#Onward to the next step: Animation

[mi4011zahrafaris]

Here is the animatic, finally

(Animation is here too but I'm not proud of it)

So sorry for the late update, WIFI was down for a bit too long but we got it fixed today a couple of minutes ago.

I had to put it onto a google drive because tumblr was bugging and wouldn't let me upload it so... yeah.

Anywho, here is my explanation for my work:

What I was initially trying to capture in this project was a sense of harmony and personal growth through Keath's transformation. This journey isn’t just told visually — it’s deeply interwoven with sound, particularly through the use of 'Neath the Grove is a Heart'. The animation hinges on a subtle but powerful transition between two versions of the same song: the Larkhersal (rehearsal for the larks) rendition and the official Yaelokre track. This musical continuity acts as both a narrative bridge and an emotional anchor, where I hope to be guiding the viewer from one state of being to another.

And the official version which is ->

We begin with the Larkhersals — the characters embodying a softer, more whimsical expression of the self.

Left to Right: Kinglsey, Peregrine (Perrine), Clémente (Clementine) and Cole.

Cole and Clementine are not just companions; they’re extensions of Keath's inner world, nurturing parts of identity that are often obscured or dismissed. They said so themself in the lives I had watch after the announcement of their world tour (Also congratulations Keath!)

The music plays a vital role here. The Larkhersal version of the song is almost imperfect, intimate and lacks rigidness which embodies the larks childlike joy— much like a personal memory or nostalgic self-reflection. As the official version blends in, there's a noticeable shift in tone: it's fuller, more assured, echoing Keath's emergence as a cohesive, actualized being. The transition is almost seamless, underscoring the idea that this change isn’t jarring or destructive, but organic and necessary without having to take away the inevitable chaos.

Visually, the animation follows a pose-to-pose structure to emphasize moments of stillness and transformation. These poses act almost like visual "beats" in the music — points where emotional or symbolic shifts take place. The interplay of rhythm, gesture, and expression is meant to create a meditative pace, inviting the viewer to sit with each stage of the character’s evolution and understand the significance of the moment.

Ultimately, this piece is about inner reconciliation and an acknowledgement of the story's significance. Through character design, sound design, and animation technique, I’ve tried to create a narrative that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. Keath's story is not just about becoming someone new — it's about becoming more wholly oneself, in harmony with the fragments that have always existed in a world their own making.

Maybe in a way it's also a thank you note from me to them in celebration of their first world tour.

Thank you for reading!

[seoulmatez]

𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁

the new farmhand at your grandpa's ranch is trouble, and trouble has taken a liking to you.

• boothill x f!reader ﾉ 2k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ teasing ﾉ soooo many petnames :3 (little lady, darlin', princess, love, sweetheart)

masterlist ♡ next part

The new farmhand at your grandfather’s ranch is trouble.

He shouldn’t be, not with the way your grandpa speaks so highly of him—he’s exactly the kind of help this place needed, he tells you. Starts on time, is thorough in his work, and takes good care of all that your grandfather holds dear. You should love him simply for that—taking a weight off the old man’s shoulders and putting his heart at ease—but you’ve seen an entirely different side of the so-called saint.

Ever since you arrived at the ranch a few days ago, the one called Boothill has been a pain in your neck. It took nothing more than you stepping out of your car for him to label you that city girl, the “little lady” who looks like she’s never stepped foot in mud a day in her life.

From that moment onward, it’s been nothing but sly remarks at your expense. You don’t miss the chuckles he makes no effort to hide as you refamiliarize yourself with the animals and get used to the scent of hay and manure. His not-so-subtle smirks when you’re simply passing by have been the most irking. Your mere presence is seemingly a joke to Boothill.

You’ve made it your mission to steer clear of the man but the task is proving to be difficult. The fact that he’s now living in what you used to know as one of the guest bedrooms coupled with your grandpa’s oblivious albeit innocent nature seems to be enough to throw a wrench in that plan of yours. 

Your trip here was meant to be a relaxing getaway from the hustle and bustle of city life but you’ve only taken on a new role as Boothill’s personal assistant if the tray with two glasses of lemonade is any indication. If it were up to you, you’d be enjoying a peaceful breakfast without worrying about the man bothering you but it’s just your luck that your grandfather caught you before you could make the meal, politely asking you to deliver a cold beverage to Boothill who has been working since the sun rose over the horizon.

Luckily for the farmhand, you can’t say no to your grandpa.

That’s how you find yourself wandering the grounds in your satin pajama set and the boots your grandpa prepared for your arrival. Your legs move in muscle memory as you navigate the vast stretch of land in search of Boothill. Thankfully, you don’t have to go much farther, catching sight of the man at the entrance of the barn.

He’s gone for a simple look today—a white t-shirt and jeans paired with the dirtied boots you haven’t gone a day without seeing him in. His shirt is already stained and is darker around the neckline, dampened with sweat. He’s made an effort to tie back his black and white strands of hair, though, a few of the shorter ones have escaped and frame his face. The hat you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him in, strangely, isn’t sitting atop his head.

He must see you approaching out of the corner of his eye because he turns to face you, an immediate grin taking over his lips. It makes you grip the tray tighter.

He looks you up and down as he pulls off his gloves, stuffing both in his back pocket. When gray eyes settle on yours, he tells you, “Nice get up.”

You roll your eyes because you saw a comment like that coming. Everything you do down to the way you dress is scrutinized when it comes to him. Even though you’ve only been here a short while, you’ve come to expect this kind of behavior from Boothill.

He huffs out a laugh at your reaction before his gaze falls to the tray in your hands and the glasses that sit on it. “That for me, darlin’?”

Against your will, your heart jumps in your chest. That, you haven’t grown accustomed to. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to him throwing around pet names at you like it’s nothing, Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to him. It’s easier to blame the heat blooming in your cheeks on the sun’s beaming rays rather than Boothill's sweet talking.

You hold the tray out to him, hoping the effect of his words isn’t visible on your face. “Courtesy of Grandpa.” You can’t have him thinking this gesture was born from the kindness of your heart. His teasing would be merciless then.

“Of course,” he drawls, grabbing one of the glasses and swallowing a few gulps. The shine of the lemonade is left on his lips when they pull away from the brim, his tongue poking out from between them to lick up the lingering drops. Your eyes remain on his lips longer than they should, long enough to see them curl up into that annoyingly handsome smile. “Little miss city girl wouldn’t be caught dead out here on her own accord.”

He can only stay charming for so long. “Did you miss the whole part when my grandpa told you I grew up here?”

“No, no, I caught that.” He takes another sip of his drink. “It’s just that you strike me as the type who spent more time riding the horses than cleaning up after ‘em.”

You keep quiet and nurse your glass of lemonade because the only other option besides lying is telling him that he’s right. In your defense, what ten-year-old wants to spend their summer hauling hay and shoveling up horse crap?

“Look,” you start, “I’m not some delicate glass figure who can’t get her hands dirty. I’m perfectly capable of helping out.”

Boothill raises his eyebrows, a glint of humor sparkling in his steel irises. You know the look of a challenge when you see it and it almost makes you regret trying to defend yourself. “Oh yeah? Then the princess wouldn’t mind lending me a hand?”

“I wouldn’t,” you tell him. Contrary to your statement, you really don’t want to spend more time with him than necessary, even if that means proving a point and settling some stupid argument. Your mind races to find a believable excuse that’ll let you off the hook. “But I’m barely dressed to do any work. Another time, maybe.”

He waves his hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry, darlin’. What I've got in mind ain’t much work and won’t steal too much of your time.”

You nervously chew your cheek as Boothill takes the tray that’s tucked under your arm, setting the now empty glasses on it and finding a place for them to rest. He nods his head in the direction he wants you to follow and, reluctantly, you do just that. He casts a glance over his shoulder to look at you. “Just help me get this hay inside the barn, will ya?”

The job seems easy enough, a surprisingly straightforward request from Boothill who seems to derive pleasure from giving you a hard time. Too easy, you think to yourself as he heaves one of the rectangular bales of hay from the top of the stack. The task looks effortless when he does it, a short grunt being the only suggestion of exertion on his end.

He disappears into the red building and you take his temporary departure as an opportunity to pick up a bale of your own. You grab a hold of the twine keeping the hay in its shape and immediately grimace at the way the fodder pokes and prods at your palms. You’re tempted to let go and step away but you have a point to prove and plan on doing so. With a groan, you lift the bale, or at least try to. It’s heavier than you expect it to be and the scratching against your exposed legs is uncomfortable, sure to get worse with the distance you’re meant to walk.

You’re about to drop the bale back in place when a pair of arms reach around you, calloused hands joining yours to carry the collection of hay. Boothill’s unexpected presence catches you off guard and the proximity of his mouth to your ear makes your breath catch in your throat. “Having a bit of trouble, love?”

Love? Your skin prickles with goosebumps at yet another pet name. This time, it’s more difficult to blame the heat running beneath your skin on the sun. It takes a moment for you to find your voice and when you do, the one you manage to get out refutes his claim. “I’m not. I told you I wasn’t dressed for this.”

He snorts at your reply as though he can see right through the flimsy excuse. “Right, well, you’re in my way, so why don’t I help you with this one?”

Before you can protest, Boothill is on his way, dragging you along with him. Your steps match his, his bigger boots trailing behind yours as the two of you walk the path to the growing supply he likely started before you interrupted. You’re released from your place between the bale and Boothill when he drops it on top of the other.

You’re free to make a move, to slip away from the charged air and reclaim your personal space. Instead of doing so, you simply turn around to face him. You’re met with his broad chest before you tip your head up to meet his eye. “I could have done that on my own.”

“I’m sure you could have,” he says, but the smile pulling at his lips tells another story. He reaches behind him with one hand to pull the gloves from his pockets, waving them between you as an offer. “These might help.”

You happily take the gloves as he takes his leave, slipping your hands into the protective gear. They’re larger than you need and there’s extra space in them but you don’t mind, not if they’ll help you show Boothill that you refuse to be reduced to some city girl.

And they do help, at least with shielding your hands from the unpleasant sensation of hay against them. The bales are just as heavy and just as awkward to haul but you’re able to get the job done, nonetheless. For every one you carry, Boothill lugs two more past you. His familiarity with the job means the two of you are finished within a reasonable amount of time. 

You drop the final bale with the rest, a relieved sigh pushing past your lips at a job well done. Boothill stands off to the side and whistles as you snatch the gloves off, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Well, would you look at that.”

“Surprised?” you ask, tossing his gloves back at him.

“Honey, anyone can hoist some hay.” He catches the gloves with ease, stuffing them back in his pocket. You’re almost offended at how easily he dismisses your efforts but you don’t have time to let the annoyance sprout before he’s approaching you, tipping your chin up so that you have no choice but to look at him. “Though, I doubt they’d look as pretty as you doing it.”

You can’t tell whether he’s trying to get a rise out of you or if he truly stands by his statement. All you know for sure is that his sugary words and the feel of his skin against your face leave you unmistakably flustered, so much so that you can’t control the erratic beat of your heart and can’t stop the little nagging voice in the back of your head from whispering that you don’t dislike him as much as you let on.

Boothill is trouble, but not in the way you thought he would be.

“I have to go.” You knock his hand away and turn on your heel in a rush to get back to the house, far away from Boothill.

You can escape the sight of him, the feel of him, but not the sound of him as he yells after you. “See you around, sweetheart!”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[skywalkerssgirl]

need bf anakin being wholesome on a date bc i've been going thru sm lately 😭😭

a/n: aw i hope ur ok bb and since this prompt was more vague and gave me more creative freedom i hope this was okay?? p.s. guys. my asks are always open and feel free to request any writing for whatever!! or if u ever need advice lmk

Premise: Anakin takes you out on a date to the arcade in the lower levels of Coruscant.

Determined | Anakin Skywalker x Reader

As you step into the bustling arcade nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant’s lower levels, colors burst to life around you upon the dark, bustling background. The lights from the arcade games flickered bright neon reds, blues, and greens, casting vibrant patterns across floors worn smooth by generations of eager visitors. Even among such a lively atmosphere, one presence loomed the brightest beside you.

Anakin Skywalker moved with quiet purpose, a hand firmly pressed against your shoulder, holding you close as you walked beside him. The corner of his mouth curled in a rare, relaxed smile, and his blue gaze fixed protectively upon you. The Jedi Knight wore a simple black tunic beneath his robe tonight, sporting a look much softer than the one you were used to seeing beside you on missions. His golden brown curls hung loose, framing defined features that softened in your presence alone.

"You like it here?" His smooth-like-honey voice broke through your silent thoughts, velvety yet edged with a subtle seriousness—always alert, always observant.

You nodded with genuine delight, looking around at the seemingly endless selection of games in the large arcade before you. "Yeah, it's wonderful, Ani. I haven't been in an arcade like this since I was a youngling, before I came to the Temple."

"I'm glad you agreed to come then," Anakin replied quietly, gently threading his fingers through yours as he meets your gaze. A thrill raced up your spine at his simple touch; warmth unfurled within you, blooming from his fingertips to your heart. "I'll let you choose where we start."

As you two wandered through the crowded aisles, your playfully competitive natures helping you win—maybe use the Force, sometimes—each game you stopped to partake in. As you walked around, browsing to see which arcade game to play next, the prize display near the front entrance caught your eyes. Among the brightly-colored toys, unusually strange looking candies, and elaborate decorations, a large plush tooka cat perched prominently on the top shelf, overlooking the patrons. Its big bright eyes, perked-up ears, and fluffy lavender fur tugged instantly at your heart. You lingered a moment, warmth blooming inside your chest, silently admiring its adorable face before moving onward.

Anakin’s observant eyes hadn't missed this slight softening in your eyes, but he didn't immediately acknowledge it, filing away the moment for later.

Minutes later, your laughter rang loud as you raced each other through the winding digital tracks of a pod-racing game. Of course, you just had to try to beat the one man who’d kick your ass in a podracer even incapacitated. The motion blur of colors and the sounds of the cheering animated crowd seemed muted against Anakin's contagious laughter. His genuine smile broadened when you cheered or protested dramatically at losing…again.

“Now this,” Anakin gestured toward the podracing simulators with a cocky grin, “is my kind of game.”

You raised an eyebrow teasingly in response. “Is that so, Skywalker? Can you beat that high score then?” You nod to the highest number on the leaderboard lit in blue, daring him to beat it.

He flashed a playful smirk, eyes glittering challengingly. “Just watch and see.”

Sliding gracefully into the seat, Anakin gripped the controls again, the ease of his movement oddly graceful and powerful as his slender hands curled firmly around the handles. You watched, captivated, as his narrowed eyes fixated intently upon the screens lighting his face in vibrant flashes of reds, oranges, and yellows. The simulated engines roared, the pod surging digitally forward in a kaleidoscopic swirl.

It was impossible not to smile as you observed him. The muscles of his arms flexed subtly with every turn, every maneuver deftly executed, his expression focused yet somehow lighter than usual. Behind that intensity lay something carefree, tender—something only you ever truly saw.

Anakin moved as if he were flying again over Tatooine’s scorching sands at Boonta Eve, his instincts sharpened through years of war. The final turn sped lucent against his ethereal face, and within seconds, Anakin earned you a perfect score, lighting every indicator in swathes of victory lights.

Grinning boyishly, he stepped down triumphantly from the platform. You warmly clasped his forearm, pride blazing through you. "You're incredible," you murmured sincerely, meeting his gaze.

A faint flush crept onto his high cheeks, his bravado instantly subdued by your genuine praise. "Just lucky, I guess," he joked quietly, leaning briefly into your touch. His stare softened as it met yours, protective and affectionate beneath the noise around you. He reached to gently brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

"You hungry yet?" you asked softly, heart quickening at those small touches he always seemed to find an innocent excuse for.

"Starving," came Anakin’s soft affirmation. "I'll handle ordering the food; you just sit down and relax."

You knew better than to protest his protective nature; instead, you smiled, resigning yourself to his attentive nature. He gently kissed your temple before vanishing toward the busy bar area. You settled comfortably into a nearby booth, glancing around at the vibrant surroundings still buzzing with excitement.

After some time had passed, you checked the entrance to the restaurant section and waited. Anakin typically wasn't gone this long for simple errands. Your worry melted away when the waitress brought drinks to your table, advising kindly: “A tall young gentleman asked me to reassure you; he stepped away for a moment but will return shortly.”

Trusting Anakin completely, you sipped your drink leisurely, relaxed but curious at his mysterious absence. You knew he would always return to you, though.

In truth, Anakin had slipped back into the expansive maze of arcade attractions, his determination etched firmly upon every line of his handsome face. With admitted stubbornness fueling his every move, he poured credits generously into game after game, a generous wad of tickets pooling rapidly around him. His focus was intense, his piercing blue eyes steady. Anakin felt keenly aware of your absence beside him, an ache in his chest intensifying his resolve to win the plush for you.

“All right.” With purposeful strides, Anakin approached the redemption counter, a bundle of tickets filling his arms. “That tooka plush—the lavender one. Give me your finest, fluffiest one.”

The attendant handed it over, bidding Anakin farewell with a knowing smile. A wave of joy and relief washed over Anakin as he carefully tucked the plush protectively against his side, strolling hurriedly back toward where you waited.

Meanwhile, you idly swirled the cool, sweet liquid in your glass, watching patrons bustling around you. Then, finally, the sound of confident footsteps and the timbre of Anakin’s boots you somehow knew far too well; a familiar presence drew closer behind you. You twisted around to greet his return, excitement glowing across your features.

"Hey, stranger," you chuckled, "thought you'd forgotten about—"

Your words died on your tongue as he revealed the surprise he’d hidden behind his broad figure. Lavender fur shone gently beneath the warm, golden light of the table lamps, and his wide blue eyes practically begged for an embrace. Your lips parted softly, warmed through by profound gratitude and tenderness.

"Anakin," your voice barely whispered through emotion, "You... didn't have to."

He slid easily into your booth, the large plush placed gently between you. Cautiously, gently, Anakin captured your hand, threading his fingers firmly yet tenderly through yours.

"I noticed the expression on your face when you looked at it," Anakin confessed softly, casting his gaze downwards shyly before meeting your eyes once more, a curl of his hair cascading gently over his forehead as he did so. His voice lowered deeply, intimately, "I'd have won a thousand more tickets to see you smile again."

Your heart hammered within your chest. Gently laying your hand upon his forearm, your fingers tracing soft, affectionate circles, you said earnestly, "Ani, your presence alone is more than enough."

Colors danced gently upon his thoughtful brow, and his blue eyes warmly studied yours in quiet contemplation. He drew you against him tenderly, closing those precious few inches until your head tucked comfortably upon his shoulder, beneath the embrace of his protective arm.

"I've never...experienced anything like this before you," Anakin murmured reverently, his voice vibrating through his chest beneath your cheek. "Caring like this... being cared for."

"You're allowed to, Ani," you affirmed, your sincerity rich within every gentle syllable. Your fingers traced comforting patterns upon his hand. "You deserve it."

His grip tightened lightly in response, and brief tremors sighed softly through his steady breathing. He held you gently like that for a while, savoring this rare peace reserved only for the two of you.

When your food arrived seconds later, he reluctantly released you, though his thigh remained closely pressed against yours throughout the meal. His reassuring presence anchors you amongst the mingled voices and chaos outside.

The evening drew to a close as you journeyed back to the Jedi Temple. The tooka plush, tucked securely between your thighs and in your arms as you sat in the passenger seat of his speeder, served as another ceaseless reminder of the quiet affection lurking deeply beneath Anakin Skywalker’s fierce and turbulent exterior.

"Did you enjoy yourself, love?" he asked, with a vulnerability mingled with hope and the subtle confidence that followed Anakin wherever he went. He turned to study your lovely face, lit softly by the distant city glow.

You smiled gently, placing a palm warmly upon his cheek as you nodded silently. No words could adequately convey every tenderness swelling profoundly within you. Leaning to rest his forehead lightly upon yours, Anakin whispered tender reassurance into the quiet space bridging you both:

"For you, anything."

And the Force itself seemed to hum in understanding.

[elbdot]

You know what? This year may have been THE most chaotic one yet in EVERY aspect of the word - but it surely was my most productive year as well! As many emotionally ups and downs as I had, as hard it was to distract yourself from the CHAOS of the world and the justified anger, fear and frustration of the people, I can still say that my year has been more positive than the ones before! I feel different - more like...myself. MORE me. Almost complete. And I have the strong desire to show more of myself out there, to be seen and recognized for what I do and who I am, I want my work to go OUT THERE, to make new friends and find new business partners so I can finally go ALL OUT and republish my books - and I did actually form new friendships this year, more in one year than I did in the past 6 years combined, it's incredible! I stepped out there and made new friends by not even particularly DOING anything - I was just me: A pure bug nerd walking with Maybugs and wild bees on my hands through the streets - that's how I met MULTIPLE people this year.

And I gave myself the space and time to flourish artistically in EVERY direction - From Fakemon Designs to animal studies, horse illustrations, realistic styles, comic styles, personal-, fan- and Pokemoncomics, traditional animation, puppet animation, Photography, SKITS on Youtube - EVERYTHING I wanted to do I DID and I am VERY PROUD that I was able to see through and finish almost everything I started this year or had begun to work on the year before!

There's so much I still want to do and I hope to achieve next year - when I hopefully am more in power again, when my body has recovered from its current whooping cough, when I can contact agencies again. And I really hope social media will become more kind to us artists again, when we currently have to struggle so much with algorithms who want us to be influencers and content machines to post daily. That's why I'm really grateful for my community here on tumblr and the fact that it is not being dictated by an unforgiving algorithm like twitter and Instagram is. On here you actually still have a chance to be seen.

Thank you all SO MUCH for your support this year! Especially those of you, who decided to join my community on Patreon and have become part of my Discord server. You guys have lifted my spirit in ways I couldn't describe and I'm so happy to have such a kind and incredibly generous community! Truly, thank you all so much for being here!

Onward to 2024, let's hope it will treat us all with gentleness and kindness 🥹🥰💖💕

Socials | Patreon

[rainforestakiie]

hi! i am back with part 03 of Promised Soul! so happy i got it posted! i will be writing your ask next @lilacwriter07 i do hope you've enjoyed this AU so far! everyone has been so nice!

this is an adamapple fic placed in the omegaverse. there is so much lucifer in this chapter, finally! lucifer was inspired by @inubaki's Naga lucifer!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The massive head of Quetzalcoatl loomed over the stairs; its stone visage larger than Adam’s entire body. It jutted out from the smooth side of the temple, surrounded by intricate feather-like carvings that framed the god's crocodilian face. Adam paused beside it, captivated by the beauty and craftsmanship. The details were far more exquisite than those he had seen on the walls below; each feather and scale was etched into the golden stone with a precision that seemed almost divine.

As Adam’s eyes drifted upward, he marvelled at the sudden surge of energy coursing through him. The moment he stepped onto the first stair, it was as if an unseen force was propelling him forward, allowing him to ascend each step effortlessly. It was maddening how he could keep going without breaking a sweat. Now, so high up that the entire layout of Pentagram City unfolded beneath him, Adam understood for the first time why the city bore its name—the streets and buildings formed a perfect pentagram.

He squinted towards the point that contained Eden and his family, spotting the eternal flames of the Phoenixs even from this great height. A pang of doubt gnawed at him as he wondered what his family would say if they knew what he was doing, defying the sacred temple in such a blasphemous way. If the Jorōgumo caught him, his life would be torn away in the most horrific manner. Would his clan even mourn his loss?

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Adam turned his gaze back to the carved face of Quetzalcoatl, releasing a soft sigh. The sides of the stairs were lined with emerald stones, reminiscent of the emerald bones Quetzalcoatl had used to create the first humans, animals, and gods according to their ancient lore. Adam reached out, brushing his fingers over the smooth surface of the emeralds. The story in their textbooks told of Quetzalcoatl’s journey to the underworld, where he gathered the emerald bones of men, women, and animals, but in his haste to return to the middle realm, he accidentally mixed them up, giving birth to their current world.

Tilting his head back, Adam stared up at the remaining steps. He still had a long way to go, and time was running out. He needed to reach the top before sunrise, or risk being spotted by the ever-watchful Jorōgumo. The thought of what might happen if he were caught flitted through his mind—would they devour him on the spot or hand him over to the Red Caps? The Red Caps were a gruesome breed, notorious for spilling blood just to keep their hats crimson. They were relentless killers, driven by the belief that the blood on their caps had to remain fresh at all costs. Lilith had once mentioned that if the Jorōgumo didn’t want to feast on a captured traitor, they would throw them to the Red Caps.

But the strange ache within him, the one that had been urging him onward, was growing stronger, pulling him up the steps with an almost magnetic force. His fragile body should have been aching, but he felt nothing but the burning need to reach the temple’s peak. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling or why this overwhelming compulsion was driving him to such reckless heights, but he couldn’t stop himself. The closer he got to the sacred structure at the top, the more determined he became.

As the sky began to lighten and the first rays of the sun crept up behind him, Adam found himself nearing the summit. Pride swelled in his chest as he realized how far he had come. He pulled himself up what he thought was another step, only to find that he had reached the top.

Panting softly, Adam flipped himself over and let his legs dangle over the edge of the platform. He wiggled his feet, feeling an exhilarating mix of exhaustion and triumph. As the sun rose, casting a golden glow across Pentagram City, Adam’s breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so full of life. The city below, bathed in the light of dawn, seemed almost magical, as if the world had come alive just for him.

Adam lingered for a few moments, savouring the view despite the danger that might lurk below. He knew that staying in one place could make him an easy target for the Jorōgumo, but he hoped his altitude would keep him out of sight. Yet, the gnawing sensation deep in his chest returned, this time with a force that nearly took his breath away. A shiver ran through him, compelling him to sit up straight as an inexplicable urge drew him toward the temple.

It was as if the very force beckoning him knew he was idling just outside the door...

Adam wiped the back of his hand across his nose and forced himself to his feet, casting a final, wistful glance over Pentagram City before turning toward the temple's grand archway. The structure before him was breathtaking, a marvel of gold, red, and green. Emerald stones embedded in the temple walls glistened even more brilliantly as the sun crept higher in the sky. From this height, the temple's box-like structure appeared far more massive than it had from below, looming above him with an archway that resembled a gaping, cavernous mouth.

Adam trembled, his fingers knotting together in nervous anticipation. He had ventured farther than any creature from Pentagram City had dared. Slowly, he inched forward, the warmth of the temple’s stones seeping through his boots. He squinted against the sunlight as he approached the golden-framed archway, tentatively raising his hands to touch the gilded stones. Peering inside, he saw the sunlight flooding the temple, illuminating its exquisite murals—depictions of Quetzalcoatl himself. With nothing but the sparkling ruby pillars supporting the ceiling, Adam hesitated before stepping inside.

His gaze was immediately drawn to the paintings of Quetzalcoatl. His breath caught in his throat as he studied the mural, which dominated the main wall of the temple, a testament to the deity’s grandeur. Quetzalcoatl’s serpentine form was resplendent, his body adorned with emerald and gold scales, a stripe of lime green feathers running down his back like a soft plume. His underbelly shimmered with warmer hues of gold, orange, and red. The deity’s face, a blend of dragon and bird, was framed by a magnificent mane of rainbow feathers—blue, red, green, yellow, pink—every colour Adam had ever known. But what truly captivated him were the six glorious wings that stretched out from Quetzalcoatl’s long body, surrounding it in a halo of divine power.

And beneath Quetzalcoatl's body...were seven egg-like objects?

Adam tilted his head in curiosity, unconsciously stepping backward. Eggs? Why would Quetzalcoatl have eggs? Had the god consumed eggs during his time in the mortal realm? Just as the thought crossed his mind, Adam’s back brushed against something that was most certainly not stone.

It was warm. Very warm, but not unpleasant—quite the opposite, in fact. The warmth was comforting, inviting even, and Adam felt an almost irresistible urge to curl into it. As his back pressed against the solid form, his hands flew out to touch it, encountering softness and a series of feathery ridges beneath his fingers. But he resisted the urge to snuggle in, because whatever he was touching...was moving. The body beneath his hands was slowly breathing, its breaths shallow and rhythmic.

Adam’s eyes widened, his face draining of colour as fear wrapped its icy tendrils around his heart. He took a step forward, balancing on the balls of his feet, and slowly turned around. His body shuddered with dread, his eyes growing even wider, his jaw clenching in terror.

It wasn’t a wall at all. No, it was a massive, coiled body, its full-length filling nearly the entire temple chamber. Adam couldn’t see the creature’s head or tail, but the sheer size of the body made him feel as insignificant as an ant. What he had assumed to be wings were folded tightly against the creature’s serpentine form, draped over it like a protective blanket. Soft blue and white scales lined the top of the body, while crimson feathers adorned its back.

Adam swallowed hard, his body trembling as he tried to retreat without making a sound. But in his panic, he backed into a row of waist-high ruby pillars, each topped with an emerald stone. One of the stones toppled to the ground with a resounding clank. Breath hitching, Adam scrambled to retrieve the emerald, running his hands over it to check for damage before hurriedly placing it back.

The shallow breathing had ceased. Adam’s heart plummeted as he turned to face the once-slumbering serpent. The massive body twitched, then slowly began to unfurl. Huge wings stretched out wide, and a monstrous, dragon-like head rose from the coils of its own body. Glittering gold and red eyes narrowed down at Adam, the creature’s wings spreading with a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down his spine.

It was...it was...

“Q-Quetzalcoatl?” Adam stammered, trembling.

A deep, resonant voice rumbled from the serpent as Adam’s voice echoed through the temple, causing him to flinch.

“Not quite,” the serpent replied. “That’s my father.”

“F-Father?” Adam stuttered in disbelief. “Quetzalcoatl has children?”

The serpent let out a snort of amusement before twisting its massive body. It dove back into the nest of its own coils, but as it did so, the enormous form began to shrink. Adam watched in awe as the snake god’s body diminished in size until it was nearly as small as Adam himself. The creature’s form coiled tightly before a humanoid figure emerged in its place, pale arms crossing over its snake-like tail, chin propped on top.

"I believe I've mentioned that before, Adam," the man murmured, his voice laced with smug satisfaction, a sly grin curling on his cherry-red lips as he regarded the failed Phoenix Omega with an amused glint in his eyes.

Adam could only stare in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish pulled from the depths. The man before him bore familiar golden curls, crowned like a twisted halo atop his head, with two prominent tufts reminiscent of horns. His lips, lush and stained a deep, sultry red, contrasted strikingly against his mismatched eyes—one a molten gold, the other a burning crimson. From his wrists, black and green claws, framed by a cascade of crimson feathers. Further down, emerald and ruby feathers peeked seductively from his hips, forming a long, sinuous tail where his legs should have been. The tail was a mesmerizing tapestry of blue, red, and white scales, blending seamlessly into his serpentine form.

“You're real?!” Adam choked out, his voice a strained screech as he pointed a trembling finger at the ethereal being before him. “You weren’t just a figment of my imagination?!”

The man threw his head back, a rich, melodious laugh echoing through the chamber, deepening the flush of the crimson circles on his cheeks. “Sorry to shatter your illusions, but I am very much real.”

“You are?” Adam's voice wavered, barely more than a whisper. “You’re real, and...and you’re here? Here? You’re the—the what?”

The man tilted his head, an endearing gesture as he nestled deeper into the plush embrace of his tail. “Son of Quetzalcoatl. The youngest child, to be precise.”

“Y-Youngest child of…” Adam faltered, raising a hand to his temple as confusion swirled within him. “This can’t be real... Did I hit my head? Did the Jorōgumo catch me? Did Lilith kill me and I’m—I'm dead?”

A soft hum fluttered from the man's cherry-red lips as he tilted his head skyward, parting those tempting lips to release a sound so mesmerizing it could make the Sirens of the Black Lake envious. The man's eyes fluttered shut as an enchanting melody danced off his tongue, wrapping itself around Adam, binding him in its spell. The song was sweet and beguiling, twirling through the temple and causing the emerald stones to glow with an otherworldly light. The soft green and red feathers adorning the man's body shuddered, standing on end as he sang.

Adam found himself irresistibly drawn closer, his heart skipping a beat. As the man’s lullaby ended, Adam’s gaze was caught in the deep, entrancing pools of the man’s golden and crimson eyes.

"You sang that to me before..." Adam whispered, the memory stirring in his heart. "When I was a child."

"Indeed," the man replied tenderly. "You were crying. Do you remember me now?"

Adam nodded slowly, his legs giving way beneath him as he sank to his knees before the feathered serpent's beauty. "I thought you were a dream... Everyone told me there was no such thing as a feathered Naga. I searched for you, I never stopped looking, but..."

"I told you then, I had to return home," the man said softly, his long serpentine form beginning to unfurl from its nest-like coil. He raised himself, towering above Adam, and slithered closer, lowering his face to Adam's. "It seems you don't remember everything after all."

"I..." Adam bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. "I was young and emotional. I convinced myself you were nothing more than a comforting dream."

A disappointed click of the man’s tongue cut through the air, though a fleeting look of regret passed through his pretty eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a determined gaze. He raised his black and green clawed hands, lightly cupping Adam’s cheeks, forcing the trembling Omega to meet his gaze once more.

"I wasn’t allowed to linger in the mortal realm for long. I could only stay until I had chosen my intended mate. Then I had to return to the higher realm, where I slumbered for five years, before descending to the underworld for the final years of my journey."

Adam swallowed thickly, feeling the heat of the man's touch seeping into his skin, his heart pounding in his chest. Mate... The word echoed in his mind, sparking a memory long buried.

"Now, tell me, Adam," the man’s voice slithered into his ears, sweet as honey yet tinged with a serpentine hiss. Adam’s eyes were drawn to the man’s forked tongue as it flickered out, teasing his cherry-red lips. "Do you remember my name? Even after I warned you never to forget?"

He couldn’t look away, the man’s face inching closer, his golden and ruby eyes hooded, pupils dilated, trapping Adam in a gaze that left him paralyzed.

"Say my name, Adam," the man whispered, his forked tongue brushing against Adam's lips, sending a shiver down his spine.

"...Lucifer..." Adam breathed out, his voice barely audible.

A sharp, wicked grin spread across Lucifer’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. The end of his feathered, rattling tail quivered with pleasure, his sharp clawed fingers stroking the soft curve of Adam's cheeks.

"Good boy," Lucifer cooed, nuzzling his face against Adam's. His hands held Adam's face still as he brought his lips dangerously close. "Now for your reward~"

"My reward?" Adam whimpered, his breath hitching.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Lucifer claimed Adam’s lips in a kiss. The soft, plumpness of those cherry-red lips sent a tingling sensation washing over Adam, making him quiver. Lucifer’s kiss was gentle at first, a sweet caress of lips, as he began to coil his serpentine body around Adam, not quite touching him but forming a coiling nest around him, leaving no escape should Adam try to flee.

Lucifer’s sharp fangs grazed Adam’s bottom lip, capturing it between his own lips and sucking softly, before slipping back to deepen the kiss. His forked tongue flickered against Adam's lips, a teasing request for entry, as the serpent's embrace tightened, holding Adam close within his seductive grasp.

Cradling Adam's flushed cheeks, Lucifer’s sinuous tongue persisted in its quest, licking insistently for entry until the tip of his tail slithered with serpentine grace behind Adam. It trailed along the nape of his neck, purposely brushing Adam’s Omega glands and sending a shiver racing down Adam’s spine. In that moment of unexpected contact, Adam jerked with a startled squeal. The sound was swiftly silenced as Lucifer’s tongue took advantage of the parted lips, slipping into the now open haven of Adam's mouth.

Adam shuddered violently, his back arching at the unfamiliar sensation of Lucifer’s forked tongue exploring him. The tongue traced the contours of Adam’s own, a possessive dance that claimed every inch of his mouth as its territory. Finally, Lucifer withdrew, pulling back just enough to leave a thick, glistening bridge of saliva connecting their rosy lips, a testament to the intimate invasion.

"You... y-you kissed me..." Adam panted, his voice trembling, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red.

Lucifer's grin widened with delight as he leaned in to steal another quick, playful kiss. "Mates kiss, Adam. They kiss all the time."

"Well, um, y-yeah, but I'm—not—why would you want to kiss me?" Adam stammered, his words stumbling over each other as an unexpected bashfulness crept over him. His mind was a whirl of confusion, and though he couldn’t see it, an instinctive sense of danger began to close in around him, tightening like a noose.

Lucifer's hands continued to cradle Adam’s cheeks, a soft rattle-purr emanating from his feathered tail. "Because you are my mate, Adam. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that, too? You’ve been mine for ten years now, Addie~"

A shaky gasp escaped Adam's lips as Lucifer’s rattling tail continued its teasingly caress, sliding up and down his spine, brushing repeatedly against the Omega glands at the back of his neck—glands that had remained untouched for years, now throbbing with a newfound sensitivity.

Lucifer tugged Adam closer, pulling him into an embrace that forced the Phoenix Omega to rise onto the tips of his toes. Adam's hands instinctively shot up, grasping onto Lucifer’s wrists for balance, especially as Lucifer pressed their lips together once more, sealing their connection with another deep, intoxicating kiss.

It was nice. Maybe too good. Adam found himself melting into the kiss, sighing pleasantly and even beginning to try and kiss back. He stretched himself onto the tip of his toes further and push his lips back against Lucifer’s.

The sense of being wanted. The feeling that somebody out there wanted to mate with him, wanted Adam to be their Omega, had him warming up. A wetness formed between his thighs, making him rub them together.

Breaking the kiss, Adam was dazed and needy. He’s eyes were dilated and glassy, large and reflective. Lucifer purred, brushing his fingers over Adam’s cheeks with an even wider smirk. His long serpent body rattled, and he swiftly swirled himself around Adam’s body, caging the failed Omega against him. Lucifer’s clawed hands crossed over Adam’s chest, rubbing the hidden flesh through his sweater. His sharp claws pinching at the cotton fabric, slicing the threads little by little.

“Addie~” he sang teasingly, nuzzling his face into the Omega’s neck. His lips ghosted along the warm skin and soon his tongue licked across the exposed mating glands, making Adam gasp. “I can smell your slick~”

“My – my what?” Adam squawked, blinking his eyes furiously. His heart skipped a beat as he shakingly took in the sight of the feather and scaly snake body had coiled itself around him.

A hungry giggle escaped the feathered serpent Nephilim. Lucifer tilted his head, allowing his long fork-tongue to slither out. He ran it down Adam’s throat, tracing the macules and flickering at the collar of Adam’s sweater.

“Your slick. It’s strong.” Lucifer cooed, his right clawed hand crawling down Adam’s front and stroking his stomach. “It smells divine, it’s making my mouth water~”

Adam squirmed immediately as the wetness between his legs intensified. So that must be ‘slick’ and gosh, his face warmed up at the words. He quivered as Lucifer’s other hand continued to caress his chest through the fabrics, Adam’s eyes falling to watch the two hands anxiously. A knot began to form within his gut and his breath hitched further as Lucifer’s right hand sunk further down, sliding over his stomach fully and rest just above the area that contained Adam’s Omega-hood.

Releasing a range of rattle purrs, Lucifer continued to lick at Adam’s neck. His lips brushing repeatedly against the untouched Omega glands, enjoying the way his mate gasped and trembled from the actions. The clawed hand that was sneaking down Adam’s body finally reached the flimsy waistband of his mate’s black pyjama pants but instead of using inside like Lucifer originally aimed for, he immediately cupped Adam through his trousers.

A startled yelp escaped Adam, and he squirmed even more within the snake coiled grip, but Lucifer held tightly and secured. A wave of something new washed over Adam’s body as Lucifer abruptly began to rub his hand firmly between his legs, giggling as Adam reacted to the actions with delight.

Taking advantage of Adam’s reaction, Lucifer’s other hand slipped underneath Adam’s sweater. All the hairs upon Adam’s body stood up on end as Lucifer’s hand touched his chest somewhat aggressively.

“You’re so cute, Addie~” Lucifer hummed, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I get my hands on you~”

Adam’s breath hitched, making his throat burn and his eyes grow so wide that he feared they would pop out. His hips arched as Lucifer continued to caress him between his thighs, his legs trembled and the tingling knot deep inside his gut increased, growing tighter and tighter.

“You have? But why?” Adam gasped, his own mouth beginning to water with too much saliva. Where did it all come from?

A laugh bubbled from Lucifer, the pretty feathers of his body fluttering and scales glittering. Lucifer nuzzled his face into Adam’s throat again, pressing butterfly kisses along the soft flesh. “I don’t know what it is for you mortals, but for ones like myself, we mate for life. We can only court once in our lives. The moment I scented you, I committed my full soul, heart and body to you and you alone~”

“Oh…” Adam began quietly.

Smirking widely, Lucifer’s long fangs peeking out from his cherry-red lips, his hands continued to fondle his adorable mate. He pulled Adam’s sweater up, forcing his chest to be exposed and immediately grabbed the right breast. While his long-wet tongue extended over his shoulder and began to lick at the left breast. His eyes crinkled at the corners and became hooded with desire, the taste of Adam’s flesh was delicious. So much better than he could ever have imagined.

Licking his lips with a hiss, Lucifer twisted himself around Adam’s left side, slithering himself underneath Adam’s arm. His lips contacted the exposed skin and Adam released an embarrassing cry. He kissed softly the tender skin, rolling his tongue across the skin and even sucking a little.

Adam wheezed and clenched his teeth together, unsure of what to do. It felt good but it was all so overwhelming and making Adam feel rather lightheaded. It was just yesterday morning that Adam was depressed and heartbroken, thinking the only person who he could ever be with didn’t want him at all but now, hours later, he was tangled up and being touched by his apparent mate.

Lucifer gazed up at Adam’s face as he sucked upon the exposed flesh. A dark glint appeared within his gold and ruby eyes; the hand nested between Adam’s legs slid upward. He dipped his hand down his trousers and touching him again. Lucifer purred when Adam jumped in surprise and released a rather loud moan.

“You sound so pretty~” Lucifer purred, working Adam over tenderly and delicately. “You sound so nice, Addie. You really do.”

With another cry, Adam’s hips arched and everything inside him jolted. The tight knot unravelled vastly, leaving Adam out of breath and shaking. His vision blurred, stars shimmering across his sight.

With a devilish grin, Lucifer pressed closer to Adam's neck, his lips grazing the delicate Omega glands, sending shivers down Adam's spine. His grip softened, transforming into a tender embrace as he cradled the fallen Phoenix Omega in his arms. The serpent godling's sinuous form coiled around Adam, caressing his neck with gentle nuzzles that trailed upward, their cheeks brushing in an intimate dance. Lucifer’s intoxicating pheromones enveloped Adam, marking him as his own, a possessive and primal act of claim.

Adam’s vision blurred, his body a blend of numbness and warmth. As Lucifer captured his lips in a kiss, it was sweet, tender, and brimming with a gentleness that contrasted his usual cruel demeanour. When their lips parted, the sharp, predatory smirk that usually adorned Lucifer’s face melted into something softer, more affectionate—a loving smile that radiated from his captivating eyes. A low, purring rattle emanated from Lucifer, a sound akin to a contented serpent, as his golden curls shimmered with vibrant, iridescent feathers that fanned out like a hummingbird’s wings. Adam’s breath caught in his throat, utterly entranced by the ethereal beauty of the feathered serpent godling before him.

But then, a sudden gust of fresh air swept through the temple, dispelling the stifling heat and Lucifer's enchanting pheromones. Adam blinked, his senses slowly returning as the sacred stones were cleansed by the breeze. He squinted, glancing around in confusion as clarity and fear crept back into his mind.

Oh Quetzalcoatl... What had he done? What had he allowed himself to be swept into?

He had broken the sacred laws of Pentagram City, trespassed onto sacrificial grounds, and ascended the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had committed treason, and the consequences would be severe—he would be torn apart if he descended. The Jorogumo warriors were likely already lying in wait, ready to capture him and exact their cruel retribution.

Worse still, he had desecrated the temple of Quetzalcoatl. He had allowed himself to indulge in something forbidden, something sacred. Lucifer could very well be the divine offspring of Quetzalcoatl himself, a holy being sent to deliver the next stage of destiny to Pentagram City. If Quetzalcoatl had not returned in his own form but sent his Nephilim son instead, it meant Lucifer was to fulfil this year's covenant with the people. And Adam... Adam had touched him, kissed him, allowed himself to be marked by him.

Holy gods. He was doomed. He had practically defiled Lucifer in the eyes of the elders! The punishment would be swift and merciless. They would deem him unworthy, a failed Phoenix, an unfit Omega, and he would be executed so Lucifer could find a more suitable mate.

Lucifer, who had been nuzzling into Adam with blissful contentment, barely had time to register Adam’s sudden panic. His golden and ruby eyes widened in surprise, round as an owl’s, as he tumbled to the temple floor in a dishevelled heap of serpentine coils and puffed-out feathers.

"Adam?" he called out, confusion lacing his voice as he pushed himself up from the stones, his sharp fangs glinting as they protruded from his lips. "Adam?"

The failed Phoenix stumbled to a halt in the archway, his gaze lingering on Lucifer as he bit his bottom lip. This was everything he had ever dreamed of— the boy who had promised to be his mate returning to fulfill that promise, a chosen mate who was more than he could have ever hoped for, a god himself. He yearned to return to Lucifer's warm embrace, but fear gripped him—fear of what Pentagram City would do to him once they discovered his transgression with Lucifer.

With a thick swallow, Adam turned and ran through the archway, his heart pounding with anxiety. The burning light of the sun blinded him, but he refused to look down at the walls, terrified of seeing the Jorōgumo warriors readying themselves to capture him. All he could think of was getting home, back to his flat where he could hide away, lick his wounds, and nurse his second broken heart. He would dream of the mate and the love he could have had if only he had been worthying.

Lucifer watched Adam flee, a disappointed growl rumbling deep in his throat. It took only moments for him to untangle his serpentine body, his clawed hands smoothing down his feathers as he straightened. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his right claw—the one he had used to caress Adam—and he brought his finger to his lips, licking it thoughtfully.

Adam had rejected him? Adam had run away from him? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t allowed. Adam was his. Adam was his mate. He wasn’t allowed to change his mind. Lucifer’s blood and soul screamed for only one mate, and he had chosen Adam.

With a determined huff, Lucifer licked his fingers clean and slithered toward the archway, the bright sunlight barely fazing him as he poked his head out, gazing over the city his father had created.

“So, this is Pentagram City?” he clicked his tongue in distaste. “I expected something bigger.”

Lucifer's skin crackled and snapped, a sinister symphony echoing down the winding staircase as his eyes narrowed, sharp and unforgiving. His fork-tipped tongue slipped out like a serpent’s kiss, tasting the air, while the tip of his tail rattled with anticipation. Through the dim light, he glimpsed the silhouette of Adam, hastily descending the golden steps, his every movement betraying his desperation.

With a sudden, violent twitch, Lucifer's body surged, and from his back erupted six magnificent wings, their beauty both terrifying and divine. They stretched out along his spine, extending all the way to the base of his rattle-tailed form, a display of dark splendor. A low, rumbling purr escaped his lips as his clawed hands curled around the edge of the top step. Leaning forward, his shoulders rose, framing his face as his blood-red eyes flared with predatory hunger. The spider-like women clinging to the walls of his father’s domain caught his gaze, their presence only deepening his hunger.

"Ah," he murmured, arching his wings wide, feeling the power ripple through them as he tested their strength. It had been far too long since he had flown in this form, a form both glorious and deadly. "Adam’s about to stumble into a web of trouble, and I haven’t feasted in such a long time..."

With a graceful, effortless motion, Lucifer launched himself into the sky. His wings beat with a speed that outpaced a bullet, carrying him swiftly through the air, unseen and unstoppable. For whom could ever hope to spot the Nephilim coming? After all, Lucifer was the very child of the winds, an omen of doom that none could escape.

~#~

It was a strange sensation, one that Adam couldn’t quite explain. An inexplicable surge of energy pulsed through him, propelling his legs faster than they’d ever moved before. He leaped down the temple steps, his skin tingling with a sense of foreboding, as if unseen eyes were watching him from above. Yet, every time he glanced upward, he found nothing but darkness.

The failed Phoenix dashed across the sacrificial grounds, his heart pounding in his chest. He sprinted straight through the night sky's twinkling pathway, eyes fixed on the ancient wall of Quetzalcoatl. His throat burned, his nostrils flaring as if inhaling fire. Suddenly, a chill sliced through him when he glimpsed the silhouette of a Jorōgumo warrior near the wall. But as he drew closer, the shadowy figure vanished as though it had never been there. Had he looked more closely, he might have noticed the fresh blood staining the ground beneath his feet, but fear blinded him to the signs.

His heart raced, pounding a relentless rhythm in his chest, urging him not to stop. And so he didn’t. He skidded forward, dropping to his knees, scrambling across the cold stone. Unaware, he crawled beneath the statue of Quetzalcoatl, his hands outstretched, reaching for safety. Just as he pulled himself through, the waiting Jorōgumo warrior, hidden in the shadows, barely had time to scream before being snatched away by a blur in the sky. Adam blinked in confusion; his breath ragged as he glanced around.

"Where did all the Jorōgumo go?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over his sensitive Omega glands. Startled, he jerked his hand away, stumbling to his feet, and began to speed walk toward the border of Pentagram City.

"Maybe they didn’t notice me," he whispered to himself, picking up his pace.

 His eyes brightened as he spotted other creatures of the city going about their daily business. It seemed no one had noticed him sneaking past the walls. Maybe he really was lucky! Perhaps Lilith herself had taken pity on him, distracting her clan just long enough for him to slip by unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to Adam, the Jorōgumo warriors were being silently picked off behind him, one by one, by a shadowy figure darting through the sky. Oblivious to the chaos, he zigzagged through Pentagram City, his legs burning as he jogged past the crowds. His ears rang with the echo of his own heartbeat, so heavy and fast that it made him dizzy. But still, Adam didn’t pause, driven by a desperate need to return to the safety of his rundown flat.

When his apartment building finally came into view, Adam nearly wept with relief. His eyes glistened with tears as he slowed to a walk, sweat trickling down his clammy skin. He leaned over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. But his relief was short-lived. A cold dread washed over him as he felt a hand on his backside.

Adam's eyes widened in horror as he shot upright and spun around, only to find himself face-to-face with the seedy Alpha Minotaur. The very same Alpha who delighted in stalking him, his eyes gleaming with sinister intent.

"Not today," Adam choked out, his chest still heaving as he tried to push past the brute. "I'm in no mood for your bullshit."

"That's a bit harsh," the Minotaur growled, his voice a smoky rumble that sent a shiver through Adam's spine. His massive, calloused hand clamped around Adam's arm, effortlessly pulling him closer. "Considering I'm your last shot at any kind of courtship, don’t you think you should be a little sweeter to me?"

Adam stared; disbelief plastered across his face. The audacity of this asshole. He struggled in vain to break free from the Minotaur’s iron grip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I heard all about the Jorōgumo turning you down. I tried to warn you," the Alpha murmured with a smug smile, leaning in close to exhale a cloud of musky breath across Adam’s face. "A Jorōgumo would never go for something as weak and delicate as you."

Ignoring the sting of the insult, Adam glared at the Alpha Minotaur, his eyes dark with anger. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

"I’m offering you a chance—what every Omega dreams of. I’m a strong Alpha, I could take real good care of you!" The Minotaur’s grip tightened around Adam’s slender arm. "Better than that spider freak, anyway."

Adam swallowed the growl rising in his throat, still struggling to wrench his arm free. "Fuck off!"

"Oh, you’ve got spirit!" the Minotaur bellowed with laughter, finally releasing Adam and sending the Phoenix Omega stumbling backward. "You’ll come around eventually. They always do."

Disgust twisted Adam's features as he sneered. "I might be unwanted by nearly everyone in Pentagram City, but even I have standards. Even I, a failed Phoenix, deserve better than a fuckhead like you!"

Without giving the Minotaur a chance to respond, Adam spun on his heel and stormed away. His eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but he refused to cry in front of that asshole Alpha. His arm throbbed from the Minotaur’s grip, but Adam was damned if he’d let that assclown know he’d hurt him. No fucking way.

As he approached his apartment building, something slithered down from above, and in an instant, the Minotaur was yanked into the air by his horns. His startled scream was cut off before it could even begin.

Adam all but collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he stared blankly at his dimly lit flat. The tension in his body began to unravel, and he slowly slid down the door until his backside hit the floor, his head resting heavily against the wood behind him. Safe at last, surrounded by the familiar shadows of his home, Adam found himself drawn irresistibly to his comfort nest.

He crawled across the floor, each movement more desperate than the last, until he reached the nest of tangled sheets and blankets. With a swift, almost frantic motion, he threw himself into it, cocooning his trembling body within the soft layers.

As he lay there, the tension slowly drained from his stiff muscles, and the whirlwind of emotions he'd been holding at bay finally surged forward. The memories of the past few hours crashed down on him, leaving him breathless. A childish squeal of disbelief escaped his lips as he covered his face with both hands, rolling onto his side and curling into a tight ball.

"Holy shit," he whispered, peeking through his fingers as if the darkness might somehow confirm the impossible. "Did that really happen?"

Had he truly ventured all the way to the temple? Had he really committed treason, defying every law he knew, and scaled the temple’s sacred crown? And more unbelievable still—had he stood before the Godling of Quetzalcoatl, the Nephilim himself? Was any of it real?

Had he really met Lucifer? And had Lucifer truly touched him like that?

Adam's breath hitched, his disbelief mounting with every question. Could the kind boy he’d met all those years ago have been the Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl?

His breath shook, a tremor of doubt seeping into his thoughts. There was no way it had all happened... right? It had to be in his head. Maybe he’d never left his nest, and all of it had just been some vivid, twisted dream. That seemed more likely, but then…there was wetness still between his legs. The evidence was still inside his pyjamas.

Adam groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, desperate to believe it had all been a dream. His heart pounded with worry because if it wasn’t… he had pushed Lucifer away and fled like a coward. Who knew what the Nephilim would do now?

As he nestled deeper into the comforting embrace of his nest, the exhaustion of being up all night finally caught up with him. His thoughts began to blur, his breathing gradually slowing as sleep claimed him. How long he slept, he couldn’t say, but when he awoke, the light outside his grimy windows was already fading into twilight.

Whining softly, Adam rubbed his tired eyes and sat up, his hair a tousled mess. Even after sleeping, he still felt drained, as if he could easily slip back into slumber. But something wasn’t right. What had woken him up? The flat looked as it always did, nothing out of place.

Shrugging off the unease, Adam lay back down, burrowing into his blankets once more. Just as he was about to drift off again, a faint tapping reached the edge of his consciousness. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was just the rain. But the sound persisted, almost rhythmic in nature.

His eyes snapped open, annoyance bubbling up as he sat up and listened more intently. The tapping was coming from his window? But even with the shoddy glass, Adam could tell there was nothing on the other side—not even a drop of rain. His brows furrowed in confusion as he crawled toward the wall, yawning and accidentally bumping his forehead against the cold surface.

Groaning, Adam rubbed his forehead before pulling himself to his feet. He grumbled under his breath as he repeated his usual morning ritual, tugging at the stiff, worn-out latch. The hinges creaked loudly in protest as he forced the window open.

He peered out into the darkening city, stretching out a hand to feel for rain, but there was nothing. His head lolled against the window frame, his eyelids growing heavy again. There was nothing out there, and he was so tired—he could just doze off like this and—

"Hi, Adam!"

Adam’s eyes flew open in shock, freezing in place as a face suddenly appeared inches from his own. Black and green claws gripped the top of the window, and a familiar, mischievous head hung upside down, grinning at him.

Adam stared into Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes, his groggy mind struggling to catch up. Lucifer? It was Lucifer! The Nephilim of Quetzalcoatl! His supposed mate—the one Adam had shoved away and abandoned at the temple. A startled yelp escaped his throat as he stumbled backward, landing on his backside. Meanwhile, Lucifer, with impressive agility, wiggled through the small window, his grin never faltering. The Nephilim slipped inside, his long tail snaking in after him, rattling as it stretched all the way across the room, revealing just how unnervingly long it was.

"You have wings?!" Adam squawked in surprise, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hummed contentedly, his twinkling eyes surveying the room until they settled on Adam's nest. A wide grin spread across his face as he immediately slithered toward it, nuzzling himself into the makeshift walls of pillows, cushions, and sheets.

"Hmm?" Lucifer murmured, patting down the pillows as his six wings fluttered on either side of him. "Of course I do~ All my brothers and sisters have Father's wings~"

Adam crawled backward until his back hit the wall, his eyes wide with shock. "You… You didn’t have them before."

"I can retract them!" Lucifer replied cheerfully, his wings suddenly straightening before folding back into his body, disappearing seamlessly into the feathers and scales. "See~"

Adam opened his mouth to respond but clamped it shut, his gaze shifting awkwardly—until he noticed something alarming. Red liquid. Everywhere. His eyes widened as he followed the trail of crimson from the floor to the walls, and finally, to his nest.

"You’re covered in blood!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with panic.

Cuddling an emerald, green pillow close to his chest, Lucifer buried his face in it, inhaling deeply. He snuggled the pillow and peered at Adam with half-lidded eyes. "Don’t worry. It’s not my blood."

Resisting the urge to snatch back his favourite pillow, Adam frowned deeply. "Whose blood, is it?"

"Ah, those Jorōgumo. They were planning to ambush you, but don’t worry! I dealt with them!" Lucifer chirped, his feathers fluffing up and the tip of his tail rattling with satisfaction. "Oh, and that annoying Alpha Minotaur. He touched what’s mine, and I don’t like sharing. So, I dealt with him too!"

It was as if Adam’s brain short-circuited at Lucifer’s unnervingly gleeful response. He blinked a few times, his mouth opening to speak but then clamping shut again. His gaze remained locked on Lucifer, who stared back at him while clutching Adam's favorite green pillow. Did Lucifer know it was Adam's favorite? Was that why the Nephilim held it so tightly, pressing his cheek against it and—was he sniffing it repeatedly?

"When you say you dealt with them…" Adam’s voice wavered as he asked.

Lucifer’s smirk widened, almost unnervingly, until he seemed like an entirely different creature. His rattlesnake tail swayed lazily behind him. "I ate them. Yes."

"You—you ate them?!" Adam gasped. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have been such a revelation. Quetzalcoatl was a god of blood sacrifices and devouring flesh, so it made sense that his children would share the same… tastes.

"I was hungry," Lucifer shrugged, entirely unconcerned. "And they were there, so I figured why not? Killed two birds with one stone~"

Adam nodded slowly, trying to process the twisted logic. It made sense, he supposed, but still, a shudder of revulsion crept up his spine. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn’t hard~" Lucifer snorted, his eyes narrowing at Adam with a hint of judgment. "You’re my mate. I’ll always be able to sniff you out. No matter how far you run, I can pick up your scent anywhere. I just followed it to this building after I had my fill."

"Oh," Adam mumbled, glancing away, feeling weak. "Are you mad at me?"

"Absolutely!" Lucifer chirped, his smile unnervingly wide and cheerful. He didn’t look angry at all. "I’m fuming! I’m so upset with you! You ran away from me! And pushed me off! That hurt so much, you know!"

Adam flinched at the overly cheerful tone, his stomach knotting with anxiety. Lucifer’s voice was light, but when Adam finally met his eyes, he saw it—the pure, simmering anger lurking behind that deceptively happy expression.

"I’m sorry," Adam said, leaning forward without actually approaching the feathered serpent. "I’m sorry. I just panicked."

Lucifer grunted, tilting his head curiously. "Why would you panic? You’re my mate; I’d never hurt you."

"Okay, I—I know that. And I’d never hurt you either." Adam’s cheeks warmed as he spoke, feeling a bit bashful. He doubted he could ever actually harm Lucifer, but saying it seemed to make Lucifer relax slightly. "But you have to understand, you’re a Nephilim, the son of my god. How did you expect me to react? I’m nothing special. I’m not even a fully reformed Phoenix, and you’re telling me my mate is a Godling? It was just… too much."

Lucifer’s expression softened, his head tilting further as he seemed to digest Adam’s words. He hummed thoughtfully and let out a soft sigh. "Okay. I can understand that, so I’ll let it slide this time. But don’t ever do that to me again—I won’t be so forgiving."

"Right…" Adam nodded sheepishly. "I really am sorry."

"Hmm?" Lucifer purred, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye, one clawed finger beckoning Adam closer. "If you’re really sorry and want to make it up to me, you’ll come over and snuggle with me~ I’ve always wanted to see your nest, Addie~"

Without thinking, Adam climbed to his feet, drawn to Lucifer like a moth to a flame. He found himself standing at the edge of his nest, staring down at Lucifer. But as he looked into those mischievous eyes, he narrowed his own and frowned.

Lucifer immediately pouted, raising both arms to Adam like a child wanting to be picked up. "Come on, Addie~ Let’s cuddle. I wanna snuggle you~"

"No," Adam said firmly, planting his hands on his hips. "Not when you’re covered in blood."

A sharp smirk returned to Lucifer’s lips, and his long, serpentine tongue flicked out playfully. "Well, then you better come clean me~"

"C-Clean you?" Adam stammered, his eyes widening. "You don’t mean…"

Lucifer’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he stretched out luxuriously in the nest, his voice dripping with suggestive mischief. "Oh, but I do~"

“…I’ll find a sponge or a flannel.” Adam muttered, beginning to turn his head away.  

“Why would you need those?” Lucifer questioned, catching Adam’s wrist with his snake-tail.

Adam blinked down at him. “To…clean you?”

“Oh no~” with one tug, Lucifer pulled Adam on top of him. “We don’t clean ourselves like that, Addie~”

“…and…how do you want me to clean you?”

Lucifer purred, sliding his arms around Adam’s middle. He rubbed them purposely up and down Adam’s back. His long tongue licked at Adam’s lips.

“You need to use your tongue~”

----

Lilith – Jorōgumo - Alpha

  Origin: Japan

  Description: A spider that can transform into a beautiful woman to lure and devour men. Jorōgumo is a blend of beauty and danger, often featured in ghost stories.

Lucifer – Quetzalcoatl's younglin – Omega

  Origin: Mesoamerica

  Description: A feathered serpent god associated with wind, air, and learning. Quetzalcoatl is one of the most important deities in Aztec culture.

Adam – Phoenix – Omega

  Origin: Ancient Greece, Egypt, and Persia

  Description: A magnificent bird that is cyclically reborn from its ashes, symbolizing immortality, renewal, and the sun.

[shmuel-ben-sarah-kcd2]

i'd love to hear more of your thoughts about samuel! maybe the scar lore? maybe his and miriam's relationship? 👀

howdy there! So I’m going to start this off with a MASSIVE Trigger Warning for antisemitism, depictions of violence, and spoilers for Exodus onwards. This shit gets pretty heavy chat and we’re having a bad time.

It is stated in the game that Samuel, Sara, and Rabbi Jehuda lived in Prauge for a few years before returning to Kuttenberg. I set the year of his birth to 1379, after Rosh Hashanah, so he’s twenty four in the events of canon, and he’s nine years old on Easter of 1389.

“Easter Sunday that year coincided with the last day of Pesach. A priest who was leading the Easter procession through the ghetto was hit by some pebbles and caught in the cross fire of some Jewish children playing in a sandbox. The priest, who was carrying an eucharistic wafer claimed that pebbles hitting him, made him drop the host.

He insisted that the community purposely plotted against. him. The priest's followers beaup the boys. The parents of the boys came to the defense of thair children. The clergy led byJesek Ctyrhranny riled up the mobs to take vengeance. A mob was then incited to attack the ghetto. Jews were bludgeoned to death with axes and killed with bows and arrows.

The synagogue was destroyed and the Torah scrolls were trampled and stepped on.

The buildings were set ablaze and the homes were pillaged.

According to a Latin parody Christians fell upon all Jews, amputating their limbs one by one....”

five hundred of us were slaughtered, half to two thirds of our population in Prauge.

I count Samuel, his mother, and his Zayde among the survivors. I count his Bubbe Chava, his aunt Esther, and his best friend, Benjamin, among the massacred, the martyred.

Samuel and Benjamin were among the boys playing in the street. And it was Samuel whose aim slipped.

the burn scars, the jagged gash across the back of his head from being slammed into the stones on the street, several of the blows by blade, and the piercing wound of a pitchfork going through his leg, these are all from the pogrom.

by all accounts, he should not have survived. He was knocked unconscious, and as he was not a girl, the mob moved on to slaughter others. His Zayde pulled him, carried him to safety, until the two of them had made it far enough out of the city to see the flames but not hear the screams.

it is there, that Jehuda stops, does what he can to bandage his grandson’s worst injuries, giving the boy a knife to defend himself, telling him that if he didn’t come back, Samuel should run that way to try and get to the next tow over. then rabbi Jehuda hides his grandson, placing his hands on Samuel’s head, and whispering a brucha. And so Samuel became a man. (This is nearly word for word what happened to my Czech Jewish great grandfather when the soldiers came…)

While his Zayde was able to find Sara alive, he was unable to save anyone else. All three will blame themselves.

Now, as for Miriam and Samuel. When Samuel moved back to Kuttenberg he was a lonely boy, still recovering, scared to play lest he begin another pogrom. But Miriam and her older brother Moshe kind of forced their way into his life. He taught them both how to read Czech and German (Moshe learned Hebrew in Cheder, and taught Miriam how to write Hebrew script and Yiddish is phonetic mostly anyway) and they taught him how to read a man (Miriam) and gut an animal the kosher way (Moshe, their father aas a butcher by trade) and to close a wound.

the three were really thick as thieves. Samuel had a little bit of a crush on both of them, to be honest. And of course, with all the fighting, the three organized a self defense milita. It had to be kept hidden from the goyim (we were not allowed to own weapons) but it was the ghetto’s only hope when a pogrom came.

Miriam and Samuel eventually parted ways, Samuel going to yeshiva for a year before returning to Kuttenberg, Miriam getting hired to work for Von Bergow, to keep an ear to the floor so she could warn her people when the next attack was coming.

[starwarsmum]

Maribat Mix Match Monster Mash day 1, "I am not Supposed to Be the Final Girl" & Claws

Steph crept through the house, boom-stick at the ready. The distress call from Cass had been short and desperate and Steph had panicked. Cass never called for help so she locked onto the beacon and raced for the house that was showing as her location.

It was a rundown shack, two stories with grimy windows that flickered with some sort of light. The front door was broken in, huge, uneven slashes down its centre, creaking ominously in the wind. Steph's heart pounded in her ears as she whispered that she was entering the address into her comm-link. 

The door continued to creak ominously as she had passed it, and it set her nerves on fire. Pushing onwards, she saw that candles had been lit haphazardly around the first room she came to. There were piles of fabric strewn everywhere with a slightly more…human looking lump next to what looked like an altar.

Approaching the altar with trepidation, she almost cried out when she recognised the red, green and yellow costume of her youngest not-sibling. His dark skin was paler, arm bent at an unnatural angle beneath him. His other arm was spread over another person, smaller in stature with a red spotted mask on her still features. The smaller person's eyes were wide and glassy, staring at nothing.

Not wanting to confirm that the sticky pool around the pair was what she feared, she hesitated. Her heart squeezed as she realised that Robin Damian had been protecting Marinette from whatever had hit them, even if it hadn't worked. In the flickering candlelight, the only thing Steph could say with certainty was that it had to be some kind of animal.

A strange noise came from upstairs and Steph froze as a chill ran up her spine. If something had taken down Marinette, with the power she wielded as Guardian of the Miraculous and Ladybug, what chance did anyone else stand? Was Cass even still- no. She wasn't going to finish that thought. She refused to believe that both of her sisters were gone. She looked around to see if she could spot anything that would tell her what she was facing, but the only thing that drew her eye was the broken forms of Damian and Marinette.

Stepping out of the room, she tensed as the noise increased in volume; whatever was making it had exited a room upstairs. Steph crouched in the shadows of the entryway and watched as something moved on the upper landing. 

She could hear slithering and scraping as the creature moved and she focused on trying to detect other signs of life. Fear had settled in her gut and she was desperate to find another member of her family so that they could take down this villain. 

The whatever-it-was started to inch down the stairs, claws gleaming as it trailed them along the hand rail, and Steph's grip on her boom stick tightened until her hand shook. She sidestepped as the creature cleared the bottom step and stood once more in the doorway to the candle room. She raised the stick high and-

-screamed when something grabbed her from behind. The room had been empty save for-

“Whoa, Spoiler, deep breath!”

The voice was Marinette's, but Steph knew that nobody could have survived that level of blood loss and she tried to bring the stick down on the person that was restraining her. She could hear more yelling and lights snapped on, practically blinding her.

“-took it too far, Red!” Marinette was shouting, dodging each downward swipe of the boom stick. Things were starting to filter through the panic and Steph took a deep breath at last when she saw Orphan's mask in front of her.

When it was clear that Steph had calmed down enough not to hit anyone, Marinette released her and immediately stalked over to someone dressed in oranges and reds. She began a ten minute rant about how he had told her it was supposed to be a joke and that she was under the impression that she was supposed to look unconscious, not dead. 

Finally, when she was done shouting, she held out a hand for the Fox Miraculous, face hard. Red Robin appeared in the fox’s place, looking sheepish.

“I'm sorry, Spoiler,” Tim said, looking at the ground like a naughty child. “It's just- you said that haunted houses were too predictable and that they never scare you anymore! And I remember, when we were kids, they were your favourite part of Halloween. But I get that I took it too far.”

Steph looked around at the four of them, stunned for a few moments. Then a giggle bubbled up and out of her, her entire frame shaking as she tried to suppress it. Marinette looked at her, concerned, and it only made the giggling worse. Even Damian was frowning in a different way to usual when she finally straightened up from her hysterics.

“Jesus Christ, Red, overkill much?” Steph giggled again, clutching her sides. “Ah, man, now that it's over? That was the best haunted house I have ever been to! Ten out of ten, I almost wet myself when LB grabbed me at the end there.”

“You're not angry?” Damian asked, sounding confused. She shook her head, beaming. 

“Honestly? I appreciate the gesture and the time you all put into this! I can't believe Red got you to take part, Robin, what did he have to promise you?”

“Tt, it is unimportant, just know that I will be collecting on his promises,” Damian said with a smirk.

All in all, it had been a terrifying experience and Steph was relieved that everyone was alive and well. But she wouldn't be letting Tim forget this any time soon.

[jinxedruby]

Whumptober Day Twelve: Underground Caverns

Featuring Sky and Wild.

Heads up for a panic attack in this one.

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

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

Humidity hung thick in the air, pouring down Sky’s throat with each breath and clogging his lungs. Sweat coated his skin, clinging to his hair and the collar of his sailcloth. Some animal he didn’t recognize hooted in the distance, joining the cacophony of the hordes of unseen bugs chirping and whirring from the trees.

“We’re in Faron, alright,” Wild said from beside him as they tromped together through the thick underbrush.

Sky huffed, clothes chafing uncomfortably against him with each step. “Faron Woods was never this… sticky.”

Wild laughed, the sound too light-hearted for Sky’s current mood. “That’s my era’s Faron, for you. Zelda called it, uh… tro- trol- tropical.”

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t like it,” Sky grumbled, peeling his tunic away from his chest in an attempt to get cool air on his skin. It didn’t work. “It feels like trying to breathe underwater.”

Wild laughed again and Sky really couldn’t fathom what he found so humorous. They continued picking their way through the lush forest, following the base of a cliff. Wild had been chosen to scout since the area was familiar to him, even if his device’s map wasn’t working. Sky had volunteered to go with him, having always liked the natural beauty of Wild’s era. He found himself regretting that decision a bit. While Sky slogged along, Wild seemed to take little issue with the climate, despite him sweating through his clothes the same as Sky. The cook kept darting off whenever they passed by certain trees that held large, harpastum-sized fruits with spiny exteriors.

Something bright yellow in their otherwise green surroundings caught Sky’s attention. He turned to see a short tree with bunches of oblong yellow fruits.

“Hey, Cook, do you know what these are?” he asked, stepping closer to examine them. Wild jogged after him.

“Bananas,” Wild said. He reached up and plucked the multi-lobed fruit from the tree. Then he grabbed one lobe and separated it before breaking the brown stem. He peeled the skin apart to reveal a pale yellow interior. He held it out to Sky. “Here, try one. They’re pretty good raw.”

Sky took it hesitantly. He poked at the weird, soft interior. He glanced up at Wild who had peeled another banana and bit off half the interior. He gave Sky an encouraging nod. Sky slowly brought the fruit to his lips and bit off a small chunk. He blinked, chewing the soft fruit only twice before it reduced to pudding in his mouth. “That’s really sweet,” he said in surprise after swallowing.

“Isn’t it?” Wild squeezed the bottom of the peeled skin, popping the rest of the interior into his mouth. “If you cook it right, it makes you stronger for a bit.”

Sky laughed, taking a larger bite. “Fledge would love that.”

Wild tapped the surface of his device and the rest of the bananas vanished into it in a flash of blue light. He beckoned Sky and the two continued onward. Sky picked away at the banana as they walked, the snack lifting his mood at least a little. Wild took just about every fruit they passed and Sky could only wonder at how he carried so much.

After a few more minutes of walking, a dark splotch on the cliff wall beside them caught Sky’s attention. He glanced over to see the mouth of a cave in the rock. A little dot of yellow sat in the entrance. He moved closer to see a bunch of those oblong yellow fruits on the ground just inside the cave. Curious, he headed toward it.

“Hey, Cook,” he called. Wild hummed a response from some distance, busy picking more spiny harpastum fruits. “Do those, uh, bananas grow on the ground?”

“What?”

Sky pointed, only a couple steps away. He walked into the cave, stooping down to grab them. “Here, there’s-”

“SKY, DON’T!”

Sky froze, head snapping around. He caught barely a glimpse of Wild sprinting toward him, eyes wide. Then an explosion boomed overhead. Something cracked and roared in the same moment. Burning heat rushed over Sky, dirt and rocks pelting him from above. Before he could react, Wild slammed into him from behind, sending them both flying into the cave. Not a moment later, the ceiling of the cave entrance gave way. He felt Wild pressed against his back, covering his head. The sound of boulders and chunks of rock cracking and collapsing rattled in Sky’s skull. He clenched his teeth as the intense vibration made them buzz, thrumming through his chest.

Finally, the crashing and rumbling stopped. Sky’s ears rang in the ensuing silence. He cautiously opened his eyes only to be met with near-complete darkness. The weight on his back shifted as Wild pushed himself up and off of him.

Wild coughed then said, “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Sky replied. He slowly turned onto his back and sat up, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. He could just make out Wild’s silhouette against the slivers of light filtering through the gaps in the rocks filling the entryway. “You?”

“Fine.” Wild turned toward the rocks, pushing himself to his feet. As Sky stood, Wild walked up to the rocks, pushing experimentally at them. “We must be closer to my era than I thought if the Yiga are active.” He froze abruptly. “Yiga- Oh, I’m such- Sky, watch our backs! The Yiga can teleport!”

Sky immediately drew his sword, whirling around to face the cave. Eerie, unending blackness greeted him. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. The temperature in the cave dropped significantly compared to the outside. His neck felt cold, the cool air sucking the heat out of his sweat and leaving a chill on his skin. He heard a grunt from behind as Wild tried to move the rocks. After a few seconds, Wild let out a gasp.

“That’s not… gonna work,” he panted. “Okay, new plan. Step back a bit.”

Sky glanced over his shoulder to see Wild walking toward him, waving him farther into the cave. Sky obliged, though walking deeper into the darkness caused a pit to form in his stomach.

“What’s your plan?” he asked, fighting the unease back.

A whir answered him, a glowing blue bomb appearing in Wild’s hands. Its light shone on his arms and the underside of his face, illuminating his grinning teeth. Wild hurled the bomb, blue wisps trailing after its path. It landed with a thud at the base of the rocks. Sky heard a small click as Wild hit a button on his device.

The bomb detonated in a flash of blue light. A harsh crack and heavy rumble shook the very earth. The rocks blocking the entrance exploded outwards. At the same time, the ceiling caved. Wild cursed. Sky barely heard it over the deafening sound of tons of rock crashing down. He whipped around and sprinted deeper into the cave. He couldn’t see Wild. Something knocked against his shoulder, sending him stumbling.

The toe of his boot caught on a ridge in the ground. His heart leapt into his throat as he pitched forward. Another ridge jabbed hard into his ribs as he fell flat on his stomach. Something popped in his chest and he let out a wheezing cry, the sound swallowed by the roar of the cave-in. He tried to struggle forward until something slammed into his back. He curled up in place, wrapping his arms around his head. Teeth clenched and eyes screwed shut, he waited as the cave collapsed around him. Rocks slammed down somewhere near him, the impact jolting through Sky’s bones. His chest ached horribly but he could only curl tighter, bracing himself for the ceiling to inevitably crush him.

Then the rumbling slowed and grew fainter. Crashes of massive stone chunks gave way to small clatters as the rocks settled into place. Sky remained still until only the sound of blood roaring in his ears remained. He slowly, carefully uncurled. Pain sprung into his chest at the movement, robbing him of breath. He sank his teeth into his lip as he drew a breath through his nose despite the pain. He felt grit on his eyelids and used the underside of his sailcloth to wipe some of it away. He opened his eyes.

Pure, unbroken blackness.

He blinked again. He saw no difference between closing his eyes and opening them. It wasn’t like before when the little bit of light coming through the rocks allowed at least some sight. The deep darkness stole away all sense of space. His lungs clutched at his ribs.

“C-Cook?” he called, voice croaking. No echo. The walls of the dark stole the sound from his throat. His chest clenched again, stomach rolling. “Champion?”

When Wild still didn’t respond, the reality of the situation fully sank in. Sky sat up, keeping one hand on the ground, the other stretched out into the infinite void. His chest ached with pain, gut twisting. A chill sank into his bones, his sweat working against him and leaving him feeling freezing. “Link!” His heart throbbed heavily, pulsing painfully in his throat. His head spun. His lungs tightened. He scrambled to his knees, regardless of the pain. “Link!” He darted forward. His forehead smacked into a rock wall. He spun, head reeling as he pressed his back to the wall.

Cook’s dead. He couldn’t hold the thought back. He slid down to a sitting position, knees failing to support his weight. His breaths turned to gasps. Cook’s dead. His chest burned like someone had poured lava down his throat. He pressed his palm flat against it. He couldn’t breathe. It hurt too much. His shallow gasps vanished into the darkness. Gray sparks winked before him as his head filled with cotton. The darkness crushed against his lungs and dug into his eye sockets. He could hardly feel the wall at his back anymore. His fingers buzzed, vision graying and gravity yanking at his head. He brought a hand to his hair, trying to hold his head up. His heart thudded frantically against his aching ribs. His lungs squeezed and refused air.

“Sky?” Wild’s voice called from the blackness.

Air shuddered in Sky’s throat. “C-” He couldn’t speak. “C-” He couldn’t breathe.

“Sky, where are you?”

Sky could only gasp, chest burning as his head grew lighter. His abdomen and limbs felt stuffed with wool. Something gripped his arm. He thrashed with a breathless yelp. The hand vanished. There may have been a voice, but a whine took up residence in his ears, drowning out any words. He felt himself tip forward. His forehead collided with his bent knees and he let it stay there, rubbing his chest with numb fingers.

An orange light flared behind his tightly shut eyelids. He flinched and wrenched them open. The blackness fled to the edges of his vision as light shone into the void. He could actually see his feet propped up beneath him, see the rocky ground under them. At least, until the blackness began overtaking his sight again.

“Deep… deep breaths, Link,” a voice directly to his right said. The words sounded slow, muffled and distant. “I’m ‘onna… count. For four. In and out.”

Sky could hardly hear as Wild started counting to four repeatedly. Vaguely, he recognized what Wild was doing. He tried matching his breaths to the count but his chest burned as his lungs attempted to expand. A cry built in him but couldn’t escape. He rubbed his chest harder, neck muscles pulling taut in a grimace.

“It’s okay, it’s… it’s okay,” Wild soothed. Sky couldn’t tell if he imagined the slur in the cook’s words or not. “Just breathe.”

“I can’t,” Sky wheezed.

“You can, you jus’ did. Did to… to talk, yeah?”

Sky pulled in a trembling gasp. Wild resumed counting and Sky waited to exhale until Wild started from one again. His breath hitched constantly, thorns spearing into his ribs with each inhale. Even so, slowly but surely, his breaths began to even out. The blackness inched out of his vision. The wool threaded out of his body and head. After several deep breaths, though the pain in his chest never receded, he managed to lift his head from his knees.

Wild crouched beside him, leaning one shoulder against the wall Sky sat against. Sky’s gaze followed the light to its source; a lit torch lying on the ground. The orange light of the flame hurt his eyes after seeing absolutely nothing for however long it had been since the cave-in. Sky couldn’t tell. He looked back over at Wild, limbs trembling like pudding. Wild’s hair matted oddly at the top of his head, a dark patch visible against the blond. Sky didn’t notice until just then that Wild leaned his head against the wall too, posture slumped slightly.

“Feelin’ alright?” Wild asked. Sky definitely hadn’t imagined the slur earlier.

“Y-yeah. Thanks,” Sky responded, raspy from his sore throat. “Your head…”

Wild lifted a hand and gingerly patted the matted hair on his crown. He winced. “It’s… fine. Jus’ aches a bit.”

Sky gestured for Wild to let him see and the cook leaned over. “Did a rock hit you?” he asked. He gently parted Wild’s bloody hair, struggling to rein in the quiver of his hands so he could look at the wound. As Wild tipped forward, blood rolled along his scalp and down his forehead. He idly wiped it away.

“Think so,” Wild answered. He paused. “Might’ve been unconscious. For a bit. Not tha’ long.”

That would explain why he hadn’t responded when Sky first called out to him. It was a miracle he hadn’t been crushed.

“’M sorry,” Wild said as Sky took his hands from his hair. Sky glanced up from his pouch to see Wild with his gaze cast down, brow knitted. Blood trailed into the furrow, curving down the side of his nose. “Stupid idea. Blowing up th’ rocks…”

“Honestly?” Sky pulled out a bottle. He held it to the light, making sure the liquid inside was indeed red. “I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

Wild laughed, breathy and quiet. “The captain’s gonna let me have it. And Rancher. And the ol’ man. An’ Collector…”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t tell them that I fell for the most obvious trap ever.”

Wild barked out another laugh, quickly cut short by a pained hiss. Sky held the heart potion out to him. Wild blinked at it then frowned.

“It’s not tha’ bad,” he protested.

“I need your brain at full function to help us figure a way out of here.” Sky felt a brief flash of panic at the reminder of their predicament. He knotted his lips, fixing his gaze on the wavering flame of the lit torch until the feeling subsided.

Thankfully, Wild didn’t need more convincing. After a few long moments of deliberation, he took the potion from Sky and pulled the cork out with a light pop. He tipped his head back as he drank it, the drop of blood rolling along his cheek at the motion. Once he finished it, he handed the empty bottle back to Sky, prodding the top of his head.

“Good as new,” he said, though Sky didn’t miss how his words still came out slow and slightly stilted.

Sky tucked the bottle back into his pouch. He started to turn to look around, but the deep, unending darkness swelled beyond the light of the torch. He stiffened and hurriedly turned back around, staring at the flame.

“You okay?” Wild asked gently, concern evident in his tone.

“I- yeah,” Sky stammered. He took a deep breath but the ache in his ribs stopped it short. He rubbed his chest, glancing up from the torch to Wild. “I don’t- I don’t like feeling trapped.”

Wild nodded. He glanced around in the way Sky couldn’t. “Well, what do you say we get out of here, then?”

Sky’s gaze flicked back to the torch. “How exactly are we… we going to do that?”

“Well…” Wild looked over his shoulder, torchlight dancing off his long hair as he moved. “I don’t think leaving the way we came is an option anymore.” He turned back around, staring down the cave with narrowed eyes. Sky couldn’t bring himself to look, focusing solely on Wild and the torch.

“I think these are cart rails,” Wild said, tapping the toe of his boot against one of the ridges Sky had tripped over earlier. “There… might be… a-another entrance? On the other side of the mountain?”

His doubtful tone did not instill Sky with confidence. Sky bit his knuckle, fighting back the surge of panic. Wild glanced at him and his expression flinched just slightly. Abruptly, he pushed himself to his feet.

“Well, listen, I think I- I remember Zelda talking about these Sheikah excavation tunnels, back when they were looking for more Guardians and stuff,” Wild began. “The project probably got, um, abandoned once the Calamity hit, but they were really thorough. I’d be surprised if there weren’t multiple entrances.”

Sky pursed his lips, letting the words sink in. He still had his doubts on the validity of Wild’s statement. But… He let out a rough sigh. If it meant keeping the angst at bay, he’d be willing to believe it. He lifted his head to meet Wild’s gaze. The cook gave him a half smile, offering a hand to help him up. Sky took it, letting Wild pull him to his feet.

“We also need to be on the lookout for Yiga,” Wild said as he stooped to pick up the torch. “In case they actually think to check if we survived.” He paused, regarding the torch. After a moment, he held it out to Sky. “It might help if you held it.”

Sky blinked. Then his shoulders slumped, gratefulness washing over him. “It would. Thank you.”

He took the torch in hand, feeling its warmth against his face. With a steadying breath, he turned to look deeper into the cave. The void lying in wait sent a shudder through his body. He tightened his grip on the torch, glancing at Wild. With a determined nod from the cook, the two set off through the cave.

(Concluded here)

[pocket-watcher]

I have a little request if that's okay! A group of friends ( or maybe just two or three people) getting lured in by a hypnotist that is an animal lover. And finds people to hypnotize them to become different animals. And the friends group is next.

Or if it's too much people maybe one or two people finding their friend who got lost in the woods and found the hypnotist

Of course it’s okay!! This one might gently tread into pet-play territory, but won’t be sexual! Just a heads up for anyone reading so you don’t get side swept by it haha…

On Thursday they found a flyer for a travelling zoo.

Kieran thought it’d be a better way to spend their Saturday than pushing their way through crowds at the mall, so they all agreed enthusiastically.

Except for Jodie. She was dragged along, complaining the whole way there.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Mac said, eyeing the chainlink fence as he brought the car to a halt.

“I’m telling you, it’s sketchy as hell and I hate it.” Jodie huffed, in the back seat.

“No one cares what you think, Jodie. Yeah, this the address on the flyer.” Kieran pointed out.

Mac drove onwards.

The further up the dirt road they got the more it began to look like a zoo. Big tents, refreshments, and a very dapper man sitting in the ticket booth.

They parked the car. Seemed like a busy place, with quite a few also parked around them.

“Five tickets, my good sir!” Kieran said, slapping the money down on the counter.

Jodie rolled her eyes, as Willow nudged her, giggling, into Lexie who was on her phone.

With an unblinking stare they were handed 5 tickets and ushered inside the first tent.

Which… is where things got odd.

The tent was not full of animals, but instead, full of people.

“…what the fuck.”

Immediately in front were two people in a cage acting like monkeys, one grooming the other’s hair.

Jodie immediately jumped into action. She waved her hands in front of their glazed over eyes, and nothing. The people in front of her simply continued on whilst screeching occasionally like chimpanzees.

“What the hell is this…” Mac said, staring at what he guessed was supposed to be a “lion”. The woman watched him hungrily from behind the bars.

“It’s fucked up is what it is, they’re like brainwashed!” Lexie said, snapping photos on her phone.

Kieran simply stared on in horror. All these people were trapped in these cages.

That’s when it hit him.

“Uh, guys…? Who’s got eyes on Willow?”

The group panicked, looking around, before spotting a small exit flap at the back.

“…Willow?” Lexie called out, reaching for the curtain,

A body slammed into her, throwing her backwards.

Lexie fought for a second to get her attacker off of her, before she realised they were licking her.

“Ew! Ew! Get them off me!!” She yelled, as Mac pulled Willow off the poor girl.

Willow panted, tongue out. No recollection behind the eyes.

“A dog, yes. Not exactly fit for my zoo but she’ll do nicely.” A voice said, the ticket booth operator stepping into view.

“What the hell did you do to her?!” Kieran asked.

The man laughed. “Does that mean you want to see my little trick?” He looked at Lexie and snapped his fingers.

She gasped, head dropping instantly.

She dropped her phone, and immediately began squawking like a parrot, preening herself, strutting around.

Mac, who had let go of Willow, stared unnervingly at Jodie and Kieran.

They were 20 feet from the other side of the tent. From freedom.

“It’s a funny little thing. I didn’t mean for my collection to grow so fast, but,” his eye twinkled, “ah well. I like a full set, what can I say?”

Mac was staggering backwards, away from the mad man. He backed up against one of the cages, only for the person inside to lunge at him, clawing between the grates.

“Jumpy, aren’t we?” The man said, fingers ready to snap.

“No, please, no. Don’t - “

SNAP.

Mac fell to his knees, mouth open, like a zombie. He then dropped to his hands and began moping like a cow.

“Jesus Christ…” Kieran heard Jodie whisper, before she looked at him with survival in her eyes.

She pushed Kieran over and made a run for the exit.

SNAP.

She was two steps too slow.

She slowly stopped, before turning back inside and sitting down comfortably and lazily, like a panda or a sloth.

That brought the man’s attention to Kieran. The last one.

He stared in horror as his friends were turned into animals. And he knew he was next.

“Don’t you want to plead? Or grovel? Maybe try your luck at escaping. You look faster than your friend.” The man teased.

Kieran simply froze in place.

“Ah. Very well then. If it means anything, I don’t think there’s any shame in giving in to your more animal instincts. Prey knows when predator has it cornered.”

SNAP.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Temple on a Distant Planet

An Ahsoka Tano story

Content & Warnings: suspense, eldritch horror, Sith magic, no dialogue, horror

Word Count: 928

A/N: Requested by @coffeecaketornado for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Eldritch Horror)

Ahsoka Tano, on the behest of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, travels to the very edge of the Outer Rim seeking a potential Jedi artifact. Instead, she finds something beyond her understanding.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Master Luke Skywalker senses a disturbance in the Force.

Ahsoka senses it, too.

Master Skywalker suspects it might be a Jedi artifact. He’s been collecting them to preserve the history of the Jedi. Emperor Palpatine went out of his way to either seek or destroy such object. He sought power, but neither Ahsoka or Master Skywalker want that. They seek history and knowledge, and for Master Skywalker, to rebuild and maintain a new Jedi Order.

Ahsoka will help as much as she can, even if her own journey does not follow the same path.

It is why she is here now on this distant planet on the very edge of the Outer Rim. The planet itself is nameless. It is on no maps, but Ahsoka followed the Force, and allowed it to guide her.

At the very top of a cliff, Ahsoka observes the temple in the distance. It is tall and triangular in shape, but instead of a pointed top, it is square. The stone is dark, perhaps a black granite, yet it does not reflect the sun. From it, all Ahsoka senses is shadow. As if a dark cloud surrounds her, Ahsoka too feels foggy, like a veil obscures her vision though her eyes are perfectly fine.

The sky is clear. The forest between her and the temple is vast and green. The sun shines.

But there are no sounds. And she senses no life. The planet is empty.

Void of people. Void of animals. Void of insects.

Ahsoka descends into the trees. They are all the same, as if mirror images rather than actual plants. As she observes the bark of one, she discovers that the one next to it has the same patterns. On and on it goes. An endless maze.

Without the Force, she'd be utterly lost. Driven mad.

Underneath the shadow, she senses it, like a hand gripping her brain, driving her onward. It doesn't lift. Instead, it grows heavier until her temples throb, its invisible fingers digging in. Ahsoka presses on, following it, emerging from the trees to the foot of the temple. Here, the air is heavy like a physical weight, and her tongue feels thick like she fell asleep with her mouth open.

There are no stairs that lead to the top, only a small opening directly in front of her.

Not a door. An archway. And within, darkness.

Ahsoka approaches. Each step is sluggish like she's walking through mud. But the ground is solid. Grass-covered. Nothing should be impeding her movement.

As she passes under the archway, she is swallowed up. Devoured. For that is how it seems both physically and in the Force. Reaching out, Ahsoka searches the darkness around her. Putting her trust in it, Ahsoka continues forward. The stone beneath her shifts, sloping upward.

With each step, a sickness sets in.

At first, it is just a twinge in her side. Then an ache. And then a lurch. Her stomach roils, and sharp pain swells within her abdomen, rolling outward into her limbs. There is no physical injury. No blade in her stomach. No visible foe.

But Ahsoka understands.

Within the Force, there is another.

And as she ascends the slope, a red glow greets her in the dark.

It is faint at first. Just a flicker. With each step, the redness intensifies along with the pain. Ahsoka gags and staggers, but remains upright. This is influence beyond her understanding of the Force. There is something old and ancient in it. A sickly, corrupting power that goes beyond the bounds of the Dark Side.

Clutching her stomach, Ahsoka continues to ascend. The glow bathes everything around her in red, and when she reaches the top, there is only a platform, and beneath the platform, an open pit. At the top of the temple, planted in the ceiling is a large structure. From there is the source of the light.

Ahsoka no longer has feeling in her toes and fingers. She is lethargic. Unsteady now. Her abdomen is in ruin. Everything burns as if something is trying to eat its way out of her.

From the dark, is a low growl. Primordial. Old. The darkness stirs, and in the red glow, is the hint of a dark tendril.

Ahsoka breathes deep and settles into the Force.

She is met by a presence down in the dark.

It reverberates through the connection, slithering along it like tentacles seeking prey. Her stomach twists again, and this time Ahsoka grimaces, her teeth grinding against each other as her jaw clenches.

There is no artifact here. No history.

This is Sith magic. Or something older. Something unknown.

Ahsoka retreats from the red glow and the black pit. And as she descends, the sickness recedes until she feels blissfully empty.

At the bottom, out in the open air, the heavy feeling persists but her stomach does not ache and she can feel her fingers and toes again.

The decision is easy.

Ahsoka focuses on the entrance of the temple, and then the stone and rock that make up its walls. There is power there but not like the presence within. It takes little to bend it to her will, to fill its void with Light. The ground shakes, and a piercing shriek cuts through the air. The top of the temple crumples in, and the rest follows suit, the ground sinking as it swallows up the rubble.

At first, Ahsoka hears absolute silence.

And then, a soft song.

A bird.

It drifts overhead, wings wide as it calls out in greeting.

[benoitblanc]

ages and ages ago @jaeyxns asked for a tutorial of how to overlay gif effects onto edits, so i am finally here! thank you so much for your patience. from the bottom of my heart, my bad.

we're going to look at two very similar scenarios here: overlaying a gif effect onto a still image and then onto another gif.

onwards!

as mentioned in this great tutorial for the same effect on photoshop by @camwritesbooks, your first step in either case is going to be to find your overlay gif. you can do that by searching for the effect you want (smoke, snow, etc) on google or youtube- in this case, you may have to make your own gif- or searching for overlay gifs on tumblr. i got my falling snow gif from here. for the purposes of this tutorial, your overlay gif will work best if it includes a dark background (black is best) with light effects.

next you want to upload your gif(s) and, if relevant, image(s) to photopea. crop/resize as needed so that they're the same size by going to image in the master menu, then "image size" and plugging in the desired dimensions:

(to crop, you use the crop tool in the editor menu on the left!)

next, duplicate your overlay gif onto your base image/gif. you can do this by right-clicking on the folder in the workbar to the right, then selecting "duplicate into" and choosing your base from the dropdown:

now go into your base gif. you should just see the overlay gif on top of it. to rectify this, select the folder of the overlay gif in the workbar, then go to the blending mode dropdown just above it (it will likely say "pass through") and change the blending mode to screen.

(if your overlay gif has a light background with dark effects, i THINK you can get the same effect if you choose darken instead, but i'm not completely sure.)

if your base is a still image, you're all done! you can go to file in the master menu and export as a gif.

if your base is another gif, you've got one more step. you need to merge your gifs. i cover how to do that in this tutorial, but if you need a refresher, your first step here is to select the folders of both the base and overlay gifs at the same time. then, go to layer in the master menu, scroll down to "animation," and select "merge". DO NOT select "merge layers."

now you should be good to export your gif! if your base and overlay gifs weren't the same number of frames or the same framerate, it might look a little clunky at first, but you should be able to easily adjust the speed in the export window to make it look cleaner. i ended up speeding scully up to around 120%. there's a way you can completely fix the problem but it's really time-consuming and involves a lot of math, so i won't get into it here. if you'd like me to explain it in more detail, let me know!

as ever, let me know if you have any questions!!!

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 10

genre: 2024 and onwards AU, with the 2024 starting grid.

pairing: Romantic!oc x Lando Norris and/or Oscar Piastri. Platonic!oc x the whole grid.

warnings: angst. max being annoying. idiots in love (yeah its a warning, trust me)

Masterlist / Part 1

comments: this chapter it's pretty Sadie/Oscar heavy :) and I'm not sorry for how long it took me to write...

But [Lando] felt that he’d missed out on months with Sadie. It felt like he had lost time to catch up on.

Sadie, much to her own shagrin, felt similar. So she spent the next two weeks building a dynamic with five drivers.  

She’d given Max permission to share her number with any driver that asked for it; she received texts from Lewis and Daniel.

Max never insisted on anything more than he already had. A monthly check in that she was alive and okay. But Sadie felt less like her presence would put Max in danger with each passing day, and opened up to him more. It was only really about things she liked, movies, books and music, but it was a step.

Lewis had facetimed her almost immediately. He’d said it was too ‘see if she was lying to him’ with a concerned little smile. They spoke for hours, well into the night for Sadie. At one point, he’d insisted that she set the phone where he could see her walk around so he could be sure she’d healed.

Lewis, nearing 40, earned the title ‘Old Man’ when he said that Sadie should go and sleep.

Daniel earned the nickname ‘WA’s Bitch’ when he’d bragged about Western Australia to make her laugh. It had worked, even if Sadie had stuck true to her ‘Victoria is better’ opinion.

The Perth-born man had first contacted her to make sure she was okay. He didn’t thank her for what she’d done at Silverstone, everyone else had done that already and the older driver knew his friend was okay. He didn’t know if Sadie was and he’d made it a mission to make her laugh at any opportunity.

Sadie was one hundred percent sure that Daniel had figured out some details about her life that Max hadn’t. The older driver had more experience with Australian society and cultural expectations. But he didn’t ask and Sadie hoped he never would.

Lando, on the other hand, asked everything. He texted sporadically, at random times of the day or night in both her timezone and his. He sent her behind the scenes photos of anything and everything he was working on. Most of the time it was a silly photo of Max Fewtrell.

He wouldn’t send a large text, it would be six or seven small ones that culminated in his point or opinion on a topic.

Sadie never answered any questions she didn’t want to, and Lando respected that.

Oscar rarely asked anything, except for how her day was and if she was free to talk. His texts were consistent. Full conversations, rather than split by 4 hours like her conversations with Lando.

Her fellow Melbournian never asked about her past, but he would send her memes he found funny and links to instagram posts of cute animals.

For two weeks, there was a pattern. Sadie would text Max and Oscar about her life as it was then, like if her shift was bad or if her favourite regulars had come by the bar that day. She’d reply to whatever chaos Lando or Daniel had sent her and laugh at their antics. She’d call Lewis a couple times each week and talk about how her life had changed in the 6 months since Silverstone.

It was a nice pattern. Sadie tackled the more recent past with Lewis’ help, laughed about the present with Daniel and Lando, and thought of what she wanted after talking to Max or Oscar.

They were simple conversations but she was building some bonds with people she liked.

It was cracked by a simple question.

Sadie's faint smile fell to a frown as she realised how stubborn Daniel was going to be.

Sadie hoped she’d conveyed how serious she was. As far as she was concerned, there was no family to talk about and no family to spend Christmas with.

Sadie had no family.

Her phone chimed with another text from Daniel.

She did. 

Come to Monaco. 

Come to Europe. 

You don’t have to pay for a thing, kid. 

Sadie sighed and, opting to ignore Max, called Oscar. 

"Sadie? You've never called, everything okay?" he mumbled, obviously half asleep.

"Everything's fine, Piastri, calm down," she deadpanned.

There was a sigh of relief and a rustle of sheets on the other end of the line.

"Are you in bed? Mate, you're 23 and in bed by 10?" Sadie teased.

He'd returned to his mum's house for the holidays and had told Sadie as soon as he'd flown in. She knew it was an invitation to make plans, see each other face to face, but his ability to draw a crowd wherever he went nagged at her.

She heard his soft chuckle as he said, "I went karting today, I'm exhausted."

"Should I let you go then?" Her voice was still teasing but she knew she should let him sleep.

"No," he murmured. "No. I have nowhere to be tomorrow, we can talk."

"Really? No last minute shopping tomorrow?"

"Nah, that's all been done already."

"Organised," she mused.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, dry sarcasm dripping from his voice.

But it changed.

“Sadie.” Sheets rustled and moved as he stood up and she heard him move about his room. “Why did you call?”

“I-“ 

She didn’t have an answer for him. Say nothing, her mind screamed. Say everything, something else argued. 

“Sadie?” 

“Relax, Piastri, I'm not in trouble.” She drawled, as if she had nothing to care about. “I’m bored and I didn’t expect you to be half-asleep by 9:45.” 

Her phone vibrated in her hand. A text from Max. Ignored. 

“Sure,” Oscar replied and Sadie knew he hadn’t believed her. 

But he didn’t ask again. 

Instead, Sadie heard the rattle of keys. 

“How about we meet? Go for a drive together and talk face to face?” 

“Now?” 

“Yeah.” 

What? 

As if spurred on by her silence, Oscar added, “I know a car park, we can swap into your car, or mine. We can drive around, and talk.” 

“Your car is a bright orange McLaren.” 

She could hear the grin in his voice, as he said. “It’s papaya.” 

“My point still stands,” she said through a laugh. 

“There’s always your car.” 

Sadie’s heart was pulled in two. Oscar was offering a distraction, and moreover, he was offering a tangible link in their friendship. But there was risk, and if they were seen, was she ready? 

“Alright fine, but don’t bring the McLaren,” she conceded. 

Her phone vibrated with the address, like Oscar had already typed it out. Maybe he had. 

--$--

Three hours later, Sadie was laughing so hard her ribs hurt. Oscar, cleaning the dashboard of Sadie’s car with a tissue, was apologising for spilling the lemonade. 

“Sadie,” he whined with another apologetic smile, “I’ll buy us more!” 

“No!” She laughed. “No! You’ll spill it again!” 

“Hey!” he cried, but he dissolved into a fit of giggles too. “You’re the one who said Alexander Hamilton was more famous than Lewis Hamilton!” 

Sadie laughed louder. “In America, I said. In America! Ask Logan!” 

Oscar pulled his phone out and texted the Williams driver, still giggling. 

“He’s going to agree with me,” Sadie added. 

She couldn’t stop her eyes while he wasn’t looking. Her gaze traced the swoop of his unkempt hair and the soft crinkle of the skin next to his eyes as he smiled. She watched the way his eyebrows curved and his gaze flickered between the different letters he was typing. 

She didn’t expect him to look up. 

Brown eyes met brown eyes. 

There was an unmeasured heartbeat, an involuntary pause. Laughter died, falling away to soft giggles and then silence. Loud, irrevocable silence. The only light was his phone, illuminating the absence of noise. 

But one thing was clear in a hundred different ways. 

A connection. A link. Something. 

 Oscar looked away first. 

“I know,” he whispered into the dark.  

He always does, a little voice whispered.

“Know what?” Sadie asked. 

“That you’re not ready. That you may never be ready.” 

She wanted to ask what he meant by ready. She knew what she meant, but did he mean the same thing? Sadie wanted to know.

She didn’t ask. 

“But either way,” he continued. The young driver’s eyes were firmly forward. “I’ve enjoyed tonight. Seeing you in person and seeing you laugh has been…urrm, well it’s been reassuring.” 

“Reassuring?” Sadie didn’t take her eyes off him. 

“I- we- we were worried about you,” Oscar said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Emotionally, I mean. You were so tense the last time I saw you and I know the trial probably made it worse…” 

His hand went to his hair, sweeping away from his face. It had grown again, into his eyes. A part of Sadie wanted to tuck the brown strands behind his ear. 

Oscar’s face turned, eyes catching her gaze again before he glanced down, like the handbrake was the most interesting mechanical marvel he’d ever seen. 

Sadie was going to break the new silence with some kind of confession, about what she wasn’t sure, when Oscar yawned. 

She laughed, and nudged his shoulder with a hand. “Come on, Piastri. Let’s get you home.” 

His smile, and that crinkle of skin next to his eyes, returned. 

The drive from the small lookout to the car park in which Oscar left his mum’s car was short. Sadie made conversation by asking about Oscar’s season. 

“I’m proud of you, you know,” she commented as he opened the passenger door. 

He paused and looked back at her. “Thank you. And thank you for congratulating me on Qatar.”  

“Max told you?” 

Oscar hauled himself out of her car, and turned back, leaning through the doorway. 

“Yeah, after some slight manipulation.” 

Sadie returned his bright smile with her own. “I bet it didn’t take much.” 

“No, not really,” Oscar confessed. 

With a wave of her hand and a tilt of her head, Sadie said, “go home, Piastri. Text me when you get there.” 

“Drive safe.”

“You too.” 

Oscar closed her door gently, waved through the window and walked to his mothers car. Sadie waited for him to enter it before she, once again, disappeared into the night.

___

let the slow(ish) burn, slow burn.

masterlist :)

Taglist: @snubug

@cmleitora

@izzy-marvel

@aquangxl

@morenofilm

@viennakarma

@simpingcorner

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villains and Vampires part 41

Warnings: gravely wounded sidekick, animal crulty, intense fight, villain losing control of his powers and destroying a city

The poll for the outcome of this series - specifically Hero and Villain's relationship status in the end -- is over! Here are the results I'll be going with.

The less lucky ones were impaled by shards of wood sailing through the air that either stabbed them through the chest or outright obliterated them with the force of impact alone, spraying them into ash that was carried away by the aggressive winds.

The world would fall before the King of Shadows.

"Hero! Watch out!"

Hero barely had time to duck as a chunk of concrete whizzed over her head, narrowly missing her by an inch. She whirled and spotted Anisa struggling to keep her footing, trying to fight against the raging storm to reach Hero and protect her.

"We need to get out of here -- it's getting too dangerous!" Anisa roared over the shrieks of dying vampires and the howling storm. "It's spreading! We have to evacuate the city!"

"I can't leave him like this!" Hero shouted back. "I have to get through to him and put an end to this!"

"Hero -- he won't recognize you in this state! He'll kill you!"

"I have to try!" Spurred by adrenaline, Hero charged -- not away from the storm, but further into it -- toward the hunched figure at the center, ignoring Anisa screaming after her to retreat and fall back.

The city was already falling and being destroyed -- if Hero died, at least she died doing something to save it, even in vain.

Superhero was gone, but now Villain was the largest threat to the city instead. If he didn't regain control of his powers, he'd rip the entire city down to its foundation and kill everyone in it.

Hero had no idea he was this powerful inside, but now she bore witness to the full scope of his abilities. And it was terrifying.

She created a shield of blazing fire around her, hot enough to melt or incinerate any debris that would have otherwise hit her as she plowed onward, struggling to keep her footing as the vicious winds tore at her skin and clothes, threatening to suck her away.

"Villain!" She desperately called out his name, frantically trying to snag his attention -- but her voice was carried away by the howling wind and the screeching and groaning of buildings being ripped apart, foundation and all.

Villain was on his knees in front of Mocha, head lolled forward against his chest and shoulders hunched. In the eye of the hurricane, untouched and unharmed.

The darkness was suffocating, and it was getting harder and harder to see his outline through the haze, the shadows constricting around him like a physical shield. A beast moaning in pain, defending itself from further harm.

Hero wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going, her muscles barking in protest as she forced herself to take it one step at a time, pushing through the storm and enveloped in her own fire for protection -- a little ball of light in the middle of night eternal.

Suddenly, it was like she fell through an invisible wall, and all resistance vanished instantaneously, causing her to stumble forward a few steps in surprise before she found her footing.

She'd made it to the center, the flicker of calm amidst the destructive chaos of the raging storm around her.

She sprinted the last few feet between her and Villain, sliding on her knees in the grass next to him.

"Villain! Snap out of it!" She shook his shoulder roughly, panicking -- when a tendril of shadow slithered around her throat and pulled tight.

Her eyes widened with genuine terror as Villain's head swiveled toward her, his eyes like an endless dark abyss of pain that knew no bounds.

"...Hero," he rasped, and there was a brief flicker of recognition in his hollow gaze, enough that the shadow around Hero's neck relaxed -- though it didn't completely let go.

"Why are you here?"

The question was so small, so simple, that it took Hero a second to process it and answer.

"I came here to help you," she croaked, voice cracking. Her eyes flicked to Mocha's motionless feline body, still in panther form, to the dagger embedded in his gut.

But... his chest was still moving. He was breathing.

"Mocha's still alive," Hero coughed out.

"I know," Villain replied, voice thin and shaky. "He's just unconscious. The wound isn't fatal -- the blade missed everything vital." His breath hitched. "I shouldn't have dragged him into this mess. Should've left him at home. He could've died."

"But he didn't," Hero said. "You can stop this storm, we can get Mocha the help he needs to heal -- and everything will be alright.”

"It won't be," Villain whispered hoarsely. "I can't stop the storm. The darkness is inside me -- and it's hungry for blood. I'm too weak to control it anymore."

"No. Villain, don't talk like that. You are strong, strong enough to survive this, got it?" Hero said determinedly. "You survived everything Superhero threw at you -- you survived Supervillain too. You are strong enough to overcome the storm."

Villain's glassy eyes wandered to a point outside the bubble of calm they were in, to the howling winds and darkness wreaking destruction everywhere.

The destruction he was causing.

"Hey -- don't worry about all that. Focus on me, okay?" Hero cupped his face in her hands, using them as blinders to block out the outside world, forcing his pained eyes to look at her.

Villain's face twisted with anguish, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, tears rolling down his scarred face. "Just let me destroy myself!" He wailed. "Let me have this one selfish thing in life. Let me die upon this hill I climbed."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?!?"

"Because -- because I love you."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @whump-till-ya-jump

@cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

@nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

@morning-star-whump @f1sh-bone @everynameistakencarrots @snaillamp

[geopfert]

They never really teach you how to mourn. Eldians are raised on the battlefield. It’s best to get them acquainted with death early on so they don’t flinch from it when it’s their turn. They send children into trenches, into the clutches of a gruesome enemy, and think nothing of it. The best thing an Eldian can do for Marley is die. And how sweet the honor, how glad the ending. That is only the official version, of course. There is a second, bloodier story that unravels underneath. Pieck has climbed from one battlefield into the next, following the red trail.

She follows it tonight as if it’s painted on the ground beneath her shuffling feet. It leads through the many corridors of the headquarters, past closed doors and darkened wings. She trudges onward on her crutch, a simple methodic advance. The mission on that cursed island has taken its toll on her, blurred the lines further. At times it becomes too much; all these forms she’s meant to take, all these things she’s supposed to be. The number of her legs confuses her. She’ll settle for three when four are not available.

The trail stops, invisible to the naked eye, at a closed door. It looks to her as if a corpse dragged itself all the way into that room. In a way, it has. Inside, she knows, something ugly and festering is waiting for her. It pulses against the walls, it oozes out through the crack under the door. Grief can be hostile. It can dwarf all better impulses. Pieck lifts her knuckles to the pressed wood to meekly knock before she catches herself. This is all wrong. She doesn’t knock.

It borders on an affront, that she would shy from his pain. That she’d announce herself like a mourner at the door, to offer her condolences. She isn’t here to offer that. Comfort borders on insult. Pieck feels it, too, this backwards ache. Every moment they’ve lived, every laugh, every joke and ray of sunshine now adds to an unfathomable guilt. They laughed, and Marcel was dead. They joked, and Marcel was dead. They talked about the future, and Marcel was dead.

Now what?

The door closes, a soft clicking noise that is only overshadowed by the sound of her crutch on the floor. She steps into the dim light of his desk lamp, a tiny figure melting out of the dark. As expected, Porco has retreated into his den. He’s all animal, bristling matted fur, every breath a growl. He sits hunched at his desk, his back to the wall. She wonders what hoard he’s curling around, bottle or memento mori? He is still well enough to speak to her. Not many bottles, then.

@jxwz says: ❝ Nothing quite prepares you for when they don’t come back. ❞

She drags her feet, strains over her crutch until the floorboard aches. Finally she reaches his desk and leans herself against it as pain radiates through her joints. Her kneecaps twist themselves into knots. It occurs to her that she’s no good at this. Should she play mother, pet his hair? Everything inside her curls up and atrophies. There is no helping this. There is no returning the years of mourning he’s been cheated out of.

“No. I don’t think we could’ve done anything differently to prepare either.” She says instead of pelting him with another ‘I’m so sorry.’ And she is, of course she is. For Marcel and Annie and Bertholdt. All of which have been left behind. All of which bleed like chunks of flesh ripped out of her guts. She’s a doll, slowly filling up with blood.

“Regardless, I thought maybe you don’t want to be alone.” She says it very cleanly, without looking at the young man that quakes in front of her.

“Even if you do, you shouldn’t be.”

[emmatheyoshi]

The Russian Sleep Experiment (Reimagined)

Wanted to do some writing, so I decided to take a shot at doing a retake of one of my favorite Creepypastas: The Russian Sleep Experiment. Enjoy!

My name doesn’t matter. Just call me Selene. I’m the great-granddaughter of one of the scientists who worked on the infamous Russian sleep experiment. My great-grandfather passed recently and left me his notebooks from the study in his will. I’m here today for archival purposes and to tell you all the truth about this experiment.

Sometime in the 1940s, a group of Soviet scientists developed a gas meant to keep soldiers awake for long periods of time. They had already tested it on various small animals (mostly mice and rats), but had yet to test it on actual humans. Since WWII was happening, they brought in five political prisoners to be their test subjects.

The prisoners were told they needed to stay awake for as long as possible whilst under the influence of the gas. If they could make it for thirty days (a month), they would be freed and sent back to their home countries. This was a lie, but it didn’t matter, as none of these prisoners would return home anyway. The five prisoners were put in a large, hospital-like room. It had microphones on the walls and two large speakers on either side that connected to an intercom system. Due to this happening in the 1940s, the only way to visually monitor them was through 5-inch (12.7-centimeter) thick glass windows. They were given enough water and dehydrated food to last the aforementioned thirty days. They also had their vitals and oxygen levels monitored. Once everyone was situated, the scientists sealed up the room and turned on the gas before returning to the monitoring station.

Nothing notable was written in my Dedushka’s (great-grandfather’s) notebook about the first five days. However, from day six onward, there was important and interesting information written. Please note that Russian is my second language, so this translation may not be fully accurate.

Day 6 - Patients have begun talking about traumatic events and how they managed to wind up in this situation. Heart rates and oxygen levels are normal.

Day 7 - Patients have begun complaining about their situation and are beginning to show signs of paranoia. Heart rates and oxygen levels are normal.

Day 8 - Patients’ paranoia has gotten worse. They’ve been whispering into the microphones, ranting about their trauma and current situation. Some have begun bargaining with researchers, willing to sacrifice their fellow patients for their freedom. All patients heart rates went up. Oxygen levels remain normal.

Day 9 - Patient 5 began screaming at the top of his lungs at roughly 5:45 AM, waking me and my fellow scientists. He screamed for the next three hours before losing his voice. It’s entirely possible that he damaged his vocal cords. None of the other patients reacted to this event. An hour after Patient 5 lost his voice, Patient 3 began screaming. Patients 2 and 4 could be observed through the windows destroying the books and using their own feces as glue to paste the pages to the windows. All patients capable of speaking have continued to rant into the microphones. Patient 5’s heart rate went way up. All other patients’ heart rates remain the same as they were yesterday. Oxygen levels are normal.

Nothing notable happened on days 10 and 11.

Day 12 - Patients have stopped speaking entirely. We’ve begun checking the microphones hourly. No noises could be heard from inside the room. All patients heart rates and oxygen levels imply vigorous exercise.

Nothing notable happens on day 13.

Day 14 - 7:15 AM - We’ve decided to turn off the gas in order to get a reaction out of the patients.

Day 14 - 7:30 AM - After telling the patients, “We’re turning off the gas and entering the room to test the microphones. Step away from the door and lay flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will reward one of you your immediate freedom,” we got a reaction out of the patients. Patient 3 spoke into one of the microphone and said, “We no longer want to be free.” After some discussion, we’ve decided to shut off the gas and open the doors at midnight tomorrow.

Day 14 - 11:30 PM - We’ve been unable to get any interactions out of the patients all day. Patients’ heart rates and oxygen levels remain the same as the past few days.

Day 15 is where all hell breaks loose.

Day 15 - 12:05 AM - We just shut off the gas. All the patients are screaming at the top of their lungs, begging us to turn the gas back on. We’re now going to retrieve them.

Day 15 - 12:30 AM - The sight inside the chamber is horrific. Patient 1 is dead and chunks of his flesh have been used to clog the drain on the floor, causing a small flood to happen in the room. All the other patients are still alive, but I wouldn’t stay they’re living. Chunks of their flesh have been ripped from their arms and legs. Patient 2 is in the best shape, with only their skin being ripped off, while Patient 3 is in the worst, with some of their bones showing. It’s unclear how they managed to do this, as we left no weapons in the room and human teeth are not sharp enough to rip flesh straight off the bone. Patients seem to have been eating their own flesh as well. All the books we left for them have been destroyed. We’re taking them into surgery now. I’m writing this entry as we enter the operating room.

Day 15 - 12:45 AM - Patients begged to be returned to the room and have the gas turned back on. Many soldiers and scientists have abandoned the project and gone home after seeing one on the soldiers get strangled to death by Patient 3. Seeing as I am writing this entry, I did not give up. Doctors are currently strapping the patients to hospital beds.

Day 15 - 1 AM - Doctors attempted to sedate Patient 4, only for him to pass away. They had to use a ridiculous amount of morphine to do so. One of the nurses theorized they had used enough morphine to sedate a large grizzly bear. They’ve decided to not sedate the three other patients.

Day 15 - 1:30 AM - Patients 2 and 3 have had a successful surgery. Patient 3 laughed maniacally and begged for the gas the entire time. When asked why he wanted the gas, he only replied, “I must remain awake.”

Day 15 - 1:45 AM - Patient 5’s surgery was successful. He stared at one of the female nurses the entire time. Towards the end, he began wheezing in an attempt to speak. One of the nurses gave him a pen and held up a pad of paper to write on. He wrote two words: “Keep cutting.”

Day 15 - 2 AM - Commander told us to put the patients back in the room. We were told to restrain them to hospital beds and hook them up to various medical machines. Patient 3 died the moment his head the pillow. His cause of death is unclear. Before we could all leave the room, the commander told someone to seal the room. A fellow scientist (and it’s unclear if he did this out of anger, instinct, or both) grabbed the commander’s pistol and shot him before shooting Patient 5. Both of them dropped dead instantly. Hyperventilating, he turned to Patient 2 and aimed the gun at him. He stared at him for a few moments before shooting him. Before dying, Patient 2 said three final words: “So…nearly…free….” This test was a complete failure and this testing facility will not be remembered. I am only keeping these notes for historical purposes.

Before finishing this post, allow me to debunk some things from the infamous Creepypasta/Urban Legend.

1. The patients did not rip out their organs below the ribs. This is biologically impossible. Even if they did survive the blood loss, their stomach acid would destroy their insides.

2. The image of a person sitting on a bed in a straight-jacket is not of one of the test subjects. That is a Halloween animatronic named Spazm. Here’s a fully colored picture of him.

3. All photos associated with the story are not actual photos from the experiment. It’s unknown whether or not actual photos were taken during this experiment. Because my Dedushka had dementia, I was unable to get a proper answer about whether any photos were taken or not.

If anyone else has any information on this experiment, please let me know. Thank you for your time.

[howdyousleepatnight]

Out of hell (part 6)

Pairing : Josh Dun x Fem!Reader - Tyler Joseph x Fem!Reader

Warning : Swearing, dystopia, violence, blood, depression

Word count : 6,128 words (how on earth did I manage to write this many words???)

Summary : You discover the beauty of the outside world and learn more about your new friends... But can you really call them your ‘friends’ ?

/!\ Just to warn you, take some time to enjoy this cute chapter since the upcoming ones will shift towards a darker and more brutal tone… you are warned : read the following chapters at your own risk!

(Remember, English’s not my first langage :) Enjoy!!!

The walk proceeded in a state of silence, with the exception of our footsteps and occasional bird chirping. I kept up with them, making myself the smallest and quietest possible. C kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but he would occasionally glance over his shoulder to keep an eye on me. He appeared to be pleased by the fact that I was walking along without complaint. Every now and then, I glanced at him to make sure he wasn't going to snap at me.

The transition from the barren desert we had been traversing to the forest was a welcome change, as the trees offered some degree of cover and shelter. Merely a few steps into the woodland, I found myself elevated, observing the surrounding trees with admiration for the stark contrast they presented compared to the previous landscape. Trench proved to be full of unexpected surprises. The Torchbearer smiled beneath his mask upon witnessing my childlike gaze upward, all while continuing to follow C.

We proceeded through the forest, with the trees casting shadows above us as we walked beneath their branches. The sounds of chirping animals and singing birds surrounded us, enhancing the ambiance. The boys remained vigilant, attentively observing their surroundings for any indications of danger or unusual occurrences. 

In contrast, I was less cautious, appreciating the natural environment around me. After approximately thirty minutes, I nearly stumbled when my foot became caught between two tree roots while I was preoccupied with observing a fox in the distance. Upon looking up, I noticed that the two boys had not paused and continued onward without acknowledging my situation. Repeating to myself, "Do not be a burden," I endeavored to free my foot from the roots independently.

C heard someone stumbling behind him, but didn’t turn around at first. However, when he heard the person muttering to itself, he slowed down and looked over his shoulder, knowing it was me that had fallen (of course it would be me…).

Contrarily, the Torchbearer halted abruptly and turned toward me. He smiled subtly to himself before approaching and crouching beside me, his eyes reflecting a playful demeanor : “Need any help?”, he inquired.

I observed him from the corner of my eye, doubtful that he would genuinely offer help. “N-no, I’m fine, I can manage on my own”, I stammered, attempting to lift my foot, which was firmly stuck. Repeating silently to myself : ‘Don’t be a burden’, I was about to concede defeat.

C rolled his eyes slightly in apparent frustration as he noticed my struggle and my efforts to minimize the situation. He shook his head quietly.

The Torchbearer extended his hand calmly : “Let me help you, okay?”.

Embarrassed that they had paused their progress for me, I nodded reluctantly. I saw C resume walking out of boredom, leaving only the Torchbearer and me.

He crouched next to me again and gently lifted my leg to free my foot. Observing my flushed face betraying embarrassment, he nodded thoughtfully, perhaps contemplating my thoughts.

A sigh of relief escaped as my foot was finally freed : “Thank you...”, I whispered softly, shame evident in my voice as I avoided eye contact.

As we both stood up, he remarked with a light tone : “No worries—just try not to trip over every root you see”, his eyes crinkled warmly behind his mask, conveying an invisible smile.

I nodded in response and offered an awkward laugh., knowing dawn well he was only teasing me : “Yeah…”, I walked again, trying to catch up with C, who was well ahead by now.

The Torchbearer observed as I walked away, a subtle smile playing on his lips, likely due to the embarrassment I was experiencing at that moment. He then turned to follow us again, ensuring he maintained visual contact with both of us.

From my position, I could see C’s back and made a conscious effort to follow him without stumbling once more. He noticed me navigating through the forest cautiously, determined not to trip again. The Torchbearer stayed close behind, making sure I did not fall too far behind. 

After some time, I encountered difficulty crossing a mud puddle, my shoes kept sinking into it. “Damn”, I muttered quietly to myself, reluctant to request assistance once again. 

Both men heard my exclamation and couldn’t suppress slight smirks. They recognized that I was clearly trying not to be a burden but was struggling nonetheless. 

I glanced at the two young men ahead of me as they crossed the puddle without acknowledging me once more. I did my best to keep up with them. 

They watched as I struggled through the mud puddle, each step causing my feet to become stuck. Amusement was evident in their eyes as they observed me—they seemed to be anticipating that I might speak up or ask for help. 

I attempted larger steps but ended up falling onto my knees, mud covering my legs completely : “Ugh-”, I sighed in frustration before rising and proceeding as best as possible toward the edge of the puddle. 

They couldn’t help but chuckle softly at my misfortune. I could hear them, those bastards. But I was resolute in my determination to extricate myself from the mud puddle independently; my stubbornness likely complicated matters more than necessary. C shook his head slightly, clearly amused by my efforts. 

The Torchbearer also shook his head and finally spoke : “You know you can ask for help, right...?”.

I managed to catch up with them, mud reaching up to my knees : “I said I didn’t want to be a burden... and C mentioned he wouldn’t be much help... so here I am”, I replied, placing my hands on my hips, sighing. 

C responded by rolling his eyes at me : “You're being more of a burden by not asking for help and tripping over yourself repeatedly...”.

I swallowed nervously at his observation : “Is that so... ?”.

“Yes, it is. You are slowing us down by forcing us to stop and help you, while also wasting unnecessary energy trying not to be a burden. It’s ridiculous”.

His words left me silent as I looked down at my feet. Then I heard him chuckle softly, prompting me to look up at him : “What’s so funny ?”.

He shook his head again with a slight smirk : “You’re just too easy to tease, you know that ?”.

“W-what ?”.

At that moment, the Torchbearer lowered the bandana covering his mouth, revealing his face for the first time : “He’s only teasing you—there’s nothing to worry about”. He smiled gently and nudged C with his elbow. C chuckled quietly, unsurprised by his friend’s defense of me.

“Yeah, just teasing. Lighten a bit, would you ?”.

“B-but-”.

The Torchbearer smiled and said : “Come on… Do you really think he’s that cold all the time ?”.

C raised an eyebrow, mildly amused, and replied : “And what if I am ?”.

The Torchbearer shook his head with a smile : “You’re not, man.” 

I was momentarily speechless, observing their exchange without knowing whether it was a joke or genuine friendliness. I simply stood there awkwardly. 

Noticing my discomfort and confusion, C spoke again in a lighthearted tone : “What’s wrong ? Too stunned to speak ?”.

“I just—”, I shook my head : “Why are you suddenly so friendly?”, I was also taken aback by the Torchbearer’s revealed face—it was strikingly handsome. 

C raised an eyebrow with amusement : “Who said I’ve suddenly changed? I’m exactly the same as before”.

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow : “Maybe you look the same but sound different… less wary and cautious”, I pointed to my own face : “And maybe because of the mask, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not…”.

He shrugged, the mask concealing any expression : “Maybe I’ve decided to cut you some slack since all you’ve done is stumble through the woods after us. You made me feel bad…”. 

“Or perhaps you’re just starting to trust me… ?”, I suggested quietly and playfully. 

The Torchbearer smirked at my comment and glanced at his friend, who remained silent for a moment with his gaze fixed on me before letting out a soft scoff : “Maybe you haven’t given me a real reason to be suspicious of you… yet”.

“Yeah, you have a point…”, I laughed through my nose a bit, before looking at my mod-full knees.

He looked at me, his gaze shifting to my dirty knees : “You’re a bit of a mess, aren’t you ?”.

“I- I’m trying not to be, okay ?”, I said miserably.

Torchbearer chuckled a bit : “He’s just messing with you…”.

He nodded, a sly smirk on his face : “Yeah, I am. You’re just so easy to tease”.

I shook my head as he began to walk again, letting the Torchbearer and I together at the back again. I sighed to myself.

“Why did you choose to remove your mask... ?”, I inquired softly of the Torchbearer, still observing him intently. 

He smiled and replied, “Is there a problem? Did you not expect me to have a face beneath the mask or something... ?”. 

I gave him a nervous chuckle and looked away briefly : “No, it’s just that I assumed you wouldn’t trust me enough to do that...”.

He laughed again, clearly amused by my unease : “Well, for now at least, I believe we can trust you a bit...”. 

I returned his smile : “Thank you for that—it makes me feel... less behind, you know ?”. 

He nodded in understanding : “That’s understandable. Being left alone can indeed be lonely”.

I simply nodded back, and he smiled once more, acknowledging the unspoken exchange between us. 

After a moment of silence, I chose to speak again : “But why doesn’t he... ?”.

He immediately understood who I referring to and what I was asking : “Oh… You’ll need to ask him directly about that”.

I nodded thoughtfully : “Does he ever remove his mask ?”.

He responded quietly : “Yes, he takes it off when we're at the camp, or sometimes when he really needs to breathe... Otherwise, he wears it as much as possible, even if it means wearing it all day”.

This piqued my curiosity : “And what is the reason for that ?”.

Anticipating my question, he answered promptly : “It a kind of barrier—the outside world can be dangerous. If you reveal too much of your feelings to others, they may use it against you”.

“I see... Is that also why you prefer not to share your real names with me ?”. 

“Exactly. It's not only with you, it's with everybody we entounter. It is a measure to safeguard our identities”.

“And do you know his real name ? And he yours ?”.

He nodded gently : “Yes, I know his, and he knows mine as well. However, we rarely uses them”. 

“That make sense, don't want everybody to know who you are, huh ?”, I remarked with a slight smile. 

He chuckled softly : “Yeah, something like that. Perhaps if you earn his trust, he might eventually tell his name to you”.

I smiled at his comment, reflecting on my progress : “It would be good if he at least shared his code name- ‘C’ doesn’t seem quite right”.

He chuckled again : “Maybe he’ll tell you once he feels comfortable with you. He's quite the person in Dema so he's taking safety measures...”.

I returned the chuckle, not even noticing hi slast words : “Well, am I on the right track ?”.

“Yes, I believe he’s beginning to warm up to you. You don’t appear to be a threat, so things should proceed smoothly”, he said with a smile : “But take your time”.

I nodded in agreement : “Understood. I won’t rush him, he seems very cautious”.

“He is indeed careful about whom he trusts”, he confirmed. 

“In this world, one can never be too careful”, I added quietly as we resumed walking in silence. He nodded in agreement as we followed C.

After three hours, we paused briefly for some food and rest—it was good to relieve the strain on our legs. We then continued for another hour before finally emerging from the forest. Before us stretched plains adorned with vibrant green grass and blooming flowers. Positioned on elevated terrain, we could see a river flowed between two cliffs, marking the boundary of the hill upon which we stood.

I was captivated by the scene, my eyes sparkling as I observed the vivid colors of the plants and sky—colors I had never witnessed before. 

C observed my reaction with quiet amusement, accustomed to such natural beauty alongside the Torchbearer, he nonetheless enjoyed witnessing the awe of those who had recently escaped Dema. At that moment, I appeared genuinely childlike in my wonder, prompting a soft chuckle from him. 

I knelt down to gently touch the grass, impressed by its rich hue : “How come the grass is so green... ?”. 

C responded with a slight smirk and a shrug : “Because that’s how nature is supposed to be... ?”. 

“No, I know that but—”, I replied, “but why is this one so vibrant while Dema’s looked so dull and greyish ?”. 

He nodded knowingly, anticipating my question : “Dema's not in a natural state, they killed it, sucked everything out of the ground... That’s why everything is so... grey and depressing. It's part of their plan”.

“So real life looks like this... ?”, I inquired, gesturing toward the landscape before us with curiosity. 

He confirmed with another nod : “Yes. The trees, grass, sky, animals—it 's all supposed to look like this, not like a graveyard like Dema's”.

A mixture of emotions arose within me. How could anyone live in a city so bleak when such vibrancy exists elsewhere ?

Sensing my inner conflict, C offered understanding : “Dema is not real life, it is artificial and dead.”It’s been dying for years…”.

The Torchbearer joined our conversation, stating : “That is precisely why we created the Banditos...to help people in escaping Dema and for them live the lives they deserve”.

I glanced at him, offering a bittersweet smile.

“We have succeeded in rescuing many souls”, C said, his expression darkening slightly : “but we are aware that there are still many more trapped in Dema”.

After hearing this, I stood up with determination in my eyes : “I want to help, too”.

Both of them appeared surprised by my sudden determination. C studied me for a moment, attempting to assess my intentions : “You want to help ?”, he asked skeptically.

“When I escaped Dema, I didn’t know what to expect”, I replied : “but now I am committed to ensuring that everyone has the chance to experience the outside world at least once—it’s far too beautiful for only a few people to witness it”.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression cautious : “So you want to join the Banditos ?”.

I shrugged lightly : “I mean... W-why not ? I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I’ve been following you all already”.

He let out a soft scoff but maintained a serious demeanor : “Becoming part of the Banditos is not simpl, you will need to prove your trustworthiness”.

“I'll—I’ve already managed to get you to open up somewhat—so perhaps that is a good start”, I said, glancing at the Torchbearer who smiled encouragingly at me, which bolstered my confidence.

C chuckled softly : “Don’t rely on him, he’s much easier to persuade than I am”.

“I know… but it’s still a step toward building trust, huh ?”, I responded with a hint of humor. He simply shook his head but couldn’t suppress a small smirk : “Yes, yeah… If you want. A tiny step”.

Due to the mask, I was unable to see his face, but his eyes conveyed a subtle smirk, which brought a faint smile to my lips. 

“Let's continue our way, huh ?”, the Torchbearer suggested : “There is still much for you to discover”.

C remained vigilant : “Indeed, and we still have some ground to cover before reaching our destination”.

They resumed walking, with C and the Torchbearer leading while I followed closely behind. I picked a flower along the way, examining it as if it were of great value.

C observed me quietly, appreciating my fascination with this simple bloom. He understood the sensation of encountering nature anew; he had experienced similar feelings upon escaping from Dema. 

I placed the flower in my pocket and continued after them. 

As I caught up, C glanced at me and remarked playfully : “Taking a little souvenir, are you?”. 

“Um, yeah…”, I replied with a nervous chuckle, feeling somewhat self-conscious under his gaze. 

He smiled softly, likely entertained by my reaction : “Don’t worry, there’s no judgment here”.

“True enough… though it's abit hard to know when you have…”, I gestured toward my face : “…the mask, you know”.

He chuckled gently, his eyes crinkling slightly : “I hear that often. It makes reading facial expressions more difficult. That’s the whole point”.

I nodded silently and looked away as he paused briefly before attempting to engage again : “So… how do you find life outside of Dema so far ?”.

I looked up at him, laughing through my nose : “You mean, ‘how do you feel after meeting two strangers, nearly being caught in an explosion, and spending some time in a coma’ ? Well, I’m gradually adapting”. The Torchbearer chuckled at my words.

C responded with a gentle laugh : “Yeah, when you say it like that, you make it sound much worse than it actually is…”.

“I know… but honestly, I already like it here. Despite all the unusual experiences, I feel much more... free”.

He nodded in understanding : “Yes, it’s definitely better out here than in Dema, isn’t it ?”.

I agreed : “There’s really no comparison”.

He chuckled lightly : “You’re right”, he paused, his expression growing thoughtful : “May I ask you something ?”, he inquired again.

“Sure”, I replied, stopping in my tracks and turning to face him. He also halted and faced me directly. “What was your life like in Dema before you attempted to cross the walls ?”.

“Well”, I answered, “probably similar to yours before you escaped”.

He chuckled softly, amused by my response : “Fair enough… but what exactly was your life like? We each had different roles”.

“Oh yes, sorry—”, I explained : “They assigned me to the garment factory when I was 15, so I spent half my days there since then. Otherwise, I’d ‘enjoy’ stealing books with a friend to learn more about our city and the outside world—but we were always caught”, I smiled slightly but that smile turned sad, reminding me how Lyla died.

He observed my expression shift to sadness, recognizing the deeper significance behind my words: "Did… your friend pass away… ?".

I didn't expect him to understand the eaning bewteen my words immediately, as I had never mentioned her before. I met his gaze with wide eyes and then nodded. He remained silent, allowing me the time to explain. Noticing my hesitation, he gave a single nod, encouraging me to continue. I looked down, gathering my thoughts.

"She died recently... or rather, she was executed on orders from the bishops after attempting to escape... from the mission assigned to me shortly after her death", I glanced back at him and offered a faint smile, though it was merely a facade.

He nodded solemnly as he listened attentively. Although he recognized my attempt at composure, his eyes conveyed sympathy for the pain beneath my smile.

"I see... I'm sorry for your loss".

"Thank you... I appreciate that", I replied with a small smile before resuming our walk alongside the Torchbearer.

C followed quietly, his demeanor reflecting empathy and understanding; he could scarcely imagine experiencing such a profound loss.

Suddenly wishing to change the topic, I addressed C : "May I ask you something about your notebook ?".

He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise : "Of course. What would you like to know ?".

"Firstly, I apologie for having taken a peek… Secondly, what are those poems ?".

He chuckled softly, shrugging it off : "No need to worry about that. And they’re simply poems, nothing too important".

The Torchbearer glanced at C and gave him a look that clearly said ‘You're not telling the whole story’.

I smiled softly at the Torchbearer's expression before turning back to C : "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to".

C slightly rolled his eyes in response to the Torchbearer's gaze before replying, "It's fine,I don't mind explaining. They're just a bunch of poems I composed some time ago. They're just words that reflect my thoughts, feelings, and memories… they are more like songs, actually".

"Songs? Do you mean chants ?", I inquired, as I was unfamiliar with the concept of a song.

He chuckled gently, evidently amused by my lack of understanding regarding music : "Something like that, I guess… A song is a musical composition that combines words, singing, and occasionally musical instruments… have you never heard of music before ?".

I shook my head, offering a somewhat awkward smile.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise and asked : “Really? You’ve never listened to music before... ?”.

I shook my head again.

“That’s normal dude”, the Torchbearer explained to C. : “Music is prohibited in Dema, remember ?”.

“Right. I've forgotten bout that”, C responded : “Well, you’re truly missing out. Music is one of the greatest experiences ever”.

I smiled faintly : “You’ll have to introduce me to some someday”.

He chuckled softly with amusement : “Alright, I will show you sometime. For now, feel free to ask any questions about my little book if you want to learn more about it”.

I chuckled as well and continued inquiring about his letters, notebook, and other details. Within less than an hour, I learned that Trench was so expansive it could take over a week on foot to reach the camp. Additionally, I discovered that ‘Sahlo Folina’ is a cry for help amid suffering—an expression I had heard inside Dema but only now understood its significance.

We had just stopped for the night when the Torchbearer reached into his bag and offered us some food. “This is all we have left, eat slowly so you feel full”, then he lowered the bandana covering the lower part of his face, revealing his entire face for the second time today. I grabbed whatever he was handing me, nodding.

I looked over at C, wondering if he would reveal his face too, knowing that he didn’t trust me enough yet. C observed as the Torchbearer revealed his face and nodded in acknowledgment. C watched as the Torchbearer reveal his face, nodding in acknowledgement. He was still cautious, but he could see that the other man was slowly warming up to me.

He accepted the food offered to him, then glanced at me again, sensing my gaze on him as if waiting for something : “Don’t expect too much—I’m not taking off the mask yet”.

“Oh, I didn’t—”, I hesitated : “I was just wondering how you were gonna eat with it on, that’s all”, I explained, biting into my piece of food.

He slightly rolled his eyes, clearly amused by my reaction. He lifted his mask just enough to reveal his mouth before taking a bite. 

I observed him intently, much like a Victorian man catching sight of a woman’s ankle for the first time, then quickly looked away : “Right… That was a foolish question…”, I muttered to myself, feeling embarrassed. 

The Torchbearer chuckled softly at my response, evidently entertained. 

C also chuckled quietly, finding my nervousness endearing : “No, it’s just that your curiosity gets the better of you…”.

“Well, you have a point there”, I admitted with an embarrassed smile. 

He smirked and resumed eating : “Be careful—curiosity killed the cat”.

I laughed nervously while continuing to eat and avoided meeting his eyes. I could sense him studying my expression closely; perhaps he was teasing me for trying to figure him out or maybe he just wanted to impose himself to ensure I behaved appropriately. 

We all ate in silence until the Torchbearer extinguished the small fire he had made : “I think it’s time to rest a bit. Who wants the first turn ?”.

C nodded and addressed the Torchbearer : “I’ll take the first watch”. 

“Alright… Just make sure you don’t fall asleep this time, mate”, the Torchbearer remarked with a lighthearted tone before giving me a gentle wave, turning onto his side and closing his eyes.

C rolled his eyes : “Won’t happen”. He then leaned back against a tree, maintaining a vigilant watch for any potential threats. 

I wrapped myself in my jacket but wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet, since I’d been out until late this morning.

After a moment, C noticed my restless movements and asked : “Can’t sleep ?”.

Startled slightly, I whispered back : “I’m not tired yet”.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise : “Really? You’ve been walking all day and you’re still awake?”. 

“Yeah… Do I need to remind you that I was in a coma until around noon ?”. 

He chuckled softly : “You’re right… I almost forgot. But you do need to rest”. 

“I know”. 

Amused, he rolled his eyes : “Then try to get some sleep, alright? You’ll need your energy tomorrow. We're not quite there yet”. 

I simply nodded and turned away from him. He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head slightly while continuing to monitor the surrounding area for any danger. 

After a brief pause, I turned back toward him with a question on my mind. Noticing my movement and gaze, he raised an eyebrow, silently encouraging me to speak. 

“I don’t want to pressure you, knowing you don’t trust me that much yet,” I began cautiously, “but it’s been on my mind all day… What does ‘C’ stand for ?”, I tried to ask, knowing he didn’t want me to know his entire code name yet. 

He raised an eyebrow once more, a mixture of amusement and surprise evident in his expression. With a slight shake of his head, he sighed and remarked : "Still too curious for your own good, aren’t you ? What do you think it stands for ?".

"I can’t help it...", I responded nervously : "And honestly, I have no idea—that’s precisely why I’m asking".

He chuckled softly behind his mask, his eyes crinkling with mirth. After a moment of contemplation, he asked : "You really want to know ?".

I nodded eagerly : "If you don’t mind".

He met my gaze directly, hesitating briefly before speaking quietly :"It stands for Clancy".

Hearing the name for the first time left me momentarily speechless : I simply stared at him in astonishment and whispered to myself : "Clancy...".

He gave a single nod, his expression unreadable beneath the mask : "Yes. Now you know. Just go to sleep no-".

"Wait-", I cut him off mid-sentence : "So that’s your code name… Just as the ‘Torchbearer’ ?", I observed.

He confirmed with another nod : "Yeah, just like the Torchbearer’s. Why do you ask ?"

"Because it sounds so... natural", I replied uncertainly : "Isn’t Clancy an actual name ?".

He shrugged slightly : "Perhaps—I’m not certain. Why does it matter ?".

"I expecting something more abstract or symbolic—perhaps ‘Deadly Samurai,’ or something along those lines—I don't know", I chuckled at how absurd that sounded.

Rolling his eyes in mockery : "Do I look like someone who would have a name like ‘Deadly Samurais’ ?".

I shook my head in response : "Nope... But I just thought it would be a little more like the Torchbearer’s, you know… ".

He acknowledged with a nod : "Well, sorry to disappoint you. I guess my code name isn’t as creative as you expected…". 

"It’s okay... It’s actually more common, which at least makes you seem a bit more normal", I replied with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. 

He raised an eyebrow : "More normal, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment...". 

"Sorry if it sounded rude—that wasn’t my intention", I said, then lightly facepalmed myself : "Just wanted to say... that it makes you seem more human in this chaotic world. Sometimes I express myself a little badly, sorry about that".

He chuckled softly and reassured me : "Don’t worry, it’s fine—I get what you meant". 

I sighed : "Alright… I suppose I should just…", I gestured behind me : "get some rest or something ?". 

He nodded with a subtle smirk hidden beneath his mask : "Yes, probably best. We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow". 

I simply nodded in response before hearing my name being called. Turning back toward him, I asked : "Hmm ?". 

"One last thing before you go to sleep…".

"Yes ?", I tilted my head slightly, apprehensive about what he might say next. 

With a hint of seriousness in his eyes, he said : "You should choose a code name for yourself as well—it’s safer when you’re outside of Dema". 

"Oh ? Alright then, I’ll think about it", I responded. 

He nodded approvingly : "You do that". 

"But for now, just call me by my name—Don’t have any idea yet", I added with a light laugh. 

He agreed : "Alright, fine… now sleep. I don’t need you passing out on us tomorrow". 

"Right—" I said quietly as I turned away once again. He observed as I turned my back to him once more, a slight smirk visible beneath his mask. He fell silent, maintaining vigilant watch for any potential threats in the vicinity.

The following morning, I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder. I furrowed my brow slightly before slowly opening my eyes, taking a moment to orient myself. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead", the Torchbearer chuckled because of my sleepy face. 

"Hi...", I replied, rubbing my eyes in an effort to wake quickly. Although it was still early, I understood the necessity of continuing our journey and tried to rise promptly. 

"How are you feeling today ?", the asked.

I raised an eyebrow at his question : "Are you seriously asking that after we had just spent the night sleeping on the bare ground iin the middle of nowhere... ?".

Clancy shrugged with a faint smirk and said : "Hey, it’s not that bad. Believe it or not, we’ve slept in worse conditions before".

"Yeah, you maybe, but not me", I stood up immediately and put on my jacket. 

“Well, get used to it”, Clancy added : “You won’t always find a bed to sleep in”.

I merely grumbled in response and began packing swiftly so we could depart without delay. 

He chuckled again as he watched me gather my belongings quickly.

“Wait”, the Torchbearer said before we left, handing me a bandana similar to his own : “You need to wear this—in case we encounter the Bishop’s squad again—so they won’t recognize your face”.

“Ah, thanks”, I said, taking the bandana and examining it briefly before putting it on. Then I turned toward the Torchbearer, letting him take a look : “Does it look okay? I don't know if I tightened it enough…”.

“Let me see...”, he said as he approached from behind, observing how I had tied the bandana. He shook his head slightly before loosening the knot and retying it : “Isn’t this a bit too tight ?”. 

“No, it’s fine”, I replied. 

“Alright, there you go”, he finished the knot and released the bandana : “This way is better, at least you won’t lose it if you need to run”.

“I see. Thank you”, I responded with a smile, though only my eyes were visible now. 

Clancy observed us with interest, a subtle amusement evident on his face. 

“We’re ready to go now”, the Torchbearer announced, putting his own bandana on to cover the lower part of his face. 

Clancy simply nodded and took a moment to ensure we had all necessary items before moving out. His demeanor remained vigilant, his eyes constantly scanning for potential threats with every step he took. 

I followed the Torchbearer who led our group, with Clancy bringing up the rear. 

After half an hour of walking in silence, I turned toward Clancy : “You know, I've been thinking about our discussion last night...”, I continued walking but slowed my pace to match his. 

He raised an eyebrow in surprise : “Yeah? What about it ?”.

“The code name thing… It’s more difficult than it seems to find one”, I admitted with a light chuckle. 

He chuckled softly as well : “Indeed, it’s not an easy decision. It has to feel right—you know? Many people don’t find their code name right away”.

I nodded thoughtfully : “I know we don’t know each other well from now on, but what do you think would suit me ?”, I looked at him, only my eyes showing because of my masked face.

He looked at me for a second, contemplating my question for a moment : "That's a tough one. I don’t have much to go on... You don’t really strike me as the type to have a code name like 'Fiery' or anything intense sounding. You’re more of a softie...".

"Hey ! What does that mean ?".

He smirked slightly under his own mask, amused : "It means you’re not some badass who would run in the battlefield yelling her code name and swinging a sword around like a maniac...".

"Well, you have a point here… but still !", I frowned playfully.

He chuckled again at my reaction, clearly amused by the situation : "Alright, alright, I give up… maybe you’ll prove me wrong, huh ?".

"Who knows what I’m capable of ?", I tilted my head : "For the code name, I’ll just ask the Torchbearer instead, maybe he’ll have better ideas", I teased him back, playing his own game.

He rolled his eyes at my words : "Yeah, yeah, go ahead and do that. I’m sure he’ll come up with something totally ridiculous like ‘Sunshine’".

"I like ‘Sunshine’! It’s cute", I laughed before sprinting towards the Torchbearer : "Hey T, do you have any idea of a code name for me ?".

The Torchbearer turned to look down at me : "Huh? You want a code name ?".

"Clancy suggested it might be better to have one... just in case", I replied. It was the first time I had used Clancy’s full code name, which felt somewhat unfamiliar to say aloud. 

He heard this with a slight smile before going back to thinking : "Do you have any particular ideas in mind ?".

I shook my head : "Not really. But I don’t want something weird", I chuckled lightly, adding : "Nothing like ‘Deadly Tigress’". 

He laughed along with me : "Fair enough. What about ‘Sunshine’ ?". 

I glanced at Clancy, laughing : "How did you know he would suggest that name ?". 

Clancy shrugged with a playful glint in his eyes : "I know him well enough to predict he’d come up with something sappy like that".

The Torchbearer rolled his eyes but smiled beneath his mask. 

"You two must know each other very well to predict things accurately like that…", I remarked, turning back to the Torchbearer : "It sounds really cute but I think it’s a bit too childish". 

He chuckled and nodded in agreement : "Yeah, I guess you're right...".

"How about something simpler ? Perhaps something more abstract that still sounds like a genuine name ?".

He nodded thoughtfully as if grasping my point : "Yeah, I get what you mean... how about something like ‘Phoenix’, then ?".

I considered the suggestion carefully. I needed a name that was both meaningful and appealing, which wasn't the case of 'Phoenix'... Suddenly, inspiration struck; my eyes widened as I stopped walking : "Of course! That hadn’t even crossed my mind…".

Seeing my sudden realization, Clancy raised an eyebrow, noticing my sudden realization : "What is it? You thought of something ?".

"Yes, and I think I found the perfect name", I said softly, a bit of excitement in my voice. At my words, the two boys stared at me with interest. 

"Well, don't keep us waiting. What's the name ?", the Torchbearer inquired.

"Don’t judge okay… ?", I glanced at them both.

Clancy said nonchalantly : "That depends on what you’ll say, but we'll try not to". Shaking my head, I chuckled at his statements : "Okay… so…", with excitement in my voice, I replied : "It's Caelia".

"Caelia ?", with a raised eyebrow, Clancy said : "Where did you get that from ?".

"It's the Latin form of « Sky » or something like that... I remember that my mother used to call me that when I was little… But it was just between us, no one has ever heard that name except from me and her…".

He nodded, realizing the meaning behind the name : "It's a fitting name.

The Torchbearer, who enjoyed the name's sound, also nodded in agreement.

"Do you both approve ? For it to be official, I need both of your approvals… ", I joked.

Clancy couldn’t help but smile a bit : "Yeah, it sounds good. I approve. "

"Me too," said the torchbearer : "Sounds perfect. How on earth did you come up with it so quickly ?".

"I don't know, I thought about my past after you mentioned finding something personal, and tada!", I laughed heartily.

Clancy let out a quiet laugh, still finding it funny : " Well… lucky for you that you’re smart. So you’re Caelia from now on".

I nodded : "Yep, that’s me".

He shook his head with a masked grin on his face : "All right then, Caelia… let's keep going, shall we ?".

"Alright alright…", I chuckled, back on the road once again.

(Hello everyone! I'm trying to write the new chapters as quickly as possible, and I think I'm on the right track! I'm working on improving my writing to make it more engaging for readers.

Finding different phrases or synonyms can be somewhat challenging for me since English isn't my first language. However, I’m making an effort, and I hope you enjoy it :)).