Latest Posts by moremysteries - Page 7

MY HEARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT! That was so precious. You could just feel their history together, and now they're gonna be together. 🥺 Glad they had a time to relax and talk, even if they'll need to have a deeper discussion about it later down the line.

The compound sounds so cool! The descriptions you gave were great. It really feels alive like Jesse said, and you can just feel the activity buzzing with in. It'll be interesting to see how Jesse and Lira integrate into the compound. With their skills, I imagine they could be a great help around the place.

I also already love Maive, and Veyra always makes me smile. She's definitely one of my favorite characters now, though of course I adore Jesse and Lira.

Chapter 7 - Comfort.

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackle of a candle burning low on the far table. The air was warm, still, and heavy with the scent of wax—faint, but unfamiliar enough to remind them they weren’t home.

Jesse stirred first, her eyes blinking open against the dim orange light filtering in through a covered vent. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. Her muscles tensed on instinct until the sound of soft breathing from the next bed grounded her again.

Lira.

Jesse turned her head, watching as Lira lay curled under the blanket, her hair slightly tousled, lips parted as she breathed slowly. She looked younger like this—less guarded, less ready to fight the world with her fists clenched.

Jesse sighed and let her body relax fully for the first time in what felt like days.

Eventually, Lira stirred too, eyes opening just enough to catch Jesse watching her. “Morning,” she mumbled, her voice rough from sleep.

“Or… whatever time it is.” Jesse gave a sleepy smile.

They sat in the quiet for a few beats longer, neither rushing to move. It was the first moment they’d had where survival wasn’t the immediate priority, and both of them were reluctant to break it.

Then Jesse sat up slowly, stretching her arms over her head. “So this is peace, huh?”

Lira nodded, rubbing her face. “Feels weird. Not fighting for once.”

Jesse gave a soft laugh. “Maybe we should get used to it. At least for now.”

Lira rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she shook her head. “No, it’s probably best we don’t get too comfortable yet.”

“I guess you’re right, but we could at least take this morning slower than normal and just relax… right?” Jesse asked, her voice almost pleading with Lira to slow down and relax.

Lira’s expression softened as she laid back into the bed again. “We have been going pretty hard… I guess one morning of peace and comfort isn’t the worst.”

Lira stood up and grabbed Jesse’s shirt, admiring the softness of the fabric before tossing it to her. “Put this on though, we should at least get comfortable with the new area.” Lira turned to give her friend a hint of privacy as she felt a blush rising up on her cheeks again.

Without hesitation, Jesse nodded and pulled on the shirt, the shoulder’s dull ache a calm reminder of what they had been through. As soon as her chest was covered, she stood and walked behind Lira, pulling her into a tight hug.

The sudden pressure of Jesse’s chest against her back made Lira jump and blush even more.

“I-I…” Lira stammered, her voice wavering.

“Don’t worry, Lira, just relax with me. Whether it’s in this room or out there, we’ve got each other’s backs.” Jesse squeezed Lira tighter and smiled, resting her head on Lira’s shoulder.

The two sat in a comfortable silence with Jesse holding her close, Lira’s head leaning to the side and resting on Jesse’s.

Then, a soft knock on the door, the sound of knuckles rapping on the metal before it slowly creaks open, Veyra poking her head around the corner. “I trust you two are…” Veyra’s eyes widened softly as she looked at the gentle scene, “oh good, you’re getting along just fine.” She giggled and stepped into the room fully.

Lira blushed even further, but Jesse couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Come now, you think I’m not used to seeing this kind of thing between two obvious lovebirds?” Veyra asked, smiling softly.

Lira was speechless, her jaw dropped as she looked down at Jesse.

Jesse’s eyes shone beautifully in the candle light and Lira couldn’t help but relent and nod. “My question is how long Jesse has felt this way…”

Jesse giggled and shrugged, finally managing to peel off of Lira’s back. “It’s been a little while…I could feel it brewing since the moment you walked into my life.” Her voice was dripping with sincerity, soft and calm. “I’ve liked you for a long time now… longer than I wanted to admit.”

Lira chuckled softly, trying to mask how flustered she had grown.

“Seems like you two are ready to explore the compound now,” Veyra smiled softly, pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Through the cold metal door frame, they could see a much warmer view of the rebel compound. There were still groups of people speaking even as the evening became night time.

Before the two walked out together, Lira whispered in Jesse’s ear. “Looks like we’ve got some talking to do later.” With that, they stepped across the threshold together, taking confident strides as their hands brushed against one another, sending a jolt of white hot connection through the two.

The cool night air hit their skin like a wave of ice water.

The sound of conversation had picked up slightly, growing more focused on the two of them.

One woman stepped forward from her group, offering a hand to both of them. “You two must be Lira and Jesse,” she said, her tone calm yet curious. “I’ve heard you’re planning on staying just the two of you. If you change your mind, you’ve got my support.”

The woman who’d greeted them had short, choppy hair dyed deep violet, and a jacket covered in stitched-on patches—most of them worn so thin you couldn’t make out the words. Her hand was calloused but steady as she shook both of theirs.

“I’m Maive,” she said, her voice carrying that quiet steadiness of someone used to surviving rough places. “Been here a while. Helped Veyra set up some of the security protocols. If you need help finding your footing, I’m around.”

“Thank you,” Jesse replied, her voice softer than usual as she tried not to shrink under all the attention. Lira stood slightly ahead of her, clearly taking the lead again.

Maive gave a reassuring nod. “You’ll be fine. People around here talk a lot of shit, but most of them mean well.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you around before they start asking you questions.”

The compound wasn’t a bunker so much as a repurposed skeleton of an unfinished underground transit hub. Graffiti and torn banners hung from exposed steel beams, and faint techno beats leaked from some unseen speaker system deeper in the compound. A few people nodded to them as they passed, eyes lingering just long enough to feel noticed.

There was a corner with crates stacked high—supply cache, maybe weapons. Another hall smelled strongly of spice and broth—mess area. Someone had built a makeshift garden under industrial grow lights, rows of leafy greens taking root in salvaged plastic tubs.

“Don’t expect comfort in the corpo sense,” Maive said, leading them through a dim corridor lined with mismatched doors. “But you’ll eat. You’ll sleep. You’ll have people who watch your back.”

Lira slowed near the garden, curiosity flickering in her expression. “You grow your own food here?”

Maive nodded. “Some. The rest gets traded or stolen. Depends on the month.”

Jesse trailed a few steps behind, eyes wide. This place wasn’t just a hideout—it was alive. Worn-down and stubborn, but real.

When they looped back toward the main chamber, Maive paused and gave them a final once-over. “There’s a war coming whether you join it or not. But if you do—” she pointed back toward the candlelit hall, “you won’t be fighting alone.”

Jesse giggled and nodded. “I appreciate it, Maive. We appreciate it.”

Lira nodded slowly, still taking in all the wonderful things around them and unable to hold back a smille.

This looks so cool!

but the sky is always blue behind the clouds

no one asked but

- my COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN. you can send me a dm for more info

- you can buy prints on my inprnt (https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/teller-of-tragedies/)

- you can also find me on tiktok (https://www.tiktok.com/@teller.of.tragedies) and instagram (https://www.instagram.com/teller.of.tragedies/)

have a nice day :)

It's so sweet that Veyra can already tell the connection those two have, lowkey calling them out by saying they can share a bed if they want lol. I feel the found family growing, and I can't wait to learn more about Veyra. Plus see Lira and Jesse's relationship develop more. I wonder how they'll realize their feelings.

I'm all caught up now. So glad I found this story, it's awesome and you're doing a great job with it! The descriptions in these latest chapters were so good.

Chapter 6 - Hope.

“Good. Now, try to follow my exact footsteps.”

Veyra didn’t wait for a response. She turned sharply and slipped deeper into the alleyways, her steps quick and deliberate. The path she led them down was a maze—twisting turns, tight corners, low-hanging wires. The girls followed close behind, hearts pounding, stepping where she stepped, careful to leave only one trail in the mud.

The neon glow behind them faded with every turn, replaced by dim streetlights barely clinging to life. Eventually, they reached a part of town untouched by the usual buzz—no ads, no corporate banners. Just shadows, whispers, and the occasional flicker of a broken sign.

Clusters of people were gathered around makeshift tables, voices low, eyes sharp. Every conversation seemed to stop and start again with passing glances. It wasn’t chaos. It was control.

Lira and Jesse kept their eyes fixed on Veyra as they followed, her stride unbroken as they passed table after table. Some were groups of men, others women, all casting glances that cut sharper than the silence.

Each group radiated the same quiet tension—alert, wary. They recognized the newcomers, not from introductions, but from whispers and headlines. Two women whose defiance spoke louder in one night than the entire movement had in months.

“Don’t mind them, dears,” Veyra called back, her voice smooth and disarming. “They’re just admiring your passion—and the power of your voices.”

Lira met a few gazes head-on, pride swelling in her chest. For once, the attention didn’t feel like a threat. But Jesse shrank instinctively behind her, trying to disappear into Lira’s shadow. Her pinky tapped out its familiar rhythm against her thigh, each step syncing with the pulse.

tap… tap… tap-tap… tap…

Finally, after what felt like an hour in Jesse’s skin, Veyra stopped at a heavy metal door set into the back wall.

“This is where you’re welcome to stay.” She motioned to the door with a tilt of her head.

Lira stepped forward, pressing her palm against the cool steel and giving it a push. To her surprise, it opened easily.

Inside, the room glowed with flickering candlelight. Two beds sat side by side, neatly made, as if they’d been expecting them all along.

“This is… much cozier than the apartment,” Jesse murmured, eyes scanning the warm shadows. Then she looked back at Veyra, nerves creeping back into her voice. “And if we don’t agree to join… what then?”

Veyra’s gaze dropped. “Then I’m afraid you won’t be welcome here. You’d both be on your own… in a city that wants you dead.”

Lira grabbed Jesse’s hand, squeezing it softly as they locked eyes—a silent conversation worth a million words passing between them.

Veyra smiled at the bond they shared, whether or not they realized it.

Just as the silence stretched too long, Jesse finally spoke. “Then I guess our best shot at seeing this city reformed is with you.”

“Oh good,” Veyra giggled, clapping her hands together with sudden warmth. “I didn’t want to send you out of here after what you’ve been through today. Now, make yourselves at home and relax. You can use one bed or two—your choice.”

Veyra slipped out, the door shutting softly behind her, leaving Jesse and Lira in a welcome silence.

“So… this is our life now, huh?” Lira said, giving Jesse’s hand another gentle squeeze.

“Yeah. Really living the dream,” Jesse chuckled, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

“What do you wanna do first?” Lira asked, voice somewhere between caution and wonder.

“I could go for a nap…” Jesse yawned, pulling off her jacket and tossing it onto a hook.

She padded over to the bed, peeled off her shirt, and flopped under the covers with a sigh of relief.

Lira smiled as she watched her, a light blush creeping up her cheeks. Eventually, she rolled her eyes and joined her, flopping onto the other bed with a quiet huff of contentment.

Literally just...

Des: They're annoying pests that play in puddles of their own blood.

Striant: 😛

Bradi: Wow, I'm like, horrified.

I'm late, but happy worldbuilding wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

Thanks for the ask! Also late, haha.

I've created creatures inspired from various animals. Now... favorites? Hmm... Do dragons count? I only have: a anime typical half-jaguar oc; a raccoon skull in the design of a giant; dragons, dragon people, dragonborn, dragon inspired designs, original fantasy dragons, etc.

*None of the real life examples above appear in a WIP I'm currently working on.

My favorite animals are black jaguars, dogs, corvids, raccoons, cats and blue whales.

My top favorite fantastical creatures are: dragons (the broad, ineffable definition) and ponies.

This is getting so exciting! I can't wait to see wherever Veyra wants to take them. And also who else is on her team. It sounds intimidating, though it's definitely one of the few chances they have at safety.

Though I am a little confused when it comes to Veyra's description. She is originally described with white hair, and then dark hair. You may want to clarify for readers.

Chapter 5 - Mysteries.

They followed her at a distance—neither too close to spook her, nor too far to lose her in the crowd. She moved through the market with the kind of grace Jesse only ever saw in dancers or predators. Her coat was long, matte black with subtle electric-blue threading that shimmered like circuit lines when it caught the dim light. It didn’t match the worn, chaotic energy of the market; it was too clean, too calculated.

Her boots struck the ground with purpose, soles silent despite the grit beneath them. Jesse noticed the way people seemed to part for her, even without realizing it—like their instincts warned them to keep a respectful distance. She wasn’t just any local.

Lira leaned in close to whisper, “She’s not armed—at least not obviously. But look at her posture. Center of gravity’s low, hips slightly forward… Combat trained.”

“Military?” Jesse murmured.

“More likely corpo security. Or worse—ex-corpo, off-leash.”

Jesse kept her eyes fixed on the woman’s hair—a sharp, asymmetrical bob dyed white-blonde, the ends faded into an unnatural cyan that pulsed faintly under the neon signs. The back of her neck was bare, save for a glowing datajack with an old corporate logo burned into the skin like a scar that never fully healed.

She’s not hiding where she came from, Jesse thought. She wants us to know.

The woman glanced over her shoulder once—just once. Sharp eyes like twin razors. No surprise, no fear. Just confirmation.

“She knows,” Jesse whispered.

Lira nodded grimly. “Good. Makes it easier to skip the lies when the shit hits the fan.”

The woman chuckled, a soft sound that felt oddly out of place against the sharp edges of her presence. “Hopefully the only thing blowing up is going to be Omnigen, dears.”

Jesse tensed at the name. “I assume you’ve done your research?”

“Of course I have. Can’t go scouting for new team members without knowing exactly who you are.” Her voice was calm, clipped, like the decision had already been made for them.

“Team members?” Lira’s tone sharpened. “We tend to fly just the two of us. Not sure how well that’s going to fit into your little operation.”

The woman didn’t flinch. “Oh, I don’t expect that to change. Omnigen—and every other corpo snake—has eyes on you. If you suddenly had backup, they'd double their security before we had a chance to strike.”

They trailed behind the woman through a narrow alley choked with rusted fire escapes and neon reflections bouncing off puddles. The city’s usual noise faded to a distant hum, replaced by the sharp clicks of the woman’s boots echoing against the damp concrete.

Jesse quickened her pace just slightly, stepping closer. “So…who are you exactly?” Her voice was soft yet eager, the corners of her mouth twitching with the hint of a grin. “I mean clearly you know us, it feels kinda unfair not to know your name.”

The woman glanced over her shoulder with a half-smile. “Call me Veyra. That’s all you need for now.”

Lira stayed behind them, eyes sweeping over rooftops, windows, any reflective surface. She didn’t like how quiet this part of town was—it wasn’t abandoned, just… too still. “And what exactly do you want with us, Veyra?” Her fingers flexed, itching for the comfort of something familiar—like the spray can she kept clipped to her belt.

“I want what you want,” Veyra said simply. “To burn the rot out of this city. But if we don’t get smart about it, we’ll die trying.”

Jesse furrowed her brow. “I assume that means building a team?”

Veyra nodded slowly. “A decentralized cell. One no one can pin down. You two are ghosts—they’ve already spun stories about your ‘terrorist ring.’ Let them think it’s bigger than it really is.”

Lira narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking like you’ve already made the decision for us.”

Veyra stopped suddenly, turning to face them fully for the first time. In the dim light, Jesse could finally get a better look at her—mid-thirties maybe, sharp cheekbones, a jagged scar bisecting her left eyebrow. Her hair was dark and cropped close, her leather coat having seen more years than it should have. But her eyes… her eyes burned like dying stars.

“I’m talking like I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been breathing,” Veyra said. “But I haven’t survived this long by forcing people into fights they don’t believe in.”

Jesse tilted her head, intrigued. “Then why us?”

“Because you started something.” Veyra spoke calmly, eyes flicking from Jesse to Lira. “And because you don’t look away when the world bleeds.”

Lira folded her arms tightly. “That’s not a compliment. It’s a death sentence.”

Veyra didn’t disagree.

She simply shrugged, a faint smile creeping across her features. “And yet here you both are—following a strange woman who has a very obvious corpo past.”

“We don’t exactly have a better option,” Jesse replied, her voice firm and muscles tensed. “The apartment’s compromised, and we don’t have many alleys or markets to hide in.”

Veyra smirked, sensing the tension in the air. “Your apartment never was truly. Omnigen already knew exactly where you lived. They let you stay there to lull you into a false sense of security—until you started making too much noise. They wanted to scare you into submission, stop you from joining something bigger. Like my team.”

Lira clenched her fists at her side, her voice was ice cold. “And who says we’re joining your damn team?”

“I didn’t say you were,” Veyra said calmly. “I just figured I’d show you a place that’s safer than your busted apartment or the middle of a protest about to be gunned down.”

Lira and Jesse both froze, stealing a glance at each other.

“That…does sound like a better deal than just hoping we don’t catch another bullet.” Lira said, her voice an admission of guilt and defeat that Jesse had never heard before. Softer, more willing to submit to Veyra’s words.

Jesse watched carefully, unsure what scared her more: the bullets, or the tone in Lira’s voice.

I love this new character already! I'm also impressed with the way you write their dialogue. I sometimes struggle with certain characters sounding too similar, but you do a great job with the dialogue of all three of these characters. I can really hear their voice through the text. Also love how you write action, it had me on the edge of my seat!

Chapter 4 - The Protest.

The next morning, Jesse woke with a groan, the dull ache in her shoulder a solemn reminder of the danger she put herself into last night.

She looked over at Lira, who was still sitting with her knees to her chest. A wave of emotions washed over her. Guilt? Sadness? Love? Right now it was all too hard to parse over the pain.

“Hey, you wake yet?” Jesse asked, her voice hoarse from the ragged breaths she took.

“Yeah…” Lira yawned out, her gaze slowly lifting from the single tile on the floor she had been looking at all night, her eyelids drooping.

“…You didn’t sleep, huh?” Jesse’s voice was oozing for concern with her friend.

“Is it that obvious?” Lira whispered, a soft chuckle escaping her lips momentarily.

“Well…normally you look like a flame roaring to life when you wake up, but now you look like a raccoon,” Jesse said, a small smirk playing across her lips as she gestured toward her own eyes.

Suddenly, something on the TV caught their attention.

“Last night in Serath, protests broke out regarding…”

They both tuned out the broadcast, locking eyes.

Jesse spoke first, voice quiet with disbelief. “We… We started something, didn’t we? With our art?”

Lira nodded, her voice a hushed whisper. “Yeah… we did. Wish I’d finished mine, though.” She chuckled softly, her hands sliding from her knees to the floor as she pushed herself upright.

Jesse tried to stand too, wincing with every movement.

Lira laughed and smirked, stepping over to catch her before she could fall. “Careful, soldier. Don’t go hurting yourself now.”

Jesse couldn’t help but giggle, rolling her eyes.

The TV faded back into their awareness. “For those of you looking to stay safe, we recommend avoiding Duskline Avenue…”

“Let me guess… you wanna go there today, huh?” Jesse smiled, stretching out her stiff limbs. “Safety’s never been your thing.”

Lira huffed, smirking. “Guess you can read me like a book.”

“Not hard to do when I’m used to tagging along on all your little missions, Lira.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Lira chuckled, brushing off the tease. “C’mon, let’s get you ready.”

As Lira helped Jesse pull on her jacket from the night before, she couldn’t help but notice something. Jesse was still wearing the gloves from their run-in with Vance.

“You really like those gloves, huh?” Lira teased.

Jesse did her best to hide the blush rising in her cheeks. “So what if I do? They’re comfy!”

Lira chuckled, shaking her head. “Nothing wrong with liking the gloves you used to beat your first debt collector.”

The heat on Jesse’s face grew, and she quickly turned away, tugging the jacket on the rest of the way. For once, she was completely speechless — not from the hollow ache she knew too well, but from the sudden, fragile warmth blooming in her chest.

Satisfied, Lira smirked and tapped Jesse’s shoulder. “Time to go, soldier.”

Jesse took a deep breath, nodded, and smiled softly before leading the way out.

They wound their way through the maze of backstreets and alleyways, careful to avoid prying eyes. Eventually, they found themselves at the center of an enormous protest—voices bounced off the monolithic buildings towering over Duskline Avenue.

One message cut through the chaos, sharp as a blade: “RELEASE THE FILES. SHOW THE TRUTH.”

The chant thundered across the avenue, a living, breathing thing.

Lira joined in first, shouting with her whole chest. Jesse quickly followed, her voice softer but no less determined. “RELEASE THE FILES. SHOW THE TRUTH.”

Lira climbed onto the roof of a battered car, raising her firsts and leading the chant, fully caught in the moment. Jesse stayed close, feet on the ground, her presence quieter but no less vital.

The sight of it all—the passion, the sheer mass of people—moved Jesse in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Her simple little tag had helped spark this. It felt unreal, overwhelming…but she couldn’t stop herself from chanting alongside the crowd.

Their voices grew hoarse, lost in the sound and the safety of the numbers around them—the unwitting masses never realizing their two ghost leaders stood right there among them.

Eventually, the crowd began to die down—until a single gunshot cracked through the air, slicing past a wall of bodies and slamming into the hood of the car Lira was standing on with a sickening crunch.

Screams erupted in an instant. Panic spread like a wildfire. Lira leapt from the car just as another shot hit the metal frame behind her, sending the crowd into full-blown chaos. People pushed and stumbled, nearly trampling one another in their rush to escape.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Lira shouted, eyes darting across the windows of the far buildings as she searched for the source.

Then—another shot. This one shattered the side of the car near her landing point.

Before Jesse could react, Lira grabbed her hand and yanked her toward a nearby pillar. She’d seen it: the telltale flash of glass. A scope. They weren’t aiming to kill yet. Just playing with them. But they knew where they were.

A third shot slammed into the pillar with a sharp thud.

Then silence.

Too quiet.

Where had the protestors gone? Were they hiding? Watching? Had they scattered completely?

Questions raced through Lira’s mind, but she pushed them down. No time. Can’t look. That sniper’s still watching.

A soft crack—a new gunshot, muffled this time. Silenced. A warning. Either the sniper had changed tactics, or there were two.

Jesse’s fingers began to tap a quiet rhythm on her thigh, the one she always fell into when the fear crept too close. Her eyes scanned the nearby doors, the pillars, the shadows. Can’t go down the street. Shots were too low. They’ll have it covered. Need an alley. Something tight.

Lira stayed still, her breathing shallow, eyes flicking between possible exits.

Then her thoughts turned, as they always did, toward Jesse.

If I give myself up… would they let her go?

She clenched her jaw. No. No, don’t think like that. We get out. Together.

Jesse tore one glove off and lobbed it around the corner of the pillar. Two shots rang out—simultaneous. The glove shredded mid-air.

Shit. Two of them. Her thoughts raced, calculating.

Bolt action? Maybe. Could give us a second to run for an alley. But I can’t keep tossing things and hoping they reload.

Her rhythm picked up—fingers tapping frantically now—as her eyes met Lira’s.

Without hesitation, Lira pulled Jesse into her chest, shielding her. Every muscle in her body coiled. Then she moved—scooping Jesse up like she weighed nothing and sprinting toward the next concrete cover.

They almost made it.

Two more shots ripped through either side of Jesse’s jacket, far too close for comfort—too precise.

Lira’s instincts screamed. She pivoted sharply, the sunlight catching a puddle in the alley just ahead. She veered toward it, taking a hard turn just as two more bullets slammed into the corner where they’d been just milliseconds before.

Don’t stop. Not yet. Too close. Her legs burned, lungs heaving, but she pushed through it all—darting between shadows, diving behind dumpsters, weaving through tight alleyways.

Only once they broke into a crowded market, loud and alive, did she slow. She set Jesse down in front of her, breath ragged.

“You okay?” she asked, scanning her friend for blood.

Jesse winced, taking a deep breath to calm the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “No more hurt than I was this morning…unless you count sentimental damage.”

Lira let out an exasperated sigh and wrapped her arms around Jesse, holding her tightly, as if sheer force could keep her safe. “Thank god… I don’t know what I’d do if I let you get hurt again.”

Jesse smiled softly at her words, unspoken words and emotion curling at the corners of her lips.

The market buzzed around them—a wash of voices, bartering, footsteps, and laughter. After the gunfire and hollow silence, the sound of normal life was almost surreal. Comforting in its chaos.

“Was it a setup?” Jesse asked, her voice low.

Lira’s stomach tightened. It was the only thing that made sense. “We can’t be sure just yet.” She knew she was lying, but it was better than facing the truth.

Jesse nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah…but if it was a setup, they gave us a way out. Almost like they didn’t want us dead. Like it was a test.”

They began moving, weaving through the crowd. Lira leaned in closer, her voice almost drowned in the noise. “And if they wanted us there, who knows how many of those protestors were agents?”

Jesse went quiet, her shoulders tensing slightly beneath the ripped jacket.

Just as they were relaxing slightly, a voice cut through the noise of the merchants behind them.

“You two made quite the mess back there.”

They spun around. A woman stood half-shadowed beneath the canopy of a market stall, fingers tucked into her coat pockets. She looked calm—too calm for someone who’d supposedly just walked out of a sniper ambush.

Jesse instinctively stepped back, her body still wired from adrenaline. Lira moved in front of her without thinking.

“We don’t know you,” Lira said flatly.

“You don’t need to.” The woman glanced up, letting them catch a brief glimpse of her face. She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe someone who’d been part of the protest. Or the building. “But I know you.”

Jesse tensed.

The woman continued, her voice just above the murmur of the crowd. “You weren’t the only ones painting last night. But you were the loudest. Most visible. And now? People are listening.”

She paused, looking at Lira. “They’ll come again. Louder next time. You need to be somewhere safe.”

“And let me guess,” Lira said with a bitter smirk, “you just so happen to know a place?”

“I know the place.”

The woman turned and started walking away without another word. Lira hesitated. Jesse touched her arm.

“I think we should hear her out.” Jesse’s voice was soft and meek, like a mouse.

Lira didn’t move, eyes narrowed. “It could be a trap.”

Jesse exhaled. “Maybe. But we’re running out of alleys and markets to hide in.”

Lira hesitantly nodded, knowing their safety was limited if they stayed on the run.

With that, the two women followed this new anomaly of a woman.

No no you don't understand! I want to watch this show/movie, read this book, listen to this podcast, etc.! But I must be in the right mindset and the exact head space to begin, or I just can't!

Lol for real. They'd be little menaces, sucking the soul energy from the cows that can't shake them off. They'd leave the crops alone at least. Heck, they might be able to scare away wolves and foxes. Yes, those little puffballs can be that terrifying. They still wouldn't be great among farm animals though.

Thankfully, outside of a pet the crew get later on, they mostly just stay in Des' realm, frolicking amoung the roses.

I'm late, but happy worldbuilding wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

Thanks for the ask! Also late, haha.

I've created creatures inspired from various animals. Now... favorites? Hmm... Do dragons count? I only have: a anime typical half-jaguar oc; a raccoon skull in the design of a giant; dragons, dragon people, dragonborn, dragon inspired designs, original fantasy dragons, etc.

*None of the real life examples above appear in a WIP I'm currently working on.

My favorite animals are black jaguars, dogs, corvids, raccoons, cats and blue whales.

My top favorite fantastical creatures are: dragons (the broad, ineffable definition) and ponies.

AH THEY'RE SO CUTE! It's also cool to learn more about their shared apartment. Like the characterization that Jesse is good at tinkering with things, which would make sense considering what we know about her mother. I literally cheered at the TV broadcast. The plot thickens and I'm pumped to see where it goes!

Chapter 3 - Jesse Slept.

As the bandage was applied, Jesse let out a soft sigh of relief. The sharp pain had gradually begun to find into a dull, persistent ache as the burn gel worked its magic.

Lira, still processing what just happened, sat with Jesse, her hands trembling slightly. Tears threated to spill over, but she fought them back. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Jesse. Not like this.

The silence of the apartment was suffocating, a stark reminder of their isolation. The two were together, but in this moment, they were still alone. The distant wail of sirens cut through the quiet like butter, but inside, the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning unit, a mechanical reminder of the world that kept turning outside even while they were trapped in this small, quiet space.

“I’m like a little medical doll,” Jesse choked out through tears, her voice shaking like a leaf behind the mask of confidence she attempted to wear.

Lira let out a soft chuckle before giving Jesse’s thigh a gentle, playful punch. “Just focus on staying alive…” Her voice wavered slightly, then dropped to a whisper just loud enough to hear. “…for me. Please.”

“You think I’m giving up that easy? That I’d throw away everything we’ve built together just because some bullet nicked me?”

“Well—I—no,” Lira stammered. “I-I guess I don’t think you would. But I worry you might not get much of a choice.”

Jesse gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. Just like you.”

Tears welled up even further in the corners of Lira’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “Good. I’m just…I’m so sorry you had to take that bullet. I should’ve—”

“Don’t even start,” Jesse cut her off gently. “I stood in the way. You didn’t push me into it.”

“Jesse, we…we can’t do this forever. You know that, right?” Lira’s voice broke while tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I mean…what if that hadn’t been a glancing blow? What if the guard had better aim?”

“I’m not letting you stop me from doing what I can to avenge my mom.” Jesse’s voice was calm—uncharacteristically so. Measured. Controlled. Like she was holding something back.

“I wasn’t planning to stop you, I just—” Lira faltered, her words falling apart as she leaned into her friend, crying—actually crying—for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jesse said nothing at first. She simply wrapped her good arm around Lira and held her close, breathing in the silence between them. Then, gently—unsure why—she pressed a soft kiss to the top of Lira’s head. She didn’t think she felt that way about Lira…at least, not yet. Yet somehow, in that moment, it felt right.

Lira melted into Jesse, clinging tighter until their bodies felt indistinguishable, her cheeks flushed with heat from the kiss. “I’m gonna do better,” she whispered. “I promise you that much.”

Jesse smiled softly and turned on the TV, flipping it to a news channel. Right there on the screen is her completed tag, splashed across a corporate tower like a scar in the skyline. It’s being shown on every news network their basic cable can show.

Jesse let out a soft sigh, the pain ebbing further under the thick bandages and burn gel. The news broadcast played in the background, her tag glowing on screen beneath grainy footage of the high-rise wall. She stares, silent.

It’s done. One step closer.

But that old memory flooded through her again—her mother’s eyes, glassy and unmoving. The sound cut out around her.

Beside her, Lira felt the tension coil in Jesse’s shoulders again. She reached out and flicked Jesse on the forehead.

“Don’t go back to then,” she says, voice quiet but steady. “We can’t change what happened, only what we’re going to do to return the favor.”

Jesse’s laugh is small and dry. “Yeah…I guess you’re right.”

She’s still spiraling, Lira thinks, watching Jesse place a hand over where Lira had flicked moments ago. Every time she sees that tag, she drifts. Every time she hurts, she hides.

Jesse leans her head back against the wall. She always pulls me back. Always. I don’t know how she does it.

Lira shifts closer, brushing her hand along Jesse’s arm. She’s still bleeding for me, even now. And I don’t know if I can keep watching that happen.

Jesse catches the movement and reaches over to squeeze Lira’s hand. Neither of them says anything.

We’re both doing this for the other, she thinks. But only one of us might walk away from it. I want it to be her.

A flicker of pain washes over Jesse’s face as she shifts to lay down on the floor, settling in front of the door. The movement is slow, deliberate, as she tried to make herself more comfortable.

Lira sighed softly and scooted a few inches away, giving Jesse the space she needed, though her eyes never leave her friend. She pulled her knees to her chest, a silent watchful presence.

“Good night, Lira…and thank you,” Jesse murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, still heavy with exhaustion. She closed her eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep, hoping it will give Lira some semblance of peace.

Lira knows better. She knows Jesse isn’t actually asleep—not yet, at least.

The clock on the wall, an old analog piece Jesse fixed up with her own hands, chimed softly. The bells rung out the hour. Ring. Ring.

The familiar melody of the clock echoed in the room, providing an odd kind of comfort in the dim red light.

“I love you, Jesse…” Lira whispered, her voice so soft it barely broke the silence between them.

Jesse fought the urge to smile, her heart skipping a beat at the quiet confession. She wasn’t sure the extent of Lira’s love, but she knew she felt the same. The feeling is foreign, but powerful. After years of pushing away every emotion, this one hit harder than she expected. I love you too, Lira. She thinks, but didn’t dare speak the words. The magic of the moment was too fragile to break.

The pain in Jesse’s shoulder came back in waves, making it feel as if hours had passed. She didn’t move a muscle, desperate to maintain the fragile peace that hung in the air.

Lira counted the seconds every time Jesse’s breath hitched even slightly, keeping track, making she she knew exactly how often it happened—and whether she needed to step in. Whether that meant dragging her to a hospital like she knows she should have done from the start, or springing into action like she always had. This was too much compared to her usual patch jobs. Too different. Too dangerous for her to be the only one working on it.

On the other hand, she knew that if she tried to take Jesse to the hospital now—not even three hours after their little adventure at the Omnigen building—she’d be risking the cops getting to Jesse first.

Jesse shifted slightly, the slight rustle of clothing catching Lira’s attention.

The fragile stillness shattered, replaced by a wave of nerves as Lira watched Jesse like a hawk, heart racing, ready to act if she had to.

Jesse assumed by now that Lira would be asleep. She mumbled, “Fuck, this hurts…Mom, I hope you’re proud of me…”

“You kidding?” Lira’s voice is soft, laced with concern. “Of course she’d be proud of you, Jesse…You went and tagged the main building of the corporation that took both your home and her life.”

Jesse froze, realizing she wasn’t as alone as she initially thought. “Y-Yeah…Right…I guess I did do that…”

Lira let a soft giggle escape her lips and nodded, “Damn right you did. You even beat me to it.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Jesse’s voice floated out, a bit more monotone, drained, forced. “Do you think…tomorrow’s pain is going to be worse..?”

“Whatever happens, we’re still here. That’s what matters.”

Jesse turns her head to look at Lira, lost for words, and offered a small, soft smile.

Lira reached out, brushing her hand along Jesse’s face and rubbing her thumb across Jesse’s cheek.

The moment hung between them—fleeting, but feeling like it could last forever. Both of them were smiling quietly, wordlessly, grateful just for the chance to exist together in this shattered world.

After what felt like hours of unspoken words and emotions, Jesse finally surrendered to sleep, letting it take her into the night.

Lira sighed softly, watching her, before finally nestling her chin between her knees and closing her eyes.

Ah, got it. Unicorns, pegasus, alicorns, and honestly, that show had lots of cool creatures! It's a great source of inspiration.

And that would be the Striants. They're the creatures of Desiderius, the demon of lust. They're basically these adorable black puffballs with red shimmering accents. They can capure pure soul energy from other entities and store or transfer it. Also they produce like rabbits, so there is a bunch of them in Des' realm lol. They are the creatures of the demon of lust, after all.

Dark but oddly adorable fact, Striants bleed but they can not actually be killed. They bleed to scare off annoying predators via playing dead. When they're safe, they literally play in puddles of their own blood, not understanding how dark that is because they do no understand death. Des often tells the rest of the cast that to stop them from finding Striants adorable. It's impossible though. They are, at the end of the day, cuddly puffballs (that just so happen to also play in their own blood).

I'm late, but happy worldbuilding wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

Thanks for the ask! Also late, haha.

I've created creatures inspired from various animals. Now... favorites? Hmm... Do dragons count? I only have: a anime typical half-jaguar oc; a raccoon skull in the design of a giant; dragons, dragon people, dragonborn, dragon inspired designs, original fantasy dragons, etc.

*None of the real life examples above appear in a WIP I'm currently working on.

My favorite animals are black jaguars, dogs, corvids, raccoons, cats and blue whales.

My top favorite fantastical creatures are: dragons (the broad, ineffable definition) and ponies.

Got it, got it. Thanks for answering, I am loving the story so far! You have me glued to your writing. /gen

I was a bit confused on this, so I thought I'd ask. How old is Jesse when she starts living with Lira, and how old are they by the action sequence in chapter 2 (since there's a small time skip before that, I believe)?

I'm writing them as roughly 20-25, in that age bracket. Think the equivalent of someone fresh out of high school but not quite college age yet.

Dragons can absolutely count! And honestly, I can relate to your love for them. There's just so much you can do with dragons, from elemental designs, to just playing around with the wing and tail design, etc. They're just so cool and versitile!

And by ponies I assume you mean things like unicorns and pegasus?

I'm late, but happy worldbuilding wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

Thanks for the ask! Also late, haha.

I've created creatures inspired from various animals. Now... favorites? Hmm... Do dragons count? I only have: a anime typical half-jaguar oc; a raccoon skull in the design of a giant; dragons, dragon people, dragonborn, dragon inspired designs, original fantasy dragons, etc.

*None of the real life examples above appear in a WIP I'm currently working on.

My favorite animals are black jaguars, dogs, corvids, raccoons, cats and blue whales.

My top favorite fantastical creatures are: dragons (the broad, ineffable definition) and ponies.

I loved the descriptions in this chapter. The way you described the red light and the connection between Lira and Jesse was so beautiful.

Chapter 2 - Lira cried.

Over the coming days, Jesse was lost for words, unable to speak without sobs threatening to erupt from her throat. Lira stayed by her side every step of the way though, and she knew it was everything she could do for her new friend.

The world wouldn’t pause. Not for Jesse. Not for the blood that was barely scrubbed from the tiles. The corpos barely registered a blip in their record—”Resistance to lawful eviction protocol,” the called it. Case closed. Body incinerated. Debts absorbed into the void.

Jesse didn’t leave her room for three days. Nobody asked why.

She didn’t sleep, either. Just sat on the floor of the tiny apartment she now shared with Lira, eyes fixed on the door, waiting—half-hoping the lock would click open and it would all be some mistake. An error. A bad dream with cheap lighting and synthetic blood.

But the dream never ended.

Lira came by the first night and never left.

She didn’t force conversation. Instead, she took over the smaller things—cooking tasteless noodles with rusted burners, boiling the apartment water twice, digging through Jesse’s things to find her old blanket with worn-out corners. When Jesse didn’t eat, Lira ate beside her, allowing the sound of chewing to fill the dead air. When Jesse couldn’t speak, Lira read manuals and junk news aloud like they were bedtime stories.

“If the world doesn’t pause for us,” she said one night, voice quiet in the dark, “Then we make our own time. Right here. Just us.”

Lira also handled the authorities—wrote the report that Jesse couldn’t, signed the form that let the apartment stay under Jesse’s name, hacked the local tenancy records to make Jesse’s age and status blur just enough to keep inspectors from prying too close.

She never asked for thanks. Never made a show of it.

But Jesse noticed.

She noticed the way Lira angled herself between Jesse and the door, like she could ward off the world just by being there. She noticed the way Lira didn’t flinch when Jesse finally broke down, days later, crying soundlessly into her shoulder with clenched fists and shuddering lungs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lira said simply. And Jesse believed her.

By the fourth day, Jesse got the notification.

It blinked cold and bright on the wall terminal, cutting through the half-dark of their apartment with bureaucratic precision.

A single click deep into the metadata, and she saw it—the name of the collector, buried in strings of serials. A security firm subsidized by one of the major corpos, protected under the Corporate Seld-Defense Act. It mean nothing would come of it. No investigation. No charges. No one would answer for the blood that stained her doorstep.

The system didn’t even acknowledge her as next of kin.

It treated her mother like a variable. A hiccup in a policy enforcement protocol.

And Jesse was supposed to forget.

A week later, someone from the Housing Department came by to “confirm unit compliance.” The man had silver implants where his eyes should have been and didn’t seem to notice the stack of half-eaten food or the two girls crammed over to one side of the room like survivors clinging to a lifeboat. He offered Jesse a new tenant registration card and a reeducation pamphlet on ”positive social integration after loss.”

Lira was the one who took it from him and shut the door in his face.

“They think you’re just some glitch,” she muttered, tearing the pamphlet in half. “That you’ll disappear. That we’ll forget.”

Jesse couldn’t speak. Her hands were clenched around her mother’s old mug, knuckles turning white with a flurry of emotions. That night, she stared at the terminal screen until the soft blue glow etched itself into her vision. She memorized every name listed on that damned security contract. Every ID. Every falsified timestamp.

She didn’t have a plan yet. But she would. Omnigen made sure of that.

Days turned into weeks, into months, of the same thoughts crossing her mind. The same names and IDs flashed behind her eyelids every time she attempted to close them.

Eventually, Lira had gotten sick of seeing someone who had grown to be her best friend and closest confidante hiding in the darkness of her room—only cming out for the occasional meal or because she wanted to accompany Lira on a trip to the store—and burst past the creaky door. “Jesse, I have something we’re doing.”

Jesse, eyes filled with sadness and fear, didn’t respond at first, only standing once Lira pulled her to her feet.

Lira brought Jesse to a dark alleyway in the middle of some corpo complex, much like her own, when her voice seeped from her throat, cold and even.

“Jesse, we’re going to start something. Together. We’re going to be the spark to the fires of a revolution,” Lira spoke softly, just loud enough for Jesse to hear.

Jesse didn’t have the strength to respond with her voice—that was still lost in her depression—her brows raise and she tensed slightly.

“I know it’s scary, but I found a debt collector for the same corpo assholes who—well, you know…” Lira’s voice trailed off, knowing Jesse knew what she meant.

They round another corner in what felt like a maze of twists and turns with Lira pulling Jesse close behind her by the wrist to reveal a man in a suit, tied to a chair.

The moment Jesse saw his face, something clicked into place—something that had become dislodged by the trauma of seeing her mother’s blood pooling beneath her warm body. She knew him. She had never forgotten his name.

“Vance Halroyd,” she muttered, her voice cold and calculated. “The man responsible for my mother’s death.”

That old rhythm tapped out on her thigh, subtle and steady, as she stared him down—searching for words that refused to come.

Only one memory surfaced: Vance’s sleek figure snaking around a corner as she collapsed to her knees beside her mother’s body.

The same sadness welled up in her chest, twisted now into something darker.

A disheartening laugh slipped from her lips, sickly sweet and unhinged, echoing through the alley in a way that made Lira shiver and take a step back, releasing her friend’s wrist.

Jesse stepped forward, deliberate, each footfall heavier than the last, until she stood mere centimeters from his face.

“Vance,” she sneered. “I’ve been waiting to see you properly for months. And now that I have you here, all I can think about is how sick people like you make me—how badly I want to make your kind disappear into the void of depression and anxiety.”

She paused, her voice softening just enough to send a chill through Lira and Vance’s spines.

“But I wont. I’ll leave you marked, not dead. I won’t pass my pain onto your family—if you have one that loves you—by killing you. I’ll let karma take care of that.”

With that, she turned to Lira and motioned for her gloves. “Give me those. He’s had this and more coming for as long as he’s been a debt collector corpo scum.”

Her words were dark, laced with venom—something Lira had never heard from her before. She took off the studded fingerless gloves and tossed them to Jesse, who caught them, pulled them onto her hands, and let that same sick chuckle seep from her throat again.

The sound died in her throat as quickly as it had begun. Her eyes narrowed, fixing on the man with an unsettling stillness. She inhaled deeply, a small, sharp smile curling on her lips—just a flicker before she snapped into action. In one fluid motion, her fist collided with his jaw, the sickening crack of bone slicing through the air like a promise.

For a moment, everything was still—then, without hesitation, she planted her foot on his chest and kicked with all her might. The chair he was tied to splintered beneath the force, its remnants scattering across the cold damp ground like discarded refuse.

Jesse leaned down, her voice a low whisper that cut through the dead air like a knife, “This is the part where you run, Vance.”

The moment the words left Jesse’s mouth—the sickening sound of blood dripping from her gloves echoed in the silence—a cruel smirk flickered across her lips as she watched the man scramble to his feet—pathetic, desperate—and turn to flee. She didn’t move. She didn’t need to, she had sent the message.

Satisfied, Jesse turned to face Lira, her smile soft and warm, uncharacteristic given the coldness of the moment. It was genuine, a flicker of appreciation in the wake of the violence that had just transpired. Without a word, the two stepped out onto the bustling street, the world around them completely unaware of the brutality that had just unfolded a few yards away.

A few moments of walking passed before the blare of a police drone’s siren sliced through the air, causing Jesse to flinch, the sudden noise rattling her. Instinctively, she moved to run but stumbled, her legs unsteady. Lira was quick to catch her, pulling her up with a steady grip before leading her back through the maze of alleys they used to get there in order to lose the drone.

After what felt like hours, Lira pulled Jesse into the apartment, the air filled with tension up until the moment Jesse locked the door behind her.

Before Jesse could get a word out, Lira put her hand on Jesse’s shoulder and chuckled.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Lira exclaimed, her voice hushed but laced with pride.

“That was…certainly an experience,” Jesse managed with a chuckle, her voice still trembling from the adrenaline.

Jesse leaned against the door, running her fingers through her hair. She had inadvertently smeared some blood into the dark strands by doing so, but she didn’t care. She stopped when she hit the ground, her hand still tangled in the wavy mess, a long sigh escaping her lips.

Just then, Lira giggled, pulling a safety pin from her jacket and handing it to Jesse.

“Take this,” Lira murmured, her voice laced with genuine concern. “It’ll help you stand out even more in the visual noise of the crowded streets, if we ever get separated.”

Jesse nods, fidgeting with the pin before flashing a soft, genuine smile. “Thank you, Lira…for everything you’ve done for me.” She didn’t know it yet, but Lira had quickly become her emotional anchor over the past few months.

With a fluid motion, Jesse unclasped the safety pin and jabbed it through her earlobe, carefully fastening it again once the point re-emerged on the other side of her lobe, turning it into a makeshift necklace. It became a symbol of safety—so long as Jesse believed Lira would always have her back.

Lira wined as Jesse turned the pin into an earring, but said nothing. She knew better than to question this choice. Not now.

Jesse smiled through her tears and pulled Lira into a tight embrace, letting herself cry freely for the first time in what felt like ages—even though it had only been a few hours.

Without hesitation, Lira wrapped her arms around her best friend, holding her close and gently rubbing Jesse’s back, anchoring her in the moment.

“Hey, let it all out,” she murmured, her words slipping out like a promise. “I’m not going anywhere. Not that easily.”

Months passed in a blur of small rebellions—quiet adventures, muffled laughter, and fleeting moments of peace. Jesse and Lira had made a habit of tagging corporate buildings, their own way of biting back at the companies that tried to erase them. But tonight, the air was heavier. Tense. Like the entire city was holding its breath.

Jesse glanced up at the monolithic structure they were tagging, the hum of the electric lights buzzing louder than usual. Her grin spread slowly, sharp and deliberate, as her eyes caught the neon sign glowing above them.

Omnigen Solutions.

Jesse grabbed a red can and shook it, the mixing ball rattling like a warning shot in her palm.

She doesn’t even need to think. She knows what' she’s going to paint. With steady hands and fire in her chest, she starts scrawling her mother’s case number in bold, furious strokes—EV-0481972—each character a declaration.

Lira chuckled under her breath as she watched Jesse work, sensing that deep, unshakable focus. She snatched a few cans of her own, the air around her practically buzzing as she sizes up the sterile, corporate wall. Her art is more chaotic, instinctive—expression over message.

Jesse’s lines sliced like blades. Hers isn’t art; it’s a testimony. She finishes the number, switches to black, and begins spraying a jagged, blooming rose beneath the writing—a crude, beautiful wound.

Then—a sound. A footstep, soft but wrong. Too deliberate. Jesse freezes. Her hand taps against her thigh in that familiar, comforting rhyth,—tap..tap…tap-tap…tap…

“We’ve got company,” she mutters, her voice low and razor-sharp despite the tight knot that had formed in her chest.

Lira glances at her unfinished tag and sighs, reluctant but ready to run. She nods, already stuffing her cans away.

But before they can move, shadows stretch acorss the alley.

One.

Then two. Three. Four. Five.

An entire armed patrol steps into view, scanning the darkness. Too many. Too fast. They weren’t just patrolling—they were hunting.

Jesse moves quietly without hesitation, disappearing into the night like she was born in it. Her body moves with practiced fluidity, every muscle coiled for escape.

Lira hesitated. Just for a second. Long enough.

Her boot slipped on a slick patch of red over-spray, her balance faltering just enough to send her scrambling to recover. Her breath hitches. Her pulse spikes. Then she ran—toward the chain-link fence ringing the back of the compound, boots pounding the pavement behind her like war drums.

Just as she reached the fence, Lira heard a sharp whistle to her right—Jesse’s signal. There’s a path. But she was moving too fast, too unsure, and the hesitation costed her. She slammed into the chain-link fence with a metallic thud, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs as she crumpled to the ground.

Move. She screamed inside her head, panic crackling through her chest like live wire. MOVE. She scrambled to her feet, gravel biting into her palms, and catches a flicker of light—Jesse’s safety pin glinting in the darkness, a beacon in the chaos.

There. A gap in the fence. Just big enough.

Without thinking, she dove through the opening, the edges of the wire catching her jacket as a gunshot cracks through the air.

Shit. Her legs burn as she runs, lungs aching, but it’s the sound behind her that freezes her blood.

A scream. Jesse’s scream.

Jesse had guided Lira through the fence but lingered a second too long and wound up taking a bullet meant for Lira. A sharp searing pain exploded in her shoulder blade before she even hears the shot. She stumbled, gritting her teeth and willing herself to keep moving.

Minutes stretched into eternity as they tore through alleyways and backstreets, the city around them warped into a blur of motion and panic. By the time they reached the apartment, time itself felt broken—twisted by fear, by pain. They stumbled inside and slammed the door behind them, collapsing to the ground in a tangled heap the moment the lock clicked into place.

Jesse’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline drained from her system, the pain hit her in full. She lifted a trembling hand to her shoulder, fingers brushing over the torn fabric and seared skin. The wound was shallow and at most six inches long, but it felt like fire tearing through her body.

Before she could spiral, her eyes found Lira.

“Did…Did you get hit?” Jesse asked, voice strained, jaw clenched against the rising wave of pain.

Lira looked down at herself, hands trailing quickly over her limbs, checking. Nothing.

“No,” she whispered, almost like she didn’t believe it herself. Then her voice cracked. “But you did. God, Jesse, I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have taken you there.”

Her gaze dropped to Jesse’s shoulder, where blood mixed with the black of burned flesh and gunpowder. The smell hit her like a punch. Tears spilled freely now, and Lira turned away with a dry gag, the bile of guilt thick in her throat.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds filling the room being Jesse’s ragged breathing and the occasional groan when the pain surged in waves.

Lira takes a shaky breath and gently lifts Jesse into a seated position against the door—a posture that’s become far too familiar over the months.

For a moment, she froze, her mind racing. Where’s the kit? What does she need first? Her hands trembled as she wiped the tears from her face, trying to push through the rising panic.

“I—I’ll get the med kit,” Lira says finally, her voice barely holding together. “You just…stay right there.”

Lira’s steps are unsteady, but her determination keeps her moving. She stumbled into the apartment’s cramped kitchen, flinging open cabinet doors, one after another.

“Where the fuck is it…”she muttered under her breath, each drawer and shelf only serving to deepen her frustration.

The room is suddenly bathed in a soft, pulsing red as a neon sign outside flickered to life through the window. Jesse lets out a breathy, half-laugh behind her—tired, pained, but still somehow amused.

Lira doesn’t laugh back.

At last, her hand closed around a dented tin box tucked behind some expired rations. Inside: half-used bandages, a rusted pair of scissors, and a tube of unopened burn cream. Not much—but hopefully enough. They’ve patched up scrapes and knife wounds before, but never a bullet.

This was new. This was real.

Lira walked back toward Jesse with renewed determination, her steps were heavier, more grounded. The flickering red light from the neon outside painted the room in a surreal glow as she knelt beside her best friend.

Jesse offered her a faint, weary smile before shifting, teeth clenched, to let the jacket fall from her shoulders with Lira’s help. The pain was sharp—etched across her face in grimaces—but she didn’t protest. Not once.

The scent hit Lira again—burnt leather, scorched flesh, and faint traces of gunpowder. She has to steel herself before meeting Jesse’s gaze.

Jesse nodded, their hands already entwined. The pressure of Jesse’s fingers around her said everything Lira needed to hear: I trust you.

That silent permission, that connection, sends a jolt of something like courage through Lira. She tightens her grip back before opening the burn gel, squeezing a trembling line of the thick, cool substance onto her fingers.

“This is gonna sting,” she whispers—not as a warning, but as an apology.

As the gel touches the wound, Jesse jerks involuntarily, a strangled gasp escaping her throat—but she didn’t pull away.

She never pulled away.

Lira’s hands trembled as she struggled to steady the bandages, her breathing shallow and uneven. Stop shaking. Stop trembling. She could feel the fabric slipping in her fingers and winced, praying it didn’t hurt Jesse too much. She’d patched her up before—bruises, cuts, scrapes—never something like this. Never a bullet wound. Never something meant for her.

Breathe. Just breathe, Jesse told herself, teeth clenched as another wave of pain rolled through her shoulder. The sting of the burn cream still lingered, sharp and hot, but nothing compared to the look on Lira’s face. She didn’t even need to look, she could feel it. She’s blaming herself. That thought alone hurt worse than the wound ever could.

Lira’s fingers were careful, trying not to shake as she looped the bandage around Jesse’s shoulder again. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line of focus. Jesse watched her silently. Lira always tried to be the strong one. The one who held everything together when things fell apart. She doesn’t know I see how much this is hurting her. But Jesse saw. Every time. Gods, I don’t deserve her in my life.

Lira pressed her palm gently to Jesse’s skin, feeling the heat rising from it. Too warm. Please don’t be infected… She pushed the thought away, forcing her focus back on the next wrap. Just one more, that’s all. I can’t lose her. The words struck hard and fast. Not to this city. Not to a bullet meant for me.

Jesse’s chest tightened. She wanted to speak—Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.—but the words caught in her throat. They felt too fragile, like if she let them out they might shatter into a million pieces. So instead, she reached out and gently squeezed Lira’s hand.

Lira froze for a heartbeat, than glanced down. Jesse’s hand, still warm and shaking, held her with a quiet kind of strength. It said more than words could. She squeezed my hand. Just like before, Lira thought, and for a moment, that was enough.

With a soft exhale, Lira pressed the final edge of the bandage down, smoothing it carefully. “There,” she whispered. “All patched up.”

It wasn’t true. Not really.

But in that moment, it was beautiful.

Ooo I am so intrigued so far! I wonder why Jesse and Lira feel connected. Are they soulmates, did they know each other in a past life? I also wonder who that man was. So excited to read more!

Chapter 1 - Jesse survived

For most of her childhood, Jesse lived in what could be called a shed. The inside was cramped, barely enough for her mother and herself to move around. Drafts always managed to seep through the cracks in the walls or the gaps around the windows by the moment. A narrow bed was pushed against the wall opposite the wood burning stove, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in together. Despite all this, Jesse’s mother made sure her daughter knew she was doing her best to add as much comfort as possible to their living conditions, there were a few hand-me-downs and scraps of fabric adding some semblance of privacy and color which the two of them appreciated.

The outside was a mess of unkempt grass, some discarded tech, and a broken down truck. Nothing to write home about but it was their land, and she knew every inch. Mom would tell her stories of the past when they could afford this small patch of peace, the freedom it instilled in them before corporations swarmed the suburbs with towering, sterile buildings. This was a place of calm resilience for Jesse, though she never fully realized the weight of the situation until much later.

One day, the inevitable came barreling down on them–the land had been bought up by some nameless megacorporation. They woke from a deep slumber to a blaring horn from the bulldozer, a solemn reminder of the destruction to come. They scrambled to flee the building in time, leaving behind everything that wasn’t already on their backs and feeling distraught as they watched the home they had lived in for years get demolished in front of them.

Her mother fought hard to keep the land, but a corporation stole it. She was old enough by then to know the look of despair on her mother’s features. The last bit of freedom and dignity they had clung to for the last seven years of her life had been torn from them–leaving them both metaphorically and literally naked as she stared at the broken rubble of what she had called home.

She despised watching the apartments build up on the plot of land where she had spoken her first words, taken her first steps–but what is someone like her able to do against that level of authority? Everything she had known since birth was destroyed in a matter of moments by the cruel, unflinching megacorporation that her mother had warned her so much about since as early as she could remember.

She knew she couldn’t do anything about it–not yet at least–but she made a silent vow to herself in that moment. She would make them pay for taking her dignity, and she would personally carve out her own freedom from the very foundations of every single corpo bastard’s cushy home.

When Jesse and her mother were first forced into the complex, she found herself lost in a crowd of people. Every wall looked the same–sterile and all too clean. Every concrete hall echoed eerily, either with silence or sounds she couldn’t bare to comprehend. Her mother worked long hours to afford the rent, leaving Jesse alone in these sterile halls for all to long for her comfort. To escape the reality of the situation she wandered the labyrinthine halls or sitting on the flights of stairs–until she met Lira at least.

Lira saw her, a girl who looked like she didn’t belong in these halls even as she was aimlessly wandering them, and felt herself drawn to this girl by an unseen force. Neither girl tried to blend in, not really. Lira’s heavy boots made loud echoing footsteps as she walked towards Jesse, who seemed to almost be in a trance as she walked–seemingly not hearing the steps coming behind her. Lira could tell this girl was hiding something, some heavy burden she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by.

Lira tapped Jesse’s shoulder and turned her around, seeing the girl’s trance snap the moment her hand touched the girl’s shoulder.

“You seem lost,” Lira said almost too matter-of-factly as she searched the girl’s deep emerald eyes for any signs of modification.

Jesse didn’t answer for a moment, but she didn’t pull away from Lira’s touch, either. She felt an instant connection, as if there were impossibly unspoken decades of conversation that had already happened between the two.

“What of it..?” Jesse managed, her voice foreign and broken in her throat.

Lira could feel the contempt brewing beneath the girl’s calm exterior and smirked at the attempt to suppress it. “I like that about you, the name’s Lira.”

Jesse locked eyes with Lira, a small smile threatening to creep up on her lips–the feeling was just as foreign as her voice felt just moments ago. She was speechless, considering her reply for a long moment.

“Thank you, Lira…I guess there’s no getting out of being your friend now huh?” Her voice initially came out as quiet as a mouse, “My name’s Jesse.”

Before Lira could answer, a loud bang rang out in the halls, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. What seemed like a scream was interrupted by another bang–two, three, four–Jesse’s face was contorted with fear and anguish as she recognized the scream. Without thinking, Jesse ran toward the source of the sound, Lira not far behind.

Jesse skidded to a halt as the hallway bent sharply, her sneakers scraping against the concrete. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat–a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob. The surrounding air was thick with the sterile scent of cheap industrial cleaner, but underneath it lingered something coppery and unmistakable.

Her mother’s body was sprawled across the threshold just outside their apartment door. A crumpled form that once held tired laughter and soft lullabies. Her eyes–usually alert, darting, always worried about Jesse–were empty now. Open. Unseeing.

Blood seeped out from beneath her mother in sickening contrast to the dull grey walls. The pattern of it already began to dry into the cracks of the floor, spreading out like tendrils trying to become part of the building itself.

Jesse didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her legs were locked beneath her, the world suddenly quiet. Too quiet.

Behind her, Lira arrived, breathless, her presence a sharp contrast to the horror. She looked between the body and Jesse, reading the story in the girl’s silence. The air buzzed faintly with the distant hum of corpo drones–already gone, their protocol overlooking this. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the form of a man rounding the opposite corner, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the glint of a gun in his hand.

“Jesse…” Lira whispered, stepping forward carefully, as if she were approaching a wounded animal.

Jesse was beyond hearing. Her fingers began to twitch at her side–tap… tap… tap-tap… tap. The rhythm she didn’t realize she knew. A lullaby pattern, ancient and instinctive, a whisper of her mother in motion.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t scream.

She just stared.

And then her knees gave out.

Lira caught her without hesitation, arms circling Jesse like they’d always belonged there. She didn’t speak. Didn’t try to fill the space with comfort or apology–only silence and warmth. Even though they’d just met, Lira understood something vital and unspoken. Jesse needed someone to witness this moment. Not fix it. Not erase it. Just be there.

And Lira stayed.

If you ever make a taglist, feel free to add me to it!

Master Post of Neon Ash

Chapter 1 - Jesse Survived.

Chapter 2 - Lira Cried.

Chapter 3 - Jesse Slept.

Chapter 4 - The Protest.

Chapter 5 - Mysteries.

Chapter 6 - Hope.

AHHHH SHE'S SO CUTE! When she's off duty, can I huggle her?

I'm late, but happy worldbuilding wednesday! Any favorite animals who've created or modified for your story?

Happy World Building Friday it's a thing now it's fine!

YES

Thistle from Summoning Trouble! She's a moth dragon!

Shes so cute and I adore her! She's a medical alert/service dragon for David (he has a magical deficiency so she lets him know when he's low on magic). She's tiny but has a big personality (steals every scene she's in)

Thanks for the ask!

For real. And the amount you should show versus tell will also heavily rely on the type of story you're telling and the style in which you approach it.

Someone once told me if you learn to properly show AND tell, my writing would improve dramatically and I could do it without thought. At the time, I thought they were full of shit. That it would be a struggle for the rest of my days. Lo and behold, they were correct. It does become easier.

Also, remember showing EVERYTHING is not needed. There are millions of reasons to tell something in a story. Don't let the internet convince you that you need to show everything. Even the greatest writers in history didn't show all the time.

Omg I love this song!

And one day we will die And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea But for now we are young Let us lay in the sun And count every beautiful thing we can see Love to be In the arms of all I'm keepin' here with me

Reblog if you’re grateful for your commenters <3

white people go like “is anyone going to redesign this nonhuman evil character as a poc?” and not wait for an answer

Omg y'all are cooking with your responses. /pos

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

Thank you for the signal boost!

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

Btw, player of dating games or not, if you have a type in fictional characters, you can absolutely take the survey.

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

a fated pair of star-crossed bunnies 🩷🐇

Happy Jewish American Heritage Month!!!

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

I know some people use Inkitt on here, so a heads up and why I no longer use Inkitt.

Each week (or so), we'll highlight the relevant (and sometimes rage-inducing) news adjacent to writing and freedom of expression. This week:

Inkitt’s AI-powered fiction factory

Inkitt started in the mid-2010s as a cozy platform where anyone could share their writing. Fast forward twenty twenty-fuckkkkk, and like most startups, it’s pivoted hard into AI-fueled content production with the soul of an algorithm.

Pictured: Inkitt preparing human-generated work for an AI-powered flume ride to The Unknown.

Here’s how it works: Inkitt monitors reader engagement with tracking software, then picks popular stories to publish on its premium app, Galatea. From there, stories can get spun into sequels, spinoffs, or adapted for GalateaTV… often with minimal author involvement. Authors get an undisclosed cut of revenue, but for most, it’s a fraction of what they’d earn with a traditional publisher (let alone self-publishing).

“'They prey on new writers who have no idea what they’re doing,' said the writer of one popular Galatea series."

Many, many authors have side-eyed or outright decried the platform as inherently predatory for years, due to nebulous payout promises. And much of the concern centers on contracts that don’t require authors’ consent for editorial changes or AI-generated “additions” to the original text.

Now, Inkitt has gone full DiSrUpTiOn, leaning heavily on generative AI to ghostwrite, edit, generate audiobook narration, and design covers, under the banner of “democratizing storytelling.” (AI? In my democratized storytelling platform? It’s more likely than you think.)

Pictured: Inkitt’s CEO looking at the most-read stories.

But Inkitt’s CEO doesn’t seem too concerned about what authors think: “His business model doesn’t need them.”

The company recently raised $37 million, with backers including former CEOs of Sony, Penguin, and HarperCollins, proving once again that publishing loves a disruptor… as long as it disrupts creatives, not capital. And more AI companies are mushrooming up to chase the same vision: “a vision of human-created art becoming the raw material for AI-powered, corporate-owned content-production machines—a scenario in which humans would play an ever-shrinking role.”

(Not to say we predicted this, but…)

Welcome to the creator-industrial complex.

Publishers to AI: Stop stealing our stuff (please?)

Major publishers—including The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Guardian, and Vox Media—have launched a "Support Responsible AI" campaign, urging the U.S. government to regulate AI's use of copyrighted content.

Like last month's campaigns by the Authors Guild and the UK's Society of Authors, there's a website where where you can (and should!) contact your representatives to say, “Hey, maybe stop letting billion-dollar tech giants strip-mine journalism.”

The campaign’s ads carry slogans like “Stop AI Theft” and “AI Steals From You Too” and call for legislation that would force AI companies to pay for the content they train on and clearly label AI-generated content with attribution. This follows lobbying by OpenAI and Google to make it legal to scrape and train on copyrighted material without consent.

The publishers assert they are not explicitly anti-AI, but advocate for a “fair” system that respects intellectual property and supports journalism.

But… awkward, The Washington Post—now owned by Jeff Bezos—has reportedly already struck a deal with OpenAI to license and summarize its content. So, mixed signals.

Still, as the campaign reminds us: “Stealing is un-American.”

(Unless it’s profitable.)

#WarForever

We at Ellipsus love a good meme-turned-megaproject. Back in January, the-app-formerly-known-as-Twitter user @lolt64 tweeted a cryptic line about "the frozen wastes of europa,” the earliest reference to the never-ending war on Jupiter’s icy moon.

A slew of bleak dispatches from weary, doomed soldiers entrenched on Europa’s ice fields snowballed (iceberged?) into a sprawling saga, yes-and-ing with fan art, vignettes, and memes under the hashtag #WarForever.

It’s not quite X’s answer to Goncharov: It turns out WarForever is some flavor of viral marketing for a tabletop RPG zine. But the internet ran with it anyway, with NASA playing the Scorcese of the stars.

In a digital hellworld increasingly dominated by AI slopification, data harvesting, and “content at scale,” projects like WarForever are a blessed reminder that creativity—actual, human creativity—perseveres.

Even on a frozen moon. Even here.

Let us know if you find something other writers should know about, (or join our Discord and share it there!)

- The Ellipsus Team xo

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

Writing update 5/1/2025

I am continuing to write Sleep Laughing slowly but surely. I'm getting caught up in making the logs detailed, and trying to get myself to realize, "you need to write the skeleton of this idea before you can go into the depths of this character's suffering". And also, during the first logs he's so weak/in so much pain he's barely concious or thinking straight, so it makes sense why they're not as detailed.

Still, I managed to get extremely good progress for logs 7 and 8. Here's my favorite snippet (tw body horror and agony):

I've come to a conclusion. Even if I am in Hell, it really isn't such a bad thing. It just means I'm being punished, and, if I'm being punished, that means there's a chance to redeem myself, right? Every single agony I experience is a debt being paid, a sin washed away. This pain isn't a curse. No… …this pain is a blessing! It's giving me a chance to repent for everything. Oh God I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll never do it again. So please, just let the light take me!

Also, I am looking for beta readers for my stories The Diary of Spinel Bramford and The Breeding Grounds. You can find their descriptions here. If that'd interest you, please let me know!

Taglist: @aweirdshipp