#{I’ll lend my strength! — Ask}

[sublimeflowoftime]

There is something unnerving about this individual, but he cannot put his finger on exactly what. There are people from all different realms and countries, he simply hasn’t met someone like this. Silently, he hands her a button that says ‘likable individual.’ “Here is your prize from this experiment,” he says, and frowns a little more. “Despite making one of your conversation partners adamantly say ‘no’ with a plethora of exclamation marks, we found you were generally enjoyable company. Congratulations.”

Oh. She wasn’t aware she would be getting a reward for this. A rather useless reward, all things considered, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thank you.” She nods politely, gesturing vaguely to a nearby table since she can’t take it herself. Perhaps she can give it away to someone else with a lesser grade. She’s generous like that.

…Wait why do some people have a higher score. What is this. She’s ‘exceptional’! She’s the model of model of good behavior! Why is she not exceptional?!

“One of your conversation partners adamantly say 'no' with a plethora of exclamation marks,”

……That purple haired little brat—

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 2

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 (here) ― Part 3

Before Jinwoo woke up from his encounter with the Architect, Ashborn showed him something else or told him something else other than the war Ashborn was in. There were moments where it was showed Ashborn with someone. 

Ashborn was in a world void of war and violence, serenity and calmness as far as the eye could see. The ruler of such a place was a misty figure that barely reached Ashborn’s chest. The misty figure would reach out a hand to Ashborn and drag him around, showing him all sorts of stuff like a child, it almost resembles Earth’s nature. 

The misty figure seemed ignorant of what Ashborn is and floated around like a ghost. If it wasn’t for the fact that this misty figure didn’t share any trait of an extracted Shadow, Jinwoo would be thought this figure was one of them. 

“Monarch of Void. You can’t keep me here forever.” Ashborn spoke in the softest tone possible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call be ‘               ’? Aren’t we close enough for that?” The misty figure spoke, the voice all echoy and mythical as if everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “And for your information, I can keep you here forever. No one can enter my domain without my permission.”

“We aren’t close enough that you’d put me over your own safety nor I yours.” Ashborn sighed. “And the war is ongoing. Blank.”

The misty figure seemed to pout, how Jinwoo figured that he has no idea, “Now calling me that is just…. Whatever….” The figure turned away without a care, “So what if the war is ongoing, just let them fight to their heart’s content and we can take whatever’s left.”

Ashborn got up from his seat and headed to a direction, “I will not stand idly by.”

“You can’t leave! I forbid it!” The figure’s shout made the King of the Dead stop in his path. “If you leave… You’ll regret it! It’s all over!”

“What aren’t you telling me, King of Mist?”

The misty figure held back, staying silent. 

“You know you can’t always stay like this, yes?” Ashborn questioned, he continued without looking back. “You’re strong but you choose to hide it and lend others your strength. You know to side with the strong and aid them in return for security and safety. But what if, one day, you found someone to side with no matter their strength? And your former clients come back to bite?”

You stayed silent but muttered, “There won’t be a day. I will always prioritize myself and my survivability.”

Ashborn chuckled, “You say that now, but you never know the future. We, Monarchs and Rulers, have been here since the beginning. There can always be change. Monarch of Void.”

“...”

“There will be a time where you have to pick a side and I mean your priority won’t be just yourself.” Ashborn spoke in a lecturing manner. “Remember well, if they can’t have what they want, they would rather no one else has it.”

With a wave of a hand, a vortex opened before Ashborn. “I’ll… Keep it in mind…” The figure’s voice seemed to have cracked, “You may leave… King of the Dead.”

Then the memory played back to the war and Ashborn’s betrayal. The words of that misty figure rang in Jinwoo’s mind the moment he in Ashborn’s form was impaled. Jinwoo deduced, that misty figure already knew about the betrayal and tried to keep Ashborn from getting hurt but it wasn’t enough. That mysterious figure was the Monarch of Void and King of Mist, a master of spatial magic. 

“You’re the King of Mist, Blank, aren’t you?” Jinwoo questioned. 

“You have no right to call me that…” You hummed, “Not unless you’re Ashborn. Which you don’t appear to be.” Your eyes glowed when you stared at him, “You have a great Shadow Army and great abilities, but you’re not Ashborn. Vessel.”

Jinwoo crossed his arms, this was a bad spot to begin with. It was obvious you held nothing but annoyance towards him and maybe impatience since you kept calling him ‘Vessel’ or ask when Ashborn was going to appear. Meanwhile, he didn’t like you too, you are a Monarch and the cause of Chairman Go’s death. The barrier around his office was your work and you were there when Gunhee died, he even protected you, for some unknown reason. 

He prevented you from leaving through whatever gate that Monarch of Frost left through and thus you were pinned to the wall. Yet, if memory serves correctly, you have a misty form that could escape anytime. The question was why didn’t or haven’t you retaliate even when you were in pain?

“I’ll give you protection.” Jinwoo tried to bargain as he recalled what little information the memory flashback from the Double Dungeon gave him. “In exchange, you stay by my side.”

Your eyes blinked twice and glanced over to the daggers impaled into your vessel’s flesh. You have taken over this body completely so you do feel pain and the blood lost will be fatal. “Whatever you’re doing now is contradicting your words, Ashborn’s vessel.”

His eye twitched at the name, “Call me Jinwoo. Or Hunter Sung, even.” He thought for a second if he should let you go, but if you wanted to escape, you would have. So he summoned back his daggers and made them disappear. He took out a healing potion from his System’s store and handed it to you. “Now will you believe me and agree to my terms?”

Hesitantly, you took the potion and inspected it before drinking it down in one gulp. Within seconds of its consumption, you felt refreshed and energized that you let out a hummed moan. You exhaled and relaxed yourself, it was a familiar feeling. Perhaps it was because Jinwoo was Ashborn’s vessel that’s why you could be this way with him. “Logically speaking, I should be your enemy, wouldn’t it be… Beneficial for you to cut down the numbers?”

“You’re knowledgeable of what I want and need to know, so it’s better for me to keep you by my side.” Jinwoo answered easily, it was the perfect cover story until he could sort out his thoughts regarding you. “And I know you can make your targets more powerful.” Ever since his eyes first laid on your misty form in Ashborn/his memories, he wanted to keep you by his side. “I saw Ashborn’s memories.”

Jinwoo noticed the visible flinch and frozen state of your form when he told you that information. You appeared puzzled, your eyebrows furrowed together and your eyes looked down in deep thought, even your lips were pressed together. “There’s no way Ashborn would… He was serious? A successor…? Not a vessel?”

He couldn’t understand the phases you’d mumble from time to time. What he does know was that you were too fixiated with Ashborn. While he was grateful for this otherworldly being for giving him all this power and the opportunity to meet you, he didn’t like how you were this concerned with Ashborn when he was in front of you. 

Jinwoo flinched as he turned around, his expression that of confusion. Why was he having such thoughts? What’s it matter what you were concerned with so long as you’d be making him stronger and giving him more power to protect his loved ones? Plus the protection he offered you, was it because it was a leverage for you to stay simply because you’d be targetted by the other Monarchs? Or was there more to his own words?

“Fine, I’ll take your offer.” Your words snapped Jinwoo out of his thoughts. You waited until Jinwoo turned around and composed himself for whatever reason you didn’t care for. As long as you’re next to this Jinwoo, Ashborn’s vessel and maybe successor, you have a chance of atoning for what you did to Ashborn. Perhaps a chance to see Ashborn even for a while. 

“Great. Cool.” Jinwoo nodded. He controlled the urge to smile or raffling your hair that looked misty and soft. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck, “So, do you have a place to stay, or do you stay in some dimensional crack?”

“I have an apartment. There’s no need to worry.”

There goes his idea to have you close monitor you in close range. There was another idea… “I’ll send some Shadows on you. I can’t have you warning the other Monarchs or betraying me.”

You eyed as some Shadows moved from Jinwoo’s into yours, feeling the added weight on your form and the chills. It was a familiar feelings. Jinwoo does remind you of Ashborn but different. “Betrayal would suggest that we are close, friends even, in your human terms. So I believe the phase ‘stabbing you in the back’ would be more fitting.”

Jinwoo shrugged while internally fuming, “The idea is not to have you be a disadvantage to me or cause one.” His eyes glowed and bloodlust was released, “That understood?”

As hard as it was, you stood your ground. You laughed at yourself mentally. An enemy is still an enemy. This human was picked by Ashborn himself, so you shouldn’t have underestimate him. Even more so when he is going to be the successor instead of a mere vessel. Shamefully, you bowed your head in the form of a bow of submission. “Understood.”

Note: I've decided to continue this and turn it into a series. There's more parts to come and it will be heavy manhwa focus, plus some scenes and events will be moved around. Do join me on this journey!

Also. Happy Halloween!

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: 

@o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah

[sachaa-ff]

Gwayne Hightower x rhaenyra little sister

As you may see I may have a bit of a thing for our dear Sir Gwayne Hightower..

Request are open 🫶🏼

A Return to Kings Landing

The sun hung low in the sky as Rhaena Targaryen, the younger sister of Rhaenyra, rode into Kings Landing, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Years had passed since her marriage to Gwayne Hightower, a union forged in their youth, but now they returned not just as husband and wife, but as devoted parents of two spirited children. Their presence here would stir the waters of political intrigue, but Rhaena’s primary focus was on reuniting with her sister.

As they approached the Red Keep, the familiar sight of the castle ignited a whirlwind of memories. Rhaena recalled the laughter and dreams they shared in their youth, a bond strengthened by shared struggles and triumphs. Riding alongside Gwayne, she felt an undeniable warmth in his presence, a reassurance that everything would be all right.

“Are you ready for this?” Gwayne asked, casting a sideways glance at her, his eyes a mixture of concern and affection. His hand, strong and warm, wrapped around hers as they dismounted.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Rhaena replied, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Rhaenyra needs our support now more than ever.”

Gwayne nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “The Greens will not take kindly to our arrival. They may think your loyalty lies with them simply because of our union.”

Rhaena smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Let them think what they will. My heart has always been with Rhaenyra. We built a life together, but my loyalty to her is unshakeable.”

Gwayne’s expression softened, admiration gleaming in his eyes. “You’re remarkable, you know that? Your courage inspires me.” His voice was low, almost intimate, and Rhaena felt her heart swell.

“And your unwavering support gives me strength,” she replied, squeezing his hand, feeling the familiar spark of connection between them. “I couldn’t have done this without you by my side.”

With their children—little Alys and Jorah—clinging to their hands, they stepped into the courtyard, where the atmosphere was thick with tension. The Black faction was gathering, and whispers rippled through the crowd as they caught sight of the Hightower banner.

“Look, it’s Lady Rhaena!” a voice called out, and heads turned, eyes widening in recognition.

As they made their way through the courtyard, Rhaena could feel the weight of their gazes. Some were curious, others envious, and a few scornful. Among the crowd, Alicent Hightower’s eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable.

“Ah, the prodigal sister returns,” Alicent said, stepping forward with a forced smile. “You’ve brought your children with you. How delightful.”

Rhaena felt a flicker of tension rise. “Delightful, indeed. They’re eager to meet their cousins.”

Alicent’s smile faltered slightly. “I hope you’re prepared for what lies ahead. Rhaenyra’s claim is a precarious one.”

Rhaena met her gaze steadily. “And you think marrying into the Hightower name will shield you from the truth? We are here to support Rhaenyra. Our loyalty is not for sale.”

Gwayne interjected, his tone calm but firm. “We came to lend our support, not to bicker. Rhaena’s heart lies with her sister, and that is where our allegiance remains.”

As they moved deeper into the castle, Rhaena felt Gwayne’s hand tighten around hers, a silent promise of unity. “Let them talk,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Our family is with us, and our choice is made.”

The tension culminated in the Great Hall, where the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. Rhaenyra stood at the head of the table, a vision of determination. When she saw Rhaena and Gwayne enter, her face lit up, a mix of relief and joy washing over her.

“Rhaena!” Rhaenyra exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace her sister tightly. “You’re here! I feared you would stay away.”

“I would never abandon you,” Rhaena replied, tears of happiness welling in her eyes as they hugged. “I missed you so much! Look at how you’ve grown into such a strong leader!”

Rhaenyra pulled back, her eyes sparkling. “And you’ve become an incredible mother. I can hardly believe how big Alys and Jorah have gotten!”

Their children, a blur of excitement, raced toward Rhaenyra, eager to meet their cousins. “Aunt Rhaenyra!” Alys called, her eyes wide with awe. Jorah was right behind her, bouncing on his heels.

“Hello, my little dragons!” Rhaenyra knelt down, embracing them both. “You’re just as beautiful and brave as your mother!”

Gwayne watched the scene unfold, warmth swelling in his chest. Rhaena beamed as she watched her sister and children bond, her heart full of pride. “It’s so good to see you happy,” he said softly, turning to Rhaena. “You deserve this moment.”

Rhaena glanced at him, her eyes reflecting the affection she felt. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Gwayne. You make everything easier.”

Their laughter filled the hall, a bright spot amid the tension. Yet, as they rejoined the group, the atmosphere grew serious. Discussions turned to the political stakes, and Rhaena felt the weight of the moment.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. “What a noble display,” came the mocking tone of Larys Strong, lounging against a pillar with a smirk. “A Hightower siding with a Targaryen. How quaint.”

Rhaena felt a flicker of anger rise within her. “We are more than just names,” she shot back, her voice steady. “We stand for family, for honor. You may underestimate us, but we will not falter.”

Gwayne wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his presence a shield against the disapproval that hung in the air. “We are here to ensure our children know the true meaning of loyalty. They will grow up in a realm where Rhaenyra’s rightful place is secured.”

As the tension hung like a storm cloud, Rhaenyra raised her hand for silence. “We are all aware of the stakes. Rhaena, Gwayne, your arrival strengthens our cause. Together, we will ensure that Lucerys is recognized as the rightful heir of Driftmark.”

A collective murmur of agreement rippled through the hall. Rhaena glanced at Gwayne, their eyes meeting in a moment of understanding. They had made their choice, and they would stand firm, no matter the cost.

As the discussions continued, Rhaena felt a surge of determination. “We have a dragon,” she announced suddenly, her heart racing with pride. “Cannibal. He’s fierce and untamed, and we’ve trained him well.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Gwayne looked at her, a mixture of admiration and amusement on his face. “You plan to unleash him if things go awry?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if necessary,” Rhaena replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “But he will show them what true loyalty means. And if anyone dares to question our allegiance, they will learn the hard way.”

Gwayne chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “Just promise me you won’t let Cannibal roast any unnecessary targets. I’d prefer our enemies to face us, not our dragons.”

Their laughter, light and genuine, broke through the tension in the hall. Rhaena felt her spirits lift as they shared this moment, grateful for Gwayne’s unwavering support.

Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “A dragon is a powerful ally, Rhaena. We could use that kind of fire if the Greens decide to challenge us openly.”

Alicent’s voice rang out from across the room. “You think a beast can intimidate us? You’re merely playing into the hands of those who would use fear to control.”

Rhaena met her mother-in-law’s gaze, unwavering. “Fear is not our weapon, Alicent. Loyalty and love are what bind us. But if they threaten our family, they will see how fierce a mother can be.”

Gwayne squeezed her hand, pride radiating from him. “Rhaena speaks true. We stand together, and if our enemies come for us, they will find themselves facing not just a united front, but a firestorm.”

As the tension continued to simmer, Rhaena felt the energy in the hall shift. There was a growing understanding among the Black supporters that they were not alone. Their resolve strengthened, and they began to strategize how best to present their case for Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark.

“Let us not forget the strength of our dragons,” Rhaenyra said, rallying her supporters. “Rhaena’s Cannibal will remind them that the Targaryens are not to be trifled with.”

The crowd erupted in murmurs of agreement, a renewed sense of hope washing over them. Rhaena felt the fire in her heart grow stronger; they were ready to stand together against the tide.

As discussions wore on, Rhaena took a moment to step outside the Great Hall, needing to breathe. The cool night air enveloped her, a balm to her racing thoughts. Gwayne followed her, concern etched on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked, gently taking her hand.

“I am,” she said, though her heart still raced. “It’s just… so much is at stake. I want to ensure our children grow up in a realm where they can thrive, where they won’t have to fight for their place.”

“They will thrive because they have you as their mother,” Gwayne reassured her, drawing her closer. “And together, we will protect them and our family’s legacy.”

Rhaena looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt. Instead, she found unwavering support and love. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Gwayne. Your strength gives me hope, especially in times like these.”

His thumb brushed her cheek, a tender gesture that sent warmth through her. “You give me hope too. You’re a fierce warrior in your own right, Rhaena. You’ve always been. I’m proud of you.”

She leaned into his touch, feeling the comfort of his presence. “Sometimes, I fear I’m not enough. The stakes are so high, and I want to protect our children from the chaos around us.”

“You are more than enough,” he said firmly, pulling her into an embrace. “Together, we can face whatever comes our way. Our love will guide us, and our children will see what it means to stand for family.”

Rhaena felt a wave of reassurance wash over her. “You’re right. We’ll face it all together.”

As they lingered in each other’s arms, the distant sounds of their children’s laughter echoed through the halls, reminding them of what they were fighting for. Rhaena smiled against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world lift, if only for a moment.

“Let’s make sure they grow up knowing the value of loyalty and love,” she murmured.

“Absolutely,” Gwayne replied, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “They will know they have a mother and a father who will always fight for them.”

As they rejoined the gathering, Rhaena felt a renewed sense of purpose. With Gwayne by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges awaited them. Their bond, forged in love and strengthened by adversity, would be their greatest weapon.

Together, they were unstoppable.

[theroseredreaper]

hey hey sorry to bother you with another request

I'm having a really bad day with anxiety and so I was wondering if you could do a thing about Sebek, Vil, and Leona and helping the reader handle their anxiety/calm down when it gets too intense?

sorry to add more onto your requests and you don't have to do it if you don't want to of course. Anyway take your time and remember to take care of yourself please Mimi

It’s not a bother at all! I’m sad to hear that you’re having a bad anxiety day and I hope that this can bring you some comfort. I’m more than happy to write this for you, Ryker. And yes, I’ll remember to take care of myself too. <3

Brief Trigger Warning, as per the request: This piece includes the reader in various states of anxiety and panic, and describes the beginnings of different kinds of panic attacks.

Sebek Zigvolt, Vil Schoenheit, & Leona Kingscholar Helping An Anxious Reader

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek paused from his studying at the sudden stop of the soft scratching of your pencil on paper across from him. He took in the tense set of your shoulders with a frown, eyes searching your face, only to find you completely unfocused and staring blankly at your homework.

You were spiraling again, weren’t you?

“Human.”

He cleared his throat at your flinching, scooting closer to gently pry the pencil from your trembling fingers.

“Are you alright?” His voice was now softer, attempting to make his volume a soothing murmur. “You’ve stopped working.”

He kept his eyes on you to keep track of your reactions, reaching out to give your hand a reassuring squeeze at the shaky inhale you gave him. When you were unable to give him a further response, throat too stopped up with anxiety, he gently rubbed his thumb against your knuckles to reassure you.

“Is it your classes again?” He glances at your half finished homework, giving your hand another squeeze. “Worry not!” He attempts to offer you a smile, not in the practice of being brightly reassuring like your other friends might be. “Classes are simply another form of training! I’m quite adept at mathematics and alchemy; any help you should need, we’ll cover all your bases together!”

His smile relaxed at your subtle nod, glad to see that you were beginning to calm down. He gave your hand one more squeeze before letting go of your hand to give you back your pencil.

If it is not your classes that you are worried about,” he began, trailing off for a moment before looking back up at you to return your gaze, voice a touch unsure, “I am more than ready to lend you my aid. Whenever you need it.”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Vil Schoenheit

You turned a corner, only to find that it was the exact same as the last three you had walked down. The same stained glass windows, the same carpet runner, the same vases and wainscoting in an endless maze all around you. Why hadn’t you accepted Epel’s offer to guide you through Pomefiore before he left for Spell Drive practice? Where was Rook, or even any other Pomefiore student, to ask for directions? Why had you even accepted this stupid errand from Crowley anyways?

Just as the hallway was beginning to stretch before you into an endless tunnel and your breaths were turning into short, shallow, gasps, a pair of hands gripped you by the shoulders and anchored you back to reality by the strength of them holding you close. The hands belonged to Vil, who looked down at you with a frown. His eyes searched your face, brows pinched with the severity of his concern.

“You got lost, didn’t you?”

You could only helplessly nod, light headed and unfocused. His eyes narrowed and he tsk’ed at you, stepping back so that he could wrap an arm around your back to guide you from the hallway and to his bedroom. He directed you to sit on the chaise in front of his bed as he left for a moment before he returned with a glass of cool water.

“Sip slowly,” he instructed. “And match my breathing.”

He sat beside you, placing a hand on your lower back to silently encourage you to straighten up and ease your shoulders as he began to slow his breathing for you to match. His fingers traced idle, nonsensical patterns on your back in soothing repetitive as he breathed in and out with you. He stayed beside you even after your breathing had regulated, eyes on you to ensure that you finished the glass of water.

“Have you calmed down now?” He waited for a nod, and pressed a kiss to your forehead when he received one. “Good. Now, what was this errand you were sent on?”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Leona Kingscholar

You and Leona were seated in Ramshackle’s living room, settled in for a quiet afternoon of friendly chess matches and snacks to pass the time. Or rather, the two of you were trying to do that, but were constantly interrupted by the incessant buzzing of message notifications coming from your phone. Even though your free time in between classes and all the errands Crowley had you running for him were scarce, everyone you had met and aided on campus up til now would constantly be sending you messages in search of your help with menial tasks.

After the tenth message in under a minute had your breath hitching and dropping a bishop, Leona plucked your phone from the table to silence it, exhaling a sigh through his nose. He’d often argue with you sometimes about your proclivity to help these selfish students that took from your precious free time with no regards to you, but today, before he could open his mouth to make a comment on the selflessness that grated on his nerves because it meant you were always putting others before yourself, he was stopped short by the look upon your face.

Your brows were furrowing as you bit your lip in an attempt to stave off a hot flush of tears from overcoming you, arm outstretched as if you weren’t really sure if you actually did want to take back your phone from him to answer those messages begging for your help.

Leona scowled and put the phone down, out of reach from you.

“Stop that. You’ll give yourself a headache,” he admonished, no bite to his words as he reached over and soothed the furrow between your brows with his thumb. “You gotta let yourself slow down. All this runnin’ in circles that everyone’s havin’ you do is gonna make you crash and burn. Got that?”

He waited for you to give him a nod that you at least heard what he said before he pushed aside the chess board to pull you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you securely.

“They’ve been handlin’ everything just fine without you runnin’ around, bendin’ over backwards for ‘em. Today won’t be any different. You’ve earned some rest. So relax, yea? I’m right here with ya.”

(A/N): I hope you enjoyed and that this was able to bring you some comfort, Ryker! I apologize in advance if any of these characters felt OOC.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 77

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Saturday, April 2; 1:50 PM - Downtown.

Time is passing. Only one week remains before the holidays. I'm eager to get there. Lucy and I have agreed that I will give my all during these last weeks so that I can relax afterward. It's tough. I'm barely with my friends at school anymore, but I want to be ready for the big day. They know and understand that. Another thing that's hard is that Lucy doesn’t show me any affection at school. Ever since Wiegman found out, she's been very cautious. Sometimes she hugs me in the evening or gives me a kiss or two, but that's it. So, I'm glad it's the weekend. At least now, she doesn't hold back.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks me.

"Of course," I chuckle. "It's not the first time I've been here."

Today is the second Saturday I'm going to work with Grace at the gallery. She wants to make sure we can work together and that we both enjoy it. Personally, I loved being here last week. It didn't feel like work. Grace has a much more modern style, thanks to street art. Mine is still very classical, so I understand why she said she could teach me a lot. We complement each other in a way. She asked me to come back today, and she'll give me her decision tonight. By the end of the day, I'll know if my future has a chance in this field. I sincerely hope so. It's the only concrete offer I have. I know that if I get my degree, I can find work in administration, but let's just say that’s not what I want.

"True," Lucy replies. "Will you text me when you're done?"

"Like last time, yes. Say hi to everyone for me."

Lucy is going to meet up with her friends at the venue. They need to clear out the last few things before next week. I think they still have a lot to do. I regret not being with them. I enjoy lending a hand, but I have other responsibilities today.

"I won't forget," she says with a smile.

"And tell Ale I'm supporting her with all my strength for tonight."

Lucy laughs, nodding. Leah party is tonight. I sulked about it for a long time. I felt a little guilty for not being there since I haven't been spending much time with them, but I can always count on Lucy to lift my spirits.

"I'll tell her. Now go. You’re going to be late again."

"How about a little kiss first?"

She smiles and leans over to kiss me.

"Have a good day, my love," I say before getting out of the car.

I close the door and walk toward the gallery. I know Lucy won't leave until I’m inside. And that's exactly what happens. I enter the gallery, triggering the little bell hanging on the door. I take the time to close it, and only then do I see my girlfriend's car pulling away. I smile at that but quickly refocus.

"Ah, hey Ona," Grace greets me.

"Hey," I reply.

The first thing she asked me to do last week was to speak informally with her. I must admit it’s a relief. She's young, probably around Lucy’s age. At least I’m sure I won’t mess up. It also makes me feel more comfortable.

"How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

I smile and approach her for a cheek kiss. The gallery she owns is nothing like Mr. Fields'. It's smaller. Much smaller, but I love it. It's very cozy. It's dark, with occasional light accents here and there. I recognize her style from Nyko's paintball artwork.

"You came at the perfect time. I was trying to hang a painting, but it’s up high, and I couldn’t manage alone. Can you help me?"

"Yeah, of course. I’ll just drop my stuff in the back."

"Oops, sorry, poor you," she laughs. "I'm already piling on the work. Go ahead, I’ll wait."

"Oh no, don’t worry," I giggle.

"Meet me in the back."

I nod while taking off my jacket. The gallery is shaped like an "L." It's on a corner, which is lucky. This way, each piece displayed is lit by the large windows. Grace had the entire place renovated, and I must admit it’s brilliant. Passersby can see inside without having to come in. I go behind the counter to reach a back room. There’s about 20 square meters of space here, which serves as a workshop, storage, and even a dressing room. I hang my bag and jacket on the coat rack before joining Grace at the back of the gallery. Now I understand why she needed my help. She’s waiting for me at the top of a stepladder, with a huge canvas on the floor.

"Wow, it's beautiful," I comment.

The painting is a street art piece of the city of Seattle in multicolored hues. I can totally recognize Grace’s style in it. It’s truly stunning.

"Did you make it?" I ask, just to be sure.

"Yeah," she smiles. "I want it to be the centerpiece, but as you can see, it’s quite big."

"Yeah, I can see that," I chuckle. "Hold on, I’ll lift it for you."

No sooner said than done. I lift the painting so she can grab it where she’s standing. I hold it until she manages to hang it from the suspended ceiling using hooks. Unlike the rest of the room, the ceiling is made of white oak beams. It contrasts nicely with the anthracite walls.

"Phew, thanks."

She climbs down the stepladder, and we step back to see how it looks.

"Not bad, huh?"

"It looks great," I reply. "I think the painting’s just a little crooked."

"Yeah, I just noticed that," she giggles. "Can you stay below in case it slips?"

I nod, and we adjust it until it's perfectly straight. Meanwhile, several people have entered the gallery. Most are just curious, but I think some of the paintings catch their eye. Grace told me that most people come back later for a painting that caught their attention. I guess business isn’t doing too bad.

"Have you sold more paintings?" I ask, noticing some empty spots.

"Yeah," she says with a smile. "Can you help me replace them? Then we can get back to the painting you started last week."

"Sounds good to me."

"Not like you have a choice," she teases.

I laugh and shake my head. We head to the storage room to get the new paintings. I’m supposed to stay until closing, but I can tell we’re not going to be idle. That’s fine with me. I prefer this to sitting around doing nothing.

Saturday, April 2; 5:20 PM - Gallery.

"Well, I think it’s time to stop," Grace tells me.

I check the time. It’s almost 5:30. I’m surprised. The time flew by.

"Oh yeah. I’ll text Lucy so she can pick me up."

"Don’t you have your own car?" she asks.

"Not yet, but I think it’s coming soon."

"That would be better, indeed," she smiles.

I text Lucy to let her know I'm done, then I start putting away the tools I used and wash my brushes in the sink. I haven’t finished my painting yet, but I’m sure I’ll have another chance to work on it. Grace’s advice has been really helpful. She has a completely different method than mine, but I appreciate her feedback. Once I’m done, I return to the front where Grace is behind the counter. She managed to sell four paintings this afternoon—and not just any paintings. I think she’s doing pretty well for someone who just started out on her own.

"All done."

"Great," she says. "I promised I’d give you my answer about next year, so here it is," she says, handing me a form.

I pick it up to see what it is. A small smile forms as I realize it’s an application for the Seattle School of Art.

- Does this mean…?

- These two half-days with you were cool. You’re nice, you know how to do good work, and you’ve got talent. That’s all I was asking for.

- Wow, I say, not knowing what else to say.

- I was able to enter one of your pieces into the school's last enrollment competition thanks to my contacts, and you’ve been selected, she tells me.

I’m having trouble understanding. She entered me into a competition without me knowing?

- You…

- Sorry for not asking your permission, but I didn’t have a choice, she giggles, seeing the look on my face.

- It’s no problem.

- You’ve still got a lot of work to improve, Ona, but you really impressed them, so… she shrugs. Welcome, I guess.

Unable to hold back, I hug her. It’s really the least I can do. She just saved my entire future.

- Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I’m so relieved. A huge weight has just been lifted off my shoulders. She giggles at my reaction, but she doesn’t realize what she’s giving me. I’m finally going to be able to live my dream. Just six months ago, I thought this was impossible. All my life, I’ve been told I couldn’t make a living from this, and yet here it is, happening. It feels like a dream. I release my new boss when I hear the doorbell chime. I smile when I see Lucy walk in.

- Well, it seems like there’s good news here.

- Oh yes! I exclaim, handing her the application form.

Lucy looks at it for a moment, then glances between us with a smile forming on her lips.

- Ah, yes, I see now. That’s really amazing. Thank you so much, Grace. Ona can finally relax a bit.

- Oh, it was my pleasure, Grace replies with a small laugh.

I go to Lucy and slip into her arms. She kisses the top of my head while still holding the form.

- Do we need to send this to the school? she asks.

- Uh, it’s better if you bring it back to me. I need to return it as soon as possible to my contact at the school.

- Alright. Well, do you have a little time? We can fill it out now.

- Oh, that would be great, yeah. I’ll get you a pen.

As soon as she leaves for the back, I let out a little squeal of joy. Lucy laughs, holding me tighter.

- Can you believe it!?

- Yes, yes, she giggles. This is really amazing, babe. I’m proud of you.

She kisses me softly. I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. I can’t believe all of this is happening so fast. Just a few weeks ago, I imagined myself sorting papers at a desk.

- You know what you have to do now, she whispers to me. You absolutely have to pass your exam.

- I’m working on it. I think I’m doing pretty well.

- Yes, that’s true, she smiles. Who would’ve thought you’d get serious one day…

I stick my tongue out at her teasing. Grace comes back with a pen, and Lucy helps me fill out my part. I realize I don’t even know her address, and it’s about to become mine soon. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to move in with her and call it my home too. I already feel at home there, but it’ll be more official. We’ll be there every day, together. Just thinking about it makes me feel strange. The form is easy to fill out. I double-check that I haven’t forgotten anything before copying the information onto the other two forms. I sign them and hand them to my new boss, who smiles mischievously.

- Well, you’ve just signed your death warrant. You’re under my command now, she jokes.

- Oh, there are worse things… I hope, I giggle.

- You’ll have time to form your opinion, Lucy comments. Well, shall we head out now?

- Great idea. I’m heading home as well. My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner tonight.

- Lucky you, I say with a smile. Well then…

I don’t finish my sentence. I’m not really sure what to say. Now that I’ve signed the papers, what’s next? Grace seems to understand my dilemma, as she says:

- I’ll contact you for the next steps. I’ll give you the details of when you start working here and when your classes start too. You’ll probably need to come back to sign a contract.

- No problem. I’m close by, after all.

- Great. Well, have a good evening then.

- Have a good evening too.

I head to the back to grab my things and return to Lucy. We say goodbye to my new boss one last time before heading out. I feel like a ball of energy. Everything is falling into place now that I’ve signed that form.

- What are we doing tonight?

- Well, I may have reserved a table too…

- Really?

I turn to her sharply. She smiles, amused by my reaction.

- Yep. I thought it would be nice to celebrate the good news.

- Oh yeah? And how did you know, huh? I just found out myself.

I smile as she presses me gently against the car when we reach it. Her hands rest softly on my hips. I relax as her lips tease mine.

- You should know I never doubt you…

- Why are you so perfect? I murmur, wrapping my arms around her neck.

- I’m not.

- Yes, you are, at least with me.

- Well, that’s because you make me that way. Because I love you.

I groan and lean in to kiss her, but she pulls back, keeping me just out of reach. I pout. I don’t like it when she denies me a kiss.

- Don’t make that face, she smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I wanted to apologize, because I’m not as perfect as you think. I’m denying you a night with your friends tonight.

I step back at those words. I can see a hint of sadness in her eyes. It’s partly my fault. I guess I made my disappointment a little too clear about it. I smile, caressing her cheek.

- The most important thing is that I’m spending the evening with you, my love.

- Really…? Because—

- You’re the most important person to me. I know you’re anxious about meeting them.

- What—

- Don’t take me for a fool, I interrupt her with an amused tone. I know you hide your fear behind the idea that we have to be discreet at school. But we both know you’re just scared of meeting them as my girlfriend.

Lucy opens her mouth, then closes it. I love when I can leave her speechless. It’s so rare. She sighs, shaking her head, and tries to pull away, but I hold her close. Our chests are pressed together. I can feel her heart beating a little too fast. She doesn’t like being caught off guard, and I get it. I feel the same way when she surprises me.

- You’re right, she whispers. I’m sorry.

- Don’t be. I totally understand. It must not be easy to meet your students as my friends.

- No, not really. I tend to know what everyone thinks of me at school.

She’s not wrong. Even now, everyone asks me how I can spend so much time with Lucy. They can’t see her as the woman standing in front of me right now, and it’s such a shame. I slide my hand under her hair, gently stroking her neck. My touch seems to calm her down.

That’s true, I murmur. But they don’t know my girlfriend. I know it must be scary for you, but it’s important to me. I want people to meet my girlfriend. I want to show you off. To say that you’re mine, like you do.

- Like me, huh?

- Oh yes. Do I need to remind you of the number of hickeys you've given me? You love to claim that I belong to you.

- Yeah, that's true... There's still a bit of me missing on you, though.

I giggle as her lips brush against my neck.

- No, Lucia! I replied, gently pushing her away.

- What, you don't like my marks? she teased.

- Stop it. That'll be the first thing they tease you about.

- Really? I bet they'll mock my commander nickname instead.

- You want to play that game? Alright, let's make a bet then.

- A bet, huh? OK. If I'm right, I get to do whatever I want with you for a whole evening, and vice versa if you're right.

- Hmm... OK, I'm in.

- Good, she said, pecking my lips. Now let's go. We'll be late for my program otherwise.

- Your program, huh? What do you have planned for me this time?

- A romantic evening, she announced as she walked around the car. I had to make up for the event we're not attending tonight.

- You didn't have to, but I like it. I enjoy going out with you.

- Don’t expect anything crazy. We're just going to have dinner, and I thought we could go to the movies afterward, she said once seated behind the wheel.

- I particularly like that plan, I said while fastening my seatbelt.

- Perfect, then.

We exchanged a smile before she drove off. She took me to a restaurant I didn't know, one fancier than the places we usually go to.

- It's a French restaurant, she whispered as a waiter guided us to our table.

- Really? I asked with a small smile. What gave you the idea?

- Nowhere, I just enjoy coming here.

Lucy had everything planned. She really booked a table, and we were lucky enough to get one on the restaurant's veranda. I wondered how long ago she made the reservation.

- Thank you, she said to the waiter.

- You're welcome. Here are the menus. I'll be back to check on you later.

- Thanks, I added as he left.

I looked around. It was particularly beautiful here, and we were lucky that the sky was clear.

- It's beautiful, I whispered while staring at the starry sky.

- I booked last week... when Grace told me she'd be watching you.

I lowered my eyes, mouth slightly agape.

- Y-you knew?

- Well... yeah, she replied mischievously. She just wanted to keep you waiting a bit longer, so you'd keep giving your best today.

She laughed while I sulked. She knew before I did. But how could I hold it against her when I saw where we were now?

- You're lucky I enjoy surprises.

She laughed and intertwined our fingers. I brought them to my lips for a kiss. This moment of relaxation felt particularly good. I felt exhausted from giving so much, but now that I knew where I was headed next year, I was even more motivated to ace my final exam, which was fast approaching. I’d already had a preview with my recent tests, and I hadn’t done too badly. Next week, we have mock exams. I'm looking forward to them because at least I’ll know exactly where I stand before the real ones.

- What are you thinking about?

- A lot of things, I answered with a small smile. How will things go from here?

- Well, as planned. You’ll take your mock exams, then we’ll go on vacation.

- I can't wait, I giggled. I’m so done with all this.

- I bet, but it'll be fine, she reassured me.

- And after that?

- After that? she asked, tilting her head.

- Well, after... after school...

We were interrupted by the waiter who came to take our drink orders. I trusted Lucy and chose the same as her, a non-alcoholic cocktail. We waited for him to leave before I turned back to Lucy. She shrugged.

- After school... well, we’ll go to Barcelona, and then we'll come back here.

- To live at your place, I murmured.

The idea seemed so surreal. Yet, it was what was going to happen in just a few weeks. After all this time.

- Have you changed your mind?

I snapped out of my thoughts at her question. I could see a hint of concern in her eyes.

- What? No, no! I was just thinking... maybe we could make things more official...?

- What do you mean?

- It might be too soon but... I’d like, I don’t know... to co-own the apartment? We’re going to live together, so I want to contribute to the expenses.

Lucy nodded before sinking into her chair, crossing her arms.

- That’s indeed a big step, becoming a co-owner.

- I don’t want us to move. The apartment is great, but... I want to invest in it, you know?

- I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

I opened my mouth, but I closed it when Lucy raised her hand to stop me from arguing.

- I trust us, I know how you feel, but you never know what could happen. There could be complications between us, and I wouldn’t want the apartment to become another relationship issue to deal with.

- I’m not planning on leaving you, I said, pouting.

Lucy laughed and leaned toward me. She grabbed both my hands, pulling them under her chin.

- I know, love, but it’s too soon. Tomorrow, we’ll celebrate two months together. I know we both feel like we’ve been together longer, but it’s only been two months.

- That’s true, I muttered.

- How about we see how living together full-time goes? I don’t think there will be any problems, but it’ll be a big difference from just weekends.

I nodded, feeling a little sulky. I didn’t like how right she was. After all, we were just at the beginning of our relationship, but I craved more. I needed more, I think, but I didn’t dare say it.

- Hey, she murmured.

She lifted my chin, forcing our eyes to meet. I hated facing her gaze. It made me feel so vulnerable. There was a determination in her eyes that sometimes made me wonder how she got to where she was.

- Don’t make that face. We have all the time in the world now, okay? There’s no need to rush. That’s how we’ll crash into a wall.

- Yeah... I mumbled.

I hated that she was right. The last time I rushed, it ended badly. I wanted to do things right, but at the same time, I wanted to speed things up. The waiter returned to bring our drinks and take our order. Since I hadn’t really paid attention to the menu, I agreed to Lucy’s suggestion that we share a dish—cheese platter, actually. She sold me on the idea, saying it was really good, so I accepted. As the waiter left, I still felt uneasy, but Lucy remained unfazed.

- Honey, one day, I’m going to make you my wife. We’ll buy a big house together, and maybe even have kids. I want all of that just as much as you do. Don’t think otherwise.

- I know, Lucia...

I blushed slightly at her words. If she wanted them to affect me, well, it was working. Wife and kids were big words, perfectly expressing our future together.

- So be patient. First and foremost, we need to learn how to live together and build a stable future. It all starts with a good job. Neither of us knows what our work experience will lead to, and it’s good to focus on that before jumping into anything else. Don’t you agree?

I sighed but nodded.

- Yeah, fine, you win.

She chuckled softly.

- Come on, give me a kiss.

I leaned in to give her what she wanted. I could never deny her that.

- Can we enjoy the evening now?

- Yes.

Our cheese platter finally arrived, and I had to admit it was a good choice. Lucy really knew what was good, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

- I wonder how things are going with Alexia, I mused as we started eating.

- No idea, my girlfriend giggled. But she wasn’t feeling well this afternoon. I had to comfort her.

- You, comforting her? Now I’ve seen everything.

- Well, yeah. I like her, surprisingly.

- That’s good news then, I teased. At least one of my friends you like.

- Oh, stop it, she rolled her eyes. I like Mapi too.

- That wasn’t the case in the beginning.

- We were both jealous, but I think she’s starting to understand where her place is with me.

- Yeah, I think you're right.

I sipped my drink, reflecting on the conversation we had a few weeks ago. Mapi had defended Lucy regarding what she didn’t yet know about Feli. I think she has indeed figured out her place with Lucy, even if she struggled to admit it. After all, she was my only close friend before I came here.

- Thinking about something in particular? Lucy asked, noticing I was lost in thought.

- No, I said, blushing. Just that you're right. She defended you not too long ago.

- Really? About what?

I shrugged. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.

- Something unimportant...

I know I’m a terrible liar, but I didn’t want to ruin our night with negative thoughts. Lucy stayed silent for a moment but eventually nodded.

- Okay, she whispered. You know you can tell me anything, right?

- Of course, I said with a small smile. But it’s nothing important. I just wanted you to know that she defended you, and I was the first one surprised.

- Alright... well, I guess things are changing.

We shared a smile. I knew she realized I wasn’t telling her everything, but I appreciated that she didn’t push. The evening continued without any more unsettling topics.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 11

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

I got promoted from dogsbody to pet and Roger gave me a nice collar—or choker.

However, on the same night, I did a thing that was just a short step away from something lovers would do, and am now in the midst of self-reflection.

(Wah…Roger never fails to drive me mad)

Ale: Arf arf arf.

When I raised my head from my depressive state, I saw Ale running toward me.

Kate: Ah, Ale. Haha, you’re awake? Good morning.

Ale: Arf…arf?

He looked at me in confusion as if sensing my distress through his animal intuition.

Kate: Hmm. Today, I still have to write my Fairytale Keeper report. After that…

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world? You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

~~ End flashback ~~

Recently, the almost lovers act between Roger and I wasn’t the only thing on my mind.

(The question Roger assigned me that day…)

(Currently, I don’t know enough about “Cursed Ones” to answer it)

Kate: I’m going to have to ask your owner about this, aren’t I?

Ale: Arf.

--

After submitting my report to Victor, I knocked on the lab door with Ale in tow.

Roger: Oh, why’re the two dogs together?

When I approached him, he tried to pet both mine and Ale’s head, so I ducked away.

Roger: Oh, rebellion.

I ignored him and bowed my head.

Kate: I have a favor to ask. Please lend me some of your research material on “Cursed Ones”. 

Roger: Hmm, my research material? These documents are like my life. Let me hear what you plan to do with them first.

Kate: Currently I don’t have enough knowledge to find the answer to your question. Even if I’m only here for a short time, I’ve met Crown and would like to take this seriously. I want to know if it’s good or bad for Crown to be cursed. I wanted to come up with an answer myself and record it as Fairytale Keeper.

Roger: …You’re the kind of girl who’s considerate of the minority.

Roger turned around and collected all his research material on Cursed ones from his desk and bookshelves—

Roger: Here. I don’t mind leaving these with you.

Books, files, and even slips of paper were all placed in my arms.

Kate: Wow, thank you so much! …But, is all this okay?

Roger: What, all that boldness earlier was just for show?

Roger smirked as if to challenge me, provoking my competitive spirit.

Kate: No way. I’ll get through all this in no time!

Roger: Hmm, then I’ll add to it. Here.

Kate: Ugh…

He dumped more materials and my arms started feeling heavy.

Roger: Broadening your horizons by learning what you don’t know is also a of strength. If you can get through all that, I’ll promote you from dog to assistant. Well, maybe the naive lil’ lady will get her heart broken…

Don’t underestimate me +4 +4

Are you trying to make me mad?

I’m capable

Kate: Please don’t underestimate me. Promise me that.

Roger: And promise me that you won’t get your heart broken. Don’t come cryin’ to me about it later.

(Geez…)

I stumbled out toward the exit with a huge stack of material in my arms.

Roger: I got high hopes for you, Kate.

Kate: …

I glared at Roger as he opened the door and left the basement.

Ale: Arf!

Ale had followed after, but then stopped and looked at his owner.

As if to say, don’t be a bully.

Ale: …

Roger: …He probably thinks Kate’s one of his own.

As he closed the door, Roger’s shoulders shook with amusement—

--

After leaving the basement, I headed toward the garden.

Kate: Let’s read outside for a change of pace, Ale.

Ale: Arf.

I sat down in a chair and started to go over Roger’s research material.

(If I remember correctly, Alec’s research materials were confiscated by the police)

(That means all of this was done by Roger)

The huge amount of material in Roger’s handwriting showed the life he spent doing research.

Kate: …I’ll read this all carefully.

And so I turned the first page on the research materials—

(A “Cursed One” is someone that’s been cursed since birth and has nothing to do with genetics)

(And I believe it’s innate, not acquired)

(Meaning, I believe that being cursed is an “individual” mutation)

There was a huge amount of material based on hypotheses and testing, and results based on those tests. Every time I turned a page, I was surprised by new facts.

As I looked over everything so as to not miss a thing, one sentence caught my attention.

Kate: …A “‘Cursed One’s’ tragic fate can’t be altered. In the past, there have been no exceptions.” Huh…?

There was something scribbled on the edge of the document.

“The more I learn about curses, the more ridiculous it gets.”   

“It’s like God’s whim and it makes me sick.”

This scribble among the clinical data brought forth Roger’s true feelings. For a moment, I stopped breathing.

He had begun his research on Cursed Ones as a child, and to this day, still hasn’t found a way to erase them.

(It’s…so absurd)

His way of life was quite like being in the dark, walking alone without knowing what lay ahead.

Ale: Arf arf.

Suddenly, I heard Ale’s barking and looked up.

Kate: Woah. What’s wrong, Ale? Is it Roger?

When I looked in the direction he was barking at, the owner of the footsteps appeared.

Ellis: Sorry, not Roger.

Kate: Ellis.

Ellis: I thought I’d give Ale a treat. Roger told me he was with you.

He offered a steaming mug to me.

Ellis: Hot milk for you.

He wrapped my hands around the mug and the warmth I felt seeping through the ceramic brought a smile to my face.

Kate: It’s warm…Thank you for your concern, Ellis.

Ellis: I wanted to make you happy.

Saying what he’d always say, Ellis patted Ale’s head.

And then—Ale’s paws were clapped together.

(Ah, Ellis’ Briar Bushes ability…)

Ale: Arf?

Ellis: Sorry, I’ll unbind you. “That’s enough”.

(Ah…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Alec: …Thank you. —”That’s enough.”

~~ End flashback ~~

In an instant, the images I had pictured in my head overlapped across time.

(Alec’s and Ellis’ abilities…are the same?)

(That means—)

I thought back to a sentence I read in Roger’s research materials.

(“Even if a Cursed One dies, the curse itself doesn’t disappear”)

(“After the Cursed One dies, the curse will reappear after some time”)

(“Humans with the same curse can’t exist at the same time”)

(If that’s the case…Then the one with the “Briar Bushes curse” after Alec is Ellis?)

As I thought over it, a finger poked at the space between my brows.

Ellis: It’s the first time I’ve seen you make a face like that. Kate, you’re starting to resemble Roger a bit.

Kate: Huh…?

Ellis: Hehe, your expression was like his just now.

Kate: What kind of face?

Ellis: Like a child completely absorbed in their thoughts. I heard from Roger that you’re studying about Cursed Ones. Is there any way I can help?

Ellis leaned forward and looked at me.

Kate: Then…Can I ask about how you and Roger met?

Ellis: Sure.

Ellis’ twilight-colored eyes wavered a bit.

Ellis: …I met Roger before joining Crown. I was already working as Jude’s assistant, but even back then, he attracted a lot of resentment from all sides. One night, Jude got stabbed with a knife and was brought to Roger’s father’s clinic. Roger was helping out at the clinic at the time—that’s how we met. So, back to the story. At that time, Jude asked Roger instead of his father to perform surgery.

Kate: Why?

Ellis: The reason for Jude’s injuries was so dangerous that the average doctor refused to treat him. However, Roger wasn’t licensed at the time and was looking for hands-on practice.

Kate: Um, so…a mutual convenience?

Ellis: Mm, pretty much.

(M-meaning he performed the procedure without actually being licensed at the time—)

(Let’s just pretend I didn’t hear that)

Ellis: Jude got injured a lot, and after that moment, Roger would secretly treat him… So I started going back there often. Roger looked really happy when he found out that we were Cursed Ones.

(No doubt he was as happy as when he met Alec)

My chest tightened as I thought about the boyish smile he’d sometimes have.

Ellis: It happened on a night Jude got injured… While Jude was asleep, Roger and I were making small talk. That night, I was listening to him talk about the time when was investigating whether Al was cursed or not.

Ellis stared off into the distance like he was trying to recall a memory.

~~ Flashback start ~~

Ellis: So this “Alfons” made you eat shoe polish cream?

Roger: Yeah, it was an illusion. That’s when I realized he was a Cursed One. But in exchange… Every time I eat cake, I remember the taste of shoe polish cream.

Ellis: Hehe, that’s a pretty big price to pay.

While they were laughing, Roger suddenly looked at Ellis.

Roger: That reminds me, I haven’t seen your power.

Ellis: Ah…maybe? Then…I’m sorry if it surprises you a bit, Roger.

Ellis touched the top of Roger’s head.

Then…his hands were clapped together as if in prayer.

Ellis: This is my ability. As for Jude, if he pokes your forehead— 

Roger: …O_O …Alec.

Ellis: Roger?

Roger: Ah, it’s nothing. It’s been a while since I last had an ability used on me so I was surprised. Ellis, you have the “Briar Bushes curse” don’t you?

(...Alec and Ellis really do have the same curse)

Ellis: …Why did Roger look so sad when he learned about my “Briar Bushes curse”? Not only that, sometimes he’ll make this face when he sees me.

(...It’s not my story to tell)

Kate: Really now.

Ellis: But I don’t want him to look sad, so I never asked about it. I want to make Roger happy too.

Roger had seen what would be Ellis’ last moments with his own eyes, so that’s why he doesn’t want him to go down the same path as Alec.

(I can’t say that avoiding that ending will be easy)

~~

Roger: I wanna make curses disappear from this world.

~~

The voice in my chest resurfaced, gripping at my heart.

Kate: …I’m certain just talking with you will make Roger happy.

Ellis: Really? Enough to kill him?

Kate: Y-You can’t!

—Ellis’ curse seemed extremely complex.

--

Over the next few days, I finished reading through the huge amount of material Roger had given me.

(I’ll go and borrow medical books this time after getting changed)

(Some medical knowledge could help me understand Cursed Ones better…)

That’s what I thought at the time.

Roger: Kate, I got good news. A new Cursed One may have been found!

Letter | Next

[kozumesphone]

╭₊˚ BACKPACKING ACROSS GREECE . . . skye’s 200 followers event ! ⋆⭒˚.⋆

ꕀ intro post here !

���. TRAVEL GUIDE (masterlist) . . .

~ m.list

~ completed: 7 ~ remaining: 31

REQUESTS CLOSED ‼️

ᝰ. TRAVEL NOTES (a/n) . . .

hello?? what?! I only very recently finished my 50 followers event requests (procrastination struck SO hard), and was planning on doing the 100/150 event, but we already hit 200?? this is so so so amazing 💓 thank you all so much!! i’m eternally grateful for the unwavering support and for hyping me up, from my followers, moots, and especially my closer ibfs! i’m so excited for this event 🌸✨ even specifically, a huuuuge thanks to mori for lending me her intelligence to make a very major chunk of this event possible! thanks for brainstorming ideas w me, ilyyy 🫶 (+ spoilers: my favourite ones are volos, crete, and mykonos 🤭) • also, please comment if you don’t want to be tagged in further posts related to this event / want to be tagged from now on, I won’t mind! but pls lmk your decision soon, bc i’ll be using the same taglist as this post’s for every request related to this event! sorry for any inconvenience <3

ᝰ. ITINERARY (everyone) . . .

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 01. VOLOS ⠀ᰋ

i’ll make you a mini playlist based on the aesthetic of your favourite book/movie + your blog, together

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 02. ARGOS ⠀ᰋ

i’ll write you short headcannons of you on the argo II with the seven, nico, and reyna + give me any specific character you want to see mentioned specially

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 03. ACHARNES ⠀ᰋ

tell me about yourself / give me a short description about you, and i’ll assign you to a pjo cabin, hogwarts house, and hunger games district + make you a moodboard with it

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 04. PATRAS ⠀ᰋ

give me your favourite book/movie universe + favourite character, and i’ll make you a moodboard + mini playlist based on that

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 05. CRETE ⠀ᰋ

(different prompt list from thessaloniki) pick a prompt from here + give me a character name (from any book or anime, preferably, but I can try for movies too) and i’ll write a short oneshot for that character x reader (specify gender of reader please—f/m/gn)

∘₊✧ ────── ✧₊∘

ᝰ. VIP ITINERARY (only moots) . . .

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 01. MYKONOS ⠀ᰋ

tell me about yourself / give me a short description + what you think is your greatest strength, and i’ll tell you what I think your fatal flaw would be

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 02. ATHENS ⠀ᰋ

(only applies if we’re closer moots): give me your cabin from camp half-blood + your best friend from the riordanverse, and i’ll write a few headcannons for you, if you were in chb

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 03. THESSALONIKI ⠀ᰋ

(different prompt list from crete) pick a trope/prompt from here + give me a character name (from any book or anime, preferably, but I can try for movies too) and i’ll write a short oneshot for that character x reader (specify gender of reader please—f/m/gn)

ᝰ. SUPPLIES TO BACKPACK ACROSS THE CITY (rules) . . .

i. i’ll only be able to answer your request if i’m a part of that fandom, so I would suggest checking out my fandoms nav here first

ii. only one request per message

iii. only two requests per day

iv. normal requests (non-event ones) will be closed until event ends

v. please include title of the ask (ex. athens) and the character name & fandom (if applicable). if it’s a description request, send your desc in points (if applicable), so it’s easier to read, for me

ᝰ. TRIP DATES (dates) . . .

starts on | 24th july, wednesday

ends on | 14th august, wednesday

> EVENT OPEN !!

ᝰ. TRAVELLERS (mutuals—taglist) . . .

@serendipitous-girl @anyas-shitposting69 @ziasworld-com @urmomabby @sweetnnaivete

@fizzywashere87 @aezuria @gentlehue @mqstermindswift @percabethlvr

@maybxlle @cinemaconrad @riordanness @book-girl4evaaa @flowers-for-em

@starlitszn @skeelly @lauffey @metyouattherighttime @luvusrry

@ssparksflyy @fayvpor @iheartgirlzn @nomournersonefuneral

@over-the-oceancall @seaglass-and-string @strawberryapologist @xoxochb @auroraofthesun1 @pinkdiorluvr

@sophiesonlinediary @solangelotus @brodieland @waitingonher @nqds

@on-starrii-nights @daydream-of-a-wallflower @catastrxblues @rehlie @d4rkdi0rrr

@seasirengirl @lavisenri @daonedaonlyskh @rxry-lxves-jess @cowboycasanovaaa

@thewhispersofthewaves @writtcnbycassie @55kywalker @ravisinghs-wife @yourtwistedlies

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[auras-moonstone]

Holaaa me emocione bastante con saber q eres de argentina (yo no soy de argentina soy de Mexico) pero esta cool saber q también hablas español lol

llevo rato leyendo tus trabajos y me encanta como escribeees, no se que te parezca la idea de una historia de Ethan como Spiderman tbh es mi head canon favorito y no hay mucha gente que lo escriba ahí una idea no se si sigas aceptando requests o si ya habías escrito algo de Ethan como Spiderman pero me encantaría leer algo así escrito por ti obvi 🤭

(En ingles ofc!)

Perdooon si escribí bastante me emocione jajaja apenas agarre el valor Para dejar un request

hola 🇲🇽 ! perdón por haber tardado tanto en escribir esta request😫 me encantó la idea, hace bastante que quería escribir algo sobre ethan como spiderman <3 espero que te guste❤️🫶🏻

the story of us — ethan landry

word count: 2,693

pairing: spider-man!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan and y/n’s relationship might be ending soon because of the boy’s behaviour and secrets.

based on: the story of us by taylor swift

warnings: mention of blood. a bit of angst.

Y/N SHOULDN’T FEEL SURPRISED FOR HAVING BEEN STOOD UP BY ETHAN, it seemed to be his favourite hobby lately. But when he came up to her with regretful puppy eyes asking for them to meet so he could explain the reason behind his behaviour, she really thought he would keep his word and show up to fix things.

But once again he failed her, and now Y/N was walking back home alone with mascara running down her face and with her chest filled with disappointment and sadness.

Y/N was walking through the dark and unsafe NYC streets, wondering what excuse her boyfriend was going to use this time, when she heard a whimper coming from the creepy unlit alley she was passing by. Her whole body tightened with fear, hands instantly became sweaty, her heart thundered dangerously fast and yet she stopped walking. Then the noise came again, this time more clear—it was a pained curse from a male voice.

The girl couldn’t decide if she was stupid or too brave, but she walked towards the person. Her eyes widened at the scene—there, sitting next to a container, was Spiderman; a bleeding Spiderman.

“Holy hell, are you okay?” she cried, inspecting the wound. “Of course you’re not okay! You’re bleeding a lot! A lot!”

Ethan cursed internally. Of all the people who could have found him, it had to be her. “Thanks for the calming words.” the superhero said between gritted teeth.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I was exaggerating, it’s not that bad.” Y/N tried to convince him.

“You’re a horrible liar” his hands were shaking as he tried to put pressure on the wound.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here, the smell is awful.” the girl said, putting one of his—very strong and muscled—arms around her shoulders. “I know you’re in pain, but I need you to use a bit of your strength to help me lift you to your feet. Can you do that?” the masked figure nodded. “Okay, at the count of three.”

Ethan closed his eyes in pain as he let out a cry of agony. He had been walking towards the cafe where Y/N worked when he heard screaming. An old woman and her granddaughter were being robbed and it was his duty to save them. He would’ve made it to his date with Y/N if the thief’s partner hadn’t caught him off guard and sliced his stomach. Time didn’t matter anymore, he couldn’t show up wounded, and he didn’t have the energy to walk so he stayed in that creepy alley where Y/N found him.

“Ouch!” he yelled when the girl carelessly dropped him on her couch as soon as they arrived to her apartment.

“Sorry!” Y/N said guiltily. “My arms hurt.”

“It’s okay. Thank you, I just need to rest here for a few minutes and I’ll be out of your sight.” he panted.

“You can’t leave! I need to clean you up and then you need to eat something.”

“No, it’s okay. Look, just lend me a first-aid kit, I’ll do it myself. Then I’m leaving.” it wasn’t that Ethan was ungrateful for her help, he just didn’t want to be a burden. Also, if she was to see his body, she was going to recognize him instantly. And Ethan was not going to let that happen.

“Hey, you’re always saving our asses, it’s time someone finally takes care of you.” she smiled softly.

“I really appreciate that, seriously. But I’d be more comfortable doing it myself, if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish.” she said in understanding. And as he stitched himself up, Y/N went to the kitchen to prepare something for him to eat.

Ethan watched her from the doorframe. He wanted to close the space so badly, he wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go. They saw each other everyday, but it’s been days since the last time he got to hold her, kiss her, touch her.

Y/N was really pissed at him, and with good reason. Countless were the times he had stood her up and he slowly—and absentmindedly—started to distance himself from her. And a few days ago, Y/N just exploded and they started fighting. Instead of telling her the truth (that he was a superhero and that the NYC streets were more dangerous than he had thought) he told her she was being dramatic and that he needed a bit of space. He regretted it instantly, and wanted to throw up as soon as his eyes caught her hurt expression. He was trying to keep her safe, but he handed everything in the worst way possible and ended up wounding the person that meant the most to him.

“You cooked for me?” he spoke up. Even though she couldn’t see it, she felt the smile on his voice.

“I told you, it’s time someone takes care of you.” she answered. “Is the wound okay? Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m a big tough boy.” he said in a teasing voice when she finished. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved me.”

“Anytime, Spider-boy. And honestly, you shouldn’t even thank me, you risk your life for us every- wait a minute.” she stopped when she realised something. “How do you know my name?”

Fuck, he cursed internally. He had messed up. “You told me.” he tried to sound confident.

“No, I didn’t. Do we know each other? Do we go to the same college?” Y/N asked curiously.

“I need to go.” he stood up abruptly, and a whimper of pain left his mouth.

“No! I’m sorry, I won’t press the subject.” she said, grabbing his forearms to sit him back on the chair. “I respect you wanting to keep your identity hidden. I won’t ask any more questions, but please stay. You’re still weak, you need to eat something.”

“You already did a lot. Really.”

“I swear to god, stop being stubborn.”

Who was he kidding with the hesitation? Just one look at her doe eyes and he was on his knees. As he ate, Y/N had her back to him so he could take his mask off. She could have turned around at any time and discover that the friendly neighbour hero was her boyfriend, but she never did. She respected his wish of not wanting to show his face, and that made him love her ever more.

“Your omelette was great” he said as he put the plate on the dishwasher. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Why were you crying?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. Ethan and Y/N weren’t on speaking terms, so maybe by talking to her through his secret identity would give him an insight on how to fix the relationship he tore up.

The sad girl frowned and pressed her lips into a line. She didn’t talk to her friends much about Ethan because she didn’t want to put them in an uncomfortable position, as they were all friends, so she had been keeping her frustrations bottled up. And now there was this trustful kind stranger asking her about it, so she gave in.

“My boyfriend didn’t show up to our date. He has been acting so strange lately. He shows up late, he always has a different excuse and gets all nervous and defensive because he’s obviously lying, but most times he doesn’t even show up. Like today.” the exhaustion and defeat was evident on her tone and it broke his heart. “He was supposed to meet me today, so he could open up and tell me what’s going on in his life, but…”

“He let you down again.” he added in a sad tone. Y/N nodded, tears blurring her eyes. “What are you going to do?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath “I honestly don’t know. I love him, I really do, but our relationship has become one-sided. I’m trying to save it, but it seems like he doesn’t care anymore.”

Fear crept into his mind. Was that it? Was it their end? Was she going to break up with him the next day? He wouldn’t blame her. Yet, he couldn’t help being selfish—he did not want them to break up.

“Maybe there is something going on in his life… something that he can’t tell you for your own good.” he said, and he knew he sounded stupid.

“What could be so bad that he can’t talk to me about it? We have always been honest with each other. He knows he can tell me anything, he knows that he’ll have my support no matter what. I just want him to talk to me. I don’t know what happened with our relationship, but there’s nothing I can do unless he talks to me.”

“Things are going to get better.” the superhero said, rubbing her arm in a comforting gesture.

Ethan had multiple opportunities to be honest with her, to explain why he had become so distant and yet he held his pride and told her she was exaggerating the whole situation. So, as much as she tried to be positive and believe Spider-man’s words, she was scared the story of them might be ending soon.

ETHAN REACHED THE TABLE WHERE THE GROUP WAS SITTING AT and eyed the two empty spots left. One was next to Chad, who was talking animatedly with Tara and Mindy, and the other one was beside Y/N. His spot had always been the one next to hers, but with their current complications and not knowing exactly in which page they were at, he didn’t know what to do. Seeing the way she was nervously pulling at her clothes and tried to look busy, he ended up choosing the first option.

Even though she was trying hard to avoid looking at him, his presence was overwhelming and it took all of her strength to hold back from peaking a glance at his gorgeous smile and perfect curls. She was dying to know if the situation was killing him as much as it was killing her.

Little did she know the boy was losing his mind. The anguish was too much, so many thoughts were running through his mind. He was dying to let her know what was going on, but he was scared it was going to put her in danger. He would rather have her be angry at him than her getting hurt because of him. The wiser thing would be to let her go, to free her from the chaos that came with being involved with a superhero, but he the selfish part of him couldn’t break things up—Ethan loved her too much to give her up.

He needed to come up with a decision. This contest of who could act like they cared less needed to end and he could not tolerate the loud silence between them anymore. “Do you think we could talk tonight?”

“If you have the decency to show up.” she shrugged.

Her armour was up, and it was understandable. “I will. I’ll meet you at your apartment after Econ?”

“Okay.” Y/N nodded. “I’m serious, Ethan. Show up. This is your last chance.”

“I won’t let you down again, Y/N/N. I promise.”

ETHAN DIDN'T KNOW IF THE AREA WHERE Y/N WORKED IN WAS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS OR IF HE JUST HAD BAD LUCK, but every time he was near, something happened that forced him to step in. Thankfully, this time it was an inexperienced thief he easily managed to bring down but his wound wasn't fully healed yet so he was in a bit of pain after the fight. But the important thing was that he made it to Y/N's house.

The girl was unable to hide her relief when she opened the door, but it soon turned into worry. "Ethan, what the hell happened? You're bleeding!"

The curly-haired boy looked down to find a scarlet stain on his blue polo shirt. The wound on his abdomen must have opened while he was stopping the thief, and he didn't even noticed because of the adrenaline. "Um, it's nothing, I-"

"Sit down." she ordered right before leaving to grab the first-aid kit. When she lifted his shirt up, she frowned.

"What is it?" Ethan asked worriedly.

"Ethan, when did this happen?"

"Um, I was robbed while making my way here." the lie slipped off his tongue in an instant.

"You keep lying to me." she let out a humourless laugh. "This has been stitched before, Ethan."

He sighed, thinking of another excuse. "Okay, fine. It's not new. I fell and landed on something sharp, and it cut my stomach."

"Okay, now I'm not only angry because you lied to me twice in the past sixty seconds, but also because you think I'm stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid."

"If you believe I'd buy that shitty excuse, then yes, I think you think I'm stupid." she spat. "Tell me the truth. Right now, Ethan."

Silence embraced the room. As Y/N worked on the wound, Ethan tried to find the words to explain. "I don't know where to start."

"Let's start by telling me how did you get this."

"A thief did it to me." he said, and ignoring his girlfriend's warning glance, he continued, "but he wasn't robbing me. He was stealing from an old woman and I stepped in. He cut me while I was distracted."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as they scrutinised his face, trying to spot any sign that told her he was lying. She find none. "You fought them?" she asked in disbelief, and Ethan nodded. "That's... that's really brave. And stupid."

"It's my job." he blurted out, making her look at him in confusion. "Well, it's not a job job, because I don't get paid. Not that I'd do it for money, even though I need it-"

"Eth!" she interrupted him. "I love it when you ramble, you're adorable, but could you please explain?"

"I missed you calling me Eth." he whispered, caressing her right cheek. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Eth. But we need to talk. Well, you need to talk. What is going on with you? Why are you so distant? Why do you keep missing our dates? What did you mean by 'It's my job'?"

"I'll tell you, but I need to warn you first. You were in danger before knowing this, but after I tell you... you are going to be an even bigger target. And you can't tell anyone, okay? No one knows, and no one has to know."

"Okay, just spit it out, Ethan."

"I'm Spider-man."

It was as if their surroundings had frozen, and minutes felt like hours. Y/N sat on the couch, dumbfounded, and Ethan's leg bounced as he bit his nails.

Meanwhile, Y/N's brain worked at a fast pace, trying to connect the dots. Now, in hindsight, everything made sense. His bruises, his wounds, why he was always in high alert, why his walls were up, his grades dropping, his tardiness... he became the friendly neighborhood spiderman. The vigilante she had found bleeding the previous night.

"Hey! You used your secret identity to get information out of me, asshole!"

"That's all you have to say?!"

"I mean, no... but I don't really know what to say."

"You're not mad?"

"I don't think so. I really wish you would've told me, could've saved up lots of arguments, but I do understand why you didn't tell me. I'm glad you opened up, tho. I am really tired of missing you and not kissing you."

Ethan laughed. “I love you. I missed you like crazy, and I'm sorry for everything.” he hold her close to his chest and let himself relax for the first time in weeks. “By the way, you need to quit that job. I swear there’s a robbery every five fucking minutes.”

“Have you been following me?” she arched her eyebrow.

“Keeping an eye on you.” he corrected. “I can’t let anything happen to my girl, and like I said, it’s a dangerous area.”

Y/N laughed and kissed his lips tenderly “I love you, my little stalker. Don’t keep secrets from me ever again.”

“Never. I promise. We’re a team.”

[bullet-prooflove]

5. In your darkest hour, baby i’d come running

For sam carver

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @wnbweasley @saturnsdevilz

Companion piece to:

The Evidence Locker - Sam realises his feelings for you might be reciprocated.

Scars - Sam thinks his emotional scars are too much for you.

Playing For Keeps - Sam regrets what he said about your first night together.

Big Heart - Sam takes care of you after noticing you're in pain.

The house is dark when Sam lets himself in. There’s no porch light on, no warm lighting emitting from the windows, just this odd sense of foreboding as he steps over the threshold.

“Ava?” He calls out as he hangs his keys up on the hook. “You here?”

There’s silence for a moment, so loud that it that it almost suffocates him and then he hears it. Your voice barely more than a croak.

“In here.”

The living room.

He flicks on the light and there you are lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.  Mascara’s smeared under your eyes from where your tears have dried. Your palms are resting on your diaphragm as you take long, deep breaths. You’re still clad in your running clothes, the ones you were in when he left for his construction job a few hours ago.

“Ava.” He murmurs as he kneels down alongside of you, his fingertips brushing  the hair away from your features. “Is it your back?”

“Yea.” You whisper as his thumb chases way the mascara on your cheek. “I dropped my phone, got down to pick it up…”

You trail off, hissing through your teeth as you try to move and Sam hushes you, his palm soothing lightly over your hair.

“Stay still.” He says softly. “I’ll go get your pills from the bathroom.”

He returns with two tablets and one of the juice boxes you keep in the fridge for your nephews. He hands them to you before fixing the straw in the box to make the task more manageable. He watches as you wash them down before he takes the juice box from you. He lays down on the floor alongside you, his fingers threading through yours as he tried to lend you his strength.

“How long have you been down here?” He asks, tilting his head so he can read the expression on your features.

You don’t speak, leaving Sam to draw his own conclusions. Your earbuds are still by the door where you left them last night meaning you didn’t make it out for the run you were going out for. He assumes you were picking up your phone from the charging station when it happened.

Four hours, he deduces, that’s how long you’ve been lying here.

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” He says into the space between the two of you and you squeeze his hand tightly as you say.

“Yea Sam, it’s getting worse.”

Love Sam? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Another request please! Elendil fled the Numenor capital and it is finally reunited again with his significant one, who fled a couple of weeks before and headed west and is safe by Aranion's side. I need the feels and the need when those two get together again.

Hope you enjoy it!!!! Lots of love!

The Banks of Edhellond

The docks of Edhellond stretch out before you, shrouded in the morning mist, as you linger, searching the horizon with an anxious heart. It’s early, and the few Elves who remain pass by with silent glances, sensing the tension radiating from you and knowing better than to disturb. Every morning, you’ve stood in this same spot, waiting for any sign of the ships from Númenor, hoping against hope for any word of Elendil.

He’d pushed you to sail weeks ago, insisting you leave before the storm of Pharazôn’s rise swept through Númenor. He’d held your hands tight by the shore, reluctant to let go even as his words pressed you to leave. “Find Anárion. I will follow,” he’d promised, his voice calm but his gaze clouded with unspoken fears. “You’ll be safe, and that is all that matters.”

The memory of his strength and resolve haunts you, but you remember your own hesitation even more clearly. You had argued, had nearly begged to stay by his side, but Elendil had held firm. And now, here you are, far from him, far from the land that had been your home, surrounded by the white-stoned Elven architecture of Edhellond. The early dawn feels colder without him beside you.

Your gaze drifts over the water, the endless, blue-gray expanse empty save for the fog clinging to the horizon. Each small movement—a ripple on the waves, a gull dipping low to the surface—makes your heart leap, only for hope to drop again into the hollow ache in your chest.

“Nothing today, then?” comes a familiar voice. Turning, you see Anárion approaching from a nearby pier, his expression sympathetic but shadowed by his own fears. He’s spent his days here, too, quietly joining you in this ritual of waiting, though he says little of his own concerns. Even so, he never asks you to abandon your vigil, sensing that it’s all that keeps you tethered to the present.

You shake your head, words caught in your throat. “I keep thinking… maybe he won’t make it out of Númenor. That I’ll never see him again.”

Anárion places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “My father is strong. He knows the sea better than anyone. He’ll come.”

You want to believe him, nodding though doubt clings to you like the morning mist. “He promised. But with Pharazôn…” Your voice falters. “I fear even promises may fall short.”

Anárion looks out over the water, his jaw tight. “Then we’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

And so you do. Another day, then another, each one stretching endlessly, a rhythm of hope that turns to disappointment as the days bleed together. Yet you return each morning, keeping your vigil, while Anárion watches from the shadows, lending you his silent strength.

Then, on the twelfth dawn, a faint light breaks over the water, and you see it—a lone shape on the horizon, tiny and nearly indiscernible against the backdrop of sky and sea but unmistakably there. A ship, struggling through the mist toward Edhellond.

Your heart races, and before you can think, you’re running down the docks, breath caught in your throat as you keep your eyes fixed on the distant figure, terrified that if you look away, it will vanish and you’ll be left with nothing but hope once more.

The minutes stretch like hours as the ship draws closer, revealing the familiar sails and a lone figure standing tall at the prow. You don’t need to see his face to know it’s him—Elendil, solid and unyielding against the morning light.

When the ship finally pulls up to the dock, you’re there, breathless, as Elendil steps onto the worn boards. His face is weary, eyes shadowed from nights of uncertainty and loss, yet they soften the instant they find you. A shuddering breath escapes him, relief unraveling in his gaze as he reaches for you, as though he’s unable to bear even the last step that separates you.

“Elendil,” you breathe, your voice breaking, and in a heartbeat, you’re in his arms, clinging to him with every ounce of strength you have left. His hands slide around you, one tangled in your hair, the other pressing against your back, as though he could never hold you close enough. 

His face is buried in your hair, his shoulders shuddering as he whispers, “You waited… you waited…”

“Of course I did,” you choke out, tears burning in your eyes. “I thought—I thought you might never come.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand lifting to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “I would tear down every kingdom, cross every sea,” he says, his voice rough with conviction, “if it meant getting back to you.”

Your laugh is half a sob, your hands clutching his tunic, desperate to keep him near. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, Elendil.”

His thumb traces the curve of your cheek, gentle and steady. “I swear to you. I’ll never let you go again.”

In the dawn light, you stay locked in his embrace, the uncertainty of the world around you fading to nothing, leaving only the two of you in this precious, fleeting moment. For now, here in his arms, you are home, and everything else—thrones, usurpers, distant shores—falls away, leaving only the promise of his love, a promise that will endure as long as he draws breath.

As you stand there, wrapped in Elendil’s arms, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you, punctuated by a familiar, exaggerated sigh.

“Oh, for the love of the Valar, if you two could keep these disgusting displays of affection to yourselves, I’d appreciate it.”

You turn to see Anárion standing a few paces away, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips. He tries to look disapproving, but there’s a glimmer of relief in his eyes as he takes in his father’s safe return. Elendil’s hand slips from your waist, but he pulls you to his side, his smile as unbothered as ever.

“Anárion,” he greets, his voice warm despite the weariness that still clings to him. “I had hoped you’d be here.”

“Yes, well,” Anárion steps closer, his gaze flicking between you and Elendil. “You’ve been away long enough that someone had to keep her spirits up. Waiting all day, sighing by the docks…” His smirk softens. “And I suppose I missed you too, Father.”

Elendil reaches out, placing a steady hand on his son’s shoulder, and they share a look that conveys more than any words. Relief, pride, and an understanding of what they’ve both risked to be here, in Edhellond, safe, for now.

You can’t help but smile, touched by the warmth between them. “I’ll try not to embarrass you too much, Anárion,” you say, teasing. “But I won’t make any promises.”

Anárion rolls his eyes, his smirk returning. “That’s all I ask.”

With a shared laugh, the three of you make your way down the docks, toward the heart of Edhellond, the mist parting around you like a gentle curtain. And in this fleeting moment, with Elendil’s hand in yours and Anárion by your side, the world feels as close to whole as it can.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Ptolemy, you are a servant of much experience. We have had a slight discussion with Pharoah Cleopatra about how we may be of service in the battle to come. Do you have any suggestions on where we and our servants should go in order to best help defend the Solar Cell and its citizens?

PTOLEMY: "Well, if you want to help… I had plans prepared since the Trial, though the reduced timeframe means that they'll have to be enacted now. We'll need to end this war before it begins. For the sake of our territories, the Lair Servants need to retreat to their grounds immediately in order to bolster their zone's defenses. The only ones given permission for free reign are myself and the Slayer, as our 'zones' were given up for the sake of the Grail War."

PTOLEMY: "Guardsman Izou will be running a stealth mission. His goal will be to take out Charlemagne- swift and easy. If he can't take out Charlemagne, then one of his guard. He's to retreat if things get messy."

IZOU: "You want me to dish out some divine punishment? Got it, boss."

PTOLEMY: "Prince Duryodhana will be mounting an offensive to take back the Gossamer Coast. It's less valuable than the Fugue Hamlet in terms of magical leylines, and Quetzalcoatl's temple is still there. We might be able to fully bring it back under Solar Cell control… but we need to have a grip on the territory first."

DURYODHANA: "As if that's a question. Yours Truly is a master of warfare, you know."

PTOLEMY: "And… we have one more gambit that Charlemagne is unaware of. The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh."

ANDERSEN: "...'Gambit', he says, as if this is all part of his little plan. Oh, this will be good. Please, tell them your stupid idea. Loud, for everyone to hear. Should I call the press? I'm sure all of the Solar Cell would love to know their beloved Keeper is a moron."

PTOLEMY: "Andersen… anyways, hear me out. He's not a Moon Servant, but his eyes allow him to see almost every possibility, not akin to the Moon Cell itself. And, as he was apparently summoned back then, he has knowledge of the Void Cell… which he refuses to share."

CLEOPATRA: "Wait, the King of Uruk is here? Why am I just now hearing about this?"

PTOLEMY: "Only Sigurd, Tamamo, Andersen and I knew… or well, we're the only ones still around that know. We figured it'd be for the best, allow him to live uninterrupted."

ANDERSEN: "And do you remember what he told you the last time you asked for his aid? When your little posse had dared to even summon him on the surface of the Solar Cell?"

'KING OF HEROES': "Hm? Join you, you ask? You think yourselves worthy of my power? You wish me to be the lapdog of a fox? You ask of me to sit in your pathetic hideaway, and simply await the awakening of Sun God's Wrath? It'd do you well to swiftly learn your place, mongrels."

'KING OF HEROES': "Insult me with such a foolish request again, and I’ll lay waste to this entire place with a single flick of my wrist. Yet, in the arrogance of that cunning fox, who bars anyone from entering or leaving, I shall remain an observer. It would be beneath me to expend my strength tearing a hole in this place."

'KING OF HEROES': "So… do well to entertain me, o' Sycophants of the Sun."

ANDERSEN: "Something like that?"

PTOLEMY: "That was cycles ago! Listen, if he can even just lend an item from his treasury, it could make all the difference. He's in Sunbeam Row. If we approach, we'll be turned down on sight, maybe worse. But..."

MUSASHI: "...You all might have better luck if you send messengers that aren't part of your little group?"

ANDERSEN: "Exactly. And if you die, well… some may consider it an honor to be drawn and quartered by Mankind's Oldest Hero."

PTOLEMY: "Well… if that's not to your liking, then there's other options. Either you can mount an assault on the Hamlet, and attempt to regain that zone. Due to the leylines, it is valuable, so you'll most likely face heavy resistance if you're caught. You could join Prince Duryodhana… or you could boldly charge the Citadel from the front. That's what I'll be doing. It'd draw attention away from Charlemagne's other zones, after all."

PTOLEMY: "Finally… you could try and convince the Alter-Ego. She's still in containment, but her strength would be valuable to this battle. Still, we'll have to move out while they're still preparing. Guardsman Izou will be heading out tonight, the others in the morning. Once their feet are planted, any attacks against them will have a massive increase in difficulty."

KUKULKAN: "Decisions, decisions... what to do, Masters?"

[sublimeflowoftime]

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

Botanical Headcanons

Spoilers right out the gate with this one okay here we go

THE AGARTHANS. I take no criticism on this.

In the beginning (BEGINNING beginning), she tried to help them, with creating the Nabateans and having them also assist in helping society advance technologically and socially. If she didn’t like them at all, she would have no reason to help them in originally creating Agartha. Later on when they start to see themselves as ‘above’ her and her children’s help as she understands it and starts attacking them, she reasonably changes her mind and does not like them at all anymore. Killing her and most of the Nabateans probably didn’t help that much either.

However, now that she doesn’t have memories, there are likely still lingering feelings of something being wrong, like what she feels when visiting the red canyon. When she meets Kroyna and Solon in their disguises as Monica and Tomas respectively, she seems to know something is a little off, even if she doesn’t know what. But because she doesn’t know what, she just brushes it off as “huh, they’re a little weird. But they seem nice :)” and carries on with her day.

At this point, she doesn’t have the memories that would make her hate the Agarthans were she to meet them, so she gives them the benefit of the doubt as long as they have some form of credibility behind them, despite what her intuition may say. 

This would likely give her a chance to actually talk to and potentially befriend an Agarthan or Agarthan creation. In this case, even if she were to get her memories back and be angry at the Agarthans again for what they did to her and her family, that one person is still her friend. Unless they betray her again, while she might be a little uneasy around them for a bit, she wouldn’t hate them.

In fact, if her bond with them is strong enough and they were willing to vouch for the Agarthans having changed and become better people (whether or not it’s true), she’d probably be willing to give them a chance again. Though it’s unlikely some of the more violence obsessed Agarthans wouldn’t just ruin that immediately.

[circeyoru]

The Cure for Their Problems = Requested

The Request

[Sung Jinwoo x Sickly!Reader]

WARNING: This might be a bit sensitive for some readers, so I put in a trigger warning. It contains self-harm and death if you understand the implications. If you think you're sensitive to such triggers, I would advise you not to read this and move on to more pleasant stories. You're responsible for what you consume on the internet and anywhere else.

“Got your dagger? First aid? Phone? Knife? Extra clothing? Oh, what about a shield? Even a small one could help. I could ask around and see if anyone would lend you one.” Your insistent nagging was replied to with silent nods and a soft smile from your Hunter friend —long-time childhood friend, Sung Jinwoo— while he listened intently to your words. “Where is your equipment? You can’t go in empty-handed! This is not a school field trip!”

“I’ll be fine.” Jinwoo reassured, he gave you a tight hug and spoke next to your ear, hiding his guilty expression from you. “My raid team has all my gear. I’m meeting up with them right after we part.”

You stared into Jinwoo’s eyes when the hug was released. Your eyes narrowed, sensing something amidst with his words. His raid team changes on a daily basis that you couldn’t quite keep up with the members and new names he mentions, not to mention they were people that regarded Jinwoo as a tool or bait. So you can’t imagine them lending equipment for Jinwoo while inside a dungeon. 

“Come on.” Jinwoo turned you around to another direction, “You got your check-ups, I promise I’ll be done by the time you’re done. No injuries as well.”

You pouted and turned your head as best you could to look at him, but him being a Hunter and you being an ordinary citizen, naturally meant you couldn’t win against him in a battle of strength. Hence why he’s nudging you to walk with ease. “It’s not the injury. I want you safe.”

Jinwoo paused and smiled back. “I know. I’ll do my best for you.” 

His tongue nearly slipped, he nearly told you the truth. He nodded and held your cheek with the softest smile, you reciprocated and leaned into his touch. That reminded you of the childhood days where both of you were innocent and ignorant of the troubles of an adult or the responsibilities that came with it. Just for that moment, you two were those kids. 

In the morning, either one of you would be the one to knock on the other’s front door and it’ll be opened by a parent on either side. A warm greeting was exchanged then the question of whether the target was free to hang out. Following that, the target comes into view and rushes out to the front door to give the other a tight hug. The parent at the door would giggle and laugh, then bid goodbye.

Even after you two had to go to school, the both of you would ensure that you two are in the same school, even if you had to split classes. However, because of your weak institute, you were quickly dropped out of school and homeschooled. It was a hard decision because you wanted to stay with Jinwoo and the same could be said of him, with each other, you two were at your happiest. Since this concerned your health and future, your parents had to make a rough decision. 

All the same, Jinwoo still greeted you daily before he headed off to school and when he was back. He’d bring along some snacks or art projects. Then he’d ask if he could come in and do homework together. Both parents would let it happen. That was how you survived homeschooling with the best scores even star students at school would be jealous of.

Your phone buzzed and the two of you were brought back to the present. You sighed but quickly smiled back so as not to worry Jinwoo. The two of you bid farewell and wish the other an enjoyable time and safety before going separate ways. 

Jinwoo watched your back until you were gone from his sight and range of perception. Only then does he turn around to enter the dungeon the System assigned. From young, you’ve been weak in terms of health but your spirit was like the brightest star even in the darkest night. That was what he thought of you since the first time you two met. 

The moment he was given the System to level up and be stronger, he knew it was the perfect tool for him to keep you safe and maybe get some medicine or potion from the store to improve your health. It worked, but only for a short term. Plus, you were someone that kept up with the latest medical knowledge even on the Hunter’s side where healer’s powers were known to you. So you have started to question where he got those potions and unique items you couldn’t find anywhere.

He recalled the time where he had to promise and swear to you over and over again because you feared he was in with some shady and bad people. You never seemed to question why he changed or gotten stronger, but he definitely knew you noticed. Yet when it came to him using his benefits for you, you were as keen as can be.

Now that he has a sure fire way of curing you completely so that you would be out enjoying yourself and not restricting or limiting your activities, he has to take it. Not to mention, it was an item that would wake his mother up from Eternal Slumber. Speaking of, he had fear you’d fall into that one day too. Since you were frail to begin with, there was a chance, even more so when you were always near him, someone with mana. Though, maybe he had to thank his low ranking and lack of mana. Else he might be visiting another person at the hospital.

Even after he placed a few Shadow to guard her, it wasn’t enough in his mind. Worst part was now that he got stronger, he had more mana and you were exhibiting symptoms of Eternal Slumber. There were times when his Shadows notified him that you suddenly fell asleep out of the blue. If he could, he’d drop everything and rush to your location to check on you. Otherwise, his Shadows would bring you to a safer location then he’d quickly finish his things and check on you. 

What he thought to be a one-time thing happened again and again, each more frequent than the last and longer. When you went to the doctors, you were warned to stay away from Hunters and what would happen to you. It was incurable, you were told. On top of your delicate health, you now had Eternal Slumber to worry about. 

You kept it secret from him, unknown that his Shadows already reported everything to him. He pretended not to know and avoided you so you’d distance yourself from him. As much as it pains him so. It only backfired when he found out you were planning a quick death to escape from it all. You mapped it out so innocently, thinking it was for the better. 

Death during sleep. 

“Wake up! Wake up! Don’t sleep!” Jinwoo vividly recalled bursting through your front door and into your bedroom at his soldiers’ alert. While his Shadows aired out the room, he cradled your unconscious form to his chest, a hand holding your head to his chest and the other around your waist from behind. “Please, I can’t… You… Don’t leave me…”

While he has much to live for, you didn’t. After your restriction to social life, your parents passed away and Jinwoo’s family took you in as their own, then you watched Jinwoo’s father disappear and his family break, after that, his mother fell into Eternal Slumber, and Jinwoo trying to make a life with his E-Rank Hunter status. You saw yourself as a burden to him when he faced prejudice against other Hunters and tried to care for his family and you on top.

Your soft mutters brought him out of his wailing, “Jinwoo… I’m sorry… Don… Don’t cry…”

He saw how you worry about him more than you worry about yourself. After that, he continued to let you stay by his side and forgo avoiding him. He’d see that distant look in your face when there were mentions of Hunters not returning from a raid or news of another victim of Eternal Slumber, but all he could do was change the subject. Even when he got the System’s help to grow strong.

The moment he got the news of a possible cure for anything, the <Holy Water of Life>, he was obsessed over obtaining it no matter what it took but also as fast as he could. This was the solution to his problem and yours. He just knows it. 

First thing Jinwoo did when he got the item, he woke up his mother. You were with his sister when he called the two of you to join him in the hospital. While you weren’t a child of the family, you still cried tears of waterfall that rivals his sister. You were grateful his mother woke up and the good Sung family wasn’t tormented. 

Jinwoo led you to a secluded place and sat you down on a bench. He took out the potion and presented it to you as he kneeled down. “This will cure you of everything, any ailment no matter how small or big or incurable. Please, I want you to take it.”

Your eyes watered and your lips pressed together in a thin line, your breathing turned shaky and your body trembled. “But… I’m… A nobody… Something so precious shouldn’t be used on me…”

Jinwoo’s hand held your fists, how he’s changed from that small boy you knew back then, never did you see him as anything less or more. “Hey, shh, don’t say that. You’re more precious to me than you could imagine. Don’t call yourself that, you didn’t call me that when I was a weak E-Rank.” Jinwoo smiled at you, “I want you healthy and free of restrictions. I want you to live your life how you wanted before everything bad happened. I want you to make your dreams a reality. I want to be by your side while it all happens, every step of the way.”

Tears ran down your eyes and Jinwoo wiped them away gently. “Jinwoo…”

He held up the potion, “Accept it?”

You gladly took the glass and cupped it with a warm smile, your eyes never leaving Jinwoo’s. “I accept your confession and you, Jinwoo.”

Note: Wrote too much, oops. This one turned a bit dark at the middle or end. Didn't exactly think this one through but went with the flow of things. That's just my style. Haha. Regardless, hope that those who read it is okay with this piece.

In the future for any request, you can mark down what quality of the story you prefer and I'll take it into consideration.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (none at the moment, sadly)

[just-horrible-things]

'Verse: Resistance Alt: Ari forced to whip Alex Timeline: Something like a week after the rescue of Ari and Alex

For @sir-fenris who asked what happened to that healer...

Rescuing Rowan [First | links to follow when I close up the gap]

Ariadne is ready to coax the healer out of his cell - ready for fear and reluctance and uncertainty. She isn't ready for the young warlock to stagger to his feet, come straight to her, and collapse into her arms. "Woah," she murmurs, "Easy, I got you. We're here to get you out of here." "'s he.... still alive?" "Alex?" Ari’s breath stops, a lurch like falling. She doesn’t know why. "My... cellmate? Yes. Yes, he's alive and – safe and he's going to get better, thank you." The teen clings weakly to her jacket, shuddering. Ariadne glances back, unnerved, at Taryn, who gives her a thumbs up.

There isn’t time to give all the reassurances and explanations she ought to. Ari tries to set the healer back on his feet, but his knees buckle. “I’ll carry you,” she decides, already manhandling him by her grip on his arms. “Hold on tight.” He cooperates as she crouches to heft him onto her back. Bony legs wrap tight as they can round her hips. The movement sets off a fit of deep, wet coughing.

“Alright?” Taryn checks. Ari nods. The kid barely weighs a thing. “If I go down, you run to Taryn,” she tells him. “She’ll get me up, don’t worry.”

Back in the hallway, they both look up and down the rows of doors, then meet eachother’s eyes.

“We can’t take everyone.” Taryn’s the one to voice the harsh reality. “We can open the doors,” Ari returns. “Some of them might be well enough to run with us.” A moment’s further hesitation, then Taryn nods.

She breaks the locks one by one. Each takes no more than a couple of seconds’ focus, a sharp gesture, and a flash of light. Ari follows behind her, repeating, “This is a break-out. Run if you can. Help someone if you can. This way, follow us.”

Not all of them make it even past the doors of their cells. All of them are weak, drained out, underfed. Scared and confused. In no state to be running. But they won’t make it if they don’t run.

Pursuit catches up with them only halfway down the hall. The door slams open and the feds pour through already shooting. Healers scatter, screaming. Half of them hit the floor either shot or trying not to be. Ari ducks automatically into the closest cell for cover.

Fury is a wild thing, clawing at the inside of her ribcage. She wants to fight, she wants to face them and kill them all or go out shooting but – the kid on her back has an arm around her throat, half-choking her as terror lends him a little extra strength he didn’t have before. 

If she stays and fights, he will die here.

“With me!” Taryn is yelling. Meant for Ari, and meant for any healers who can hear and obey. Stepping out into the line of fire feels like madness, but Ari trusts in Taryn’s magic. Swallowing, she breaks into a run.

The gunfire is deafening. Bullets ricochet from the concrete. The air’s full of blood.

Taryn is running already. One hand is up, casting, the other grips the wrist of a wide-eyed healer. She’s levitated another, the poor guy curled up in midair with his hands over his ears. Ari pelts after her. 

There’s an enormous tearing crash behind her. Metal screaming, masonry falling. Dust blooms past her. Ari doesn’t look back. There’s at least one healer still up and running on her heels. Frantic footfalls, a voice choking on fear. Taryn’s at the locked door ahead and it explodes ahead of her, firing shards of metal into the room beyond. 

Slowed for a moment by casting, Taryn glances back once to check that Ari’s behind her. Her eyes are wild, teeth bared in a grimace.

They run.

Ari calls the directions, and Taryn breaks doors open ahead of them. Wherever Ari sees uniforms, she shoots. When the feds duck for cover it buys the escapees precious seconds. When they’re the ones who have to duck and hide, it eats time.

The girl Taryn’s dragging by the wrist is stumbling, struggling to keep pace. She’s not been here long enough to be starved to skin and bone but she’s bleeding through her clothes and she’s weak. The one held in Taryn’s magic is still curled up tight.

The kid on Ari’s back is holding on for dear life, but his grip is slipping. With her gun in one hand she can only support one of his legs. The other keeps sliding down from her hip to her thigh until it interferes with her ability to run and she has to waste seconds hoisting him back up. 

Doors and halls and rooms flash past in a blur of breathless violence. Ari’s only half sure where they are, which way they’re going, like a half-forgotten dream. She can only pray her intuition is leading her right.

And then they’re back in the zone they started in, following their own trail of destruction. Bodies, rubble, bloodied footprints on the concrete. Ari shoots, and shoots, and her gun clicks empty, and it takes her another attempt to realise. Reloading is an ordeal, the kid on her back struggling to keep his grip without either of her arms supporting her legs.

And then the wall Taryn blew open to get in is ahead of them, a slice of floodlit nighttime visible through the ragged gap.

They’ve already started to barricade it. They must have known they’d come back this way.

“Just run,” Taryn orders tersely. “Straight ahead.” It should be suicide. But Ari trusts Taryn. Lungs and legs burning, she plunges forwards.

A spearhead of fire rushes forward ahead of them. A wave of light and heat and flame, forcing the feds to stagger back or duck for cover.

Plenty of them still manage to fire their guns.

Ari feels the impacts like punches to the gut, the chest, the thigh. Instinct tries to tell her she is dying, she is dead. She stumbles as the suffocation of it tries to drag her down. But she keeps running, straight ahead. Taryn’s magic holds. Screams are all around her.

Then she’s through the cordon and the sky opens out above her. With the after-images of flame still leaping in her eyes, she can’t see Taryn. She can’t see where she’s going. She just pelts onwards, hoping to find flat ground under her feet. Shots keep ringing out from behind.

Then Taryn is right there, pushing Ari sideways, and the unexpected force almost sends her sprawling but she takes the hint and turns and they run on. She can’t go much further. She’s flagging already, slower than Taryn and Taryn is dragging a person – literally dragging the girl bodily across the ground now, her legs must have failed her.

The other one, the one she was levitating, is gone. Left behind.

When Taryn stops, Ari practically trips over the prone healer. Her body is screaming at her, telling her she’s done too much. It’s nothing. It’s barely pain. It doesn’t matter.

Taryn lifts a manhole cover with a gesture, and bodily manhandles the healer into it. Then she gestures Ari forward. Finding the rungs to climb down takes excruciatingly long seconds. She bumps the kid on her back against the far edge of the hole and he makes muffled noises of pain into the back of her neck but he just about keeps his hold.

Her limbs shake like jelly as she climbs. Taryn doesn’t tell her to just drop, which must mean she’s almost out of magic.

At the bottom, the floor feels like concrete again under her boots.

Taryn is the last down, and as the cover fits back into place above her, it takes the light with it. The darkness is absolute. 

Finally it’s quiet enough for Ari to hear the ringing of her own ears. It’s not silent, though. The healer on the ground is sobbing, muffled as if she has her hand over her own mouth to try and stifle it. Ari and Taryn are panting heavily. Somewhere, something is buzzing or humming – or maybe that’s the tinnitus too.

Exhaustion washes through Ari like a wave. The temptation to let her knees buckle is intense. She could just fold to the ground right here and lay face down. Except she’d probably never get up again.

“Oh my god,” the healer whispers into the side of her neck. “Oh my god.” “Welcome to the Resistance,” Taryn says.

[leiawritesstories]

PART EIGHT: AUGUST

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: oh god swearing, scheming, angst, implied/referenced smut, mentions of grief, short depiction of a funeral, more scheming, Maeve, and angst (xoxo, Frederick)

all the thanks to @house-of-galathynius & @mariaofdoranelle for being the best betas ever <3

enjoy ;) i'm so sorry

Masterlist

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fenrys’s memorial was held on a brilliantly sunny, warm morning in early August. The sky was clear, pure cerulean, not a single wisp of cloud scuffling across its expanse, a mockingly cheerful backdrop for the somber group of people gathered in the cemetery. It was almost as if Fenrys Moonbeam, ever one to flash his blindingly bright grin in the wrong situations, had sent an especially bright day as a last vestige of himself. 

Standing rigid and stoic-faced in his full Terrasen Special Forces dress uniform, Rowan was flanked by Gavriel, also in full uniform, on his right and Aelin, in a simple black dress and heels, on his left. Her slender fingers were linked closely with his, her simple touch and her steady presence lending him the strength he desperately needed to hold himself together. For the moment, his theories were suspended, and they were just Rowan and Aelin, just two people mourning the loss of a dear friend. 

When he’d found out about Fen… Rowan barely had clear memories from that night, but he did remember one thing—Aelin. Her voice on the other end of his phone, holding him together. He’d raced to the Gal Inc lab complex after receiving a call from one of the lab’s security guards, and he’d stormed through that building, the room tilting and blurring the moment he stepped inside, caught a lungful of that sharp, scorching chemical scent, saw the ruined form on the ground, and known he was too late. 

His call to Aelin was one of pure desperation, and she was the only way he’d made it home. 

Gav lifted his chin slightly, and Rowan gently loosened his fingers from Aelin’s grasp and stepped up beside his commander. Beside the simple bronze urn. On Aelin’s other side, Aedion Ashryver linked his arm through hers, the cousins acting as each other’s support. 

“We thank Lieutenant Fenrys Alastair Moonbeam for his service, and we commend his soul to the Afterlife.” Gav pronounced the words solemnly, his voice only slightly wavering, and he and Rowan carefully, reverently, lifted the urn into its open mausoleum. Rowan held his salute until Gav had placed the headstone, then stepped back to Aelin’s side. 

The gentle squeeze of her hand spoke louder than any words. I am here. I am with you. 

As the small group of people began to disperse, Rowan lingered, taking a quiet moment to lay his gloved hand on the headstone and silently scream. Dammit, Moonbeam, it was never supposed to be you! 

“It’s already quieter,” Aelin murmured, coming to stand next to him. 

Rowan nodded, throat bobbing thickly. “I’ll never get used to it.” 

“I know.” She leant into his side, her unspoken sorrow recognizing his grief. “I love you, Rowan, you know.” 

“I love you too.” He slipped his arm around her waist, partially for comfort and partially for support as they walked away from the mausoleum, the bright summer sun beaming down upon the stone and tile. 

~

“Can I ask you something, love?” Rowan wasn’t even the smallest bit ashamed to admit he was laying on his girlfriend’s comfortable couch wearing sweats and an old t-shirt, his head in her lap, her fingers running soothingly through his cropped hair. 

“Anything.” Aelin brushed her touch down the slope of his cheekbone, thumb stroking his jaw. 

“How do…how did you know Fen?” 

She swallowed, her eyes going distant for a moment. “Gav introduced us; you know how my dear uncle likes to meddle in my love life.” She chuckled. “Fenrys was…the first TSF man that I felt like I could be myself with, you know? He wasn’t a stiff-backed soldier, and he wasn’t lecherous, just flirty.” 

“He was good at that,” Rowan agreed. 

“Granted, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Fenrys—probably not since my company’s Christmas party, and Gav was busy parading men in front of me for most of that event.” A soft, sad smile curled the corners of her lips. “He could always make me laugh.” 

“Fen made everyone laugh.” Rowan sat up, moving so he could pull Aelin into his lap and wrap his arms around her. “Gav complained about it, but he was never going to stop it.” 

Aelin relaxed into Rowan’s embrace, the tension that normally lined her spine loosening, allowing her to sink into his warmth. She didn’t say anything else, but the soul-deep compassion he saw in her turquoise gaze burrowed into his heart, warming the coldness of grief. He kissed the top of her head gently, softly, and ran his open hands up and down her back. 

She didn’t know how much time passed there, in comfortable silence, before she spoke again. “Will you write him into your tattoos?” 

“Of course.” Rowan had told Aelin the story of his tattoos a few months ago, on a balmy spring evening when the two of them were sprawled in each other’s arms sans clothing. He gave her the stories behind the symbols, the meaning behind the ink he wore on his skin. In return, she told him about the dragon on her back, the piece a work of bold, fearless, unconquerable power, the image of a leader who was unafraid to spew fire if necessary. Her tattoo was a unique piece; she and her artist had worked on designing it for months before she got the tattoo done. 

“Good.” She traced the fluid script on his chest. “He…no one should die so young.” She knew her words hinted at something beyond the friendship she’d mentioned, but she also knew she couldn’t just brush off Rowan’s questions. She had known Fenrys, and she’d been close with him. Celaena had been close with him. 

She only hoped that Rowan wouldn’t discover Fenrys and Celaena’s ties for a long, long time. 

~

Connall Moonbeam stood opposite the Queen of the Night and willed his expression to remain unruffled despite the gaping hole in his heart. 

“Does it truly not concern you at all, ma’am, that my brother died?” He kept his question as neutral as possible, aiming his concern not at his brother, but at the coldhearted woman who’d sent Fenrys to his death. 

Maeve hummed noncommittally. “There are certain risks involved with infiltrating a highly secure, tightly guarded space, particularly when that space is owned by a criminal who is jealous of her silly little tech. Fenrys knew and accepted those risks.” 

Con gritted his teeth. “Certain risks? We had planned that he would be able to bypass all of the known traps, even the final one.” 

“Clearly, that final security measure was altered. Sardothien most likely anticipated that there would be attempts made to steal her inventions.” Maeve fixed her icy violet gaze onto Con. “As it stands, we know that there is a trap rigged within the storage compartment itself, so that will need to be disabled when we return to the labs to take what we came for.” 

“Do you think it will be a simple task?” You can’t kill her yet, he told himself. Not. Yet. 

She shrugged. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. Sardothien is young, but she is not inexperienced.” 

“Obviously.” Con put more sarcasm into that word than he’d intended. 

Maeve arched one dark brow. “Connall, do you require some time alone? To plan, perhaps?” Her question seemed polite, but ice underlaid it. 

“I believe I do, ma’am. Forgive me.” He dipped his head, and when she dismissed him, he left her office, quietly closing the door behind himself, and strode down the hallways to his small, simple, blessedly private room. He gave himself exactly five minutes to silently rage before he pulled his burner phone from his jacket pocket and dialed Celaena Sardothien. 

She picked up almost immediately. “Con?” 

“Boss.” He didn’t bother trying to mask the pain in his voice. “She’s going to stage another break-in at the labs. It’s barely been two weeks since my—since Fen—since my brother was buried.” Although his room was soundproof, he was careful to keep his words just vague enough for anyone who might be listening to assume he was speaking about Sardothien. Everyone knew the Boss was Maeve’s next target, so it made sense for her men to be discussing her schemes. 

“I know.” Celaena’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle, nothing like the Boss’s typical commanding tone. “What’s she changing?” 

“She thinks she can disarm the trap that…the bomb rigged in the storage compartment.” 

“First of all,” Celaena drawled, “it’s not a bomb. I’m not a goddamn brute. Secondly, what do you want to do to counteract her plans?” 

“Boss?” Con was confused. 

She sighed. “Con, you’re thinking of a way to stop Maeve, aren’t you?” 

“Never a day when I don’t think about driving my knife through her throat.” 

“Alright. So, what do you think you can do—reasonably and subtly, because Maeve isn’t going to be easy to assassinate. Trust me. I’ve been scheming about how to do that for years.” 

“Well, there’s always controlled doses of non-lethal poisons. You know, things that gradually weaken a victim but aren’t deadly. It’s the kind of thing that’s usually used when you’re trying to get the victim to a point where they’re easy to kill.” Con was half thinking out loud, but the plan took shape as he spoke. 

“Do you have access to that kind of poison?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” Celaena paused, and Con swore he could hear the Boss’s thoughts whirring. “Get her weak enough that you can easily tranquilize her and bring her to the river warehouse. I’ll let you do the honors there, if you want.” 

“Believe me,” Con all but growled, “there is nothing I want more. She sent my brother to die.” 

“Understood.” Papers rustled on Celaena’s end of the call. “Keep me posted, yeah?” 

“Of course.” Click. The call ended. 

Con took a deep, controlled breath, tucked his phone back in his pocket, and strolled out of his room, heading for the storage rooms. Maeve’s men were used to seeing him in that part of the building, since most of his work required supplies, so nobody batted an eye when he walked in. It only took a few minutes to find a bottle of the stuff he needed, and he plucked it off the shelf and tucked it into his sleeve. 

It would probably take at least another two months, but Maeve would fall. 

He owed that debt to his brother. 

~

Aelin snapped her laptop closed with a frustrated huff and ran her hands through her loose braid. Gods. Only halfway through August, and she felt like she was being run ragged. She had a seller up her ass for a shipment that was one day delayed, her PR team kept asking when she was going to give that interview she’d promised to the Orynth Morning Show, Orynth PD and the TSF kept wanting to talk to her, and as if work wasn’t enough, she had a Boss crisis to deal with. 

Because some asshole had gone and leaked Fenrys’s apartment to PD. 

There were two security cameras at the Boss’s apartment, one at the front and the other at the back window, and Aelin got notified anytime one of the cameras picked up some suspicious activity. She had checked the camera feed two days ago and found, for lack of a better term, a shitload of cops crawling around the building. They were there for Fen’s apartment, but…she was only one floor below. 

It was enough to make her already-bad insomnia worse. 

Breaking through Aelin’s drifting thoughts, Elide knocked three times on Aelin’s office door and stuck her head in. “Hey.” 

“Hey, Ells.” Aelin snapped herself back into work mode. “Is someone here?” 

“You could say that,” Elide grumbled. “Some TSF grouch says he’s supposed to meet with you.” 

Aelin raised a brow. “How about I come out to the main office and chat?” 

“Sure.” Elide walked with Aelin out to the more open main area, where there was indeed a grouchy, scowling, massively tall man wearing a TSF jacket slouched against Elide’s desk. 

He raised his dark brows into an expression of utter indifference. “Is this conversation going to happen in front of just anyone?” 

Elide’s dark eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. “I work for Aelin.” 

“You her cute little secretary?” Aelin could have sworn some kind of amusement crinkled the soldier’s face. 

“Chief Operations Officer, actually. Gal Inc. couldn’t run without me.” She spoke lightly, but Aelin sensed some inexplicable kind of…tension…between the two. 

“Mhmm. And I’m the god of the sun,” the soldier deadpanned. 

“You’re just another disposable soldier, Salvaterre,” Elide returned, almost viciously. Salvaterre. That would make him Rowan’s captain…Lorcan. 

Lorcan Salvaterre bristled. “I’m a ranking officer of the TSF.” 

“And if you die on duty, you’ll be just another plaque in the ground,” Elide said sweetly. “Isn’t that what you just said about your supposed TSF brother?” She fixed Lorcan with the stare she used when she was bending investors to her will. 

“Ummm…” To Aelin’s concealed shock, Lorcan actually blushed, stumbling for words, scratching the back of his neck. “In hindsight, that was callous of me.” 

“You could say that.” Dismissively, Elide turned back to her computer. “Oh, Aelin is here. You said something about a meeting?” 

Lorcan stood sharply up and, instinctively, saluted. “Salvaterre here.” 

“The consummate soldier.” Aelin smothered her laughter. “I wasn’t aware I had any kind of meeting scheduled with the TSF today, Captain.” 

“You can call me Lorcan,” he muttered. “And, uh, Whitethorn sent me.” 

“He didn’t tell me anything.” 

“My god—” Lorcan grumbled under his breath. “I can show you the text if you want, but he didn’t tell me shit either. Just ‘go ask if Galathynius knows anything about Fen’s apartment.’ Fuck if I know what he meant by that.” 

“You might want to remember that you’re in public,” Elide interjected, critiquing Lorcan’s uncensored language. 

He scoffed. “I’m a soldier, Li, like you so astutely observed. Soldiers cuss.” 

Salvaterre has a nickname for Elide?! Aelin forcibly tamped down her questions. “I’m afraid I have no idea what on earth my boyfriend meant, either. I’m sorry.” 

“I knew you were going to say that. Screw Whitethorn for making me do this.” Lorcan frowned, which seemed to be his usual expression. “Alright, if that’s it, I don’t need to be here.” He turned on his heel with a soldier’s precision and strode out of the office, trying to mask the brief, intense glance he threw at Elide as he left. Clearly, Rowan hadn’t told him how observant Aelin could be. 

When he was out of sight, Aelin braced her hands on Elide’s desk and stared at the petite brunette until she turned around, her face carefully blank. “So how long have you two been fucking?” 

Elide flushed bright pink. “Aelin!” She swatted the taller woman. “That’s none of your business.” 

“Not at work, maybe.” Aelin grinned, eagerly drumming her fingers on the desk. “You know I’m going to bother you until I get details, right?” 

“And you’ll get all the details you want when we go out on Friday.” Elide composed herself and flashed a smug little smirk at Aelin. “I’ll only tell you one thing.” 

“Gimme.” 

Elide’s smirk turned wicked. “Last Monday, I worked remotely because I couldn’t walk.” 

“Ells!” Aelin gasped, almost stunned speechless. “Actually, no. I can’t judge.” 

“You sure as hell can’t.” Elide winked as she turned back to her computer. “It’s always the broody, grumpy ones.” 

“Dear god.” Aelin laughed as she walked back to her office. Elide and Salvaterre—she definitely hadn’t seen that coming. 

But the more she thought about it…the more she dreaded what could happen. 

~

Rowan hated the industrial district. 

It didn’t have anything to do with class politics or some bullshit superiority complex, but more with the eerie feeling of being watched he had every time he was in that district. There was also the little fact that one of his recurrent nightmares featured a memory from a training mission gone horribly wrong in this district, but that wasn’t something he intended to address. Typically, when the TSF or Orynth PD had a call for an investigation site down in the industrial sprawl of southeast Orynth, he would dispatch a team and tell them to bring back their report, but he couldn’t push this scene onto anyone else. 

He had to go to Fen’s stakeout apartment in person. 

The creaky, probably mildewing door groaned as Rowan pulled it open and walked into the simple, shitty, one-bedroom apartment that Fenrys had lived in while he worked for Sardothien. There wasn’t much in the place—a dark green couch and a pair of mismatched side tables in the living room, an old, worn dining table with three chairs, some random dishes in the cupboards, a bed with plain gray sheets and an offensively bright pink comforter that was purely Fenrys’s style, a nightstand with two drawers. Rowan was hesitant to open those drawers, knowing too well what Fen always bragged he kept in his room, but to his relief, there wasn’t much in the nightstand. The only things he found were some newspapers, a few knives, one stray bullet casing, and two cheap burner cell phones. 

Two?

He shrugged, assuming Fen had bought another one for backup, pocketed both phones, and left the room. The kitchen, living room, and bathroom were already cleared out thanks to the team, and he tipped his head towards the bedroom, indicating that it was ready for cleanup. 

When the team left the apartment, Rowan had to let Luca be the one to lock the door. He couldn’t bear to see the emptiness, the blank space, the visible mark of absence. Fen’s phones felt like hundred-pound weights in his pocket as he climbed into his SUV and drove away, leaving the industrial district no more than a gritty smear in his rearview mirror. 

Back at his PD office, Rowan placed the cheap prepaid phones on his desk, turning each one over in his hands before he set them down and just stared, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do next. The investigator in him wanted to immediately search through the phones, the soldier in him wanted to just give the phones to Gav and be done with it, and the part of him that was Fen’s friend wanted to lock away all the evidence in a titanium box and bury the key. He dreaded what could happen, what would happen, when he eventually had to turn on the phone and hear Fen’s voicemail. 

As a TSF soldier, Rowan was no stranger to death. Grief, though—that one was new. 

His own phone buzzed, stealing his attention. He picked it up to find an incoming call from Lorcan Salvaterre. Groaning, he answered. 

“What.” 

“Am I supposed to thank you for sending me on some bullshit-ass trip?” Lorcan sounded at least mildly irritated. 

“Don’t see how a legitimate question was bullshit, but sure. You’re welcome.” 

“Fuck off,” Lorcan grumbled. “As for your answer, Galathynius doesn’t—”

“Her name is Aelin,” Rowan snapped. 

On the other end of the call, Lorcan snickered. “Aww, is pretty boy lieutenant a little sensitive about his girlfriend?” 

Rowan was about ten seconds away from punching his captain in the nose. “I don’t give a shit how superior you are to me, jackass, I’ll still kick your ass if you disrespect the woman I love.” 

“Well, turn me over and fuck me raw,” Lorcan drawled. “Whitethorn’s in love. We should check the temperature in hell.” 

“Fucking gods,” Rowan sighed, exasperated. “Yes. I’m in love. Tell me what you and Aelin talked about and then stop wasting my goddamn time.” 

“Fine, fine.” Lorcan snickered some more. “Aelin and I talked for about sixty seconds, fuck you very much for making me ask her that stupid fucking question. I asked if she knew anything about Fen’s apartment, she told me she didn’t fuckin’ know what I was talking about, and her body language and expression and everything else checked out for her telling the truth. So I apologized for you being a dick and making me bother her, and then I left.” 

Rowan grunted in frustration. “Yeah, I believe her too. There’s part of me that wants to keep pushing that suspicion, but I literally have nothing that proves any kind of link. She just mentioned that she sort of knew Fen, once, and I gotta cover my bases.” 

“Makes sense. You could’ve told me that before I had to haul ass over to Gal Inc and bullshit my way past half the staff just to see Aelin Galathynius for two minutes, though.” Lorcan was clearly disgruntled. 

“Where’d the fun be in that?” It was Rowan’s turn to snicker; he rarely got to push Lorcan’s buttons, and the few times he could give the man who was technically his superior a mundane task, he did it with glee. 

“Fucker,” Lorcan grunted. “I’ll kick your damn ass at the gym for that.” 

“And here I thought you had plans and couldn’t work out today. At least, not with me.” Rowan smirked. He had two hundred dollars riding on Lorcan’s “plans” being with a woman, though the tight-lipped asshole would never admit it outright. 

“Turns out my plans are late enough to make the gym. See you there, asshole.” Lorcan hung up. 

Rowan chuckled. There was really nothing like riling up an old friend to get his head off of things that he didn’t want to think about. Speaking of that…he reluctantly picked up one of Fen’s phones and pressed the side button, turning on the small screen. He knew the passcode, so he tapped it in and found the home screen fairly simple, with only a handful of basic apps. The list of contacts was brief and basic. 

Whitethorn. Him, as planned. 

Salvaterre. As a backup contact. 

Help Center. An auto-programmed number for the phone company. 

Boss. That was…surprisingly simple. Rowan’s finger twitched, but there was one more contact. 

Ma’am. That was…confusing. If Sardothien was Boss, why was she also Ma’am? Some kind of ploy to distract anyone who swiped the phone? Some nonexistent fake contact? 

His gut pointed towards the contact called Boss, since he knew from the few times he’d talked to Fen that Sardothien went by “Boss” among her circle of crooks. Hell, Fen had even called her “Boss,” no doubt to keep his cover intact. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Rowan tapped Boss. The phone rang, five times, before there was a click and a male voice answered. 

“Who’s this?” 

“I need the Boss.” Rowan pitched his voice down to a rasp, his mind whirling in circles as he tried to identify why the fuck a man was answering for Sardothien and why the fuck his voice sounded familiar. 

Computer keys clacked faintly in the background. “Boss can’t talk right now.” 

“Why not?” 

“Boss can’t talk right now,” the man reiterated. “Keep trying.” He hung up. 

That last suggestion sounded distinctly like a threat, mildly voiced but wrapped in something sinister that promised, I will hunt you down and kill you. Rowan shuddered a bit just thinking about it. 

But why was there a man on the other end of that call? 

He sighed, shaking his head sharply. Because Sardothien is a goddamn crime boss, you fucking idiot. Of course she doesn’t answer her phone without security measures. That made sense, except for a few things. First, according to Fen’s info, Sardothien trusted him enough that she would have probably answered the call herself if she’d seen his name. Second, there was something oddly familiar about the other man’s voice, something Rowan couldn’t place. And that bothered the hell out of him. Third, he still hadn’t looked at the other phone. 

Something told him he might have better luck with the other burner. 

He turned on the second phone, which was a near-identical copy of the first, entered the passcode, and opened the contacts. This one was an exact replica of the first contact list, except for one thing. 

Con. 

Fen’s twin brother. 

Fen’s twin brother, who had last been seen over two years ago when he left for the Eastern Continent on what was supposed to be his last deployment with the Terrasen Navy SEAL team. Connall Moonbeam had been declared missing in action eight months after his deployment, and Rowan’s heart broke a little more just seeing Con’s name in Fen’s burner phone. It was a small but infinitely loud reminder of the man Fenrys had been—ever optimistic, always masking his darker emotions beneath a cloud of sunny laughter. 

Before he could drift farther into memories, Rowan pushed away from that contact and tapped on the one called Boss. Once again, the phone rang multiple times before the same man answered and the same conversation happened. Nothing more than Boss can’t talk right now before the guy hung up. 

Something was off. 

And Rowan would get to the damn bottom of it. 

~

“Boss.” The second Aelin picked up, Nox was talking. “He called.” 

“How many times?” As soon as she’d found out that Orynth PD and the TSF had gone through Fen’s apartment, Aelin had given Nox her Boss phone while she was at work. It was less risky for him to answer that phone than for her to accidentally pick up a TSF or PD call at a time when she couldn’t hide behind her Boss disguise. 

“Twice.” Nox was uncharacteristically quiet, no sounds of him working in the background. “Once from each number.” They both knew who he was. Rowan. 

Aelin took a controlled breath. “So he’s been to the apartment.” 

“Yeah, the cops came through on the 21st. I watched the footage.” 

“I wonder why it took them so long to get to the apartment,” Aelin mused, thinking aloud. “Normally, there would be cops crawling around within hours.” 

“I dunno. But Boss?” Nox sounded concerned. 

“Yeah?” 

He huffed a sigh. “I know you aren’t gonna like this, but please, please don’t answer any calls from Fen. I had your Boss phone earlier, so I answered both of them, but if and when Fen tries to call you again, don’t answer. It’s the cops, not him.” 

“I know.” Aelin closed her eyes. “I…thanks for taking those calls when they came, Owens.” 

“No problem, Boss.” Nox resumed typing on his keyboard. “Call me if he starts spamming you, yeah?” 

“Of course.” She hung up. 

If Fen calls, you can’t answer. 

It’s. Not. Him. 

The warning trickled through her blood like ice, cold and heavy. In her mind, Aelin knew that Fenrys couldn’t call her—she might see his name on her screen, but it would never again be Fenrys Moonbeam on the other side. In her heart, though, she still held a tiny spark of hope. There was always the slight chance that Connall could pick up one of the phones and call her. Yes, he had his own burner, but she knew how badly he wanted to collect Fen’s things, and he wasn’t afraid to get onto the wrong side of the law if it meant that he could bring his twin’s possessions home. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Connall called, his name lighting up her Boss phone. She answered, but she let him speak first. 

“It’s started.” As always, Con didn’t waste words. 

“What’s the timeline you’re anticipating?” Relieved that it was actually Connall—maybe it made her paranoid, but she was beginning to feel the investigation clamp down around Boss Sardothien—Aelin kicked herself into work mode. 

Con grunted. “Seven, eight weeks. Ideally six to seven weeks, but I don’t know if she’ll have built up any immunity as a protective measure.” 

“True.” Aelin drummed her fingers against the windowsill of her shitty Boss apartment. “I’d be surprised if she hadn’t, but then again, we can’t discount her massive fucking ego.” 

“Huh?” 

She’d forgotten that Connall didn’t know too much about Maeve’s past. “She was Hamel’s lover for years. You can’t do that without an ego the size of the goddamn sun.” 

“Well, shit.” Con hummed softly, probably scheming. “That explains why she pretty much just sits in her plush little seat all day, convinced that nobody can come and get her when she’s so far elevated above the rabble.” 

“Accurate description,” Aelin chuckled. “Right. I trust you, Con. Update me if anything significant happens, yeah?” 

“Sure, Boss. Will do.” Con hung up. 

Aelin sighed, tucking away the Boss phone. She turned back to the window and stared out over the Orynth skyline, murky as it was from the constant clouds of vapors that the warehouses and factories down in this district churned out. To tell the truth, she was counting down the days before she could stop having to live in this shitbox apartment, but she had to keep it for Celaena’s purposes. 

She’d give just about anything to move all of her shit out and erase Celaena’s presence from the crappy building, but there would be too many questions. Also, this place was conveniently close to the docks and the industrial sector of Orynth, both of which were key to her less-than-legal business. 

And nobody cared if she walked out of the building with a gun on her hip. 

Still…the ghosts that now clung to this building weighed down upon Aelin like a suit of iron, intangible but oppressively present. Now that the cops were done crawling all over the damn place, she felt safe enough to stay at the apartment occasionally, but she was triple-checking the locks and the security measures to make sure she didn’t have any unwanted guests. As much as she would enjoy shocking the fuck out of the cops and the TSF, she really didn’t care for the idea of being arrested, so she kept herself carefully cloaked behind her favorite armor: shadows and secrecy. 

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. She plucked it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and did a double take, staring. 

Moon Moon.

Fen’s contact lit up the screen. 

Aelin’s finger quivered, itching to accept the call, but she forced her better judgment to win out and stopped herself. The screen went dark, only to start buzzing again only a minute later. 

Interesting. 

Once again, she refused to answer, instead waiting until the screen went dark before slipping down the short hallway into the bedroom and grabbing her custom-made leather mask from the nightstand. She wore it out anytime she went on a mission as Boss, and the filter built into the material disguised her voice, twisting it into a throaty rasp. 

As she’d expected, Moon Moon’s incoming call lit up her screen yet another time. She let it ring until it was almost at its limit, then swiped left to answer. 

There was a tense, drawn-out beat of silence. 

Then, the voice on the other end shattered the quiet. “Boss?” 

Fuck. 

It was Rowan. 

Aelin forced her scrambling wits back into place. “You’re not Moon Moon,” she rasped, the filter twisting her voice into gravel. 

“He’s dead.” That was Investigator Rowan, cold and blunt. 

She could be just as cold-hearted. “I know.” 

Predictably, Rowan took the next logical step. “Who killed him?” 

Aelin let the pause drag out, weighing whether to outright tell Rowan the truth or to simply leave him in silence as would fit the personality of Celaena Sardothien. 

“Who. Killed. Him?” Rowan repeated the question, his voice tight and hard. 

“Maeve.” Aelin’s response was short, blunt, and devoid of feeling. 

She hung up and scrubbed the call from her burner phone. 

Took a screwdriver and a heavy-duty plastic bag out of the drawer, pried the back off the phone, scratched up its inner parts, threw it into the bag, and beat the handle of the screwdriver into it until it was a wrecked pile of plastic, glass, and tiny circuit splinters. 

Then she changed into her Sardothien suit, secured her mask and hood, laced up her boots, strapped her pack across her back, and slipped soundlessly out the window, locking it tightly behind her. In minutes, she was no more than another shadow fading into the summer night. 

~

The recording was all of thirty seconds long, but it was all that Rowan had to work with, and for some reason, there was a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that this was it. This was the piece he’d been missing. This call would be the key he needed to unlock the mystery of the Shadow Assassin. 

Rowan shuffled through reports as he waited for the software to do its job. He was running a program that was commonly used in PD, a fairly straightforward piece of work that could reverse voice filters placed on calls. It had helped him and many others catch all sorts of criminals in the past, and he had no doubt that it would reveal the true voice of whoever the fuck he’d spoke to last night. Her voice was familiar, striking some kind of chord in his mind, and he’d been turning over the possibilities ever since he’d grabbed the recording of that call. 

I know. Her cold, cruel response to the news of Fen’s death was…not what Rowan had expected. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting the Boss to answer, either, and look where that had got him. But that tone, that raspy drawl…why did he know it? 

He ran a few other phrases through his mind, a trick he had learned would often trigger voice recognition in his memory. Boss, murder, I know, take care of it, don’t move—

“Don’t move.” Something clicked faintly, the first tumbler of a combination lock. Threats, then…where had he heard that voice give threats? 

Move, and your next breath will be in the afterlife. The words slammed back into him with icy, steel-sharp recognition. The threat that the Boss had murmured to him when she’d caught him at her warehouse, knives to his throat and his…well…

Rowan’s computer pinged, indicating that the program was finished. Although the results were probably useless, since he’d just made the connection between the voice on the phone and the voice of the Boss, Celane Sardothien, one and the same. He turned back to the reports, his mind somewhat more settled, and managed to get through a good portion of them before he needed a few minutes to clear his head. He tapped on the file from the voice-filter reversal program, thinking he’d get a simple confirmation of what he’d already pieced together. 

The voice that spilled from his speakers froze his blood solid. 

“You’re not Moon Moon.” And then, coldly, “I know.” And finally, after he’d asked who killed Fen—twice—her answer. “Maeve.” 

He knew that voice. 

Knew it as intimately as he knew his own hand in the shower. 

Knew the soft throatiness of the laugh that so often accompanied that voice. 

Knew the caress of that voice as well as the caress of its speaker’s hands. 

It was Aelin. 

The world around him abruptly went utterly silent.

Rowan had been right—this call was the missing piece he needed in order to lay out the scattered puzzle of Celaena Sardothien. And he had also been horribly, horribly wrong—the revealed voice was not the unfamiliar rasp of a stranger, but the intimately familiar song of a lover. 

Celaena Sardothien wasn’t in league with Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She wasn’t blackmailing the CEO like Rowan had theorized. No—Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. She had the whole of Orynth, the whole of the goddamn world, duped into believing that the CEO and the criminal were two different people. Part of Rowan was awestruck by the sheer impossible intricacy of her scheming. The other part of him, the investigative part, the part of him that was focused only on capturing the Shadow Assassin, was completely and utterly shattered.

Aelin—Celaena—owned every jagged edge of his heart. And she had been murdering her way through Orynth while he fell in love with her. 

The breath escaped Rowan’s lungs in a fractured rush. Fuck, even his heartbeat and his breathing knew Aelin, knew the impossibly calming effect she had on his ragged nerves. Had she really stood by his side at Fen’s memorial, black-clad and teary-eyed, holding his hand and keeping him together? Had she really been mourning, or was it all a ruse? Had she duped him along with the rest of Orynth? 

Did her I-love-you’s mean anything, or were they part of her schemes as well?

Pieces dropped into place before Rowan’s eyes as he stared blankly into space, torn between the investigative desire to bury himself in the case and the sheer force of his heart cracking into a thousand porcelain shards at his feet. Aelin was Celaena; Aelin is Celaena. Which meant that not only was she behind a horrifically impressive string of murders, but also that there was a distinct possibility that her company and her lab were involved in her nefarious business. That would make sense, since the lab was the site of Fen’s death, and the cause had been some kind of booby trap. 

Abruptly, Rowan laughed, the sound harsh and caustic. After eight months, he had his concrete proof, everything he needed to bring the Shadow Assassin down. But knowing who she was…

In his ten years in the TSF, Rowan Whitethorn had never once doubted his ability to capture a criminal. All he needed was a name, a gun, and his wits. 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—Celaena Sardothien—had shattered his confidence. 

In every possible way. 

~~~

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[nsewell]

tw: brief discussion of religion

North America, 1935. They’ve done a twenty-four kilometer dead sprint circumference of the farmland that borders a desolate inkspot on Nat’s map of the Texas Panhandle, and it’s all rows of cultivated fields and nothing, nothing, nothing. At a copse of cedar elms there’d been a cage lodged into a flaky patch of mud, but that was all that remained of the Trapper caravan that had passed through this area. They’d since moved on, taking their captives with them, and from the tarnishing metal, it seems they’d done so a while ago. Somewhere vaguely westward is all they can gauge.

Ava kicks the cage in frustration, hard enough to crack a bone that mends before the pain can topple her, and then says with mustered control, “We need to be quicker. We need to get back on the trail.”

“We need to rest,” Nat returns patiently and it only takes that for Ava to concede, exhausted with sun and hunger and loathe to deny her. 

They slouch in the weeds and the sun burnished grass together and sip from their canteens of blood, replenishing energy expelled in the chase. Nat’s half ration reserve beads down her chin as she drinks with always just a tinge of desperation, and tells Ava about a drought to the north. She talks like this sometimes, just to talk. Relays to Ava current affairs that she’s read in a paper, and does not expect her to answer. 

The sky is a yawning chasm above, the heat a brutalizing line on their necks. They’ve kicked up enough muck and dust to coat their bodies entirely, and warrant a thorough washing before reconvening at the inn with the other half of their team for the next leg of their journey. They end up tracing their steps back to a lake that they’d passed, and when they get there Nat says, “Oh,” with a wary eye on the wide waterline and her arms tucked against her sides and Ava understands. As if in a desire to be clean and cool she had forgotten the manner to achieve it. 

“I miss the Turkish bathhouses,” Nat sighs. “We’ve traded mint leaves for river reeds.” Ava thinks it a rather meager attempt to cover her trepidation when she can see the way the curve of her wrists are shaking against the fabric of her blouse. Instead, reaches over to grip her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze and lending of strength. 

“You philistine. Come to the shore, and I’ll help you.” 

Ava wades calf deep to fill her empty canteen with water and returns to Nat who is watching her from the pebbled bank, all willowy grace like a river nymph, or else a specter at the water’s edge. Who will go no further. She directs Nat to kneel low enough so she can douse her face clean, and the younger vampire emits a soft chuckle when Ava presses her thumb into the divot of tender skin behind her ear and hold her gaze to the sky.

 “What’s so funny?” Ava asks.

“Just a thought I had. This feels baptismal.” Nat crosses her arms across her chest in an affected, reverent gesture.

Ava lifts a brow. “Were you baptized?” It means nothing to her and she isn't sure why she has a notion to ask. In the swathe of wide topics that have carried them debating through the centuries, religion has never come up.

“Yes, of course. I was born into a self respecting Anglican family of the gentry. Or half of one at least,” Nat recalls, and her accent slips a touch to the cadence of palatial drawing rooms and garden soirees. The one she'd had when they'd first met. “My mother and step-father didn’t want to illegitimize me further, for all the good it did my soul.” 

Ava takes a half-step back and carefully watches Nat's face. “You don’t believe that.” They’ve dealt with hauntings, yes. Banshees, ghouls and the like. Things that have slipped through the perilously thin cracks of the Echo World. Never something that was an inclination of the human soul, evidence of a life beyond this one. “After all you’ve learned and seen.” 

“In the soul? I’m not sure. I��ve thought a lot about it. Sometimes. Aren’t we as vampires spirits by definition? Left behind imprints of a human that once walked the Earth. If we die do we leave a trace, or has the trace already been left?”  

“If you’re going to philosophize you can do this yourself,” Ava tells her wholly fond.

A thread of warm laughter always underscores any teasing that Nat does and this one melts into the dry breath of wind sweeping the north Texas plains. Genial and tender. “There's a very old adage I'm sure you're familiar with, even with all your reclusion, my friend-you started it.”