy sky mirrors your mood as you mark your steps over the cobblestone, bouquet held tight in between your gloved hands.

You haven’t visited since the funeral, it had been too painful to do so. One loss after another had been enough to topple your fragile mental health and you were sure that if you had visited before being ready, it would have guaranteed a similar headstone beside hers. Despite the slight jittering of your fingers though, you’re sure of every step you take, careful to move around the more weathered graves.

Your heart leaps in your chest once you spot the space reserved for your grandmother. The headstone is more dramatic than the ones that surround it, but then again, she never did anything small. There’s a carved limestone angel that guards her sleep as it rests with crossed arms over it, wings wrapped around the slab. It still looks relatively new, despite sitting in the hard Chicago weather for a year and part of you feels guilty for visiting after so long, but you know she would have understood.

Your nose has started to freeze with the chill wind and you use one gloved hand to wipe away the rogue tear that tickles your nostril, before slowly stopping in front of the grave.

“Hola abuelita.” You whisper and sniff with difficulty. “Te traje Claveles.”

The dead grass snaps quietly as you sit cross legged and lay the vibrant flowers right under her name. With empty hands, you begin to play with the loose threads of your worn out gloves as you search for something to say. ‘Not like you can hear me, anyway.’ you think to yourself bitterly, then a humorless chuckle escapes when the image of her, slightly smacking the back of your head, comes to mind.

“Sorry.” You reply instantly, as if she could see your thoughts. “I’ve never been good at this sorta thing, you know me.”

The morning is mostly quiet, despite a few chirping birds and the light traffic that sneaks past the trees, everything is still.

“Nice place you got here…with the shade n’ everything- Mom says hi. I asked Papi si quería saludarte, but he says he’ll come by next week as always.” Your throat begins to close up and you try to clear a pathway with a few subtle coughs.

You reach out to clean off the few petals that fell from the dried flowers your grandfather left last week and another batch of tears bundles over your bottom lashes. You’ve always admired their love, the kind that transcends even after the other is gone, because ‘til death do us part’ doesn’t really carry any meaning when you truly love someone.

A softer smile takes the place of the teary one as the memories of Sunday mornings sitting between them and watching old movies invades your mind. She’d braid your hair with dexterous hands as you watched various men porcelain their love to a young Rita Moreno through the black and white screen. The whiff of coffee and cigarettes from your grandfather felt like home and the loving whispers they’d share with one another behind your back put the prettiest bird songs to shame.

“A lot’s happened since you left…” Your voice carries out through the wind, but you like to imagine that it's taking your words to her. “I met someone- not the asshole I told you about, you were right about him… someone else. His name’s Carmy. You would’ve liked him, Papi does, pero ya sabes como es, he won’t admit it. He’s been through a lot, but he’s still really sweet. He’s a fighter… I think he’s the one.” Your epiphany goes quiet in the secluded cemetery and your heart starts to beat even faster as the words sink in.

You’ve come to the conclusion that the bad thing about being surrounded by so much love is you’re always searching to replicate it. Your grandparents loved you so much, that the need for a father never even crossed your mind, and they loved each other even harder that all you ever wanted growing up was a love like that of your own. You went through countless partners in search of “the one” and always came out empty handed, but she was always there- with her cafecito and old movies- to pick you right back up.

What scares you now is that she isn’t there to pick you up if anything were to happen anymore, and after Isaac, you’re not sure if you can go through another broken heart as bad as that one.

You huff out a hard sigh and wipe your cheeks a little too hard, tainting them pink.

“I’m sure.” You repeat again a little louder to drown out the critical thoughts. “No- yeah, I am. I am.”

The distracting vibration from your phone pierces the calming silence and gives you a chance to leave the vexing thoughts behind.

“What-”

“-the fuck did you do?!” He yells from the other line as soon as you answer, making you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Hello to you too J-“

“What the fuck did you do-” Your brother interrupts again and you roll your eyes. “-I just saw that lanky tall guy from your old job drop my mom off at the house!”

“Really? That was fast…”

His frustrated groan vibrates across the receiver while you unfold your legs from under you and stand up. You place a quick kiss over your fingers and place it over the tombstone before moving back to the entrance.

“I don’t know what the big deal is, she’s an adult, she can go out with who she wants.”

“Yeah, exactly. Who she wants, not the first asshole you put in front of her.”

“Oh, you jealous you’re not the only man in her life now, huh?”

Joshua scoffs and you can imagine how he impatiently rolls his eyes before mumbling a ‘fuck you’.

“Fuck you too, dude. Why don’t you get a life and stop worrying about what my mom does with hers.”

“Fine- but when she comes home crying cause that fucker broke her heart, Imma send her straight to you.”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

He doesn’t wait for another response before ending the call. You shove your phone back into your coat with a huff and pull your car keys out instead.

**********

There isn’t much you can do during the winter classes. Since the day recedes to night earlier than usual, the courses have been shortened to an hour long, which then shrinks to 45 minutes after trying to get the kids settled into their stations. Only after months on the job do you finally understand the vexing task of a sheep herder.

By the time the sky has gone from blue, to orange, to an angelic lilac, only two little ones remain and you’ve been making the most out of their cooperative nature by having them haul their drying works into the back. They do so excitedly, between debates over which dinosaur is the best and why it’s the T-Rex. The conversation brings a smile to your face as you hear their voices slowly fade away from the inside storage.

It’s a few minutes past 8 when the bell from the entrance door dings and a sigh of relief exits your chest.

“In the back!” You call to whoever arrived.

While the echoing steps move closer, you turn with your attention fully on the jar of paint that doesn’t want to screw on correctly. Once you get it right and the steps have stopped a few yards away, you look up with a kind smile that vanishes as soon as your eyes settle on the man in front of you.

Your lungs have stopped working completely. Your fingers hold a deadly grip on the jar, bending the plastic with enough strength to turn your knuckles white. Without taking your eyes off him, you blindly settle it back down on the cart and try to regulate your racing heart and breath.

The moment you see him again, everything stops in the most terrible of ways. It feels like standing by the edge of a panic attack, but not falling all the way through, just feeling the waves of cold sweats traveling down with every heaving breath. In an attempt to ground yourself, your fingers dig into the rough fabric of your apron, instantly absorbing the wetness of your trembling hands and for a second you swear that if you were brave enough to look down, you would find your guts splattered all over the wooden floor.

“Hi Uncle!” The little boy rejoices once he spots the man and walks to your side, oblivious of your hardening gaze on his guardian.

You swallow down the sickening sweetness that your afternoon tea had left in your mouth. “Kenny, where’s your mom?” You rub a hand over his hair with a forced smile.

“She had a late meeting.” The man’s strong voice vibrates through the walls with little effort, the sound ringing in your ears.

“This is my uncle Isaac.” Kenny adds as if you didn’t already know and the simple mention of the name rips your gut open once again.

You keep your eyes glued on the child, thinking that maybe if you don’t acknowledge the man disturbing the room, he would vanish into thin air like a mirage. ‘Or combust violently’ the voice in your head muttered viciously.

“Can you be a dear and take the last reference pics to the back? Inside the red basket, please. And then grab your bag, okay?” You indicate with a last gentle pat over his shoulder.

He salutes then runs to the doors and out of earshot. With another shaky breath you turn back to the paint cart and try your best to swallow down the knot of bile that has begun to grow.

“I need a permit from his mother to let him leave with a stranger.” You state as calm and collected as your growing anxiety allows you.

His deep chuckle reverberates through the crystal walls and lands on your skin, chilling it to the touch. “What, so I’m a stranger to you now?” He asks.

“You’re nothing to me as far as I’m concerned.” You scoff as you push the cart back to its original place, doing your best to calm the nausea that the memories of seeing him at the charity event are causing.

“Oh, cut me some slack, I’ve been trying to apologize.”

“Yeah, and what’s that good for?” You spit out instinctively, turning around with new found irritation.

The look on his face is full with triumph and your palm itches with the need to punch the smug off his dumb face. You wish you had the same courage as that night, when you followed him out the gallery with every intention of denting his jaw, but that kind of bravery only comes with alcohol and there is unfortunately none in sight.

“C’mon Fox…” He says through a sly smile and takes a step towards you, immediately making you take one back.

“Don’t call me that, you don’t get the right to call me that after what you put me through.”

There’s a stare in your eyes that would send any sane man running for the hills, but Isaac has always been anything but. He takes it as a challenge instead, tilting his head to the side like a hunter analyzing its prey, with a toothy grin that exposes the canines in an almost charmingly vile way.

His eyes drag slowly down your body with an obvious gesture, one that has you crossing your arms over your chest to shield as much as you can from his view. “Then what can I call you? Mi amor?” He says instead.

“Call me nothing, no soy tu amor.” You mutter through gritted teeth and move quickly around the room to finish collecting the last of your supplies. In the back of your mind, you rush the kids to finish quicker, but their debate keeps them too entertained.

“Oh, but I recall how much you used to love it.” His words slither out with venom and his eyes narrow in satisfaction when he notices you stop fully in your tracks and give him another angry stare. “Did you forget how much fun we used to have?”

“I remember how you fucked up my life-” You remark over his words, but he speaks over them again.

“Remember when I took you to The Met?” With each word, the bile in your throat feels more inevitable, clawing its way higher up. “How you thanked me so well for the trip in those lacy blue-”

“-Yo babe, sorry I’m so late-” His booming voice invades the room as soon as he appears past the exhibitions, bringing a wave of fresh air into your dying lungs. “-Cousin finally got the permits from Cicero so-”

Ava’s excited footsteps charge out the back and towards her dad, followed by a calm Kenny carrying a Spiderman backpack. The excitement from the children is enough to trigger your migraine but it doesn’t matter because you’ve never been more thankful for Richie’s terrible time management skills.

When he finally has his daughter securely in his arms, Richie’s eyes dart from you to Isaac, finally feeling the thick air that stays stagnant between you.

It only takes him a second to notice your stance, the hardness of your jaw and the menacing stare you give the man beside him. “Am I interrupting anything-“

“No.” You’re quick to answer. “They’re just leaving so…”

Kenny stretches his hand up to take your high five goodbye and promises Ava they’ll finish their debate tomorrow while Isaac doesn’t move. He’s still, with a defiant gaze that feels like minutes, then he swings Kenny’s bag over his shoulder and takes a few strides in your direction, stopping less than a foot away. You don’t retreat this time and despite the height difference that’s more obvious up close, you eye him down with all the anger you can muster.

He pulls something you can’t see out of the pocket of his coat and brings it up to your view. The signed permit rests between his index and middle finger as he offers it to you, but once he sees you won’t take it, he flicks his wrist towards the desk beside you and lets the paper fall lazily over it.

“I’ll see you around…" Isaac whispers like a menacing promise. "the paint suits you, by the way.” It’s low enough for only you to hear and the smile that goes along with his denigrating tone makes your face turn in disgust.

Your gaze launches daggers at his back once he turns and takes the small boy by the hand, disappearing past the installation and your lungs only stop burning when the bell dings a final time.

“What’s that asshole’s problem?” Richie mutters, hand over Ava’s ears and stare lost in the space left empty.

The desk beside you has never felt more sturdy than the moment you let yourself fall back on it, the adrenaline has finally left your system and turned your legs into jelly. It screeches lightly and makes Richie turn his head towards you, concern evident once he spots your colorless face.

“Hey, hey kid, you okay?”

“Wha- yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s Just um… it’s just been a really long day.”

“Yeah…” He plays along and takes a few weary steps towards you. “Probably doesn’t help that you’ve been smellin ‘ this shit all day either, huh?” He says, taking one of the closed jars with his empty hand and scanning the label.

“Yeah… that’s probably it.” You reply absentminded as your eyes focus past the glass, hoping to not catch sight of the man.

“Mhm…” Richie repeats in the same tone. “Listen, I know cousin’s got your car and he’s still at the restaurant so if you pack your stuff now, I'll drop you off at home.”

You nod a few times, eyes still on the glass, then with another heavy sigh, you clear your throat and push yourself off the desk. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you, Richie.”

You move quickly behind your desk and pull out your already prepped bag and keys- careful to not let him see the wayward tear that the strange confrontation has left behind- before tucking your hair behind your ears and giving him a thin lipped smile.

“Thank you.” You whisper towards him.

Richie shrugs his shoulders and the little girl that’s already falling asleep over them stirs lightly.

“What’s family for?” He replies and for the first time since you’ve met him, both his voice and demeanor carry a strange serenity that makes you understand why his daughter is peacefully asleep by the time she reaches her car seat.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne , @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha , @yum-yahgurt , @pussy-f41ry , @kirakombat , @redsakura101 , @hobisunshine13 , @feyhunter78, @xeneth99 and that's it lmao

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olivescales3 · 8 months

Text

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.

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.

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!

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."

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).

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writerblr #tfloc #the forgotten legends of chima #legends of chima #lego legends of chima #lego chima #write #writer #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity

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mymainwastoocluttered · 2 years

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My Girl, My Girl, My Precious Girl (Lilia)

A fighting man forgets each cut, each knock, each bruise, each fall. But a fighting man cannot forget why his love don't roam no more.

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

Both the title and the summary are bits from a song called Love Don't Roam. If you know Doctor Who... you know what awaits you.

ANGST

— (╥﹏╥)

Lilia has loved many times, and he has sworn off love many more times. He likes to joke to himself, in a feeble attempt to comfort his broken heart, that he was cursed to always fall for the ones with shorter lifespans.

But this time around, he truly outdid himself.

Despite his many lovers, Lilia never allowed himself to fall for a human. A mighty challenge when the humans stubbornly spread thorough the world, never satisfied with stagnancy. But he managed, because to the fae, humans lives are as brief as ants' lives are to humans. And Lilia knows himself, a perk and a curse of longevity, he has always known that falling for a human would be too easy.

Humans, different from the fae who live on and on like an unmoving star, drift with the winds like clouds. Humans are always so very alive, always doing something, always going somewhere, always living as much as they can in the short years they are granted.

And Lilia, the odd fae who disliked the stagnant nobility of Briar Valley, knew that his treacherous heart would not resist a human.

And he still knows, now more than ever, as he watches his beloved blow the candles of another birthday cake. How many cakes have they shared already? How many more can they share still?

The skin of her hands is wrinkled despite the price of her hand cream. The once round cheeks deflated, sagging tiredly over her face. The hair on top of her head is thinning day by day. Talks about canes are already common between them, much how it had been before she got glasses for her deteriorating vision. Her voice trembles here and there, and coughing is news to no one.

Their nights of dancing for the moon and stars just a memory now.

Lilia can't even feel bitter, for she is still the most resplendent person he has ever seen, and ever will see. Her eyes still shine with kindness, with intelligence, with the warmth she holds his heart within. Her own heart beats stubbornly inside her chest, as if daring something to try and stop it. Her touches are still gentle and loving. Her laughter still sounds like paradise and her presence still humbles the very definition of beauty to shame.

The inevitable is coming.

All of Briar Valley knows it. She is already overstaying her welcome thanks to his and his family's joined efforts, but ultimately, Death has to come fetch her.

While Lilia has to live another millennium or so.

He could follow her. He could and, if he where to be honest, he'd gladly do so, but he knows she'd hate him for it. He knows that she wants him to be happy, to be with their family, to keep moving forward like humans do. Like she does. So he promises he will try his very best until the very end, whenever that may happen.

Lilia isn't sure if he can do that as well as humans do. But for her, he will try and keep going, finding his comfort on the thought that maybe, maybe they shall meet again.

"Yeah, I'd like that. To meet you again next life." His wife grins at him, hands holding his like he is the fragile one—and he is. "Maybe next time you shouldn't come out so pretty, give some of us a chance, ey?"

Lilia laughs, kissing her hands in adoration.

"I can only promise to find you again, love."

"You better. Now, cut me a piece of cake, will you? And Sebek, this better have enough sugar to make me taste colors, no more zero sugar cakes!"

Sebek chokes on his tea, definitely guilty of at least reducing the amount of sugar in the cake greatly. Malleus only laughs, hiding the green haired man behind him so he can take the brunt of her sugar craving wrath.

Lilia has loved many times, and he has sworn off love many more times. He has a tendency to fall for those with short lifespans, those who shine brightly because each day could be their last, and there's always so much to do when that's the case.

But Lilia has only loved one human.

And he shall forever only love one human.

Just as he had feared.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twst x reader #x fem reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #angst #twst angst

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highpriestess13 · 2 months

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Keeping up with the Collective Reading!

Channeled song: “Be the vibe” by Sahara Rose

515/ 55 is confirmation for this reading. A lot of healing and light work for the collective at this time. A lot of you are being called to celibacy and stepping into your divine feminine energy (gender doesn’t matter). You gotta be the vibe, gotta hypnotize 👀. You’ll magnetize once you compromise.. hmm I feel like there’s many things you’re letting go of, needing to or the chance to do so is coming up very soon! Many of you are aligning with your soul self (if that makes sense) 22 or 4 is significant. Many of you are allowing the flow of love, life, healing, abundance, divine messages and many more flow within and through you or this may be what you’re being called to do at this time. The title of this message was specifically chosen from spirit, the feel I kind of get from the title is you may have people around you that may be trying to keep up with you… this may even be past people too! It’s time to live freely and break away from things that are putting you in mental conflict even if it’s your own doing. Something may be or feel challenging to you rn but you’re needing to not go against this experience(s) you’re needing to go through it in order to grow and free yourself. If a person or situation is putting you in a tough position then it’s time to rethink and reflect and choose what’s best for YOU! Listen to more conscious music and let the rhythm of the songs flow through you, listen to the words, meditate to it if need be. The minute you release yourself from the constant pain and suffering is the minute you allow the universe to guide you… there may be tears involved as well but it’s all for the best and greatest good. You have many paths/ options/ opportunities before you, there may be some confusing or illusions around some of them but you’re needing to just… live. There’s no right or wrong, this choice is up to you but it’s also to use your discernment as well as not everything that comes to you will be forever in your favor. However, don’t look at it as a bad decision but look at it as a chance to grow within that situation. You’re very wise and you have many elders around you guiding and protecting you at this time. There’s no wrong or right answer… I’m getting a “test” type of energy. A test of will… free will. Are you going to hold back or are you going to do something different? Are you going to stay stagnant in illusions or are you going to explore? “Worth” is what I’m hearing. You could be testing your own worth or this is spirit. Don’t fear indulgence, but instead embrace them! You have many chapters to explore, all it takes is that first step… 123! No more holding onto things, people and self sabotaging beliefs that’ll only continue to hinder and cause more harm to you than good. Step into your willpower and by this you’ll learn the meaning of freedom. Lions are significant too. You’re gaining a fresh new perspective in life or will be. You’ll soon realize that some things have to fall in order for something new, bigger and better to be built that’ll last for eternity. Butterflies, squirrels, chestnuts, black birds and crows are signs that you’ve been seeing a lot. You’re going to realize that the light you’ve been searching for has always been within you, and it’ll continue to be within you but the question is… are you going to allow out to shine? Are you going to allow yourself to shine? You’re a star (could be a star seed too) it’s your destiny and birth right to shine like a bright little star 😭! Water and the color blue is significant. The old version of you is dead and gone, the past is dead and gone, all that was and used to be is GONE! Relinquish all fear and any hidden subconscious thoughts and feelings that are keeping you from reaching the surface. You’ve been hiding from the world and now it’s time to shine. You were also hidden from the world for higher reasons but now it’s time for you to show up and show out my loves. You’re the co-creator of your world and we (your team) want you to create this world for yourself. It’s time to step into your power babes and do what you gotta do!

You’re valuable, worthy and good enough for everything positive thing(s) that comes to you. All that no longer serves must go it must come to an ultimate end, don’t go against it…flow with it, grow with it, heal with it, and shine with it. Master the earth… master self and set yourself free. Anubis and Lord Lucifer are very significant. Be wary of what you’re manifesting at this time as your thoughts are rapidly shaping your reality. I also see a manifestation coming in quickly as well however being ungrateful blocks this energy for you. Living in apathy blocks this flow for you. Worrying about what happened in the past blocks this energy for you… it’s time to forge a new path… your own path! You’re in charge and responsible for the path you’re wanting to forge for yourself.

If you’re wanting to book a personal reading, my cashapp is:

All readings are $35 (only 1 question per reading)

**Please message me before sending money! Thank you! 🙏🏾

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bwobgames · 1 year

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Previous First

"... I have made a decision"

"Yeah?"

"You asked me before, remember? Of what I think about the law?"

"Yeah? You said something about fairness"

"I did.

Ángel you are not being fair, to me or yourself.

This place could keep us aging forever, yes.

But we won't be alive"

"Uh, you're using synonyms"

"I'm not

You know why Coli died?"

"Because we pushed him out the window?"

"Well, I pushed him out the window, not us..."

"He was already dead

He was so blinded by the fear of running out of time that he didn't realize all of what he had accomplished during that time. Never taking a second to enjoy it"

"He lived in fear of the clock"

"And now, look at us, look at how far we've made it! All the things we've accomplished! We've survived all these years with no supernatural help!

We are alive! We are living!"

"I understand not wanting to die. believe me, I don't want to go through it again

But what's the point of aging forever if we are trapped here, unable to enjoy everything life has for us?

I'd rather live a short and happy life than an endless stagnant one"

"I mean, C'mon, A man like you, daring and full energy, trapped in this coffin of a house? It's unfair"

"I promised that I'd save you from this place. And I will"

"I can't tell you what will happen tomorrow, or the day after or the day after"

"But I want to find out with you"

"Even if the sky breaks tomorrow, and all stars fall to the earth

If I have you by my side, then it will all be worth it"

"... Aren't you scared? Of running out of time?"

" Yeah, of course.

That's why I want to enjoy it, to use the little time we have here to be happy.

To love my family, my friends, my pet, places, food, Tv shows, everything!

That's what it is all about, Ángel. Can't you see it?"

"I want you to come home with me"

"I want to share the time I have on this earth with you

If it's with you, I can face anything"

"But what about everything that happened? Don't you want to forget it?"

"Well, I certainly don't enjoy the memory of being stabbed

But I really enjoy the memories of you"

"Even if they were bad?"

"That's just how it is, isn't it? This isn't my first time in a deeply traumatic house.

If I could go and erase all the bad memories from my mind, I would be tempted to "

"But not at this cost. This whole night, it's too valuable for me now to forget it"

"Do you understand? I'll stay by your side."

"All the dangers, the uncertainties, the rock bottoms, the bad memories

We'll live through them, hand in hand"

"And we'll be okay"

"We'll see the sunrise"

"I'm sorry for not saving you"

"It was not your fault"

"I'm sorry for not being enough"

"That's just not true"

"...Please don't die again"

"I'll do my best."

"... Do you really want this? Me of all people?"

"Of course"

"We might fight, or have issues"

"So?"

"I want to see the chickens"

"There's duckies too"

"I'd like to see them"

"C'mon, dont you wanna steal something so I can pursue you through some roofs?"

"...Hah, you're even offering crime to cheer me up"

"You can get one crime, a gift from me"

"I'll steal a national treasure"

"I don't doubt it"

They stay like that for a while

"I know I won't automatically change his mind now, and we'll probably have to go through this conversation again.

But that's okay, it's going to be a slow walk out of this hole we've been put through

But we'll get out, mangled and scarred, but out

I can't wait to show him my cat

What is that smell?"

"OH FUCK THE FIRE"

"Wha- THE FIRE!!"

"Quick! Where's the room?!"

"Ah, here here, let's go"

"Why do we keep forgetting the fire?!"

"It's the fire's fault for not being more obvious"

#it was a bad idea to write this with sad music in the background i couldnt see the keyboard because I cry incredibly easily #once i cried because my sims got married do not test me #somwthing something it is better to have loved and lost something something memento mori #something something love its what makes the pain of living worth it #detective beebo

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yen-doodles · 2 years

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Part two of "I'm so glad that I woke up" because SWK angst started swirling

Lost Moon - Shadowpeach fic

It was night, the sky was dark. Clouds decorating it like it was an audience for the stars, watching as they shone beautifully.

Yet one cloud was not like the others, it moved nimbly across the great plains of blue as the others stayed mostly stagnant. Maybe because it wasn't a real cloud at all.

A somersault cloud. The Great Sage's to be exact.

Monkey King, after rescuing Tripitaka from the demons, had gotten permission to take a quick trip back to Flower Fruit Mountain. His master had shown to be adamant that it was the right thing for Wukong to apologize.

After making sure the others wouldn't get captured while he was gone, he sent off for the mountain.

He arrived close to daybreak, though the moon hadn't yet left and the sky remained partly shadowed. He hopped off his cloud, picking up the small basket of fresh mangoes he'd brought, before making it disperse.

He'd picked them partly through his trip as an attempted to further prove the monkey sincerity.

The mountain was quiet, it was still early, so most were still asleep. Wukong preferred it that way for now, less that would interfere with his apology to Macaque.

Not he just needed to find him. He knew all the shadow monkey's hiding places so it shouldn't be too hard.

The first place was the waterfall, the demon usually went there in the morning or evening to relax. "The rushing of water helped block out some of the noise" Monkey King remembered the other monkey telling him once, he had Macaque hide him that day because he didn't want to sit on the throne any longer and he'd brought him here.

He'd check around the trees and couldn't find him. The golden monkey then checked the grouping of lilacs near the waterfall, faintly recalling finding the darker monkey asleep there once. Nothing.

The next place he checked was the grove, a place Macaque enjoyed performing using his shadows; commonly for the monkey cubs. The two had made a small stage he uses out of stone when they had been cubs themself, they had spent the entire day decorating it.

Sometimes still, when it's late at night and he couldn't sleep, he'll be able to convince the demon monkey tell him a story to help him fall asleep.

Wukong after not instantly seeing the other, he checked around the stage and the place he could from time to time see the other weeding. There was still no sign of him.

At that point he began to panic slightly. He'd alright checked two spots, that left two others left. The training grounds and the room he kept for him in the temple. If the shadow monkey wasn't in either of those places, then that meant...

Macaque had left the mountain.

He gripped the basket in his arms a little tighter, his tail flipping anxiously below his waist, though making sure it wouldn't be destroyed by his strength.

Macaque wouldn't leave after a fight, he'd just stew on it for a bit that's all. He's still on the mountain. He has to be!

Monkey King quickly went over to check the training grounds. The demon wasn't an avat fighter but tended to use the training grounds for practicing certain shadow casting since the little ones weren't allowed to step inside, if he were to practice at the grove then there's a chance one of them would follow the darker monkey; looking for entertainment.

He looked all over the grounds, even in the shadows, his ears twitching st every sound he heard. When his companion still hadn't been found he became even more disheartened.

After leaving the training grounds, Sun Wukong raced towards his temple. His heart beat pounding in his eyes as he felt his eyes begin to sting.

He's gotta be here. Once he entered, he had slowed his pace but remained still rather quick.

The temple was dark though the raising sun would begin to pour in through the windows. It was beginning to be morning.

It was soon to be sunrise, their time. The time where the moon and the sun are together. When Sun Wukong didn't yet have to be Monkey King and only had to be Peaches.

"Macaque? Plum?" He called out, walking into the main room of the temple. He checked around the corners, chirping every so often before listening for a response. When he heard nothing, Wukong moved to the next room.

The same process would follow in every room: he'd call out to Macaque, he'd check around the room, chirp then listen before moving on. As each room he went through came up empty, the golden monkey was becoming more and more unstable.

As he reached the last corridor, housing both his and the other monkey's rooms, he felt his body shaking. Holding in all the tears that wanted so badly to pour out.

But he wouldn't. He will not let himself cry, because Macaque will be in his room.

His plum will be in his room, the one he barely used but made sure to keep tidy, and he'd be curled up asleep in the covers. Probably just falling asleep a few hours ago after of the noise had stopped.

Sun Wukong would be hesitant to wake him and sit the basket of mangoes on his bedside as gently as he could, he would slump on the floor and wait for the darker monkey to watch up so he could apologize.

After I apologize, we can watch the sunrise together. I can collect some peaches from the mountain's fruit trees and he can enjoy the mangos I brought him...

He stood in the corridor. His body stiff as the mountain he stood on, but Monkey felt far from solid.

He chirped, his tongue catching in his throat, then waited. No one chirped back.

"Liu 'er?" He called out quietly, his voice squeaky.

He cleared his throat. Shifting the basket to be held by his tail. He will most definitely wake up Macaque but right now, he'd rather take a cranky Mac because Wukong woke him up then to bring this silence any longer.

His Liu 'er Mihou could yell, berate, scream at Sun Wukong all he felt like. He wanted out of this silence. He wanted his moon.

"Mango," he said as his voice slightly wavered, his hand quivering over the door knob, "I'm here to apologize."

He didn't hear any sound, no shuffling of blankets, no groans from being woken up. Macaque should've already opened the door and yelled him by now...

He grabbed the knob, exhaling a shaking breath. "It was wrong of me to yell at you, I was under a lot of stress but that doesn't justify yelling at you... I should've told you I was going on the pilgrimage beforehand" the golden monkey kept his eyes tightly closed as he turned the knob and opened the door with a click.

Please be in the bed.. please be in the bed... Please be in the bed...

The Great Sage slowly opened his eyes, peeking out of one before before became wide with panic.

The basket of mangoes falling out of his tail's grip, rolling of the it and across the stone floor.

There, sat on Macaque's bed, were the blankets he'd lent the ash coloured monkey the first night he had invited him to stay in the temple. They were neatly folded and placed at the center of the bed.

"No.. no.. nonononono-" he sputtered out, desperately going over to the bed and checking under it before going over to closet to check there as well.

It had to be some sick joke Macaque was playing on him, to get back at him somehow. It had to be..

"Mango- heh Moonlight, you got me! But this isn't funny anymore" he nervously laughed, frantically flipping through the hangers in the closet, "come out please!"

He chirped, turning on his gold vision. His breathing becoming ragged as he struggled to hold in the tears.

He was gone. His moon had left the mountain.

He picked up the folded blanket off of the bed, clutching it close to his chest as though it were a life line, crumpling to his knees on the ground.

The blanket faintly smelled of Macaque. His sweet scent that always made he think of nighttime. Something in Wukong broke after, something deep inside himself.

He heaved a painful sob, clutching the blanket close as though it were the real Macaque.

He cried. He cried for yelling at Macaque, he cried because he didn't get here in time, he was crying because he lost his Moon. And Wukong continued to cry because he didn't know where to find his close friend, that he would have to go back to the journey knowing he wouldn't have the other monkey waiting for him when it was all over.

"LIU 'ER!" The Great Sage screamed, this was agony.

He didn't care if he woke up the whole mountain, he didn't care if he woke up an entire demon army or the Jade Emperor and the rest of the celestial court.

Sun Wukong hoped he was loud. That he was loud enough for his Moon to hear his pain and come back.

"Lui 'er..." He sobbed.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there, hours maybe. When he had stepped into the temple it was close to daybreak, and he was now walking out it was fully morning.

He despised how bright and warm it was. He wanted night, he wanted the moon, his Moon.

The other monkeys, including his generals, were now up. They noticed their king walking out of his temple, looking excited before their smiles dropped at how saddened the king looked.

Monkey King's eyes were tired and red, concluding that he'd been crying, having dark circles from not sleeping at all last night.

The monkeys kept quiet, choosing to simply kowtow without questioning the cause of their king's appearance. The Great Sage nodded in their direction before summoning his Somersault cloud once more and hopping on it as he flew away.

Eventually, he'd gotten back to Tripitaka and the others where they also choose to remain quiet at how disheveled their friend looked.

The others had been eating lunch when Monkey had arrived, making sure to save a plate for Wukong if he were to arrive. Without missing a beat, he slung the rest of his things he'd left onto the cloud and started making his way up the trail.

"Pack up, we're moving out" his voice was firm, serious, yet weak as he refused to look the others in the eye.

Tripitaka frowned, "Wukong are you sure you're well enough to continue?" he asked full of concern for the stone monkey, "you just got back.. maybe you should rest."

"I'll be fine Master," Monkey King tilting his head up towards the sun "I promise I won't ruin our journey.."

A Sun, alone without his Moon..

#lego monkie kid #shadowpeach #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #monkey king #JTTW fic #LMK fic #shadowpeachshipping #drabble #SWK is not having a good time #I put this monkie through the ringer #Sun Wukong angst #angst #sun and moon symbolism #concern tripitaka moment #depressed SWK

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thane-emblem · 11 months

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WIP Whenever

Thanks so much for the tag @sillyliterature, and for sharing your awesome snippet!!

Here's another piece of 'Til The Stars Evaporate, my time travel AU Shrios longfic that I'm still working on~! This bit takes place after Aria Shepard knocks herself unconscious going too hard in the fight against Saren in a desperate attempt to avoid losing anyone on Virmire.

Tagging: @megatraven @jotarowan @vespersposts @thrandilf @nowandthane @grandmaswormsoup and anyone else who feels like it!

Thane sits beside her when she wakes.

"Siha," he greets softly. She smiles up at him.

"Thane. What happened?" Her voice comes out a little rough, but he doesn't seem to mind. He reaches out a hand and combs his fingers through her hair.

"You overloaded your biotic implants," he says. "If your pilot had been five minutes slower in picking you up, the damage to your nervous system would have been permanent."

“I owe him a drink,” she says. Thane’s expression takes on a more serious edge.

“Your mission was a success. Would you have been able to say the same if your gamble had failed?”

Aria sighs. “Probably not.”

For a long moment, he says nothing, merely moving his fingertips to her face and caressing her gently. She keeps her eyes open despite how heavy their lids feel. Something in her warns that falling asleep now will break this moment; her mind is still too hazy to sort through the details of the warning, so she heeds it on instinct alone.

“I cannot speak for your companions,” Thane finally says, “but I’m confident that they want to support you. They are capable individuals who joined your cause for a reason.”

“I know. I just can’t let them throw their lives away,” Aria tells him. She takes a shaky breath. “I’ve got this impossible chance to make things better than they were before - if I don’t use it to save everyone, then I…”

He leans over, resting his forehead against hers. Aria places a hand at the nape of his neck. Once again, he says nothing, giving her the space she needs to sort through her thoughts.

“This whole thing has to mean something. I can make it mean something by changing things, by making it so people like you never-”

The words catch in her throat as reality comes crashing down on her. Thane. He can’t be here - this has to be happening inside her mind. In a slow, deliberate motion, Thane leans backwards so they can make eye contact, and he smiles sadly at her.

“You have already done more for me than you know,” he says.

“But it’s not enough. If I can’t change things - if I can’t save you - then all of this was for nothing.“ The words come out quieter than she intends for them to, though she’s glad she can keep her voice steady at the very least. “I’m… I’m afraid that my best won’t cut it.”

Thane hums in thought, closing his eyes briefly. When he reopens them, his pupils have dilated and the green glimmer of his irises is almost invisible; he’s reliving a memory.

“The air is stagnant and heavy with the scent of blood. Before me stands the holographic image of the Illusive Man, his back to me. He demands that she save the base. She narrows her eyes, furious - ‘I won’t let fear compromise who I am’.” His eyes refocus on her and his speech returns to its usual calm flow, instead of the staccato rhythm it takes on when he recounts experiences like this.

“You are enough exactly as you are,” he says. Aria finds herself nodding.

“I… needed to hear that.” Thane runs the back of his hand along her cheek, and his touch feels like coming home at last. Aria’s eyelids droop.

“Rest now, siha.” He kisses the bridge of her nose. “Rest, and recover. I will be by your side.”

“Please don’t go,” she says in a small voice, even as sleep starts to pull her under. His hand finds hers.

“I am always with you,” he whispers back.

#thanks again for the tag!!#I swear I'm gonna finish this fic at soooome point #mass effect #fanfic #my writing #shrios

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inveryiswriting · 1 year

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Hi, so, I accidentally published this without editing well, so I deleted it and was so close to do something drastic. Now, English it's not my first language and I'm too used to narrate in Spanish, just in case.

Okay, now, this is a "tribute" to Wheel Bitten, a webcomic made by @toxooz (An amazing artist with such rich variety of designs, and creator of many of the blorbos that are, currently, eating my brain), because of that, if someone reaches this and hasn't read it yet, here's a link to it.

A tribute for a gentle giant "Tor Gith".

It is something that many of us don’t think about regularly, because we constantly move around, going to different places. But there’s this feeling when you go to certain places, just as your feet touch the ground nearby, looking at the first couples of details that are common to you. Sometimes is dreadful, your throat closes and every inch of your body feels like being pulled away from there.

That doesn’t happens when I go near the skating park. No… no, I feel so light, and it’s not like this place tries to drag me, it just feels right to be there.

The wire fences rise from the ground and stay as the hard skin of this gentle giant. The pavement extends, scratched by wheels and long forgotten falls. The rails, as I like to call those, the bones, have seen so much pain and bruises, but also every bit of comfort that came afterwards. Like everything, here I have dropped so many tears, but none of those were bitter, just empty reactions after the physical pain of it all.

As I get near, even with no lights around, I remember my way into this place. How my heavy tail sways from side to side and grazes the floor, the way my shoes hit underneath me and the wind goes against my long fur.

I skate around, feeling kinda lonely, but I just need to cool off. My balance is not the best to do many tricks, but I keep going, just like Ollie always tells us. For pain is another casualty that can catch you with every step, and now I’m lucky that it doesn’t go deeper than my skin.

It doesn’t feel that right to be here… it’s a weird feeling, like being around school after class. There’s no one around and… now, more than ever, I kinda hate being so shy, because I miss having them around.

I’m safe here, I survive because of this place, but it would be nice to live. The difference between living and surviving is how much you struggle to keep your head up at the sky, and now, the stars above seem brighter than ever.

It’s kinda stupid to be skating while looking anywhere else than the floor, so, naturally, I fell hard to the ground.

And now there’s no face peeking over me to make sure I’m okay, just the stary night sky. Somehow, everything feels more real here, in Tor Gith, or just our skatepark, where even the sensations are allowed to rise above the gray surroundings.

As I breath in, my lungs fill and my chest loses the grip it has on so much shit.

I stand up, reaching with a hand at the jaws behind my head, checking that the wires of my braces haven’t popped off. Just standing here, wishing for this place to open up and swallow me whole, keep me here until the morning, hoping for someone to come early and be here.

I can actually be here, waiting for company.

The skatepark sleeps at night, with no flow of monsters to keep it awake and thrilled. But now it stays with one eye open, watching over me. Maybe I’m just dumb and sad, but that thought feels nice. Something bigger… something special taking care of me.

This place was left alone to rot, from what I remember to hear, both from others and my parents. It grew bitter and alone, the stagnant water of rain filling the bowl like an empty stomach. With fallen trees that broke its skin. The floor used to be cracked and scarred from neglect. Until someone came and pumped life into it again, healing and working on every inch that was left alone.

It could’ve been forgotten and never explored again, but now the skatepark’s life comes along everyone that goes around and inside of it. The heart of a place beats for everything that exists within.

I’m just one, but thinking that I’m still capable of keeping it awake is a comforting feeling.

This place is nothing without its people, and I feel that I’m no one without it. For monsters bring the magic that made this place so warm and happy, keeping this air of family and belonging. For all that may desire to be somewhere, this skatepark stays day and night waiting for them, and many of us wait to be able to come here and live as if there’s nothing outside this breathing walls.

There was someone for this park, someone that saw so much potential into something that may have looked like an impossible project, or even a dead thing that should’ve been left to rot and eaten away. But it only needed someone to believe in it.

And I love that you did it, a beacon for everyone that needs it.

#wheel bitten #fanfiction #oneshot #invery writes #monster

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olivescales3 · 9 months

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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.

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

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #writers #writerblr #tfloc #the forgotten legends of chima #legends of chima #lego legends of chima #lego chima

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musings-of-a-lovesick-fool · 11 months

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Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 4k

read on ao3

It was like seeing a ghost.

Those brown eyes had matured, his gentle jawline squared out just a bit. It had taken Jacob a second to realise who he was looking at, his hair was longer and he looked like a grown man in his uniform instead of the fuzzy visions of the little kid Jacob had barely held onto all these years. It was Dean, right down to the button nose and expressive face that gave way to every miniscule feeling that coursed through him.

It was a shock to the system, having that painfully familiar pleading look shot at him with a mix of confusion and helplessness. He looked like a lost puppy when he put those cuffs on Joseph, freshly kicked and limping out of those heavy wooden doors with his tail between his legs. John cursed under his breath as soon as the three men and their brother were out of sight, agitation clear in his tone.

"If that Marshal calls that a legitimate reading of your rights he is about to have a very rude awakening." He ground out shortly, stepping off the stage and digging his radio out of his jacket. Faith glanced over at Jacob, catching his eye and smiling serenely as if the situation at hand was nothing to worry about. Her eyes crinkled with her smile and it looked like she was in on a joke Jacob had missed.

"What now?" She asked and Jacob let out a small grunt, turning his gaze back to John as he raved into his radio at his chosen. They had plenty of plans on what to do in case of an arrest but the air felt off, the world unbalanced. Jacob couldn't find his footing, still shaken by the blast from the past he thought he'd never see again. The ruckus outside grew louder just as he thought of what to possibly say, the three heralds froze at the sound of gunfire. Jacob couldn't say he was surprised by the quick escalation, if anything he was glad.

Everything had grown stagnant and he'd been wondering if this prophecy of Joseph's was ever going to come to fruition. Maybe this would kick start things, get it into action. Finally.

Ironic how Dean was at the lead of it all, he really had a way of falling neck deep into trouble no matter where he went—Even now.

Jacob walked out the church, John and Faith hot on his heels and John quickly overtaking him. They watched the helicopter lift into the air, bodies of their project members falling from the steel beast like leaves on an autumn day. Jacob could just see Dean and Joseph, his brother calm and the junior deputy visibly panicked. He never did too well under pressure. If Jacob recalled he didn't particularly like great heights either, despite always climbing to the highest branches on any tree they raced up.

His arm could still feel the ghostly grip of the brunette as he swore he wasn't scared and that he just didn't want him to fall.

He'd always been a bad liar.

"Fuck!" John shouted as the chopper started plummeting to the ground, racing away and barking orders at all the nearby followers. Faith clasped her hands in front of her and pressed her lips together in a straight line, humming disdainfully as she too stepped away. Jacob had no time to deal with either of them, pushing into action himself and making his way to his truck. He hopped in and flipped down the visor, catching the keys as they fell. Once the engine came to life he put the truck in drive and sped down the road.

Once at the final bend to the entrance of the compound he went off-road, narrowly missing the compacting trees and eventually screeching to a halt when he could no longer fit through. The smoke in the sky led him to his destination, the sight he was met with being the helicopter's remains slowly being engulfed by flames and his brother climbing out of it and into the awaiting arms of his flock. Jacob slowed, eyes zoned in on the chopper as he heard Joseph start a small speech.

He didn't listen, he was too preoccupied. Once by the car Joseph was standing on he could clearly see Dean, hanging upside down and messing with his seat belt. Something had been stirring in Jacob, from the moment Dean had walked through those doors following behind Whitehorse like an anxious chihuahua. He put it down to anger. Anger at what? He couldn't quite tell. But looking at Dean, who looked like he had barely changed over the years, still soft around the edges and so… Weak… It made him fucking furious.

And he got the feeling, once Dean locked eyes with him, that it came across loud and clear.

For a split second the anger fizzled, seeing the flash of fear in those chocolate brown eyes knocked him out of sync with everything else. He'd seen Dean scared plenty, but it had never been because of him. He shook it off, there weren't many people not scared of him nowadays. Dean hadn't met Jacob Seed; war veteran now herald of Eden's Gate. And just like everyone else he was going to regret that he had, he was on enemy lines and he'd made himself a target.

"Begin the reaping!"

And he was going to be Jacob's target and his alone.

Jacob stepped back, turning to help his brother off of the rusted car as their followers flocked to the helicopter. Joseph grabbed onto his forearm and the back of his neck, pulling him in closer with an unreadable look in his eyes as soon as they were on equal footing.

"It's him, Jacob." Joseph's tone is haunting, the one he remembered from the first time he spoke to him about The Voice. Once again the words he uttered gave him pause.

What?

"Take him to your gate, put him through his trials... He'll need you to show him the way, show him how to be strong so he may help us when the Collapse comes." Joseph mutters with no further explanation, Jacob can only nod. He'd gotten this far by trusting his brother's word and now would be no different. If Joseph said they needed him, they needed him. Dean could handle his trials, deep down Jacob knew he could. They were cut from the same cloth after all, he just hadn't gone through what Jacob had. Hadn't been through his own test. Once he had, once he was stronger, maybe looking at him wouldn't make Jacob bristle like a wolf met with a pathetic excuse for a rival.

Joseph gave his neck a firm squeeze before letting him go, turning to greet the newly captured deputies and sheriff who glared up at him with grime-covered faces.

Fire burst into the air, sending their members flying away from the chopper. Jacob watched as the Marshal fled the plane, with Dean emerging soon after. He could have stopped him there but he decided to let him run. He'd catch him, like he always did—Except this time it wouldn't end in a playful tussle on the ground.

Dean's body ached, everywhere hurt. His skin was damp and his clothes stuck to him, his slowly returning senses told him he was drenched and freezing. Luckily there was no breeze to make the low temperature of his body any more painful. He blinked open his eyes experimentally, groaning and letting his head roll forward as he shut them again. His movements were sluggish and as he pushed himself forward he felt his wrists get caught on something.

His eyes blearily opened again and he was met with the sight of a zip tie biting into his wrists. Confusion flooded him as he tried to gather his thoughts, where was he? How did he get here? Why was he restrained to a shitty cot in some kind of fucking basement—

He paused at the sight of an older man, clad in camo and fidgeting with what looked like a radio. Dean let out a ragged breath as he shifted into an upright position, yanking on the zip tie and alerting the stranger to his waking. Dean tried to wrack his brain for memories of the last hour or so as the voice from the radio crackled around the room.

He'd been in the truck with the Marshal, the Peggies had chased them all the way to a bridge and then…

Dean felt like he had to puke again, memories of his lungs filling up with water seizing his body and making him curl in on himself. He swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut, he'd always had a fear of drowning. Or at least, he developed it after a few boys had held him under the water for longer than comfortable at the local pool. He shivered, the memory mixing in with the new one and clogging up his throat. He was glad he wasn't dead but he wasn't sure if his current position was better or worse.

"D'ya know what that means?"

Dean looked up at his supposed saviour as he spoke, walking over to him and dragging a metal chair over to take a seat in front of him. Dean blinked at him, face blank as he glanced between him and the radio he'd been listening to. He gave the smallest shake of his head and the stranger scoffed quietly, readjusting in his seat. He looked like a veteran. A very patriotic one if the flag on the wall behind him had anything to say about it. Not surprising—There was a surplus of proud Americans in Hope County.

"Means the roads have all been closed, means the phone lines have been cut—It means there's no signals getting in or out of this Valley." The man explained, expression sour as he adjusted in his chair, the metal creaking under his weight as he shook his head. Dean's gaze fell to his faded boots, twisting his wrists experimentally as he listened. How the hell did they get all of that done so fast? Surely he hadn't been unconscious for that fucking long.

"But mostly it means we're all fucked."

Ha.

Well, yeah, Dean could have told him that.

This whole situation was fucked. From the second Dean heard the word cult he should have split. Hightailed it outta there before any roots had time to dig into his soles. But he felt like he had been building something here, a life maybe. Fucked if he knew anymore, all of that seemed so far away right now.

"They've been waiting for this damn—'Collapse'. For years, waiting for someone to come and fulfil their prophecy and kick off their goddamn Holy War…" He paused, staring Dean down with something akin to blame in his eyes, "Well kid you sure as shit kicked." He grunted. Dean frowned. He was far more unimpressed than the gruff vet in front of him right now. This wasn't his fault, how the fuck could this guy try to pin this all on him? He was just doing his job, his stupid job he was seriously regretting ever taking right now.

He really should have just gone to art school.

Or maybe he should have just gone home, where his older siblings were no doubt cosy in their beds right now. The thought was bittersweet and it made his shoulders tense, fuck he'd forgotten to call them last night. Of course the one time he forgot the phone lines got cut, what great luck he had. At least they were nowhere near this shitfest, that was one solace he had.

"The smartest thing for me to do right now would be to just hand you over." The stranger continued and Dean's eyes snapped back to him, mouth falling open as if to ask him if he was serious. Hand him over? What kind of person would consider handing over one of their last standing deputies to the cultists terrorising their County? The same guy who would save him from drowning only to tie him to the frame of a bed he guessed. Dean's bewildered expression isn't lost on him however and he leaned back with a short exhale and a sharp 'fuck' muttered under his breath.

He turned away from Dean, looking off to the side as he seemed to mull over his options. While he did that Dean weighed his own. Surely he could take this guy if need be, he'd been working out with Hudson every week and she really kept him on his toes. He was in the best shape he'd ever been, if he had to take this guy out to save himself… He told himself would. He couldn't just lie down and accept getting handed over like dirty money under a table.

Dean jumped as the stranger stood suddenly, reaching back and pulling out a small knife. At that moment Dean felt like a cornered animal and his instinct told him to kick his legs out from under him and go for the nearest vital organ with his teeth—but he didn't. He had already killed someone today and he didn't really want to add to that body count just because he was feeling skittish. Two hands reached down between them and in a quick motion the plastic of the zip tie snapped apart and fell to the ground in quick succession.

He stood back up and Dean's arms stayed hovering in front of him, staring up at him with a thousand questions swimming in his eyes. What was the catch here?

"Get outta that uniform, we need to burn it."

"What?" Dean finally spoke, voice raspy and throat tight as he hesitantly rubbed his sore wrists. It hurt to push the syllables out and it hurt his neck to follow the man's gesturing hand as he pointed to the small closet beside the bed.

"The cult's gonna be lookin' for a deputy—There are some fresh clothes there, when you get changed, you come and see me." He explained curtly, stepping back and nodding down at him sternly. It reminded Dean of when a teacher would scold him during detention, the same gruff tone and sharp gaze making him feel small.

"Okay." Dean muttered, complacent enough to go along with this for a moment. Once he got out of here he would be out for good and he wouldn't be coming back. As appreciative as he was for the 'hospitality' he didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him. And he wasn't doing himself any favours with the hostile attitude.

"Good. We'll see if we can, un-fuck this situation." The stranger drawled out, turning and walking out and leaving Dean staring after him with ruffled feathers. He did not want to help with any damn situation. He didn't want to be in this situation. But, he was… And he guessed all he could do right now was get dressed.

One step at a time. Just take it one step at a time.

He stood, grabbing onto the metal frame of the bed as his legs shook, almost giving out. His body was exhausted from the stress it had been put under and he drew in a deep breath as he willed his limbs to hold on just a bit longer. He wasn't out of the woods yet, just a little bit longer. He could figure out his game plan when he was out of here.

Dean shuffled to the closet, rummaging through the clothes and grabbing out whatever looked like it would warm him up the fastest. He shrugged off his uniform, getting into the casual jean, t-shirt and leather jacket combo as quick as he could manage. He bundled up his dirty uniform, pausing as his thumb nudged against his badge. He tugged it from the shirt, holding it in front of his face and inspecting it.

He'd felt somewhat happy when got it, it was like a welcome to the family kind of thing. Something that tied him to the people he shared a majority of his days with now. But now it was scuffed and dull, a sore reminder he couldn't pull off one arrest. Even worse, he'd already done the opposite of serve and protect. A pain-filled face flashed across his vision as he once again recalled the life he'd taken all too fast and all too carelessly. He put the badge back onto the dark green shirt, setting the messy bundle onto the bed and stepping back.

He remembered the first time he'd splayed the uniform across his bed, freshly ironed and unworn. He'd picked every piece of lint off of it, nervous about making a good first impression. He'd had nothing to worry about, Sheriff Whitehorse had patted his back and led him through the department with a warm hand on his shoulder. Nancy had greeted him warmly at the front desk—Fucking Nancy—Dean's jaw tensed and then relaxed. She'd get whatever was coming to her, no need to lose his mind over her betrayal right now.

Another deep breath.

He remembered Joey and Lola welcoming him with smiles, the thought of the blonde brought on a wave of warmth before it was followed with a frightening chill. What had happened to Lola? Fuck. Had they gone after her too? Dean walked out of the small room with an increasing panic, he had to get to the Jail, she'd been there last time he heard—Getting ready for Joseph to be detained until they could get proper transport out of the County. What if Nancy… No, she may have been a traitor but Dean couldn't see her committing any violence herself.

That didn't mean she couldn't open the gates for the wolves to march inside however.

He could hear the other man as he entered a narrow hallway, speaking into a radio and calling out names he didn't recognize.

"Can anyone hear me, this is Dutch, over."

Dean followed the voice, spotting the man he now knew was Dutch, hunched over another radio with a mic. Dean didn't really understand how radios like that worked but he guessed if phone lines were down they would be too. He stayed by the door, casting his gaze over the room and taking everything in. From what he could see here and from a quick glance back down the hall he was in fact, not in a basement but a bunker. This guy had to be a doomsday prepper or something—something Dean had only ever seen on TV.

It was weird now, how reasonable it felt to have one. Up against a cult Dean would definitely want to have a bunker to hide away in, but glancing over the large map on the wall and the pictures of the family in charge of this mess he knew he wouldn't be getting such a pleasure. His eyes stilled over the photo of Jacob for a moment longer than the others and he felt almost ashamed, turning his attention back to Dutch as he kept uselessly calling out names over the radio.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped further into the room, stuffing his hands into the pocket of the jacket a size too big for him. Dutch turned and sized him up, nodding at the new attire and turning to fully face him.

"Good you found somethin'... Look, didn't introduce myself properly back there. Most people call me Dutch." His tone is less aggressive than before and Dean spotted a smidge of remorse in his eyes. A sliver of bashfulness as he crossed his arms over his chest in that guarded way so many vets had the habit of doing. Maybe he wasn't a total unforgivable rude asshole then, just socially inept and stressed. Dean could relate to that.

"Dean," He offers his name back with a small nod, keeping his hands secure in his pockets. He never liked handshakes, they always felt like something adults made him do to show how well he was trained when he was younger. They were always messy and he never had a firm enough grip, he hated the fumbling feeling and spiral it left him in for minutes afterwards. Luckily Dutch didn't seem to want to initiate one either. It was for the best.

"Right well, I'd say nice it's to meet you but…" Dutch trailed off with a shrug and Dean gave a sigh of understanding, "I've been tryin' to work out what's goin' on up top and frankly, it's nothin' good." He carried on while shaking his head and Dean nodded slowly. He figured that much as well, he couldn't imagine something called 'the reaping' would be very fun. He may have expunged most of the religious knowledge drilled into him as a kid but he remembered enough to know a reaping of any kind was not going to be a fun picnic.

"From what I can tell your partners are alive, for now. Sounds like they got split up between the Heralds," Dutch motions to the map with the photos strung up and Dean barely glanced at it before dropping his gaze back to the floor. He wondered who got carded off to Jacob. He wondered if it would have been him had he not been lucky enough to get away. He mulled over the thought, his mind blanking on what that could possibly mean. He couldn't picture Jacob hurting him, but he'd seen him break plenty of noses and twist plenty of arms to the point of dislocation. He could only imagine that hadn't left him all these years, that willingness to leave his mark.

What were they going to do with his colleagues then? It had to be something to show the civilians there was no hope left, strip them down so they put up no fight for whatever Joseph had planned next.

Dean hoped it wouldn't be the gruesome hypothetical his mind assaulted him with.

"I'm sorry—What. What does that even mean?" He asked after a moment through a short, humourless laugh. All of this was surreal. And his list of unanswered questions just kept getting longer.

"It means they got your friend's, kid, and I get if you wanna go help 'em, I do. I got friends that have been taken too, problem for us is there ain't no help comin'." Dutch ranted passionately, waving a hand in a circular motion to gesture around the two of them. What a fucking optimist he was stuck with huh? Dean stepped back and turned to the map, feeling his irritation bite at his tongue. He didn't want to snap at the guy, now wasn't the time as much as this whole thing was getting to him.

If this was meant to be a motivational call to action though he fucking sucked at it.

It just made Dean want to crawl into the bed he'd been tied to and turn to mould under the scratchy blanket.

"Listen, there's an equal amount of us as there are of them. I know there are folks out there willin' to fight they just gotta have someone point them in the right direction." Dutch stepped closer to Dean and he took a step back instinctively, furrowing his brows and shaking his head lightly as the words settled on him.

"Why are you telling me that?" He asked as if he didn't know the answer. He knew exactly what Dutch was getting at, he just didn't want to think about it. Dutch didn't seem to miss that much to his dismay.

"You vowed to serve and protect the people when you put that uniform on didn't ya? So this is how you fuckin' do it. You put together a resistance and you take those fuckers down." Dutch stands firm, pointing an almost accusing finger at Dean. That sounded fucking stupid. Build a resistance and fight the cult? This wasn't a movie, that would never work. He didn't say so out loud, worried about the reaction he'd get from shooting down the idea so harshly. But he had to know it sounds nuts, right?

The fire in the older man's eyes convinced him for a moment he really believed they could do it. Dean sure as shit didn't. He was a shitty leader, he could coordinate maybe three people at a time but it was more a case of doing his own thing and expecting them to follow and not waiting to see if they did. Last time he checked that wasn't a valid way to lead a whole group of people—especially not in a civil war type scenario but maybe desperate times called for… An unqualified junior deputy to become a pseudo resistance leader? Fuck, no, it just kept sounding stupider.

"We gotta take control of this island kid, get us some breathing room. Then we can figure out what to do from there." Dutch's tone softened but the fire in his eyes didn't die down. He really thought he could do this. But what the hell did he know? He didn't know Dean for shit, didn't even know his name until a few minutes ago. If he was putting all his chips on him he was in for a bad roll of the dice. Dean stayed put as Dutch walked over to a small safe, opening it up and grabbing the contents of it in quick movements.

In seconds a map and a gun were shoved into both of Dean's hands.

"You ready?"

No. No he absolutely was not.

#far cry 5 oc #jacob seed x oc #SMFYaM Tag #Far Cry Tag #Dean Tag #Multichapter Tag

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pastelgrungewrecker · 1 year

Text

Dear Daughter, Love and Be Loved || Sg Ish

My heart is full of swords Full of, full of swords

‘How old was she, when they took her?’

‘Sixteen hours, twenty four minutes, forty three seconds.’, was the answer, whispered out with smoke and the smell of moonshine strong enough to make the confession easier.

‘And how old was she, when they broke her, do you think?’

‘....Sixteen hours, twenty four minutes, and forty three seconds.’

‘What do they call her, where you all come from?’

‘Bobcat.’, she says, revealing herself in her aged youth as she adjusts her jacket for patrol, ‘They called me Bobcat. Because they called my father the Hellcat, before he was the Mercenary.’

Her eyes are like seaglass, her face still stoic even now. She was too young to be lost at sea, and yet here she remains- treading water slower and slower.

There is a field, a mile down the road, that Mimi and her siblings know as haunted- the summer vacation visits brought the ghost stories told by Ironhide with his animated gestures and shadow puppetry as the firepit burned and flickered. They say you see little white lights- the ghosts of wanderers who gave themselves to the woods when their hearts broke, mothers who lost their little ones and fathers who lost it all when the town began.

It is haunted by love and it is fed by loss, the grass grows tall and thick and all the wildflowers bloom in creams and angel’s gowns.

Tonight, there is a real ghost within. He is small, barely able to walk. His feet are bare as the day he was rescued two years back and scuffed by mud and burrs sticking to a dirty oversized shirt and pajama pants stitched with stars by a grandmotherly hand.

His eyes reflect the galaxy, they are rimmed in red and he shakes like the cold has burrowed in and can never leave again.

“Zizzy.”, he mumbles, those starlight eyes sunken in just a little from dehydration and his little stomach cramping from hunger.

He walks, and he walks and topples over- a shock of bright white hair in a hunter green sea as petals flutter around where his weight broke the flowers.

They fall on him like angel’s tears, and he curls in on himself with weak little whimpers.

“T’adu’t.”, he hiccups into the chilly breeze before he falls silent, and falls still- his lips and cheeks bright red.

Back at the place built of safety and suffering, twin eldest daughters gear up for a nightly patrol- taking advantage of their natural night vision given as unwanted gifts from parents who had to summon love from hearts killed by equal yet opposite means.

Mimi looks at Mimosa, and tilts her head, “Why the jacket?”

“I’m not going to freeze in this root vegetable hell, thanks.”, is the dry answer, “Unlike YOU I can prepare for scenarios that AREN’T a badly controlled mutiny.”

“Would it KILL YOU to be a decent person?”

“Yes, it would. To you, specifically.”

They both glare at each other before they set out- armed with a set of pistols each and Mimosa with a knife strapped to her upper arm like always, they walk the long winding path.

The stars are bright and yellow as fresh butter, the sky as dark as a stagnant creek. The clouds stream through the night like ribbons, like stray belts scattered with bullet shells and their footsteps are both heavy and silent.

“Never a thought for stealth, huh.”, says Mimosa flatly, her senses on high alert as her eyes rove over the scenery as they near an old field with nothing but the burnt out shell of an old barn left standing.

“Don’t need stealth here.”, was Mimi’s angry and muted response, “I’m, quite frankly, the most dangerous damn thing alive at this hour aside from MAYBE Birdy and Papacyc.”

“Why do you call him that.”

“Call who what?”

“Whirl. Why do you call him Birdy of all things?”

“When I was little, back on the Trion- Well. All I had was Si-si and the crew. So I had Pop-pop Kup, Uncle Spring, Papaspin and Twistdad. And, well. Uncle Birdy.”

“Huh. He raised you on the ship, then?”

“For a gentle use of the word RAISED, I guess.”, said Mimi with a shrug, “Whirl had funny pins on his old dress jacket, looked like bird wings to me since I didn’t have my glasses yet so... I called him Uncle Birdy. What about you? Don’t you have any names for your Percy’s crew?”

“...I didn’t have the crew.”

“Oh, right. You had, uh, well-”

“I called Prowl Papa.”, said Mimosa quietly, “He raised me til I was old enough to be enrolled in the Youth Training Academy facility.”

“...Then what?”

“Next time I saw him, he was sir, I was soldier. But sometimes, when it was just him giving me a lone assignment, I called him Dad. Closest I had to family until, well. Now I guess.”

“Explains why you’re kinda awkward around your siblings.”

“It’s a hard adjustment. They went from being my squad to my family; and I’m not good at having... family.”, she continued, “There was no watching their milestones or kissing their booboos or any of that horseshit. I had one job- Make sure they could never be broken like I realized I was. And to make sure they weren’t experimented on like the other batchkids.”

“Well, at least you got the instinct for it- hey, what’s that?”

Mimosa perked up, pulling a pistol free and aiming cautiously as she slowed down to a near crawl.

The cotton white puff poking free from the grass barely moved- shifted only by the cold wind beginning to pick up.

“Oh... Oh my god, dude, double I think that’s Pulsar!”

They both ran forward, sliding in the gravel of the road just a little before they knelt down next to him. Mimi winced heavily, looking him over.

“Good god... He must have run or wandered for miles, look at his feet. Comm service is dead out here, one of us needs to run back for info.”

“Get running.”, said Mimosa, feeling something pull in her chest at the dirty white hair and the closed eyes, “My legs are still weak, and the prosthetics I’m in aren’t steady enough to run that far as fast as we need to. So get running, I have a flaregun in my hipcase.”

Mimi paused, looking at the toddler trembling and limp on the ground before nodding sharply.

“...Try to warm him, and support his head when you... need to.”

Mimosa nodded before hearing the thud of Mimi’s running footsteps carrying her away.

The wind blows cold, and Pulsar comes to just a little.

“B-Baaaaaaaaabaaaaaaaaaa...”, he whines out, tears beginning to roll.

[An old memory surfaces- Mimosa is barely old enough to walk, her home is dim and the Caretaker nowhere to be found. She reaches out into the shadows- the reflections of the hab’s ceiling tiles flicker like starlight, and she grabs at nothing with her hand.

‘PAPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-’, she wails, green eyes leaking heavy tears like spring rain and starts to hiccup and sob when there’s no answer, until there is.

‘Sssssssh... Papa’s here.’, says the gentle voice of the man she still loved as her father though he hurt her so gravely, ‘Papa’s here, don’t cry my little one. Come here now.’

He holds her tight, he smells of incense and cigars. The tiles shimmer through her tears and she curls her hands in his shirt.]

“B-Babaaaaa-!”

“Ssssssh, shshshs, hey now. Hey.”

When had her voice become so gentle. When had her words stopped hurting to grate out like razors in her throat.

She lays a hand on Pulsar’s arm, and it’s freezing to the touch. She pulls away, worrying her lip for a moment before swearing under her breath at this strange bout of softness, protectiveness- oh, how seeing her squad as siblings had softened her.

She hoped, deep down, it stayed that way.

“Hey now, sssssshshshshsh- I’m here. Mimosa’s here now kid.”

“Mimsa...?”, he mumbles, opening his galaxy eyes and blinking out of time as he coughs, “Mimsaaaaaaaaa-”

Her heart, oh how it aches! Oh how it breaks, as she sees the little one’s white hair and remembers her own as the dye fades a little more every day and she pulls her jacket off without thinking for a moment.

The wind blows, it howls at her and this little boy who did nothing wrong beside exist and be loved and she wonders if maybe, just maybe-

Maybe if she chases away the blue from little fingers and toes then the little girl all those years ago might feel the warmth she deserved, too.

Mimosa was born cold, in more ways than one.

Her heart aches. Her heart breaks.

She wraps Pulsar in her old military jacket, the one Prowl gave her when she started the academy that she still didn’t quite fill out; she wraps him in her jacket and sits down in the gravel as she lifts him carefully from his bed of wildflowers and anguish into her lap.

She tucks him close, hands used to weapons closing around tiny toes to warm them slowly with rough palms like tiger’s paws.

She rocks him, side to side, reaching into her hipcase and pulling out an old flaregun- nearly antique but still useful.

She aims up, holding him close and curling over him to shield from noise and light and fires it straight up. He opens his eyes again when she moves, looking up in wonder at the flying glow.

His hand curls into her shirt. His eyes shine through tears.

The flaregun is put away and her arms adjust him to perch him on her hip so she can situate her shirt to cover his bare and dirt feet- cold against her skin- and she begins to trudge back.

Her legs creak. So does her throat form the lump in it as Pulsar buries his cold little face against her neck and lets his tears free.

“M’zissa in badplace.”, he mumbles.

“I know, li’l one.”, she answers, “We’ll get her back.”

“P’omise?”

“...Yeah, I promise.”, she says quietly, adjusting him on her hip again, “Now let’s go home; you’re like a little snowball.”

They walked for a while until they saw it- lights, flashlights and familiar faces and Mimosa held tighter to Pulsar as she narrowed her eyes- knowing they reflected the light just so, just enough to be unnerving.

“Mimosa, darling oh goodness when Mimi ran back I thought the worst had happened-”

Percy hugged his daughter tight, before gasping when Pulsar huffed and sneezed, “Oh my god.... You two found him.”

“Yes, over by the edge of the field, he must have been running, or, well. Toddling for a long time. His feet are all dirty and sliced up by burrs and the thick grass.”

“Oh my goodness. Oh, the poor dear, here hand him to me-”

“No.”

Mimosa winced. It was meant to come out as a statement, a near command. Like she had control, like she had some semblance of the Something that made her special once but... It came out so. Small. She held tighter to Pulsar, who in turn clung tighter to her shirt and stared in little fear out from where he buried his face against her neck.

Percy felt his chest get heavy, and smiled when he noticed the pale roots of Mimosa’s dyed hair.

“...Actually, I think it would be best for you to carry him home. Come along, let’s get out of this chill.”

He took a few quick steps, getting out in front of Mimosa and waving in the direction of the beams of light and Mimosa could make out the bright red hair of her other parent.

She let herself be weak, for just a moment- she wondered if it was Pulsar she comforted with the tight hug and kiss to the top of a messy head...

Or a little girl with once bright green eyes; who wore little green rainboots on a Praxian balcony during a storm.

#pastelwrites #shatteredglass

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