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oldguardleatherdog · 13 days

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The Night Before the Tribute In Light September 10, 2003

One month ago today, this long-forgotten photo suddenly popped up in the photo app on my laptop. I took this photo with my Sanyo clamshell phone on September 10, 2003, 21 years ago tonight, from Hudson River Park in Manhattan.

Don't ask me how it survived all these years or where it's been stored all this time or how in the world it could have found its way to me from the long-dead storage servers of a long-defunct cell phone carrier. We're in the penumbra of The Anniversary, and time is out of joint.

I had been back in New York for about a month (after getting violently run out of the place I was staying by a fellow who is now one of my closest friends), homeless and living in that roach-infested HIV crack-house shelter at 96th and Broadway that I describe in "The One Decent Thing I Ever Did" (it’s archived on this blog), and you can imagine my state of head and spirit at this moment, the night before the 2nd anniversary of the terror attacks on the World Trade Center that drove me from my home in Lower Manhattan, four blocks east of the site.

I was sitting on a bench in Hudson River Park on the West Side of Manhattan, somewhere near Houston Street, maybe ten or fifteen blocks north of World Trade. I hadn't noticed these beams of light as I walked, and I think they might have just been activated while I was sitting there. As I recall, it was a full moon in Virgo, and I was positioned just right to snap this shot. I had *no* idea what this was all about, as I recall, but I thought the image was so striking and affecting that I wanted to capture it.

As it turns out, this was the tech run-through for the first September 11th installation of the “Tribute In Light”. Here’s Google’s AI summary of this remarkable memorial:

So there I was, just two years after the blast, stunned by this sudden, mysterious apparition rising from just south of what was still a giant, messy hole in the ground. I was still not fully myself at that time and would not regain my full memory or sense of who I was until the following January (therein lies a tale!), and as I recall I was just numbly stunned, not knowing what to make of it.

As I write, I’m getting the physical sense memory of that moment: the dog in me (my medulla oblongata speaking) feels his hackles rise, it’s not what I expect to see filling the hole in the sky, is it another attack? Do I bark at it, sound an alarm, run towards it, away from it, why is there light there, is this some unholy ruse, another trick being played on me from that big smoky hole where nothing but poison has spilled out for the longest time?

My phone rang. It was a fellow that I had met and hung out with in San Francisco while I was stranded there, and I was stunned to hear from him, especially at that moment. “Hi Dave… well, right now I’m on the riverfront looking at the damnedest thing… [I just wanted to make sure you were ok] hey, thanks for checking in… yeah, take care bud.” I closed the phone and started walking south along the riverfront, toward the light beams.

When I got there, I saw the massive banks of klieg lights assembled in their arrays, a strange and unfamiliar (unwelcome) echo of the shapes and the placement and the footprints of the place I loved so well.

The faces of the artists who surrounded the lights were intense, focused, sober. I still didn’t quite know what was going on, but there was profound reverence in the air, on those faces, at that place, as the beams of pure white light soared upwards, past the point of naked-eye discernment, unending, likely petering out tens of thousands of feet off that spoiled piece of ground, perhaps piercing the ionosphere, did they get clearance from the Federal Aviation Administration for this? Are pilots being disoriented by these columns at 45,000 feet? Do they touch the feet of God?

II.

And I kept walking south, my back to the light,

Down to the oldest part of the civilized island,

Past the Battery, the bronze bull, the buttonwood tree,

The Port of New York dead ahead,

The Staten Island Ferry terminal, ramshackle, ancient,

Entry restricted by terror tape and armed sentinels

No two uniforms alike, a panoply of enforcement,

Heavy weapons at the ready, so jarring in my neighborhood,

And the working dogs with the keen snouts, the trained muzzles,

Jumping up to paw at the brown bag in the soldier’s hand

Is that peanut butter? Apple? Hunk of cheese?

Let’s play! You’ve been so serious, so worried,

You smell sad and scared, are you lost? Let’s play!

Even Cerberus needs break time, belly rubs, treats!

For the first time in weeks, I smile to myself

As I round past the ferry, those strange lights at my back.

Hope I can sneak past the turnstile downstairs,

I won’t have to hike back up three hundred blocks

To that awful low place. Did you know roaches bite?

They shit on you too. Try to sleep, fully dressed,

Watch cap pulled low on my head, long sleeved shirt

Buttoned up to the collar, heavy pants tucked in boots,

Gloves on my hands, one more night without food

Half-bag of speed takes my mind off the pain

Sleep comes in fits if at all. – On the train

Dreading the stop: ninety-sixth street and Broadway.

Tomorrow, this city will jack itself off

In performative weeping and gnashing and cursing

Oh, how we loved them! I snort in derision,

You didn’t lose nothin', you pieces of shit!

Let the dead bury the dead. Beams of light

Don’t feed this refugee reeking of ashes -

What, do I smell bad? So sorry to stink up

The place where you’ve laid out the feast for your friends

Who still have their jobs, their high homes in the towers

Behind the glass doors where your larders are stocked

With the food that you bought with your government money

That flooded your midtown Manhattan apartment

With all the new clothes, electronics, the sausages

Fresh from Enrico’s, Zabar’s, D’agostino’s,

Bought with the Victim’s Fund money you stole

When you filed your claim. “OMG, it was awful!

“I couldn’t get up to the fifty-fourth floor,

“I had to find shelter on Upper Park Avenue.

“Power was out. I was homeless that night!

“So glad that my friend who was shopping in Gramercy

“Gave me the number to call for my claim

“September 11th was horrid! I told them

“I couldn’t go home for two nights! Oh, thank God

“The claim got approved with a wink and a nod

“And no one’s the wiser – I’ve never been south

“Of the Plaza Hotel! That all happened on Wall Street,

“Who goes down there? Jesus Christ, are you kidding?

“That’s four miles away! Christopher, are you coming

“Or what? Reservations at Nobu won’t wait

“For you or for me, so quit primping!”

The pain

In my stomach, relentless. My gorge won’t stop heaving.

Am I gonna make it? Damn, *ouch!* What the fuck…

The tooth that I hoped would hold out just gave way,

Fuck me. Another huge hole in my grille.

When I made six figures and lived in a high-rise,

Fuck buddies laughing on Saturday night,

Nobody told me that one hundred minutes

And two hijacked jet planes would make such a difference.

No one will laugh with me now – my best friends

Are yelling and angry, how dare I show up

Sweaty and toothless, a walking reminder

Of September tenth. No, I’m not gonna feed you.

III.

Now, twenty years later, they’ve retooled their memory:

“Animal! Damn, dog! We’ve missed you, you know,

“Wow, you’re alive! You look fabulous! Listen,

“I never gave up on you. Give a call

“When you come to the City. I want you to meet

“My beautiful husband – he remembers you too!”

IV.

Twin beams of light where the Towers were anchored,

Okay, not exactly precisely those spots,

But who’s gonna criticize? Look and recall

How majestic they were. Yeah, the new One World Trade

Is cool, I suppose – no one mentions the absence

Of Two World Trade Center. Insurance, you know.

Not enough money or civic ambition,

And Bloomberg discouraged it. Why add a target?

“Don’t you think sixty or seventy stories

“Are more than enough? Hell, let’s just get it done.

“The sooner we finish construction, the better.”

*There will never be lumens of adequate volume

Sufficient to seal that hole in the sky,

But the hole in my heart I will finish, I tell you.

Walk with me as I go forward. Tomorrow

I’m back in the studio. Tonight, we can play!

You smell like apples and – damn, is that chocolate?

(our light beams shine upward forever)

"Good boy!"

Animal J. Smith San Francisco, California September 10, 2024

#i am alive #information gladly given #animal j. smith #September 11 #9/11 #9/11 survivor #recalled to life #tribute in light #2003 #nothing and then suddenly something #a collaboration with once we were islands #berlin late 2025

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notjustjavierpena · 1 year

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Three Times You Didn’t Kiss Joel - And One Time You Did - Part I: Introductions

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Enjoy the beginning of a four-chapter fic, where a cute summer romance starts! This is the same universe as Hurried Morning but before! Chapter two and three are just waiting to be posted.

Summary: Joel helps you restore your grandparents' house over the summer. He has big strong arms.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 no smut but mature thoughts (minors DNI), pining, summer romance, DILF Joel, sexual tension, idiots in love

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47914783/chapters/120803500

Chapter One: Introductions

The house had been empty for a while when you had moved in. The location was good, somewhat quietly charming as the suburbs were, but the house’s neglect called desperately for a loving hand to bring out that charm again, which had been allowed to fade for too long. It wasn’t that the house had been willfully neglected by you, no you had wanted the house for a long time, but the whole scenario of you ending up here had been long and ridiculous: Your older brother had finally, out of the goodness of his heart, offered it to you, but only after a few years of having been in doubt about whether or not to move into it with his family. He had only gotten first say in the fate of the old place, because he was the oldest of the two of you, a thing that he liked to remind you of.

The house was overly suburban, missing only a wisteria bush and a fresh coat of paint, additionally, perhaps, a good amount of effort put into the garden as well. It was going to be a time-consuming summer project, but one that you were excited about because of its potential end result.

The house was all paid off by your grandparents, but after the passing of your grandfather some years ago, your grandmother had felt like the house was too overwhelming to live in all by herself, so she had found some place smaller and left the fight of inheritance to your mother, who had then passed it onto you and your sibling. The fact that you had now won that fight was ironic; you would end up alone in a house that your grandmother found too overwhelming to be alone in.

You step out of your car after parking it in the driveway, walking around its back to open the trunk and start unloading its contents. It is half your latest salary worth of a Home Depot haul.

You head to the garage door, knowing that your grandfather used to have a workbench inside and you need tools to assemble some of the things you have bought, amongst other a stepladder that you hope to build without too much trouble.

Though the lock at the bottom of the garage door is already doing its job of causing trouble, and you curse quietly as you have to put everything onto the ground at your feet to use both hands on it. The lock struggles for a moment but then clicks, and you finally pull up the garage door until you can duck underneath it with ease.

You get a feeling of someone watching you as you drag two buckets of white paint into the garage, following with a new set of brushes and paint rollers.

The feeling grows stronger as you reemerge from the garage and you start to hear muffled voices nearby too, but you ignore it due to how much you have scheduled for today. Additionally, you would admit in all honesty that you would be staring at the single woman neighbor too, if she was struggling with the garage door and making a fool of herself. You push your curiosity away and reach into the car trunk again.

“Hey,” it’s the voice of a teenage girl. You jump and nearly hit your head against the roof of the vehicle, and she chuckles a little in a way to seem cooler than she is, “Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you, but you just looked like you needed a little help and I wanted to offer. Well, my dad told me not to.”

“It’s alright, I’m grown. I can handle myself,” you stand up a little straighter to properly look at the teenager, giving her a smile to reassure her that you’re cool too. She’s around fifteen, kindest eyes you’ve ever seen in a girl her age, a mess of curls and her thumbs tucked into the belt loops on her jeans. She looks shy, but something tells you that she isn’t. You realize that you are staring, then hold out a hand and introduce yourself.

“I just moved in, inherited the place from my grandparents,” you add as the teen shakes your hand.

“I’m Sarah, we live just a house away. There,” she points to a nearby home, where a man is standing against one of the posts on the front porch. He has his arms crossed over his chest but you’re too far away to read his expression. Sarah continues, “Oh, right, that’s my dad. Yikes, that stance makes him look like a jerk.”

“Perhaps a little,” you laugh genuinely and Sarah beams at your approval. She raises her arm and waves her father over, who protests against it at first by waving his arms no, but then capitulates and walks over to you.

“Joel Miller,” he states as he approaches, holds out his hand and you repeat your name, trying to grab his hand for a shake, but it ends up the other way around with the size of his palm. Joel’s hands are huge and rough, calloused in a way that makes you guess that he doesn’t sit in an office all day. He has a firm grip, and you catch yourself watching the way that the muscles of his underarm flex when he holds your hand in what feels like an instant.

He doesn’t notice you staring at all, but you wonder if it’s because he is so used to it; Joel Miller is gorgeous, scruffy and sexy in his washed-out jeans and a simple army green t-shirt. You wish that you had worn something other than your dark blue t-shirt with a Batman logo, but a sundress would not have been practical for assembling stepladders and carrying tools.

“We were wonderin’ when we were gonna see someone move in,” he speaks with a Texan accent. It suits him very well, “I’ve wanted to paint the surface several times last summer, would be a shame to have it crack if you had the opportunity to save it.”

“I could use some help, honestly. My grandma moved somewhere smaller because it was too much work to be alone here,” you run a hand over your hair, brushing a strand behind your ear. Sarah looks from you to her father, and then back to you again.

“Maybe that’s our summer vacation!” She exclaims. Joel turns quickly towards her.

“Sarah, honey,” he warns but she just continues without a hint of hesitation, sporting childlike enthusiasm and innocence.

“But you said that we needed something to do together this summer, and we couldn’t afford a trip somewhere,” she reasons excitedly, “This is perfect. Very movie-esque, you know.”

“But it’s not our house,” Joel adds, smiles at you apologetically and makes your pulse spike.

“But she says she needs help,” she doesn’t let it go. It’s sort of sweet, “Come ooon, dad.”

“I do actually need help,” you back her up.

“You don’t have a boyfriend who knows how to swing a paint brush? Or who you’ll hurt by not letting him do the heavy lifting?” Joel asks casually. Sarah scrunches up her nose beside him.

“Nope, no boyfriend with a masculinity complex,” your cheeks blush a little as Joel chuckles, hidden by a smile as you shake your head no. You wish you did have a guy in your life, but right now only so you could see if there’d be any detectable disappointment on Joel’s face when you said yes.

Joel reaches up to scratch his beard. He looks like he is weighing the pros and cons, but a part of him also drags out the anticipation to tease his kid. He smirks, “Fine then, but you better be up early every day for a day’s hard work, Sarah Miller.”

“Oh, he used your whole name. You’re in trouble now,” you point out with a grin. Joel eyes you from beside you.

“Yes! Better than summer camp,” Sarah removes her fingers from the belt loops of her jeans to grab her father’s arm and press her forehead against it, “Thank you.”

“You’ve never been to summer camp,” Joel rolls his eyes but wraps an arm around his daughter.

“I sleep in though, so don’t come knocking at eight in the morning,” you point out.

“Dad sleeps in too, don’t worry,” Sarah keeps going.

“Sarah, what’s wrong with you?” Joel is the one who looks embarrassed now. He pushes her gently away, “Go back home, kid. Let the grown-ups sort out the details. You can call for pizza, yeah?”

“Ugh,” you hear her say to her father but she gives you a sweet smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, Sarah,” you reply but she’s already walking away with her back towards you. Joel, on the other hand, doesn’t move from his spot in front of you, suddenly stuffing his hands in his pockets and almost entirely mirroring Sarah’s stance from moments before.

“Tell me what you need help with?” It’s meant more as a question or a suggestion than a command.

“Right,” you wonder how long you have been staring at his mouth. It’s been a while since you’ve been kissed, so you allow yourself the fantasy of Joel Miller being interested in kissing you. His beard tells you that it’s been a day too many since he would normally trim it, and you can almost imagine the feeling of the hairs tickling your chin and jaw as he kisses your mouth and neck—

Stop.

“Well, I have some work to do on the house facade,” you blurt out after the silence has gone on for too long.

“Clearly,” Joel nods in acknowledgement, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs a little where he is standing. Like this, he looks like he is a good listener, “I should see if I can find some cheap but good wood protection, looks like it’s going to be more expensive in the long run if it doesn’t get some kind of coat.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you give him a soft smile. It is confirmed then; the man is clearly not the office-type with how he talks about restoring the construction of the house to its peak.

He goes on: “Don’t worry about it, yeah? I’m sure you can pay me with hot dinners for Sarah and I or something. I can do this, the work on the house, but I’m terrible at getting her to eat other things than takeout with my normal schedule.”

Suddenly very open. Interesting.

“I wouldn’t mind that, no. It’s going to be a lot of dinners though. I have a whole lot of ideas,” you reply, still trying to not drop your gaze to his mouth again as he talks, “Garden needs to be weeded out, replanted, lawn mowed— oh, you don’t have a lawnmower, do you?”

“Sure do,” he answers, nodding towards his house, “I can get it. You need help with that now?”

You blame the Texan sun for how breathless you feel as you have time to really look at him. He has his hands on the handle of his old lawnmower, gripping firmly to the point of unintentionally showing off his biceps in the form-fitted shirt that he wears as he pushes the lawnmower around the wild grass.

You are sitting on the back porch, legs crossed with a screwdriver in hand and the instructions to the, by now, stupid stepladder. You’re more creative than practical, and it shows in the way that you tighten one screw but the stepladder still wobbles as you test it out.

Frantically, you go through the instruction manual front to back and then back to front until you accidentally rip the thin paper, but you don’t feel any smarter about what you are doing. You throw the screwdriver onto the wooden boards beneath you, fighting the urge to scrape a bad word into the grayish wood.

You lean back on your arms and close your eyes almost all the way, soothing yourself by taking in the sun and letting yourself look at Joel work without him noticing too much. Your eyes travel down his frame, looking at the jeans that have green patches around the base of the legs before going upwards again. You try to convince yourself that looking at his clothes makes up for how you’re ogling him now.

Subconsciously, you stretch out your legs from underneath you, then cross one leg over the other and lean further back on your elbows instead. Joel’s knuckles are slightly white from gripping the lawnmower and his t-shirt has started to form a patch of sweat at the base of his spine, supposedly caused by sweat dripping from the back of his neck because the hair there is damp. You curl your toes a little, press your thighs together. You want to know how strong those hands are, how they work at his daytime job, which you guess by now has to do with construction work. It feels wrong to think these things, but you allow them as long as they don’t leave your head.

You close your eyes fully then, not needing to feel even more warmth prickle at your skin, radiating from your core instead of being caused by the sun. You lay like this until the lawnmower stops.

“Woah, what happened here?” Joel walks over and looks down at you and then to the crime scene you’ve left open on the back porch flooring. You stare at him with a sheepish expression on your face as he shields the sun from you with his body.

“It didn’t want to do it the way that I wanted,” you simply say.

“Remind me not to piss you off,” he jokes and shifts where he stands until the sun hits your eyes again. You grin up at him, holding a hand over your eyes to not be forced to close them and miss how he looks as he smiles back.

“Thanks by the way,” you add a moment later, “I’m honestly happy that I don’t have to do it myself.”

“Yeah, no problem… Look, I’m gonna go back to Sarah, have a shower, then the pizza that’s probably cold by now,” he lingers for a moment before starting to move.

“Sorry about the pizza,” you say and start to get up again, leaving behind the mess of screws, ripped pages and stupid tools.

“All good, I think Sarah will forgive me. She likes you,” he waves back at you as he leaves. You wave after him too, something feeling like it’s about to implode inside of your stomach and you know what it is. It is butterflies. It is the beginning of a crush.

In the morning, you find the stepladder assembled to perfection on your back porch.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us #joel miller x you #my writing #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dilf!joel

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drinkyourvillainjuice · 9 days

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In-character Q&A - AdVenture (Beth!)

Another crosspost for you all. :)

Beth

When did you find out you liked MC ?

(two different answers, since there's two distinct relationship modes with her)

Love at first sight: ...You will laugh, but somewhere in the midst of our very first conversation. Truthfully, I never believed in love at first sight, and I'm generally slow to warm to others, but Prii introduced us and there was... a connection.

I have never felt so close to someone so quickly. I did not call it love right away, but like them? Yes. Certainly.

Only 'recently' got together: Truthfully, I think I knew for a while, I simply wasn't ready to admit it to myself. That isn't to say it was immediate affection, more along the lines of something that grew slowly over time in their company. Perhaps I should have spoken up sooner but... I did not want to spoil what we had, and it worked out.

So I thought.

What jobs did you have during/before AdVenture?

I have been a barista for a few years now while I continue working on college. It isn't glamourous, but it pays what it needs to pay. More or less.

Hiiiiii do you wanna go out?👉👈

I'm... sorry? Who are you?

Of anything MC can say before the elevator shut, which hurts the most?

This is like asking which variety of knife is most painful to be stabbed with.

...It all hurts. The reasons differ, but it all hurts. To be told it isn't my fault. Screams for help. To be blamed. The helpless stare. The confession.

Each can haunt my dreams just as well as its counterparts.

Now that MC is back, what's the worst first words they can say to you?

...

"Why did you give up on me?"

Other than AdVenture did you have any hobbies?

I liked to read. I played tabletop rpgs on occasion. I enjoyed painting miniatures, but I did not assemble large collections: I tended to work on them one at a time.

After That Night did you ever think you'd see MC again?

I hoped I would.

I hoped for a long time.

...It's difficult to hold out hope for half a decade.

#drink your villain juice #beth (dyvj)

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dross-the-fish · 1 year

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Colorized Hyde paced around the makeshift lab, wondering how Adam Frankenstein had assembled such a busy workshop without the aid of an assistant. “Does Dr Watson know you have all this?” he asked, peering at an assortment of organs in flasks.

Adam shook his head, “He does not and I'd be grateful if you didn't reveal my secrets. I like Dr Watson and I know he won’t approve of my work,” he strode over to a large vat filled with liquid in the middle of the room, "If we bring Miss Morris back he may forgive me, if not I'll simply defy him. I accept no masters and though I owe him much he will not command me in this," he pulled a lever and sparks of electricity crackled down the wires connecting to the vat, charging the liquid. He waited a full minute, counting the seconds before he shut off the power.

Hyde nodded, he saw no reason to do Watson any favors or derail Frankenstein's projects so he found himself agreeable "Mum's the word, old chap, I don't see any reason why he should be in the loop,” He tapped the vat with his cane. "What's in here,"

"A compound of chemicals Victor used to submerge me in while he ran the current through my body. This, "Adam made a sweeping gesture over the vat, "Is the elixir that rejuvenates the dead cells and primes them for the electricity to do its work. it took me forever to figure out how to make it but thanks to Dr Watson granting me access to all of his medical tomes my methods may surpass even that of my maker’s," his even white teeth flashed sharply against the harshness of his black lips in a gruesome, self-satisfied grin. He imagined Victor would have been horrified to see his creation carrying on his work, but Adam had not time for guilt or self-reflection now, a life hung in the balance, waiting to be plucked back from the grave and restored.

He was almost giddy with anticipation. He had not disclosed to Hyde that the consciousness that awakened might not be that of their companion. He himself had no memories of a time before his birth and there was just as much likelihood that she too would return as a blank slate. That was not ideal, he admitted, but he could not think such a thing to be a total loss. To have another like himself would be adequate consolation for the loss of Ms Morris. Whatever was brought back, Adam swore to himself that he would not turn his back on his creation. He would do better by his progeny than his own father. Of that he was certain.

"You've resurrected people before?" Hyde's voice intruded as the small man wandered across the lab peering at the glimmering, viscous, liquids that funneled into the vat with interest.

"Not people, but I've brought back several frogs, two cats and a dog," said Adam, "It works and I think perhaps better for my access to the advancement in medicine since my makers time,” He turned to Hyde, "Now, before we begin, did you get the heart?"

Hyde drew a jar from his coat, a perfectly preserved human heart sealed within. Adam nodded in satisfaction, "Excellent, I'm not going to ask where you got it, frankly I do not care so long as it is in good condition and fresh."

"Oh it's fresh alright, and in excellent condition, I tested the donor's constitution myself before the harvest," Hyde chortled as he handed the jar over.

"Mmm, let's not tell Miss Morris that when we bring her back. I don't know how she'd take to finding out you killed someone to get a new heart for her," Adam pursed his lips, he was not legitimately displeased as fresher parts guaranteed a higher chance of success. He looked down at Hyde curiosity scrawled across his features, "Why are you so keen on helping me with this? I know you don't like Watson but this can't all be spite."

"It isn't," Hyde confirmed, "I am genuinely curious to see if this works. I am a scientist at heart after all. More to the point, I liked Miss Morris, she was the only one in our group who doesn't have a stick up her arse and she was good at cards. Besides if I’m stuck with no one but you, Watson and that sanctimonious little shit Harker then I’m going to make damn sure that you’re all as miserable with my company as I am yours. “

"You are, perhaps, the most hateful creature I have ever met...and I am myself, a vile devil," Adam remarked passively as he laid Selma's body on the table and handed Edward the scalpel, "This is your job. I could possibly do it but, I believe, you are an actual doctor and you have the learning and the experience that I lack. I trust you can transplant the heart?"

Edward frowned, "I can, though the task requires a certain level of detachment and patience. That was always Jekyll’s domain…I’ll do my best.”

Adam readied the apparatus that would bring Selma Morris back to life while Edward prepped himself for surgery. As he was washing his hands a small trickle of fear ran down his spine. Could he really do this? It was one thing to patch a small wound but a major surgery, even on a cadaver, required attentiveness and delicacy, those traits did not come easily to him without Henry’s temperance. His head swam, what if he made a mistake? What if he botched it up and they really lost her forever? He felt suddenly nauseous as he picked up the scalpel and prepared to make the first incision. As the blade hovered over the corpse’s chest he froze, paralyzed by an overwhelming uncertainty. His anxiety built to a point that he found himself fighting the urge to slash into the body and start hacking away. Smash the lab, destroy it all and rip everything apart then burn it to the ground as long as he didn’t have to face the risk of failure.

Did he really want that? He didn’t know…that was the rub of it. Indecision held him pinned and he could feel his control begin to slip.

"Give me the scalpel, Edward," a calm voice in the back of his mind said firmly just as he was about to plunge the instrument into the dead woman’s chest, "you're too shaken up. Let me take over,"

"I'm not letting you out Henry, you tried to kill us and I haven't forgiven you! I know as soon as you're free you'll try to lock me away again!"

"No Edward, I won't. I'll transplant the heart and then I'll let you have control again. I give you my word."

"You mean that now but I know once you're out you'll be tempted! You’ll feel all of those things again that I keep at bay! Shame and sorrow will eat us if I let us be you again! We’ll want to die and we can't resist temptation no matter which of us we are!"

"Isn't Miss Morris worth the risk? I liked her too Edward. If she can be brought back then shouldn’t we try? Listen to me Edward, we don’t want to fail. We want to give this its best chance, let me have the scalpel."

Hyde resisted only briefly before he shuddered, closed his eyes and retreated. Jekyll took a moment to get his bearings, nod at Adam, who was staring at him in confusion, and then swiftly, cleanly, he made the first incision. .....

My players accidentally got an NPC killed and begged me to bring her back. This scene was the result.

#crossover Au #Frankesntein #Jekyll and Hyde #Adam Frankenstein #Edward Hyde #Henry Jekyll

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miranyx1337 · 8 months

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Alastor x angel reader

FEATHER chapter V

When I opened my eyes, I sensed it was the day I never wanted to face. The day to start implementing a grand scheme against heaven. Crimson light pierced through the curtains, but it wasn't the familiar sunlight. A magnificent pentagram gleamed above the hotel, and an army assembled against heaven. They aimed to extinguish my people, but did I possess the right to thwart them?

I observed malicious smiles honing angelic weapons, relishing the thought of golden blood. Yet, what emotions would Adam's blood evoke in me?" I'll likely be his top priority. I suspect he forced my mother into silence and passivity. If only I could erase his little secret from memory.

If souls could be judged anew, why hide it? Is it about his dignity or perhaps the will of God?"

Strips of bandages cascaded near my bare feet. As I reached the portal in the nick of time, I grievously injured two of my wings. The pain of unfolding stiff feathers pierced my back, accompanied by a subdued hiss escaping my lips.

Examining my ravaged visage, circled light eyes, disheveled hair, and wings with missing feathers. I confronted the memories of the previous evening. Running my fingers over my cheek, recalling increasingly embarrassing details,

Wait, didn't Vaggie once mention that Alastor's favorite meal was decaying deers? Oh heavens, I hope he didn't consume them yesterday. I watched as my cheeks reddened and feathers bristled. It wasn't what I had planned, yet I easily surrendered to the arms of the radio demon.

I braided my hair and arranged feathers in any sensibly stylish manner. Trembling hands slowly buttoned up the snow-white shirt, a silver corset wrapped around me, and beneath a light skirt with a slit, long black boots peeked out.

"What time was really left? Three weeks until the battle?’’ Approaching the balcony with determination, I forcefully swung open the doors. Only 4 or 5 meters separated me from the ground. With a smooth movement, I jumped onto the railing. maintaining balance by leaning on one of the columns.

Barely 9 days passed, yet it felt like an eternity without flying. A few deep breaths, I spread my arms to sense the balance. Seconds from the jump, a sudden tug pulled me back. A black tentacle gripped my waist, and moments later, I found myself in the arms of radio demon.

"I knew you might feel regret, but I wouldn't accuse you of suicidal attempts," he whispered directly into my ear. I sharply recoiled, standing on my own.

I glanced back to utter the first words of the day. "Jumping from the balcony is nothing compared to a hellish portal," I proudly replied, resuming my climb on the railing.

"Sweetheart, just wait a little; impatience isn't a trait of wise people," he cautioned.

"What should I wait for? An army furious angels led by Adam?" I questioned.

"Wait for my plan to work."

"No offense, Alastor," I addressed him directly for the first time, "but your army of cannibals can only break their teeth on celestial blades."

His face revealed he didn't take criticism well. " Oh, I see you don't appreciate demonic beings,". The atmosphere thickened. "And me.

When I first learned about the plan from Charlie and Veegie, I was terrified. However, my deep longing to return home was tied to their success. My lips opened in silent astonishment; they truly wanted to face the angelic forces.

So, what's the plan? Invite them for dinner with our own bodies?"

The plan is the last thing your beautiful silver head should worry about. I'm the one pulling the strings here, Soon, we'll partake in a feast with Adam's head served on a platter and golden drinks in our cups."

"Stop talking like that about my kind ," I insisted.

"Oh About angels flying here to murder hundreds of souls or those who aren't in a hurry to descend for you?" he mocked.

My lips tightened in a grimace; I felt anger taking control over me.

"Alastor, stop!" - I shouted, to my own surprise, feeling my hand clenching on the cold metal.

A blue chain led from my hand straight to the tied demon, who instantly froze.

Alastor looked at me with undisguised surprise, his eyes wandering across my face and hands, trying to connect the dots until he finally found an answer.

Alastor POV:

Angel magic weakened contracts but also made them susceptible to a new owner

The hands that touched me with unique delicacy this night, now are helding the chain tightly around my neck and hands, instantly making me to be on my knees

As quickly as they appeared, they vanished, and I desperately gasped for air.

Y/N approached, visibly in shock but stopped a few centimeters in front of me.

The sudden command still echoed in my ears, piercing through my body like a blade.

Traces on my wrists and neck burned. I know the feeling of chains, but their angelic version was something else on my sinful skin.

Oh fuck it, I became properity of an angel

From her bewildered eyes, I gleaned that she has no idea what just happened. Does she even know about soul contracts in hell? If not, it's better to keep it that way. "Give me a second," I propped myself up on trembling hands, clumsily attempting to stand, "and I'll explain everything."

I felt a slender arm lifting me up. She gripped my face, examining it from every angle.

"We will talk later," she uttered with a gaze lowered.

I tried to read something from her expression, but with a stony demeanor, she turned towards the balcony.

A strong gust of wind forced me to lean on a cane and close my eyes. When I reopened them, Y/N had dissolved into the air. Only the shadow of wings traversed the crowd gathered below.

Simultaneously, giving me time for deep reflection on how to deal with this... unconventional situation."

#alastor imagine #alastor radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #hazbin charlie #hazbin spoilers #fanfiction

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glyphknight · 11 months

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**Hey, friends. What are you planning to do this Apogee Solstice?**

Essek: Knitting furiously to distract me from the temptation to do something very ambitious and stupid and wonderful and I wonder what possibilities...? Maybe we can make a time-warp demiplane and finally learn the secrets of the Lux…no no no! Help Caleb. I’m just helping Caleb. But we could probably look into a few things together. That should be fine…right…?

Yussa: Oh, I am 100% making my own time warp demiplane. *is already casting*

Ludinus: Releasing a god-eater that haunts the moon so I can kill all the gods. This will definitely go exactly as planned and not have any massive collateral damage. And if it does kill a bunch of innocent people or ruin the world as we know it it’ll be worth it. Even though I’ve left a long trail of accidental collateral damage over the past century alone, the face-eating red moon leopard will definitely not eat my face because I am a genius. No, I am not being manipulated. That is preposterous. I refer you to my previous statement regarding my genius.

Astrid: Tapping into my inner Laerryn-meets-Portia to learn some great arcane feat for myself and make my mark on history and also situate myself to take over the Assembly if Ludinus ever gets his face eaten off by some metaphorical or literal magical face-eating leopard. Also spying on literally everyone. (But that’s just a Tuesday for me.)

Caleb: Ja, well, I had wanted to study Leylines and perhaps make a new rainbow castle on another plane for my friends, but I guess I’m stopping all these ****ing wizards now.

Allura: I am also stopping the wizards. *sigh* Kima, I’ll be home late…

Planerider Ryn: I did my part. Got turned into a statue. Think I'm gonna vacay in the Astral Sea for a bit.

Eadwulf: *somewhere, holding a very powerful mysterious glowing MacGuffin that just revealed itself with the coming of the Solstice* *stares at it* Ja, cool. *pockets it*

#critical role #the mighty nein #apogee solstice #what's sexier than wizards?#nothing!#caleb widogast #yussa errenis #essek thelyss #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #allura vysoren #ludinus da'leth #planerider ryn #all the wizards!#I'm sure I missed a bunch

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katnissmellarkkk · 11 months

Text

I did a lil search for all the times Katniss talked about Peeta’s blue eyes. Or called them those blue eyes. She was so mesmerized by his eyes lbr 😭. Anyways, enjoy!

The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I’ve seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place.

It’s not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta’s hand. That’s how tightly I’ve been holding it. I look down at our linked fingers as I loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. “Please. I might fall out of this thing.”

“Do you mean you won’t kill anyone?” I ask.

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta.

“But you’re not,” I say. “None of us are. That’s how the Games work.”

“Okay, but within that framework, there’s still you, there’s still me,” he insists. “Don’t you see?”

“A little. Only . . . no offense, but who cares, Peeta?” I say.

“I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?” he asks angrily. He’s locked those blue eyes on mine now, demanding an answer.

I look up into those blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly and remember how, just a year ago, I was prepared to kill him. Convinced he was trying to kill me. Now everything is reversed. I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments.

“Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.

The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?”

“It worked,” I say.

“But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door.

Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak.

Through the water in the glass, I see a distorted image of one of Peeta’s hands. The burn marks. We are both fire mutts now. My eyes travel up to where the flames licked across his forehead, singeing away his brows but just missing his eyes. Those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Just as they do now.

#everlark #thg #hunger games #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #bookcomb ♥️🔎

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dyoniawrites · 3 months

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Writing Share Tag!

Thank you @drchenquill for this tag.

I’ll share a bit from my current WIP: Horror Vacui.

Enjoy!

————

“No need, Mr. Eyre,” she said. I would have protested had it been anyone else. However, I found myself quite content to relax and fold my hands in my lap obediently. I wondered what I had done to merit her attention. Perhaps I had frightened students or offended the Assembly in some way. I found myself beginning to panic. Gray stopped immediately in front of a pair of two solid oak doors.

“Mr. Eyre,” she said, and her eyes bore into mine.

Did she have any other expression? I wondered to myself

“I understand that the past few years, and few months in particular, have not been easy on you,” she said, her tone and gaze slightly softened. I had been expecting a lecture, or some sort of reprimand, but this caught me off guard.

“I want you to understand that had I any warning, this issue would have been addressed sooner. However,” she said, removing her glasses and wiping them with her loose sleeve, “considering the circumstances, I thought it best to bring you up to date on....certain matters as soon as possible.” She returned her spectacles to their rightful place, atop her nose. “Please take as much time as you need, and come see me immediately when you leave this room. Do you understand?” She asked expectantly. And there it was.

This was about her.

They had finally found her, and it was my fault.

My fault that she was gone, my fault that she had left.

“Mr.Eyre,” Gray snapped, and I then realized everything had faded out of focus momentarily. “Are you listening?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, I think. I couldn't be sure. I couldn't hear anything above the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. This was my fault, and she wanted me to know it.

“Then go in,” she said gently, nodding to the overbearing doors ahead of me, “When you're ready.” With that, she turned once more, heading towards the interior rooms down the hall. I looked up at the only thing separating me from Zyra, now. This was it. I knew this would happen. I knew she hadn't found anything. I knew it had taken her too long.

“And Dorian,” Gray called back, her voice resonating against the metallic walls. Startled, I turned to look at her. “Take all the time you need,” she said, smiling softly before continuing down the walkway.

It's just a door, I told myself. I reached for the handle and made my way inside.

————

Gently tagging @sapphicwizards @illarian-rambling @glasshouses-and-stones @iridessence @finickyfelix @boomiburst + an open tag

#wrtblr #writing tag game #wip #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr community

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mistilteinn-magolor · 5 months

Text

hey guys so im very normal about magolor and therefore i took a song thats very magolor (the only house thats not on fire (yet)) and made a whole animatic script thingy for it :333

edit i may have forgotten to link the song here it is :33:

see under cut this shit is way too long to not do that lmao:

I feel knotted up today

But in a most exquisite way

Like neckties or like macramé

Bowlines and zeppelin bends

[magolor has just landed in another dimension, and is struggling with losing his powers]

If you were a theremin

I wouldn't know where to begin

My hands would stay here on my chin

With a hum that never ends

[magolor is thinking abt kirby here.... perhaps thinking about getting his revenge]

This suit doesn't fit me

I made it myself, counterfeitly

With buttons of blue

Killing me with déjà vu

[hes going through another dimension fighting all the elemental bosses and gathering the fruit fragments, regaining his powers as he goes thanks to the power of the fruit fragments]

It's a gift for you

When I escape at last

When enough time has passed

But something keeps me as a pet

The only house that's not on fire yet

I made it when I was an architect

This is just the side effect

["It's a gift for you/When I escape at last" - magolor collects all the fruit fragments, therefore assembling the gem apple seed. the rest is the master crown taking the gem apple seed and becoming the crowned doomer, magolor beating it up, it becoming the tree crown thingy, magolor beating it up (at the end with the sword too, with him thinking about how kirby took him down w the ultra sword and how hes doing the same to the crown), and then magolor jumping through the portal to the dream kingdom and landing there in the interlude between the last lyric above here and the next below]

I feel strangely regular

But honestly, I prefer it to

The usual bizarre

Damn that oxymoron

[magolor begins running his shoppe, befriending the residents of the dream kingdom while selling wares]

If you were a piece of dust

I'd shine a light through the busted window

And I'd learn to trust

In the updraft that you're on

[but oh shit whats this- its team kirby! theyre buying his wares, adventuring and taking down enemies and magolor, upon seeing them each time, gets a massive wave of guilt for what he did to the real kirby from dreamland, and he thinks about seeing him again]

Click, click, auto-focus

The film's in the can like hocus-pocus

A picture of you

Killing me with déjà vu

[him thinking about kirby again,,, damn he really messed up didnt he. he pulls out a picture of kirby for going with the lyrics convenience (tho he wouldnt have one in canon bc he lost everything, and im p sure the dream kingdom doesnt have cameras lmao so it couldnt be one with that kirby) aaanyway massive guilt attack!!! yay!!!]

Don't know what I'll do when I escape at last

When the end of time has passed

But something keeps me as a pet

The only house that's not on fire yet

I made it when I was an architect

This is just the side effect

[magolor finding a way to get back to dreamland (bc of a rly good fic i read i hc the lor showed up one day, finding its captain and he lived in the lor for a while in the dream kingdom before he was ready to go back to dreamland home, so that lmfao)]

The punch line is there is no punch line

The punch line is that there is no punch line

The punch line is there is no punch line

The punch line is that there is no punch line

The punch line is there is no punch line

[throughout the entire interlude with the punch line, well, line, magolor has made his way back to dreamland and apologizes profusely to kirby and co., and kirby forgives him immediately, dedede takes a minute but when he realizes just how sorry he is he forgives him, for meta knight, it takes a while before he can even think about trusting him again, but eventually he is able to trust him with certain things (eg looking after kirby for x reason) but he doesnt forgive him lmao, and for bandee... eeeehh, he tolerates him, but thats about it lmfao]

Oh! I just thought of how to change all the hate

Into love with the old switcheroo

Dancing in my déjà vu

You'll be dancing, too

When I escape at last

When the future is the past

But something keeps me as a pet

The only house that's not on fire yet

The only house that's not on fire (yet)

[magolor hanging out with his friends he apologized to, and some of the star allies too, heh. it ends on a black screen to quickly fade in to a polaroid picture of magolor and kirby, with the caption written below by magolor in blue ink saying "Best friends! <3" (except the heart is a drawn heart not a text heart lmao), to slowly fade to black.]

#squirrel's clan meetings #kirby #magolor #lemon demon

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copperbadge · 10 months

Note

Told my therapist about NaClYoHo, and she likes the idea a lot. But she had a really important question that I couldn't answer: What happens at the end of November for people who want or need to continue?

Hey, I told mine too! She thought it was a smart way to systematize something that even people without ADHD struggle with. I did write a little about this in the manifesto but not in a systemic way, and perhaps I should add some kind of "What Happens After November?" onto the end, so thank you for asking this question!

No system works for every person, and often if a system does work, only part of it works. So when I went to write the manifesto, I wanted to make it as modular as possible. There's a reason that while NaClYoHo is a community, it's a very loose one, without a messageboard or discord or anything that would more intentionally bring people together. This is meant to be a framework on which you build your own home, not an apartment building.

So honestly, what happens at the end of November is up to you.

(I'm assuming for the rest of this post that you've been participating, but if you haven't, that's okay -- most of this should still apply, it's just less about "continuing momentum" and more about "committing to an idea".)

I talk a little in the manifesto about how doing this can help to systematize it -- having spent 30 days putting on a podcast and cleaning can teach you that it's easier than you think, and can put you in the habit. So if you feel it's good for you, keep doing what you're doing. Even posting about it, if you want. Maybe find a buddy you can talk to about it, or give it five minutes in therapy every week.

That said, doing this Every Day For A Month can also be tiring. I find it stressful! I manage the stress, but right now I look forward to giving myself permission not to see something dirty or broken and feel compelled to clean or fix it. Part of doing this in November, for me, is that the rest of the year I can say "Well, that's a November problem" and let it go. So you can, instead of keeping on, start keeping notes about what needs to be done, and either wait until next November, or designate a time period every few months to take care of it. Or have one day a week that's the Salty Pirate day, where you do dishes, or vacuum, or fold laundry or whatever.

NaClYoHo is going to taper gently for me -- it ends tomorrow, but some stuff is going to linger, like the craft projects I need to finish or the furniture I need to assemble that hasn't arrived yet. You can also do that -- keep cleaning as long as you have energy and, once you're feeling tired, stop for a bit.

Now, bearing in mind that I'm just a guy on the internet, it seems like your therapist is engaged with your process, so I would recommend bringing it back to her. She seems like the ideal person to help you make a plan for after November -- you can examine your options, maybe come up with some I haven't named, and discuss how each of them might impact you. And if you're checking in with her about it going forward, she can help you gauge how you're doing with it. At some point it might just be so habitual you don't need to worry about it as a process anymore -- or at some point you might need to set yourself a boundary.

It can be a little intimidating to put yourself so fully in control of something, but the only way you make this work for you is to make it your own. Whether that means continuing on with your whole chest, or shrinking it down for the rest of the year, or stopping -- you get to decide.

Good luck. :) And give your therapist a high five for me.

#naclyoho #national clean your home month

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improvised-finish · 9 days

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FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #14 - Telling

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: Indirect spoilers for events in Endwalker, story is set during the 6.55 MSQ

Summary: When Lehon'a and her co-Warrior of Light Ar'beunti meet a certain someone from the New World, Lehon'a notices that her closest friend might have some feelings about them, and decides to make herself Beau's wingman (whether she asked or not).

Check it out below, or on Ao3:

The four of them had gathered outside the Studium at Erenville’s request: Lehon’a, Ar’beunti, G’raha, and Krile. It seemed one of his contacts from abroad sought a meeting with the Warriors of Light; about what, none of them knew, but he’d made it sound important, so here they were.

“I present to you…” Erenville trailed off, clearly expecting his mystery guest to be right behind him.

“It seems you’ve lost her,” G’raha replied as he shared a small laugh with Lehon’a, who had her arm perched on his right shoulder.

“Did she… wander off, perhaps?” Krile offered, in a ‘I really hope it’s not the case because that would be really awkward’ sort of tone.

Erenville looked down with a sigh that spoke to a sort of unsurprised disappointment. At that moment, as if taunting him, the doors behind him opened.

“Sorry, sorry! Everything is just so different here– I can’t help but want to explore!”

Everyone turned to face the voice of the newcomer who strode through the doors, her unfamiliar accent clearly catching everyone’s interest. Well, everyone except Erenville, who had clearly dealt with this propensity for “exploring” on more than one prior occasion.

“Well, while you were exploring, your candidates came to us,” he elaborated, trying and not entirely succeeding at keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

The stranger took a quick look around the assembled group, before zeroing in on Ar’beunti.

“Ooo… You weren’t exaggerating, it’s plain she’s no ordinary woman,” the stranger said. It was clear she was talking to Erenville, but Lehon’a could see there was the tiniest little spark of something in the way that the stranger said those words as she looked Beau up and down, something that went beyond simple admiration for strength or magical prowess.

“That’s one of the Warriors I spoke of,” Erenville interjected, pointing at Lehon’a. “The other is standing there, on the left.”

“Ah, I see! With your strength combined on our side, there’s no way we can lose! But I’m getting ahead of myself,” she said, clearly quite excited. “I’m Wuk Lamat, claimant to the throne of Tuliyollal, and I want you to come with me to my homeland.”

Lehon’a looked around to see shocked reactions on everyone’s faces that certainly matched her own, save for one. Beau certainly looked surprised, no question about that, but she also looked the tiniest bit flustered, in a way that no one else was likely to notice. Given that the shenanigans in Thavnair that had led to Lehon’a drunkenly asking out both of her crushes at once were still fresh in her mind, she wondered whether this was how she and her partners had looked, long, long ago. On the off-chance it was, Lehon’a gave Beau a tiny reassuring smile, and then made a note to perhaps ask her about it later, when they could speak in confidence.

At Erenville’s urging, Wuk Lamat continued with a more thorough explanation of the situation: something about the current Dawnservant and a “rite of succession” with another candidate like herself who she sought to keep from claiming the throne. Lehon’a mostly tuned it out, though; she was too busy glancing back at Ar’beunti, trying to catch any clues in her face or body language that might hint at her friend’s feelings.

Lehon’a hadn’t noticed anything noteworthy, though. She’d honestly started to question her own earlier assumptions until Wuk Lamat made mention of going on a hunt together, at which point the nervous excitement mixed with a bit of confusion appeared on Beau’s face again, a little more noticeable than the last time. Lehon’a saw her opportunity to contribute a bit of well-meaning chaos, and she took it.

“Hey Beau, how about you take the lead on this ‘hunt’? You can show our guest here some serious magical firepower,” she said, a knowing smirk already plastered on her face.

There’s no telling what she’s truly feeling, Lehon’a thought to herself, but hopefully a nudge here or there might help her figure it out.

#ffxiv #lehon'a nhavareh #my wol #warrior of light #my writing #ffxivwrite2024 #ar'beunti nuva #not my wol #wuk lamat #krile #g'raha tia #erenville #old sharlayan #6.55 spoilers #beau and lamaty'i will be a thing but not until the events of dawntrail so #for now you get slow burn :P

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winters8child · 1 month

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It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 71

Whenever Nat managed to find a spare moment, she would drop by in the weeks that followed. Each visit brought bits and pieces of her latest missions and updates about Steve. Her reports were always mixed with an undercurrent of concern. Steve had become a shell of his former self, barely speaking to anyone, including her, and retreating into what used to be our shared room. The weight of his isolation was evident in her tone.

They had assigned a new agent to Steve—someone codenamed Agent 13. Nat was unusually vague about her as if she was carefully navigating around a topic she didn’t want to fully address. I couldn't help but suspect that her reticence had something to do with the way Agent 13 was growing closer to Steve. Nat’s evasive answers and the way she changed the subject suggested she was trying to spare me from uncomfortable truths about the new agent’s presence.

We hadn’t really discussed the specifics of this break. Was Steve thinking about dating anyone else? I knew I had no intention of doing so, but perhaps he did. Nat had mentioned that Steve was isolating himself, which didn’t exactly suggest he was keen on pursuing new relationships.

I had so many questions swirling in my mind, but the thought of talking to Steve directly to get answers was more daunting than reassuring. Amidst all this chaos, my thoughts kept drifting to Bucky. I found myself wondering if he had already left for Romania and if our paths would ever cross again. The uncertainty gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent in the sea of my daily distractions.

During this turmoil, I found myself contemplating returning to nursing. Even though I was still receiving payments for being part of the Avengers I kept sending the checks back. There was a sense of purpose in nursing that I missed, a chance to connect with people and help them heal, even as my own heart felt so fractured.

A job seemed like it might offer a much-needed distraction, I thought because living like this felt like a nightmare. No matter how much I tried to rearrange things or hide Steve’s belongings, this place was saturated with our past. Every corner, every object seemed to echo memories of him.

I spent my days waiting for Nat’s visits, clinging to the rare moments of connection. The rest of the time, I was confined to my bed, unable to find any solace in sleep.

My plans to return to a semblance of normalcy were abruptly shattered the day Nat’s call came through, her voice tight with tension. "You need to come to the Compound," she said, each word weighted with urgency. "General Ross wants to talk to us... all of us."

A wave of anxiety surged through me. The idea of going back to the Compound filled me with dread. It wasn’t just the thought of seeing Steve again that unsettled me—it was the crushing realization that I might be drawn back into this life I’d hoped to leave behind forever. The prospect of facing not only him but the entire tangled web of Avengers’ affairs was almost too much to bear.

I made a concerted effort to look human again, even going so far as to apply makeup and slip into a pretty dress. I recalled my mother’s advice: no matter how sad I felt, making myself look good would somehow help lift my spirits. Yet, as I stared at my reflection, meticulously dressed and dolled up, I found myself disagreeing with her. The effort seemed futile; my reflection only highlighted the chasm between the image I projected and the turmoil I felt inside.

I took a cab to the Compound, my heart racing the entire drive as the driver made futile attempts at casual conversation. I barely responded, lost in my own anxious thoughts, and he soon gave up, focusing on the road ahead.

When I stepped into the meeting room, I found everyone already assembled. Nat immediately sprang from her seat and wrapped me in a warm hug, and I clung to the comforting embrace, grateful for her unwavering support.

Sam greeted me next, offering a reassuring pat on the back. "It’s good to have you back," he said with a genuine smile, though his eyes briefly flicked toward Steve. Steve, meanwhile, was engrossed in the pen he was twisting between his fingers, deliberately avoiding eye contact. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, and Steve’s detachment was palpable, casting a shadow over the room’s otherwise welcoming gestures.

"I'm not really back, Sam, but thanks," I replied with a faint smile as I took a seat in the empty chair next to Nat.

"Ross should be here any minute," Tony said from his spot in the corner, where he was leaning casually, his tone betraying none of the tension that crackled in the room. Everyone else was seated around the table, a silent testament to the gravity of the meeting. Even Wanda was present; Nat had informed me that she was now part of the Avengers. It was hard to push aside the unsettling memories Wanda had once stirred in me, but I reminded myself that it was no longer my concern about who was on the team or why. For now, I had to focus on what was about to unfold.

I dared to glance at Steve for just a second, only to find him already looking at me. He appeared exhausted, with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. The sight was jarring, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise at the intensity of his gaze. As he seemed poised to say something, Ross’s abrupt entrance cut through the moment. “Thank you for coming,” he announced with a commanding tone, immediately shifting the room's focus and severing the brief, unspoken connection between Steve and me.

Ross launched into his prepared speech with an authoritative tone. "Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my backswing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass... I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the room, his expression serious. "But while many people see you as heroes, there are others who would prefer to call you 'vigilantes.'" His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken implications, setting the stage for whatever came next.

Natasha locked eyes with Ross, her confidence unwavering. "And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" she asked, her voice steady and challenging.

Ross didn’t hesitate, his tone turning stern and accusatory. "How about dangerous?" he replied, letting the word linger in the air like a warning.

Ross continued, his voice growing more pointed. "What would you call a group of U.S.-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders, inflict their will wherever they choose, and, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?"

The rhetorical question hung in the air, dripping with accusation. He was no longer just addressing the room; he was laying out a case, his words carefully chosen to provoke and challenge the very foundation of what the Avengers stood for.

Ross activated the screen behind him, and it flickered to life, displaying footage of the devastation from New York, Washington D.C., Sokovia, and the most recent incident in Lagos. The scenes were brutal—cities in ruins, people fleeing in terror. The sheer scale of the destruction was horrifying, a stark reminder of the collateral damage left in the wake of these battles.

As the footage shifted, my heart sank. The screen flickered again, and there I was, my face contorted in fury as I shot a Hydra scientist. The image was haunting, capturing a side of me I wished I could forget. I could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, but I was unable to tear my gaze away from the screen as it flickered again, showing another moment—this time, me in an elevator, slamming my gun into a man's face before driving my knee into his stomach. The violent images were a harsh reminder of the lengths I had gone to, and seeing them displayed so starkly made my skin crawl.

The screen shifted one final time, and there I was again—this time on the helicarrier, guns in hand, with the Winter Soldier by my side. The cold, determined expression on my face was unmistakable as I fired at every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who crossed my path. The relentless, unflinching violence on display felt like a punch to the gut.

Steve finally broke the tense silence, his voice firm but tinged with something close to disbelief. "Okay. That's enough." His eyes were locked on me, and the shock in them was unmistakable. The images had clearly shaken him—images of me doing things he hadn’t known about, things I had never wanted him to see.

The final nail in our broken relationship.

Next Chapter

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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avoidantrecovery · 1 month

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many many moons ago, when i was still in school, a boy confessed to me. or maybe he confessed to me, the thing is i don't think i'll ever know.

this avoidant thing is a real bitch, and quite frankly i don't know how others do it. when i wake up, feeling a bit less crazy than usual, i just have to remember this event and yeah, no normal person does this, but also idk.

we were on a school trip and i was smitten, okay? the kind of crush you can only have when you're seventeen. but at the same time, remember i am already in depth of my avoidance. in the depths of not talking about myself or connecting with others genuinely. i don't talk about this crush, he is a secret i harbour in the deepest depths of my consciousness, you couldn't have tortured his name out of me at that point. i couldn't even admit this crush to myself, even my diary is devoid of any mention of him. but when i saw him in school, my head would turn towards him like a freaking sunflower towards the sun, whilst hoping i was not too obvious about it all. did i mention that i sat next to him at the time, we shared a double desk lol.

so, fall turned into winter and nothing much changed. despite sharing a desk, we were not close and only exchanged a few polite words every day. every now and then he'd rope me into small conversations, but i was convinced he was just polite or perhaps it was just some ploy to get me to get my guard down/humiliate myself. (this was the peer-abuse trauma still reverberating). in fact i would try to observe if he was talking to others this way, too. and though i never saw him do it, i just shrugged it off. i may have had a crush on him, but there was no way it could happen the other way around.

winter turned into early spring and our school trip finally came. it was a week-long school exchange to a neighbouring country. half way through the week, we went to the morning assembly of our partner school with our exchange partners and all we had to do is sit around since we didn't speak their language. anyway, suddenly, this boy was on the stage with his partner and locked eyes with me and said something in their language. i just sat there looking kind of out of place and then the moment passed. i never understood what he actually said or whether he said it to me or just my general direction. my exchange partner, a really sweet girl, tapped me on my shoulders and was like, "i think..., i think he just said he likes you". and the only way i can explain what happened next, because i was shaken to the core and scared, is that trauma brain kicked in, because i just said "oh no, i don't think so" and that was that. regardless of whether that was a weird way to confess or not, in front of everyone, or i misunderstood the situation, that moment felt like death to me, that i narrowly managed to escape. also, strangely enough he never brought it up again either.

it's only recently i have been able to put together what i think happened (at least on my end). i've mentioned a couple of times how, much earlier than that, when i was a new kid in sixth grade, my classmates nearly drowned me. well, what i didn't mention is how it happened, it involved a lot of gaslighting me into believing they were my friends, a lot of lying and pretending essentially. and the day it happened, i had already decided that these classmates of mine were bad and that i would be very careful around them. ironically enough it was also a school trip, a daytrip to a pool. anyway, they spent the whole day trying to get back into my good graces, because i was fine playing on my own and just doing my own thing, ignoring them, i was grayrocking them pretty much.

but then this little hopeful voice in me kind of came up and said, but what if..., what if they actually finally want to be your friend? that voice was good and brave and hopeful and essentially it's that voice that we all have, that pushes us over the edge when we need that extra push to be brave, you know? and it told me how nice it would be to have friends to play with and not be alone. it told me to put my doubts aside and just try. i told them i wasn't a strong swimmer, and they insisted that that was no issue and they'd take me to the deep end with them no issue. and so i went with them. and just when i took that leap of faith, they left me alone for dead, nearly drowning me. it nearly cost me my life. and i think from that day onwards, that voice has been quiet. the one that makes us take a leap, you know?

and so i think when my crush locked eyes with me and said whatever it is he said, i was essentially (without being aware of it in the moment obv.) in the same situation, the kind that needs you to be vulnerable, have hope, be brave and take that leap of faith. and instead i felt like i was dying (drowning?) and just wanted to get out of the situation as fast as i could, like that kind of situation that needs you to be brave is also a trauma trigger. and i was convinced that it was just some ploy to trick me or humiliate me or maybe he lost a bet or sth, and i was not a dummy, i wasn't going to fall for that.

another moment that i remember from that trip is the whole class being invited to this youth center type place to hang out in the evening. since we were all scattered across the little town, his exchange partner who happened to live close to mine, offered to drive us but when they came to pick us up, he asked whether i wanted to watch a movie at his exchange partners house instead. i remember saying, we can't just watch a movie together, the others will wonder where we are. i didn't say no lol. but we ended up going to the youth center place. but the thing is, he never asked me watch movies when we were back home, why there? and again, he never brought it up again.

anyway, this is a story that has just been knocking about in my head recently when dealing with limerence and trauma and all this. i guess i'm writing it in an effort to "talk about me" from the quote i linked above. and since i don't have anyone i could possibly tell this story irl, typing it out will do for now. i'm kind of hoping this will purge it out of my system hopefully.

fun fact, because of the kind of job he does now, i had the pleasure of being jumpedscared by him on a billboard near my place. i also looked him up recently in the hopes of finding some anti-limerence information, so my digust (or disinterest) would finally help me put this chapter to rest. i went in thinking i will find some information that will just make me think ewwwww, but instead i folded as soon as i opened his insta. i folded like the weak bitch that i am, what can i say, he still has great arms. 🤷🏾‍♀️

if you've read this far, i am so sorry 😭😭

#avpd ramblings #limerence be gone #tales from mercury in retrograde #an exercise in purging #an exercise in becoming human once more

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celestiall0tus · 3 months

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Court of Miracles - Chapter 12 - Assembly

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Adrienne took her seat in the council room with the other heirs. She scanned the room for Luka but didn’t see him present by the time Marc took his seat. Nerves clawed at her as she stared at his empty seat.

“I call together this meeting to discuss the evening of the Winter Solstice. The incident in question is Juleka and her disregard for the celebration and humiliating the court. I know many of you have concerns that you’ve discussed with me. I call to those to state their case,” Marc announced.

Felix was the first to stand. “With all due respect, punishment needs to be delivered. She blatantly strolled in, soured the entire celebration, and then insulted every one of us. We cannot allow this behavior to go without some consequence.”

Marc hesitated. “Well, I… will consider it.”

“Consider it? Consider what? Letting her off the hook? Letting her continue on with this insulting, rude behavior? She needs to be reminded of her place!”

“And what is her place, oh mighty Black Cat? What is her place as a Shifter?” Nathalie challenged.

Felix opened his mouth but shut it.

“Perhaps it is better you think before you open that trash chute you call a mouth. Need I remind you that Juleka has only been here for two weeks. In that time, she’s been holed up in the greenhouse with only the other snakes, Sass, and Mylene having constant contact with her. In all that time, has anyone shared with her how things are supposed to even work?” Nathalie questioned.

“Mylene, would you possibly know?” Marc asked.

“Well, I’ve tried. Whenever it’s just us, I try talking to her, but she usually dismisses anything regarding the court. Even when she speaks with Sass, he never addresses court formalities. I did tell her what the Winter Solstice was about, but she just kept going on about it being a season of death and saying we shouldn’t be throwing big parties like this. Then the whole thing at the actual event,” Mylene explained.

“Speaking of, I know a fair few also spoke up about her dower mood and… misguided ideas about the celebration of the solstice. I figured perhaps we could discuss that as well along with her… behavior. Perhaps we could get a voice from our kwamis as well?” Marc asked.

Silence passed through the room as the kwamis materialized as a mix of human and kwami forms.

“E-excellent. So, uh, who’d like to start?”

Gimmi, Marc’s kwami, stepped forward. “I would. With the events in question, Juleka and Sass acted as was tradition. This season is that of death. For us to celebrate like we do now is a mockery of how it’s meant to be. I imagine having not only the first Highborn since the Black Death and to also have the first shift in more than a thousand years, Sass likely wanted a return to form. And Juleka seemed to be following her instincts as the Highborn shifter that she is. As such, I move that nothing is done to her, but a reflection on the court and what it means to be the representatives of your concept. Right, Vana?”

Vana looked up from the sketchbook he looked over with Nathaniel. “What? Oh, yes, sure. Whatever you say, Gimmi.”

“Are you even paying attention?”

Vana turned back to the sketchbook. “Of course. Solstice. Tradition. All that nonsense.”

Gimmi rolled her eyes. “What of my brothers and sister? Please, share your thoughts.”

“I enjoyed it. Didn’t realize how much I missed the traditional celebrations until Sass and the shifter brought it back. Better than celebrating with those parties,” Plagg remarked.

“I don’t care for the season and personally prefer the parties, but this isn’t my season. It’s Plagg’s. Still, I enjoyed the change of pace,” Tikki commented.

“I speak for Ursa and myself that we prefer the return to traditional celebrations. We’ve seen countless versions of this season across the universe, and it is celebrated as Juleka and Sass did that night,” Oron declared.

“Same for Moirai and myself. All things have a beginning and an end. We celebrate the beginning in spring, the joys of life in summer and autumn, but winter continues that when we should be celebrating the end of all things. Parties are nice, but we are betraying ourselves by continuing with these newer ways,” Orsus announced.

“Winter has no influence on my concept, and I have no opinion on the matter,” Aislinn said.

“I love the idea of returning to form. Don’t know why we stopped in the first place. Sure, not all winters are the same, but it is a time of quiet, hibernation, and a fight for survival. Plus, parities are stupid,” Longg hissed.

“They are not! But I do agree that a return to tradition wouldn’t be the worst thing. Though, can we keep things looking pretty? Longg said it herself. Winter isn’t the same everywhere and we should be allowed to have some pretty things and not just ugly barren snow wastelands,” Duusu complained.

“I like the idea of changing things back to how they were. Perhaps we can remind more of the heirs of their places, so to speak,” Nooroo said as he shot a glance at Felix.

“Whatever they want,” Wayzz commented.

“No comment,” Terra said.

“I think it’s a good idea. We spend the longer seasons all wrapped up in everything that it’d be nice to return to form. I actually had some ideas of how to enhance the season throughout and not just for the solstice,” Psyche declared.

Vana cooed. “You’ll have to share those with me.”

“Later. Memoria, Lethe, continue,” Gimmi said.

“It might be for the best, it just can be hard. We had this change because the heirs needed a change. They needed something to lift them up, especially after the mentioned Black Death,” Memoria reminded.

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that, but that was then, no? Shouldn’t we just forge ahead?” Lethe asked.

“We should. Winter has always been about learning from our past and preparing for something new. The time after the Black Death has long since passed and we should have returned to form a long time ago,” Luz pointed out.

“Whatever you guys want. I’ll just enjoy everything the back here,” Trixx remarked.

“Silkii and I’s concepts have no place with winter, so no comment,” Pollen said.

“I feel it is best to have this return,” Fang said.

“And I think based on the past and what has been shown, we should have more return to form than just the Winter Solstice,” Min commented.

“Agreed! There’s so much more we could improve to better connect with our heirs again. Right, Daizzi?” Mullo asked.

Daizzi shrugged.

“Well, yes, but we do need to careful about how we approach it. Sudden shifts may cause more distress and discomfort. We need to go about it carefully,” Fluff pointed out.

“I agree. You’ll have more problems if you move too quickly,” Kaalki added.

“C’mon, everyone! We never babied the heirs or families before. When we spoke, our words were final. Let’s just return to form. Sass showed us what we could have again, so let’s do it!” Roarr exclaimed.

“Unless you’re all too scared,” Styx mocked.

“This is all stupid,” Orikko grumbled.

“Well, it’s… concerning, but it might be a nice start. I know I’d like to have better connections with my pups,” Barkk stated.

“C’mon, winter can be more than depressing nothingness! We should keep the parties and remind people it’s still a fun season!” Xuppu argued.

“Not everything is fun, Xuppu. Winter is supposed to be a time of quiet and reflection. As the others have stated, it is a time of death and quiet,” Corbin countered.

“Exactly. Rest is very important,” Mell said.

“Sure, whatever he said,” Stompp added.

“I agree with the others to return to form. Not all celebrations need to be wild, crazy parties, and Sass reminded us of that,” Ziggy said.

Mill nodded.

Adrienne watched the other heirs speak with their kwamis while Marc looked down at his hands. The uneasiness in her stomach clawed its way to her throat. She fought to keep it down when Marc looked to the council.

“Take your kwami’s words into consideration for this vote. Know that whatever is decided here I will convene with Velze about our next steps. The matter is this: do we return to tradition and how we used to celebrate the winter and abstain punishment for Juleka and Sass, or do we keep with how we celebrate now and punish the pair. We’ll start with Nathaniel and work our way down the ranks. Nathaniel?” Marc announced.

Nathaniel blinked and looked around. “What are we talking about again?”

Marc pursed his lips as he fought for composure. “New addition to the vote! You can be for the change, against the change, or no vote. Nathaniel is no vote. I, myself, vote for a change. Marinette? Felix?”

“I agree with Tikki that this isn’t my area to speak, but I wouldn’t be against it,” Marinette said.

“What? Absolutely not! Juleka and Sass need to be punished. These are not our ways!” Felix roared.

“Are you kidding? Could you not imagine all the things we could discover? All the different traditions we’ve abandoned that we can bring back? I’m all for the return!” Jalil cheered.

“It’d be a nice change of pace and a different way to celebrate. You all have no idea how hard it is to really plan all these silly parties you seem to like to throw. Let’s change shit up,” Alix commented.

“I like the parties. I vote to keep them,” Aeon said.

“We’re celebrating one way or another, so I don’t care,” Mireille said.

“Our concept may have no place in winter, but I still say no to returning to tradition,” Wayhem said.

“I mean, I suppose there’s no harm?” Mylene asked.

“I see no issue, but I want to keep some pretty things. I agree with Duusu that not all of winter should be seen as ugly,” Adrienne said.

“What? No! We shouldn’t change things if they aren’t broken. Right, Socqueline?” Zoe pressed.

Socqueline hesitated as she looked at Marinette, then Zoe. “I… I… no comment!”

“I agree with Zoe. The parties aren’t hurting anyone. Besides, winter is so boring without them,” Kim complained.

“I think it might be interesting to bring back older traditions, but what if we added new stuff that aligns with it? Like Psyche suggested,” Ondine pressed.

Nora hesitated. “I don’t know. No comment.”

“No. Final answer,” Lila said.

“I’d like one season without endless parties and ruckus. The quiet would be nice to reflect before spring,” Nathalie commented.

“I’d like a season to forget, so yes,” Veronique said.

“No comment,” Chloe said.

“No way! Juleka’s ideas were boring and stupid!” Manon whined.

“I feel the same as Fang. Let’s change things,” Alya said.

“And I think the same as Min, so yes to change,” Max said.

“I like the idea of changing things back to tradition but bringing in new ideas like Ondine suggested. Let’s do that!” Jessica cheered.

“I don’t like any of this. It’s stupid and confusing. I say no,” Chris grumbled.

“I suppose we’ll see how this goes?” Ali asked as he looked at Rose.

“Y-yeah! I’m sure it’ll be amazing!” Rose cheered.

“I say let’s do it!” Fei Wu exclaimed.

“I’d rather keep things the same,” Nino muttered.

Aurore looked up from her phone and flipped off the other heirs.

Sabrina chuckled nervously. “Don’t mind her. I think we’d both like to see those changes. Maybe incorporate what Ondine and Psyche were suggesting?”

“I agree with Xuppu. My vote is no,” Bridgette said.

“I liked the Shifter’s methods. My vote is yes,” Delmar said.

“What are we talking about, Ivan?” Kagami asked.

“The Winter Solstice and returning to more relaxing ways of celebrating winter,” Ivan said.

“Oh. I want relaxing, whichever option that is,” Kagami said.

“Whatever she wants,” Ivan added.

“I could use some more relaxation. Planning these parties get so boring and hard,” Jagged Stone complained.

“You mean Penny has enough on her plate already doing the actual planning because you’re too lazy,” Ivan commented.

Jagged Stone waved his hand dismissingly.

“Um, Penny? What about you?” Marc asked.

“Huh? What? Ask me later, whatever it is. I have-,” Penny started.

Kagami shifted and touched Penny’s shoulder. Penny gasped as her eyes rolled back and she passed out.

“Uh, Kagami? Why did you-?” Marc started.

“She needed it. Even ants need sleep,” Kagami said with a yawn.

“R-right. Well, with a majority vote for change and to clear Juleka and Sass of punishment, I will bring this decision to Velze. I will also present the notion offered by Psyche and Ondine to include new ways of celebrating that reflect the original meaning of the Winter Solstice as presented by Sass, Juleka, and all records Nathalie and Jalil can retrieve.”

“You’re making a mistake, Marc,” Felix hissed.

“I… I am just the figurehead. We all decided on this, Felix. You cannot blame me just because not everyone shared your perspective. You are welcome to stay and present your case to Velze, if you think you can convince him,” Marc challenged.

Felix sneered and growled. “Are we done here?”

“Yes. Meeting adjourned. I will summon you all back once I have spoken with Velze. Kwamis, I ask you remain for this task, please.”

Everyone stood and left while Felix stormed off. Adrienne lingered a moment longer as she looked back at Luka’s empty seat. The unease didn’t fade and still held a death grip on her.

“You look ill. Are you getting sick?” Alya asked.

Adrienne jumped and took a step back. “Uh, no. I just… I’m worried. You know, Luka.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“It-it’s nothing. Just… uneasy.”

“Like something bad is going to happen?”

Adrienne looked away. “Something like that.”

“Well, don’t ignore that feeling. That’s your intuition speaking to you, fancy bird. If you feel something bad is coming, then something likely is. Keep an eye on your little toy,” Alya warned.

Adrienne paused and looked back into the council room. Thoughts of the worst case stormed her mind. She gulped and pushed them away. She reminded herself that everything would be fine. Nothing bad would happen. Everything would be fine.

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