#the circle of cavan

[cammie-morgan-goode]

In OSOT, when cam comes back, zach says it's different, and he seem a bit distance quite a while, with him & bex always together. Do you think he's also mad at cam that's why? Or something else?

Oh my poor Zachy boy…

Zach’s mad. He’s furious with Cam. He’s pissed at her.

But not for the reasons we think.

Zach is the one who gave Cammie the idea of running away. He said so in OGSY. He told Cam that they should run. That they would keep each other safe. And Cam told him no. Cammie told him that that was not an option.

And what does she do? She leaves without him and she runs.

Zach doesn’t know where she is. She didn’t leave a note for anyone, she didn’t say goodbye, she’s just gone.

Zach has nobody. He can’t go home. He can’t go to his mom. He can’t go back to school. He doesn’t know if Cammie is even alive until they find her in Switzerland. And during that time he has Bex. And Bex is the only constant in his life that summer. She is the only one keeping his feet on the ground and keeping him from doing something stupid. Because if he can’t find Cammie, what does he have left? Joe’s in a coma for goodness sake.

And then to make matters worse, Cam comes back and she’s different. She can’t remember anything from that summer. He doesn’t even want to think about what she could’ve endured. He doesn’t want to process that. Between the sessions with Dr. Steve, the weapons incident, the memory loss, the fact that the Circle is still out there…

He tried to find Cam and he failed.

Things are different between them and while Cam is trying to process that and her missing summer, Zach is trying to process the fact that anything could have happened to Cammie and there was nothing he could do to stop that.

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #ally carter #cammie morgan goode writes #asked and answered #answered asks #answered #zach goode #zachary goode #cammie morgan #the circle #lyky chhs djgc ogsy osot uws #cameron morgan #cameron goode #zach and cammie #cammie and zach #Cameron and Zachary #zammie #the circle of Cavan #catherine goode #joe solomon #joseph solomon #zach and joe #joe and zach #bex baxter #rebecca baxter #Zach and Bex #Bex and Zach #Zachary and Rebecca #Rebecca and Zachary

[averagejoesolomon]

If Full Circle was a published book, I would totally pull an all-nighter and read it cover to cover. This LAST CHAPTER. Come on Sarah. The whole thing was (per usual) amazing, I'll say that till I'm blue in the face. JOE FINALLY knocking some sense into Matt? Joe PROTECTING RACHEL AND ~CATHERINE~ (he is secretly a sweet guy, and we know it). All the unsaid things, these boys. Also starting to feel the whole Circle of Cavan impending doom and it's got me in a choke hold.

PS. Particularly with the age gap Joe and Catherine feel much more like poor tortured souls together and less like lovers, DONT GET ME WRONG who doesn't love Joe, but shipping him with every single -older-gen woman does feel a little forced. So maybe it's not the way you intended it, and we will see that later, but I like the dynamic anyway.

PPS. This isn't exactly Full Circle comment but the dynamics between the two of them feels so cannon. I've officially got no clue how Joe and Rachel get together. like at all. The tension between these two is so cold. How.

Dude, you and me both. Sometimes I think about how this story has to end and I'm like "I can fix him tho" except I can't. I can't fix him. Matt's gonna take himself to his grave. BUT IN THE MEANTIME, yes yes yes, Joe and Catherine is so interesting to me and I'm so jazzed to see how it plays out over these next few chapters, and the next few installments. I don't particularly ship them (although there are plenty who do—and I've certainly written some stuff that implies romance), but I do think there has to be some sort of relationship there, for Zach to make any sense. And it's nice to give Joe some stakes.

And Joe with Rachel is 😍✨ I'm so excited. When these two do finally warm up to one another, it's going to be such a treat. THANK YOU for reading, and thank you for sharing your excitement.

#full circle questions

[ethanreedbooks]

All the Details on 'Venom War' Debuting August 7th

Everything We Know About ‘Venom War’ Starting August 7th

Attention, Marvel fans! Marvel Comics is gearing up to launch their next big crossover event, Venom War, and it’s set to kick off on August 7th with Venom War #1. This epic event will unfold across the main Venom series and several tie-in miniseries, featuring a star-studded lineup of creators like Al Ewing, Erica Schultz, Cavan Scott, Iban Coello, Luciano Vecchio, Juan Jose Ryp, Torunn Grønbekk, Pere Perez, Greg Land, Collin Kelly, Jackson Lanzing, and Cafu.

The Story So Far

Al Ewing, the mastermind behind Venom War, has been laying the groundwork for this event from the very beginning of his current VENOM run. The series has chronicled the separate yet intertwined journeys of Eddie Brock and his son, Dylan, as they both navigate life as symbiote hosts. Now, after terrifying glimpses of the future, both realize that only one of them can be Venom. This father-and-son conflict is about to escalate into a full-blown war, forcing every symbiote character, past and present, to pick a side.

“This is what we’ve been building to since the start of this wild and way-out symbiote odyssey—the fateful confrontation between father and son!” Ewing explained. “Where better to have it than inside the squared circle? And who better to bring this all-action epic to the page with than my old buddy Iban Coello? I’m tellin’ ya, goo believer—this is vehemently varied Venom violence like never viewed, and only one host can wear the symbiote when the dust settles! Who’s it gonna be?”

What to Expect in August

Venom War #1 (of 5)

Written by: Al Ewing

Art and Cover by: Iban Coello

Foil Variant Cover by: David Baldeón

Synopsis: The Venom Symbiote has bonded with both Eddie Brock and his son Dylan. Now, father and son are set to clash, each determined to be the one, true Venom! It’s a showdown of showdowns that threatens to tear the world apart.

Venom War: Venomous #1 (of 3)

Written by: Erica Schultz

Art by: Luciano Vecchio

Cover by: Leirix

Synopsis: Black Widow and her newly trained symbiote join the fray, investigating horrific experiments by Alchemax. Natasha’s old teammate, Agent Anti-Venom, is also on the case!

Venom War: Zombiotes #1 (of 3)

Written by: Cavan Scott

Art by: Juan José Ryp

Cover by: Juan Ferreyra

Synopsis: A darker strain of symbiote reanimates the dead, creating symbiote zombies. It’s a nightmare scenario as the Venoms face off against this new horror.

Venom War: Carnage #1 (of 3)

Written by: Torunn Grønbekk

Art by: Pere Pérez

Cover by: Ken Lashley

Synopsis: Carnage has his own plans and a new weapon deadly to symbiotes. Will he side with Eddie or Dylan, or will he have his own agenda?

Venom War: Spider-Man #1 (of 4)

Written by: Collin Kelly and Jackson Lanzing

Art and Cover by: Greg Land

Synopsis: The original Venom, Peter Parker, returns to the black suit. He might just be the key to ending the Venom War.

Venom #36

Written by: Torunn Grønbekk

Art and Cover by: Cafu

Synopsis: As the war between Eddie and Dylan Brock rages on, an older Dylan Brock, known as Old Man Venom, time-travels to ensure the correct victor.

Mark Your Calendars!

This summer, the symbiote corner of the Marvel Universe is set to explode with Venom War. Expect epic battles, dramatic twists, and the return of beloved characters in this all-out symbiote showdown. Make sure to grab these issues starting August 7th and join in on the chaotic fun that only Venom and his allies can deliver!

#venom war #venom symbiote #venom #marvel #marvel comics #spider man #eddie brock #dylan br #black widow #Youtube

[dashofmonsters]

The Long Road- Pt. 11

Male Naga x F!Reader

All night you both just kiss and hold each other until you fall into the most blissful sleep you've had in years. Silas holds you close like usual but this time he's sitting up against the bed and you're in his coils. He wraps you up in his tail and drapes the ridiculously large blanket over the both of you and passes out.

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

Come morning the poor naga is apologizing to you and you're thoroughly confused.

"Wait wait wait all we did is kiss and cuddle, we were both fine with it. Why are you freaking out?" you ask as he slinks off to a corner of the room and bangs his head against the wall.

"That was fine! More than fine! It's what I did afterwards!" he bangs his head against the wall again.

"You mean falling asleep?" you raise a brow and slide out of bed.

"Yes! Well no! It was how we fell asleep! That position is for mates! Gods I- I'm sorry," Silas bangs his head again and again.

You roll your eyes, "It's ok, it was just a one time thing. It means nothing right? Right?"

Silas looks to you, his silver eyes are watery and bloodshot. His lips purse and then he shakes his head, "It means a lot. It means-" He shakes his head again, "No, you're right it's nothing."

You grimace and stomp up to him, "No it's not nothing, not to you. What's going on? What did that mean to you? Do you not want to tell me because it'll just be one more thing I'll have to deal with? Well guess what, at this point anything new won't surprise me! Come on, lay it on me! What ever it i-"

"It means I want you as my mate."

"Oh," was all you can manage at first and then there was steam coming from your fists. Your face feels unbearably hot and your heart is beating like crazy.

"Yeah, so it obviously means nothing," Silas sighs and lowers his head.

"N-no it doesn't... I mean it means something to you. I just, I don't think I can reciprocate that at the moment. We're in the middle of a war and all and I'm flattered, I really am but just can we come back to that another time maybe? I'd need to think about it and you know this traveling thi-"

Silas wraps his arms around you and picks you up, "You'd truly think about?"

"When given the time to, but not right now... Not for a while," your lips purse and you let out a groaning sigh. "Listen, I like you a lot ok but let's just take this...what we have, one day at a time. We can circle back on this 'mate' thing after the war, maybe like a year after."

He nods his head but his eyes sparkle with some strange hope. You can't recall seeing him this excited about anything and you're the cause of it. That makes your chest strain and your heart flutter all at once.

"We should probably get the day started huh?" you squirm a little and he releases you.

"Oh uh yeah, probably," he gives you this nervous grin that makes you laugh.

It's an odd sort of silence of you both get ready. You help Silas tie up his hair, braiding it so it'll hold. He told you before either of you nodded off that he wants to start training with his uncles and Anyon wants to show him tricks behind teleporting longer distances.

As you both start down the hall you notice that there's a small group slowly forming downstairs. You spot Luctux leaving his room and he gestures at the crowd with a raised brow, both you and Silas shrug.

You spot Kat, Charlie, Elli, and Cavan in the crowd, each talking to small groups who just nod or grunt in response. Your aunt catches sight of you first and hails you over.

"Apparently Gustav rounded up any surviving crew members from the last war. Everyone here is against what Notus is doing and wants to put a stop to it lest they lose their hard fought peace," she looks over her shoulder to the crowd.

Your eyes widen at the sheer number, there had to be fifty maybe sixty people here.

"Are all these people old crew members of The Dread Maunder?" you ask, trying not to gape.

Kat snorts and shakes her head, "They're from each ship. Oh and lucky you I found out one of them is a fire elementalist too. Not as strong as having an ifrit or dragon, but she said she can teach you better control."

She scans the crowd before diving in and dodging person after person till she found her target to drag back over. Silas gives you a concerned look but you roll your eyes and laugh it off, "I think that's just how she is."

"Here! Here she is! Adelita, this is my niece, the one with the ifrit spirit," she grins and pulls forward a tall absolute brick wall of a woman with muscles twice the size of Thurl's. Her dark green skin is scarred and her long wavy black her curls around hair face is a short bob.

Adelita gives you a warm smile and nods her head, "Greetings small one. I had heard you look like Silver but you hold yourself much like Aella and I'd know, I was her first mate."

Your jaw drops. Not only is she an elementalist but she knew your late aunt... You shake your head and mentally slap yourself, no no of course she'd be all that and probably something more.

Adelita laughs at your stunned silence then pats your shoulder, "S'all right there lassy? Did you think your old man's crew were the only ones out there who'd be willing to drag Notus' arse back ashore for a good beating? I've got personal beef with that asshat going back before he was a captain, this is just a good enough excuse to beat his face in without his sister pleading me not to."

Kat rolls her eyes, "That aside, you were one of the few elementalists pirates back then. How many were there and how many survived?"

Adelita's expression sobers, she grumbles something before shaking her head, "Four, maybe five of us back then. All water types, none survived. King wanted all the magicy types killed off first. I only survived because of Calista, rest her soul. Saved me from execution and instead lit that cowardly king right up!"

Your aunt laughs and slaps your back, "Then you'd have no qualms training Calista's descendant?"

"You," Adelita looks at you with disbelief, her brows rising almost off her face. "You're Calista's...? And you have an ifrit spirit?"

You nod your head and back up a little and into Silas' arms. The orc woman runs a hand through her hair and grits her teeth in a strange contemplative way.

"Why do you suddenly seem so unsure of yourself?" Kat asks her.

"Oh I'm not...it's uh personal ya know. Training the descendant of the woman who saved ya, it's a lot. It's uh heavy ya know?" Adelita rubs the back of her neck, a dark green flush stains her cheeks.

"I get it, well sort of," you shrug. "Just know that if things aren't going right it'll be no one's fault but my own."

Adelita grins at you, "Well I guess that settles it. So when do I start kicking your ass into shape?"

"Tomorrow, since I was told I need to rest in between training," you smile.

Silas grips your shoulders and before you can turn around you hear a breathy chuckle from him, "And please, don't kick her ass too hard. I've already lost sleep hovering over her from her last injuries."

You snap and look up at Silas who's now wearing a cat-like grin, "Did you just crack a joke?"

Silas snorts, "I do have a sense of humor my dear, it's just been on the back burner since I've been in a constant state of concern as of recent."

"With Isa as your mother I'm surprised you actually have a sense of humor," Adelita chuckles. She makes a few more remarks in regards to her history with Silas' mother and details on your training before marching back into the crowd.

Kat is about to drag the both of you further into the crowd until Elli clamps a hand onto your shoulder. Normally well put together, she looks worse for wear. Her eyes look dry and bloodshot and her expression tired like she's at her wits end.

"We need to talk. People here are looking for some sort of order and head to follow. Word has gotten around that our father and former captain is out of commission and no one is wanting to take full lead," Elli bites her lip and sighs before looking at you and then Silas.

There's an uneasiness building up in your gut because you think you know where this is going but you really really hope that Elli's not thinking what you think she's thinking.

Silas squeezes your hand and he gives the girl a nervous smile, "And this has something to do with us I suppose?"

Elli nods, almost apologetically, "Since this has to do with her family, yes. She'd be the ideal figure head to follow. For you, your parents were close with her's and everyone kind of knows there's a uh relationship going on here so-"

"You want to take advantage of our relationship and our families history in the previous war to inspire the masses?" Silas grits, his lips curled back in disgust.

"More or less...It's just a strategy though and one of the few I can actually conjure up that sounds like it'd work. It's up to either of you if you want to take the lead though, and from what I've heard, I doubt there will be any objections," Elli crosses her arms and looks back to the crowd. "We're going rogue without the King's backing here to protect our people. I don't know what's going on in the castle and I haven't heard high nor low from any of my informants I've sent."

"And Singred?" Silas snaps.

"Still in hiding and still safe. He updated us yesterday, his own concerns are growing as well," she sighs. "So we need a rogue leader for a rogue army because we can't count on the king to back us. My father and I have already started speaking with other towns and cities about Notus and-" Elli pauses and takes a deep breath, "Three port towns have been overrun already. They're saying Melmar is next once the worst of winter passes."

Your heart sinks at that. Your hometown is on the path to being destroyed. All those people... the fishermen, the shop keeps, the elders you would sit with in the morning to mend nets with....

"I'll do it then," you grind.

"You want a rogue leader, fine," you spit. "I'll be the rogue leader if it means getting people to Melmar and fast."

"Rogue leaders then," Silas dips his head down. "You're not going in this alone. My home village is nearby too and most of my people are hibernating for the season."

Elli straightens and nods her head, "I'll let Gustav know and I'll send word to Brakkor tonight as well."

She starts to turn but you catch her shoulder, "You made this personal for a reason and I don't trust that. What are you hiding?"

She stiffens and sighs. Her weight shifts under your grip but she doesn't attempt to brush you off, as if annoyed that she got caught.

"Later. Once your positions have been announced we'll talk about it. I just need to-" Elli staggers and clutches her head. You catch her and with Silas' help are able to drag her over to one of the benches. She swats at any fussing and groans like a petulant child, "Tonight, I'll tell you tonight after you've been appointed and all just-"

Before she can say anything else she passes out and nearly falls over. Luctux, who had been looking for her rushes her to Isa. A look of worry and longing lace his every glance at her and then you're reminded of how she cried after that long talk Silas and the others had with her and her family.

"They're in love aren't they?" you blurt and try to clear your throat and play off what you just said but Silas nods his head and looks after them.

"He will deny it but yes. I think since becoming a litch he's decided to keep a certain distance with people, especially those he cares about... but Elli, I think he's having the hardest time staying away from her," Silas sighs and turns back to the crowd.

Groups have formed now and people keep eyeing the both of you and giving acknowledging nods. There's an added edge of expectancy now that you've opted for the figure head leader position, not quite in charge but enough to get things moving you suppose.

"Things are about to start sooner than expected," you grimace.

"The sooner we start this, the sooner we can end it," Silas pulls you towards him and your eyes meet his cold steely gaze, any of that warmth from this morning is completely gone.

You suck in a breath and look back out at the people who started shuffling about, "You sound so sure about that."

Silas runs a claw up your neck and to your ear causing you to shiver. He dips down right next to you and leans in to whisper, "Wishful thinking my dear, honestly I just want this whole thing over with so it can just be us again."

"Another time Silas, we need to focus on-" whatever you were going to say you quickly swallow and bury at the sight before you.

Choas.

Pure and utter chaos.

"Everyone file out back!" Kat yells.

"Elli is still out!" Luctux shouts.

"Gustav! Fuck! Gustav's been shot!" you hear Culann curse.

Glass shatters and flaming arrows fly through the hall igniting whatever they land on. Someone tugs on you but you're frozen in place. The air is suddenly knocked out of your lungs and in a blink you're in the middle of a forest watching that lovely manor go up in flames.

"No...no no no no!" the words start to trip from your mouth as you try to scramble back.

"Stop it will you!" Silas snaps at you and turns you around.

"I need to-"

"You need to get a grip on yourself before you do anything else!" his claws dig into you and nearly slice your clothes. "You hesitated, that can get you killed my dear!"

The sound of someone screaming wrenches your gut and you want to, you need to go back, you need to help, but-

"What will you do if you go back? What is y-"

"Enough!"

Both you and Silas whip your heads around and see Anyon holding an unconscious Gustav over his shoulder.

"Go back now," Silas' uncle growls and before anyone can argue you're being teleported but without your naga.

Your worst nightmare is being played out before you now. Your brother is clutching his side, blood staining his tunic and Helena is shouting, begging for Isa who is holding Lir down as he writhes while Culann helps pull an arrow from his leg. Your father is shouting at Cavan to let him go until he sees you, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and rage.

"No one saw you leave," Anyon slithers past you and slowly deposits Gustav onto the snow. "Though I suspected the reasons."

Your lips tighten and you look back to the manor, white hot rage building up in your chest. The ifrit spirit within stirs in a way you've never felt it and it's both terrifying and amazing all at once.

"This is just the start you know," Anyon adds right as Silas teleports and slithers to your side. "War isn't pretty and it's not a game. It's real lives at stake here! It's-"

The world spins upside down as you land onto the ground with Silas right on top of you. He curses and gasps and screams before he's being lifted up.

Everything stops when you see the first stream of blood run down his arm.

An arrow had hit him... No, it was two... maybe three...

You turn over and vomit violently into the snow, the weight of the world pressing down hard and then nothing, nothing but pure heat and pure rage.

This time you'd be in control, this time for sure because both you and the ifrit spirit inside of you want the same thing right now: to put an end to this.

It's a blur at first, the fire, the bald elven caster screaming and laughing, the begging, the pleading, the arrows... oh so many arrows. It starts to clear after you catch the first archer in your claws, a feeble tiefling with dark violet skin and sickly white eyes. They begged for mercy, you can't recall if you showed them any.

Things became crystal clear at the last archer, you had dragged them by the back of their neck and slung them against the tree in the back where everyone was at. You said little to the archer, pretty sure they couldn't move since their arm was broken. A mistake you made when you caught them and they slipped and fell out of the tree.

"By the gods," you hear your father whisper.

Everyone had paused whatever they were doing you realize and had held onto each other when you went berserk. You look down at yourself and feel... you feel...

You did what you had to do, you remind yourself and shake away those doubts.

Hesitation can get you killed...

You close your eyes and try to center yourself, but neither you nor the ifrit spirit want to let go of this form just yet.

What if there are more archers?

What if they're on the way?

What if...?

What if...?

"Breathe, fire child, breathe," a large hand holds your shoulder firmly.

You open your eyes and see Adelita bedecked in flames and her hair now of ruffling firebird feathers.

"It's over now," her grip tightens as she forces you down into the snow.

"It's over..." she repeats, again and again till you finally feel the words deep in your bones.

You curl into yourself as you feel her shoveling more and more snow on top of you, tears and a silent cry escaping your mouth as the realization of what you just did occurs to you.

Gentle hands rub your cheek, so cold, so so cold.

So nice...

So nice...

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

"They have the upper hand in this, they've had it for a while," is the first thing you hear when your crusty eyes begin to peel open.

"Tracking magic, Cavan... They have it on every single one of their agents. This is beyond just petty family revenge at this point. They have legit soldiers from Roskar. The archer she caught and kept alive told us that much. This is bigger than what we thought," you hear Luctux hiss as you try and sit up.

A firm clawed hand gently pushes you back down. You try and blink the crust from your eyes but a warm wet towel sops up the mess and you shudder.

"Rest... and listen. We'll talk once they leave the room," Silas whispers as he rubs your cheek.

All you can do is nod, feeling too much and not enough to do or say anything.

"Roskar has had its eyes on Malredra for hundreds of years but their navy has been subpar compared to Hildaren and Esvaal and their ability to unify for anything only lasts until one lord decides he's too tired with playing nice and sticks his dagger in his neighbor's throat. But with Notus, if he's taken charge then no Roskarian lord can make a move without his say so. He'd have made sure that they know what happens to them if someone steps out of line..." your father grits, you hear his fingers tapping and scrapping against the table he's at.

The room is silent save for a few gruffs and thoughtful groans. You hear the annoyed tapping of drider legs and feel Silas' tail thump in contemplation.

"I might know someone," Luctux starts then clears his throat. "He might be a little hard to get a hold of but he owes me, that and he's family. He mans a small fleet that I helped get him started with and he knows his way with combat on land and sea."

You hear murmuring and agreeing sighs and your father's grumbling as he chews his pipe.

"I can call upon my order, their removed from the main one that follows the king's orders. We might want to... I know that we don't want to, but we might have to consider that the royal family has possibly been compromised," Charlie adds and the room's tension explodes into a flurry of harsh whispers.

"Not possible, they have been," Elli's sister, Cavan's fiancé corrects. "The enemy doesn't just have the upper hand... They have all of Malredra in its hands. Roskar has the crown prince and the youngest of the princesses. The king is to not send a single order for any naval or military action-"

It's Gohar who explodes in rage first followed by Gustav and then it's a cacophony of anger and spitting and fists slamming and...

"Who was it that struck first against my kin and I during the war?!" your father shouts and the room silences immediately.

"Who shot me first?! Who shot me right out of my bloody ship!? Silver... A mercenary, born and raised on this bloody rock we all call home now. The ballsiest fucking woman I've ever laid eyes on and it was she who threatened to slit my throat, not a scum licking king's soldier," You hear the chair he'd been sitting in clanking over as he stands, his boots scuffing the floor as he turns. You move the towel that's been covering your eyes and through your blurred vision you see your father.

Stern and sober and standing taller than you've ever seen him stand.

"I could have gone back to Esvaal with her and started a whole new life there, but the people here make Malredra what it is... Not it's kings. If Notus forgot this then we'll damn sure make him remember it!" He raises his fist and pounds it down against the wall.

Your chest tightens and a fluttering heat fills you with his words.

"Aye!" Charlie raises his own fist and slams it against his heart.

The room explodes once more save for Luctux, Cavan, and Elli's sister who's expressions are dark and knowing. The tiefling raises his hand catching the eyes of Gustav and Culann, both calming down and sobering into something fierce.

"Friends, this isn't like the last war. Bravado can only go so far... The Lady Eloise Maher's informants brought more news than the king's inability to protect his own people," Luctux pauses and waits for everyone to settle in. All eyes on him...

"With the crown in Roskar's hands the easiest thing to do would be to force a marriage or treaty but that's not what Notus wants. The crown prince and the youngest princess are in his hands as an act of some sick twisted mercy because he plans to execute the rest of that family," the tiefling spits.

Your father's jaw sets and his teeth grit and bare, "It ain't mercy if they're going to be the first to go."

The air in the room freezes over and you see Helena grip Isa, "But they're just children."

"Doesn't matter. Aella wanted peace, begged for it when she was beaten, bloodied, and broken. Begged and cried and all it got her was death...," you father sneers and settles back into his seat.

"So then what?" you hear Peter grunt, leaning against the wall.

"Lady Eloise has agents and informants in every crevasse of Malredra. We're down by a few days on receiving any viable information and keeping up with it. For now, we gather and reinforce. We strengthen and rebuild. What Roskar lacks in numbers they make up for in force and intelligence. What we lack in that we make up for in numbers, in unity and loyalty," Luctux's voice echoes through the charred hall and his words practically resound into the souls of everyone present.

Charlie pledges to the loyalty of his order. Gustav promises to drag every sword sworn orc from his home village and Lir smirks when he says he knows a good few hundred elves who owe him a few favors. The crowd starts to dwindle as everyone makes plans to speak with their people and kin, to rally swords and magics to protect their homes.

Soon enough all that's left is Luctux, yours and Silas' family. Helena had move to Peter's side, both of them holding onto one another as if the time they had together might come to an end soon. Isa's eyes watered before she inhaled sharply and excused herself.

Your father squares himself as he stands up, his shoulders popping as he stretches, "A right mess is what this is. Should have been content to be a fisherman like my father but Notus..." Your father shakes his head and laughs. "Big schemer that one. Aella the dreamer and Zale the cleaner... Always got to clean up after them and here I am decades later and three kids and I'm still cleaning up after them."

He shakes his head and laughs again before turning to Peter and Helena, "I have a friend in Hildaren that can keep you safe and far away from all this. I can't get either of you... No Peter keep your fucking mouth shut! Your wife is pregnant, you're limping now and will only get in the way. I'll send word to Roslyn, I'm certain Kano can get you and Helena there through the waters safely."

Peter shakes his head slowly, desperately as if this is his first and maybe last time seeing his father. Helena holds your brother and leans into, whispering something that makes his eyes steady with a horrid resolve.

"You call us back then when it's all over... You call us back and greet your grandbaby, you hear," Peter glares at your father and then to you. "And you, light those bastards up..." and now Silas, "Keep her safe... keep her sane."

"I can have us to the coves by morning. Are you certain that this is what you want Zale?" Luctux places a hand on your father's shoulder.

"We're doing this... the sooner the better," your father sniffles and gathers your brother off the wall.

It's a slow march out of the burnt hall and to the doors that were just hanging by the hinges. Your father turned and gave you a slow and silent nod and then he was gone.

"Anyon is taking them to the furthest waypoint he can. The Gilli point can't be used with the enemy so close," Silas explains.

"I see," you grind out, coughing hard afterwards.

Silas sits you up and brings a cup of water to your lips. The transformation hadn't left you as bad off as the first time but the side effects still hurt.

"There were twelve archers in total you know. Twelve and the caster got loose and you... Did you know what you were doing? Did you-"

"Yes," your lips tighten as you try to hold back every bit of emotion, every feeling you have for what you did.

"Why did you do it?" Silas asks and you snap your eyes up to his.

"Why?! You're asking me why you idiot?!" you shove him and he winces in surprise.

"Why?! I'll tell you why you big stupid idiot?! They fucking hurt you and and I just..." your arms are flailing about feeling absolutely outraged by his stupid question.

"You're so fucking dense Silas!" you try and jump off the bench but Silas pulls you back down.

"No, no you don't get to call me an idiot and then walk off! Do you know how torn up I've been about all this?! You fucking froze during the attack then Anyon forces you back here and then I get fucking shot and then you go fucking berserk and then the next thing I know you're tossing a limp fucking elf against a tree before Adelita forces you to stand down. So sorry if I'm a fucking clueless idiot who's only thought these past hours is if the woman he loves is ever going to wake up again!" Silas' shouts the last bit and his grip on you tightens hard before loosening up completely.

He runs his claws through his hair as he looks away cursing under breath and wincing as he touches his left shoulder. You skootch a little closer and gently place your hand against his cheek. His eyes close, painfully hard as he clutches your free hand and brings it to his other cheek.

"I wish we had actual time for you to properly discover this power of yours. I wish there wasn't a war getting in our way. I wish that we could just go with Helena and Peter and pretend that none of this has anything to do with us... Shit I wish I could wish for that but deep down I want to protect my home, my people just like you do," he melts into your touch and you bring yourself closer to him.

"Silas, I just-"

"Neither of us are ready for this. You hesitate and I underestimate, both factors can get us and those around us killed. You understand that don't you?" he opens his eyes and all you can do is nod when the cold steel of his gaze meets yours.

Both you and your ifrit spirit felt a tinge of guilt. Both of you felt rage for Silas' pain and now this. You can't help to let out a breathy laugh as you shake your head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~NSFWish~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He's got me completely wrapped up in his coils

"My dear what's wro- mmmmphhh?!"

You hate when he gets serious on you. You hate this war. You hate getting out of control. But Silas, just normal happy regular Silas, you liked him a lot. You want to bring him back, even for just a little bit.

His lips part as he sucks in a breath and his hands grip your hips firmly, "We're not done talking you know."

"Then keep talking," you kiss his neck and he shudders.

"We'll be heading for.... heading for my village in a couple weeks," Silas hisses as you keep peppering kisses against his neck.

"Who all is going?" you ask, hands gliding up and over to his bandage shoulder and arm.

"Aside from us? Adelita, Gustav, Culann, Thurl, and- fuck" in your attempt to get even closer you had straddled him and incidentally ground yourself against him.

"And?" you nibble his neck again and he chokes on his words.

"And Luctux... My dear I need you to st-ahh," Silas still when you kiss his ear and his clawed hands flutter at your hips.

Before you try to nibble his ear he quickly grabs your hands and forces you to look up at him, "Where is all this coming from all of a sudden? Are you alright my dear?"

He looks so distressed and concerned and you can't help but to burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry! I am! I just don't like seeing you so mad at me and then I just felt like kissing you and touching you till you stopped looking so angry and I just! I don't know? Maybe I'm a little hysterical right now but I just, I'm feeling a lot and I'm processing everything all at once and now it's just dawning on me that you said you love me and and-"

It was Silas' turn to shut you up with a kiss now. His teeth nibble your lower lip till you open for him. His tongue works wonders on yours till you're dizzy and limp in his arms.

"I'm going to end up going mad because of you," he whispers against your neck as he picks you up.

"That feeling very very mutual Silas," you smile and hold him as he slithers up the burnt stairs and down the hall to your burnt room.

Tomorrow you'd ask about how the fire was put out but tonight you'd hold him in your arms.

<Previous Pt.10

#exophilia #naga #monster #monster x you #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x girl #monster boyfriend #naga boyfriend #slow burn #slow burn romance #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #oc #original character #Silas Locs #The long road #original story #writblr #monster lover #exophile #exophilia fic #exophilia fiction #monster romance #romance #male naga #dnd #dnd inspired

[incorrectgallaghergirlsquotes]

Cammie: Good morning. The Circle of Cavan has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem.

#gallagher girls series #incorrect quotes #gallagher girls #cammie morgan

[lailoken]

"In the agricultural calendar, Michaelmas was one of the quarter days when tenant farmers paid their rent and outstanding bills were settled. It was also the day by which farm workers should have safely gathered the harvest in. In fact the full moon in September is popularly known as the 'Harvest Moon', and work in the fields went on by its light. Today harvest is often a few weeks early as farmers take advantage of any good weather in August or early September. At Harvest End or Harvest Home, various seasonal customs were observed that appear to date back to ancient rituals connected with the twin themes of fertility and sacrifice and life and death.

Prominent among these folk customs was the ritualistic cutting of the last sheaf in the harvest field. This was believed to symbolise the dwelling place of the corn spirit, who could take male, female or animal form. Sometimes the last sheaf was called the Old Woman, the Old Wife, the Old Witch, the Old Hag, the Queen, the Maiden, The Old Sow, the Mare, the Bitch, the Hare, the Goat or the Gander. These were either forms of the bright and dark goddess or the totem animals sacred to her. In Scottish folk tradition two 'corn dollies' were made from the last sheaf and called the Cailleach and the Maiden, representing the aspects of the Goddess in transition at this time of the year. In the Highlands the last sheaf was known as the Maiden before Samhain (November 1st) and the Cailleach after that date, when the dark half of the year began.

In Ireland the ancient god ruling the period from Lammas to Samhain and the harvest was Crom Cruach or Crom Dubh ('the bloody dark' or 'black bent one' or 'crooked one of the [burial] mound'). He was an underworld deity who was supposed to have invented the plough, and his myth may date back to Neolithic times. He was depicted carrying the Kern Baby (the last sheaf) on his hunched back, and was accompanied by two large black hounds. On Lammas this dark god fought a ritual combat with the god of light, Lugh, who gave his name to the festival of Lughnasadh. Crom owned a huge pet bull that was a danger to the harvest, and the supernatural beast had to be killed by Lugh's magical spear before the crops could be safely gathered in.

Offerings of first-born humans and animals, milk and grain were made to stone images of Crom on Samhain Eve (October 31st). It is claimed that St Patrick destroyed one of these idols that was being worshipped by pagans, with a blow from his crosier. When the demon inhabiting the stone left, the saint consigned him to perpetual punishment in Hell. In this story Patrick seems to have taken over the former role of the god Lugh in banishing the dark god Crom to the underworld. In 1921 an image believed to represent this harvest deity was excavated near a prehistoric stone circle in County Cavan, southern Ireland.

It was lucky for a young woman to be responsible for accompanying the last sheaf back to the farmhouse, and she was called the Lady or Queen of the Harvest. In the late 16th century a pageant was presented to Queen Elizabeth I featuring a wooden effigy of the Roman corn the last sheaf arrived back at the farm it was woven into a corn dolly and dressed in female clothing with ribbons and wild flowers. This effigy would be hung up over the hearth until Plough Monday. Then it was taken down and buried in the first furrow of a newly ploughed field as a fertility charm. Alternatively it was kept above the fire until the next harvest and replaced with a new one.

The male farm worker chosen to cut down the last sheaf was given the title of Lord of the Harvest. On English farms this custom was known as 'Crying the Neck', when the reapers threw their sickles at the last sheaf. It was considered unlucky to be the one who actually cut the sheaf down. Sometimes the man who was responsible was violently jostled by his fellow workers or had corn stalks thrown at him. There was also a tradition that if the 'neck' was cut by an older man, a younger farm worker would seize it from his hands and run back to the farmhouse with his trophy.

Once the last sheaf had been cut and the crops safely gathered in, a Harvest Supper was arranged by the farmer and his wife for the workers. If all had gone well this was a sumptuous feast where jointsof roast beef, sides of bacon, chicken, goose, cheese, home-made bread, plum pudding and ginger cake were washed down with large quantities of home-brewed cider and beer. On the Scottish island of Orkney the Harvest Supper featured the slaughter, cooking on a spit over an open fire and eating of a whole sheep, in a custom that is believed to date back to Viking times. The supper was presided over by the Lord and Lady of the Harvest and, in a reversal of the normal social rules and norms, the man was regarded as her consort and took a secondary role in the proceedings. After everyone had eaten their fill there was country dancing accompanied by music from a fiddle and the bagpipes."

—

Liber Nox:

A Traditional Witch's Gramarye

Chapter 9: 'Michaelmas'

by Michael Howard

#liber nox #michael howard #michaelmas #corn #traditional withcraft #witchcraft

[k00288488]

Confessions Collected in College Pt.2

No sins im perfect

I pissed in the angel lane sinks

I kept my friends drugs and they are never gonna get them back because I smoked them

I have a crush on my cousin

I cut my sisters hair

I lost my virginity to a 45 year old when I was 17

I eat my Weetabix warm

I committed credit card fraud on a 8 year old American on xbox live when I was 16

Dating Ronald mcdonalds

Forgive me father for I have sinned

Drugs…

The number one person on my punch list is one of my best frineds

I have cursed

I don’t believe in the word sin it condemns and creates jugmentalism

Riding all around I fucked your mom winky face emoji

I bullied my brother and embarrassed him because he said im shit at fortnight fuck him!

I steal coffee from the canteenIm gay

Im too sexy

Vegan sausage rolls

I like the canteen curry chips shocking I know

I pushed a child down a flight of stairsIm bisexual

Thought about fucking a classmate

I scanned my ass on the scanner

I looked up gore hentai for the shits and giggles when I was under 18

My best friends ex text me and I like him

I hit my brother because I lost on a game and he won

I read tinas confession

I love marky mouse

Took the lords name in vain

Blank sheet

Finess gang

Murder

I slept with a married man

Holding hands before marriage

I have naughty mikey dore dreams

Pissed myself in college

Slept with my boyfriends dad

Being just to fab winky face

Carlow is the 7th circle of hell or cavan

Headbutted a baby

Getting with my friends ex sad face

i ate junk food at 2am last night

[rabbittstewcomics]

Episode 368

Comic Reviews:

DC

Batman: Dear Detective by Lee Bermejo

Black Adam: Justice Society Files – Atom Smasher by Bryan Q. Miller, Cavan Scott, Marco Santucci, Travis Mercer, John Kalisz, Michael Atiyeh

Dark Knights of Steel: Tales From the Three Kingdoms by Tom Taylor, CS Pascat, Jay Kristoff, Sean Izaakse, Michele Bandini, Caspar Wijngaard, Antonio Fabela, Romula Fajardo Jr

Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths 4 by Joshua Williamson, Daniel Sampere, Alejandro Sanchez

My Buddy Killer Croc by Sara Farizan, Nicoletta Baldari

Marvel

Amazing Fantasy 1000 by Dan Slott, Kurt Busiek, Jonathan Hickman, Neil Gaiman, Ho Che Anderson, Rainbow Rowell, Michael Pasciullo, Armando Ianucci, Michael Cho, Anthony Falcone, Ryan Stegman, Giuseppe Camuncoli, Marco Checchetto, Jim Cheung, Olivier Coipel, Todd Nauck, Goran Parlov, Terry Dodson, Steve McNiven, Rachel Dodson, Klaus Janson, JP Mayer, Matt Wilson, Rachelle Rosenberg, Jordie Bellaire, Sonia Oback, Frank Martin, David Jay Ramos, Richard Isanove

Alien 1 by Phillip Kennedy Johnson, Julius Ohta, Yen Nitro

All-Out Avengers 1 by Derek Landy, Greg Land, Jay Leisten, Frank D’Armata

Fantastic Four: Full Circle by Alex Ross, Josh Johnson

Infinity Comics

It’s Jeff by Kelly Thompson, Gurihiru

Image

Antioch 1 by Patrick Kindlon, Marco Ferrari

Dark Horse

Shock Shop 1 by Cullen Bunn, Leila Leiz, Danny Luckert

Dynamite

Ninjettes 1 by Fred Van Lente, Joe Cooper, Dearbhla Kelly

IDW

Star Trek 400 by Wil Wheaton, Mike Johnson, Chris Eliopoulos, Declan Shalvey, Rich Handley, Joe Eisma, Seth Damoose, Luke Sparrow, Megan Levens, Angel Hernandez

OGN

Everyday Hero Machine Boy by Irma Kniivila, Tri Vuong

Karma GN by Dan Wickline, Carlos Reno

Kali GN by Daniel Freedman, Robert Sammelin

Garlic and the Witch by Bree Paulsen

Always Never by Jordi Lafebre

Archie

Sabrina Anniversary Spectacular 1 by Dan Parent

AfterShock

Last Line 1 by Richard Dinnick, Jose Holder, Kelly Fitzpatrick, Dave Sharpe

Ahoy

Highball 1 by Stuart Moore, Fred Harper, Lee Loughridge

Ablaze

Boogyman 1 by Mathieu Salvia, Djet

AWA

E-Ratic: Recharged 1 by Kaare Andrews, Brian Reber

Ray’s OGN Corner: American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang, Lark Pien

Longbox of Horror

Additional Reviews: 13: The Musical, Cuphead Show s2, Butterfly Garden, She-Hulk ep4, Lost in Space s3, Uploads s1, Pinocchio, Cars on the Road, new Simpsons short

News: Dead-End Paranormal Park returns in October for s2, Theme Parks, Stan Sakai back to Dark Horse, Disney+ Day, D23 news, Wish/Elio/Inside Out 2 from Disney/Pixar, Mufasa: The Lion King, October is Jeff month, Radiant Pink, Radiant Yellow, Squid Game star takes on Star Wars role, Paper Girls cancelled, Netflix release model, Anthony Ramos as the Hood, Matt Shankman of WandaVision to direct Fantastic Four, Don Cheadle lead in Secret Invasion and Armor Wars, Leader and Sabra confirmed for Cap 4, Thunderbolts cast, Young Jedi Adventures, Otto Schmidt, Dark Web details

Trailers: Knives Out 2, Quantum Leap, Disenchanted, Little Mermaid, Wendel and Wild, Willow, Andor, Tales of the Jedi, Mando s3, Secret Invasion, National Treasure, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur, Santa Clause, Percy Jackson, Fabelmans, Werewolf by Night

Comics Countdown:

Always Never GN by Jordi Lafebre

Garlic and the Witch GN by Bree Paulsen

Batman 127 by Chip Zdarsky, Belen Ortega, Jorge Jimenez, Luis Guerrero, Tomeu Morey

Twig 5 by Skottie Young, Kyle Strahm, Jean-Francois Beaulieu

Dark Knights of Steel: Tales From the Three Kingdoms by Tom Taylor, CS Pascat, Jay Kristoff, Sean Izaakse, Michele Bandini, Caspar Wijngaard, Antonio Fabela, Romula Fajardo Jr

TMNT 132 by Tom Waltz, Kevin Eastman, Sophie Campbell, Pablo Tunica, Ronda Pattison

Dudley Datson and the Forever Machine 2 by Scott Snyder, Jamal Igle, Juan Castro, Chris Sotomayor

Punisher 6 by Jason Aaron, Paul Azaceta, Jesus Saiz, Dave Stewart

New Champion of Shazam! 2 by Josie Campbell, Evan Shaner

Once and Future 29 by Kieron Gillen, Dan Mora, Tamra Bonvillain

Check out this episode!

#comics #podcast #podernfamily #rabbittstew

[asin201hons]

girlhood

I take thimbles in a circle, and let them dance below my feet, as I step on one, it rolls flat

it seems the cycle of my feet on the earth, presses flat antique metal into the unruly cavan of broken objecthood.

this is another time I failed at girl hood, I could not look after the small mementos of gifts and that sort of thing

and instead took up play among high trees, gums, mounds of grass, covered plastic in clay and cement, found worms, bees, spiders hiding and moving

why could I not memento the things that cared for me, not the cold objects of girlhood, but the things that actually loved me back.

reflections, Ashley Singer

[tuilathu]

A place called Here - Cecelia Ahern

1. Helana added another log to the dying fire and its weight sent a pile of adolescent ashes racing one another down the side of the burning tower. The flames were awakened from the embers and sleepily began to climb up the log, casting out heat to Helana and me.

2. It was on that holiday he learned where and how the great river began, slowly and quietly at first in County Cavan before it picked up speed, gathering the secrets and spirit of each county with each part of soil it eroded. Each tributary was like an artery being pumped from the heart of the county, whispering its secrets in hushed and excited babbles until it eventually carried them to the Atlantic where they were lost with the rest of the world's whispered hopes and regrets.

3. "You can't hold on to all things forever, no matter how hard you grip them".

4. It was rich and alive, bursting at the seams with color and sound as though we'd followed the path of a pulse to reach the heart of the woods. And there it pumped, people flowing here, there and everywhere.

5. Each time my lids grew heavy and neared closing, another question would be flung from the depths of my mind, forcing my lids to open again.

6. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds against her snow-white skin and glinted as they caught the sunlight streaming through the tall trees.

7. Sticks cracked beneath my trainers, the ground was soft and bouncy, covered with layers of fallen, now decayed leaves, bark, pine cones and velvet-like moss. Mist hovered like wispy cotton wool above my head and stretched to the tips of the trees. The lofty thin trunks extended up like towering wooden pencils that colored the sky. During the day they tinted the ceiling a clear blue, shading wispy clouds and orange pigment, and now by night the charcoaled tips, burned from the hot sun, darkened the heavens. The sky twinkled with a million stars, all winking at me, sharing between them a secret of the world I could never know.

8. There was a light tap on the door and it was gently opened by a man so tall and broad he filled the doorframe. White light impatiently squeezed itself through the small spaces he didn't fill, shooting into my eyes like spears of fire direct from the sun.

9. The sun was rising over the trees in the distance, casting orange hues over the blue light, like a giant orange squeezing its colorful juice over the villages, the trees, the mountains and fields, and allowing the liquid light to flow like a stream down the pathways.

10. "Never easier but a little less hard, perhaps. It's always at the forefront of my mind, every single waking and sleeping moment. The hurt begins to... not quite disappear, but it's as though it evaporates so that it's always there in the air around me, ready to rain down when I least expect it. Then when the hurt goes, anger takes its place, when the anger runs out of steam, loneliness steps in to take over. It's a neverending circle of emotions; every lost emotion being replaced by another".

11. "... it's difficult to know which second among a lifetime of seconds is more special. Often when you realize how precious those seconds are, it's too late for them to be captured because the moment has passed. We realize too late".

12. We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it's easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.

#a place called here #cecelia ahern #thư đọc sách

[deathspeaker]

Slash/Back

I just finished watching a movie on Shudder called Slash/Back. It was written and directed by an Inuit woman named Nyla Innuksuk (Co-written by some dude named Ryan Cavan) and with a cast that is predominately Inuit as well (not sure about the production team).

It's about a strange alien arriving in the arctic circle and being discovered by some young Inuit girls who band together to fight the aliens. It's also about their lives, culture, and interpersonal relationships.

It's rough in places but I legitimately enjoyed it! The aliens are fairly original, and creepy, and watching an alien-infested bear charge while moving all wrong was a delight! There was a good mix of practical effects and CGI. I could tell the budget was low but they squeezed a lot out of it!

It's not especially gory and is only rated 16+ but honestly someone 14 could likely handle it no problem, especially if they're already a horror fan.

If you'd like to give it a watch here is a link to where you can stream it.

#inuit people #inuit movie #horror movie #inuit horror movie #rather rad #4/5 #give it a chance folks #alien invasion #alien movie #horror sci-fi #Youtube

[cammie-morgan-goode]

Do you think Matt had ever seen blackthorne?

Hi friend!

I do not believe that Matt ever actually saw Blackthorne and here's why.

He had his suspicions and then we find out in the fourth and fifth books that Matt was so close to taking down the circle. He had dedicated so much time and effort towards this mission. He found out that Joe had been recruited and then they decide to work together.

I truly think that Joe was afraid for Matt and I think he wanted to protect him as much as possible and that the only way to do that was to work together, and Joe would handle everything on the inside while Matt handled the outside.

I don't think Joe would have let Matt get anywhere near Blackthorne. it was too risky. I think he gave him clues to it but I don't think he ever showed it to him. Blackthorne was a part of Joe's past, and he didn't want to Matt to think of him like that. He didn't want Matt to hate him.

Which is also why Joe never told Matt about his part in the Circle. He didn't tell him that he had been recruited. He didn't tell him anything. He let Matt figure it out on his own.

So no. I don't think Matt ever saw Blackthorne. I don't think Joe had any intention of showing it to him. Not in the slightest.

#gallagher girls #gallagher girls series #ally carter #cammie morgan goode writes #asked and answered #answered asks #answered #matthew morgan #matt morgan #joseph solomon #joe solomon #matt and joe #joe and matt #joseph solomon and matthew morgan #the circle of cavan #ok i am not ok #right in the feels #blackthorne #blackthorne institute for troubled boys #the circle #gg headcanon #gg #matt seeing blackthorne

[averagejoesolomon]

It's here! I really am sorry about this series of events, but I think you know where I'm going with it, and I think you know it's worth it. We do have to beat up the boy to get there, though. Buckle up! And if you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3.

Chapter Nine

This bag is a Hell of a lot heavier than it ought to be.

The strap is worn to a dull and oily black, cutting into the space where Matt’s shoulder meets his neck. His clothes rustle against the leather with each step. A voice in his head—Rachel’s, no doubt—keeps telling him this is a bad idea. She’s right, of course, even when she’s only hypothetical. But the Circle of Cavan doesn’t leave him with many options. It doesn’t leave anyone with options. That’s sort of the whole point.

His plan, if he can actually call it a plan, is still only three-quarters formed, with the final quarter dependent on how this early morning rendezvous turns out. With any luck, he walks away with a little more knowledge about the Circle, and the Circle walks away with a little less knowledge about Rachel Cameron. It’s risky business, considering the Circle don’t seem likely to appreciate a two-for-one sale, especially not when they’re on the one side. But he trusts Joe, and Joe trusts Catherine, and Matt’s just going to have to trust that this will all work out one way or another.

So he holds the bag close to his side, fighting off the mist of the morning. It’s hard to tell if this spray is coming off the white-capped river or if they’re on the front end of an oncoming storm, but either option leaves a chill along his skin. He finds himself wishing for the rubber rain gear of the surrounding workers—not only to take cover from the mist, but also to take cover from their attention. His dark cotton clothes and tennis shoes stand out among yellow and orange coveralls, jackets, boots, and hard hats. Finer agents than him have been killed for less in Moscow.

Townsend, at least, has managed to snag a reflective neon vest. He does a decent job of adopting the sluggish, heavy look of a dockman who’s already well into his shift before sunrise. Still, something in his stance gives him away. There’s an eagerness to him that none of the other workers share, the culmination of an eighteen-month hunt finally reaching its end. “Stick with me,” he tells Matt. “I’ve studied this river and its docks for months.”

Matt knows the Moskva shoreline like he knows the crick that cuts through his mama’s berry bushes, but he lets Townsend take the lead. Sometimes a fella’s got to follow a pest to find its den, and Matt wants to pin down exactly what Townsend knows and how he knows it.

Thankfully, Townsend is all too eager to prove he knows everything. “Be mindful, this girl is tricky,” he goes on. “But she’ll run out of moves someday, and my gut says it's today.”

In the distance, a flash of lightning sparks through the early morning clouds. It takes a handful of seconds for the thunder to rumble in behind, weak, gravelly, and barely audible above the river’s edge lapping against the break wall. “You’ve come up against her before, I take it?”

“Not directly, no, but I caught wind of her while I was working an arms deal in Venezuela,” Townsend confirms. “Didn’t take long to learn that she was on the side of the dealer, though she did put up a decent act for some time.”

An actress. That’s good to know. Matt’s met plenty throughout his time in the field—women, usually, who take advantage of that inadvertent blind spot his mama gave him by spending all those years teaching him to be a model gentleman. His time spent with the Cameron sisters has knocked loose a lot of his notions of damsels and their tendency for distress, but sometimes a very good agent can still play him for the chivalrous fool. He makes a mental note to keep his guard up around Catherine. “Sounds awfully lucky,” he probes, “to stumble into a mission like that, right off the bat.”

Matt leaves out the part where he and Joe were also recruited young—the exact same age as Townsend, at least in Matt’s case—for an op that was just as grinding, just as involved. Potentially the exact same op, if Matt’s gut is right. “Luck,” Townsend scoffs, not just at the word, but at the entire notion. “I spent over three-hundred hours preparing for that op, and spotted the connection to another op that was seemingly unrelated. It wasn’t luck. It was patience, and research, and damn good reconnaissance.”

Townsend ain’t actually that much younger than Matt, but the few years between them rattle like rocks in the heel of Matt’s soaked-through shoe. It’s the same distance Matt sits from Joe, just in the opposite direction, but Matt’s convinced he never looked or acted quite so twenty-two-ish—though maybe there’s something redeemable about his youthful bluntness. In a business full of second, third, and fourth meanings, it’s nice to know where a guy stands.

Matt can’t guarantee he’ll return the favor. “Sure,” he allows. “You’ve gotta excuse me. Spend enough time in the Soviet Union and you get to be a cynic about things like that.”

“Things like luck?”

Another round of lightning, and the thunder rolls in faster than before. “Luck,” Matt replies. Then, with a shrug. “Coincidences. Anything of the sort.”

Young or not, Townsend’s a smart enough agent to know there’s no such thing, and his answering sneer proves it. Maybe that’s why he changes the subject. “So you’re in this part of the world often, then?”

Or maybe Matt’s not the only one trying to get information. “Often enough.” Townsend clocks the non-answer immediately, but Matt doesn’t give him time to jump in. “But more and more it feels like my own personal game of Russian Roulette—the more shots I take by crossing the border, the closer I get to taking a bullet to the head.”

The rain picks up and Townsend takes cover beneath a steel overhang. It lands them on the wrong side of a door with more warning labels than Matt cares to count, tucked among worn life jackets, yellowed netting, and a rusting, barnacle-lined anchor. “This is your bread and butter, then,” he concludes. “All this business with stolen identities. High-stakes trades. Evenings at the Bolshoi.”

“More so lately,” Matt confesses. “Probably don’t have to tell you that the atmosphere in Moscow is changing.”

“Certainly not,” Townsend answers, in the manner of someone who very much hopes Matt understands just how knowledgeable he is. “I am curious, though, about these passports.”

Matt’s attention once again falls to the bag on his own shoulder, nearly a dozen passports tucked tight against the weight of his own conscience. They sit at the center of the morning, just like they’ve been at the center of every afternoon, evening, and night spent in Moscow. At the center of this entire op. Except, at their core, there’s nothing especially interesting about them. Rachel has already confirmed their authenticity back at the safe house—ten passports, ten identities, ten agents who get to go home safely. If Townsend is curious about them, it’s because he thinks there’s something interesting about their acquisition, rather than their actual, physical form. “Ask the question you really want to ask, Townsend.”

Matt spots the first wave of hesitance on Townsend since the Bolshoi. “Only that I heard the two of you talking,” he admits. “On the balcony, before I jumped into the thick of it. She said the two of you were on the same side.”

Small ringlets start to pound into the surrounding puddles, one raindrop at a time. Townsend’s words take Matt back to Baltimore—not with the girls, but with Henry Cameron himself. Standing in his office. Throwing accusations his way. Matt knows firsthand what it feels like to finally find a Circle lead after so long without, which is why he doesn’t take it personally when Townsend casts suspicion upon him. Only now does Matt realize Henry probably felt the same, all those months ago.

So he channels one of Henry’s tight-lipped smiles, and reassures Townsend as best he can. “I don’t know what she meant by that.”

“It’s no use lying to me.” Townsend says. “I will find out, you know.”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” says Matt, and it’s true. He even puts his hand on Townsend’s rain-soaked shoulder to really drive it home. “But I really don’t know what she meant by that. Honest.”

Townsend doesn’t want to trust him. Matt gets the feeling Townsend doesn’t make a habit of trusting anyone. But Matt’s an earnest sort of guy, which almost always works in his favor. Nine times out of ten, he can convince anyone to believe his worst lies, and he’s got a one-hundred-percent conversion rate when it comes to telling the truth. And he is, at least for now, even if he can’t guarantee things will stay that way.

“Very well,” Townsend relents. “I don’t typically do this, but I get the sense that you have information I could use. I also get the sense—largely because you’re not very good at covert phone calls, by the way—that you would like to, shall we say, bring Catherine’s dealings to an end?”

“Get to it, Townsend.”

“Whatever information you have,” Townsend promises, “I assure you, I can make good use out of it. But you’ll have to tell me what it is first.”

The way he says it, Matt realizes that this tactic actually works for him. Townsend projects enough confidence and assurance that any asset would feel lucky to find him. Thank god, they must say, that someone who knows what they’re doing has finally arrived.

But Matt has been chasing the Circle of Cavan for years—long enough to know that Townsend, no matter how confident, no matter how knowledgeable, no matter how great a spy, cannot bring them down on his own. So he takes another page out of Henry Cameron’s book and extends a helping hand instead.

“I can’t tell you what I know. And if you’re chasing the same people I’m chasing, you’ll understand why.” Matt meets his eyes, waiting for some unspoken confirmation. It doesn’t come, and Matt realizes that not even a know-it-all like Townsend will cop to knowing about the Circle. “But I can tell you I’ve been chasing them for a long time—a lot longer than eighteen months—and it has been dead end, after dead end, after dead end. Usually literally.”

Townsend doesn’t look nearly as scared as he should. But then again, neither did Matt, when he was twenty-two. Instead, Townsend just studies him as though he’s a book to be read, annotated, and tested on at a future date. “Why is this one different?” he finally asks. “Why Catherine?”

It’s a good question, and Matt can only answer with the truth. “She’s the only one they haven’t killed yet, for starters.”

Matt’s not sure how he expects Townsend to respond, but it certainly ain’t with, “I’ve noticed that too.”

Another distant rumble of thunder. “Sorry?”

“That they haven’t killed her,” Townsend clarifies. “They don’t seem to hesitate before killing anyone else, do they? Why her? Why keep this one asset alive, when CIA and MI6 have already identified her?”

Matt has been chasing the Circle of Cavan since Townsend was still in high school, but in all that time, he never once thought to ask the question Townsend asks now. Matt’s first instinct is Joe—of course it’s Joe, because Joe’s been in contact with Catherine for years, and he’s the kind of guy who takes care of his own. But Joe didn’t know about her Moscow op, and there’s no telling what else he doesn’t know. There’s something else at play. Maybe even someone.

Thankfully, Townsend’s got that look on his face again. The one that says he can’t wait to prove how superior his intel is. “I’ll bite,” says Matt. “What’s your theory?”

There’s a clear glee in Townsend’s posture, even if he tries to hide it behind a serious nature. In an effort to look nonchalant, he kicks at the rusted chain connected to the nearby anchor. “We don’t have a lot of insight into this particular group at the agency level,” he begins, straightening the chain into a loose line with his oxfords. “But we do know that groups like this one operate using a chain of command structure, so we can surmise that this group does the same.”

The patter of nearby raindrops grows louder, more urgent, but Townsend stays fully focused as he continues. “They’re very rigid structures, and it’s generally considered a faux pas to jump from one point in the chain”—he points the toe of his shoe to the chain’s loose end, then points five rungs up—“to many points above.”

“Sure,” Matt agrees, following so far. “A fella wouldn’t go over a lieutenant's head to get to the captain.”

“Ah, an Army man,” says Townsend, pleased. “Precisely. And in more dysfunctional organizations, that chain of command can be even more rigid. We’ve seen groups with agents only connected by two links—one individual above them to give orders, and one individual below to receive orders.”

“What’s the benefit of something like that?”

“Sometimes it’s simply a matter of an organization’s size,” Townsend admits with a youthful shrug that doesn’t suit his adult-ish persona. “But on rare occasions, this tactic is employed to slow the dissemination of information, or to limit different segments of information to certain individuals—an appealing practice to folks in our line of work. The result is a series of tightly-controlled intelligence cells in which everyone knows everything and, simultaneously, no one knows anything of note.”

It’s another version of the same thing Joe and Henry have been telling him for years. No one knows who works for the Circle. Not even the Circle themselves. It’s what makes them so effective at infiltration. It’s also what makes them so hard to track down. If Townsend has managed to piece this much together on his own, there’s no telling what he could do with a little backup.

Matt keeps scoping the kid’s knowledge. “And where does Catherine fit into this chain?”

Townsend looks like he’s citing his ABCs or solving basic addition. This type of high-level thinking comes so naturally to him. It almost reminds Matt of Rachel. “If one agent were to break away from their chain and, perhaps, join another,” he says, kicking a bent and discarded steel loop into view, “that individual may have enough information to spot a larger picture. And if that same individual were to break away and rejoin many chains, over and over again, they may begin to understand the inner workings of that organization. Perhaps they may even understand too much, in which case, the obvious response is to kill them. Unless…”

Matt fills in the blank. “Unless they’ve become too valuable to kill.”

Townsend smiles, delighted that Matt can keep up with him. “Our dear Catherine has learned something about this organization that is keeping her alive,” he grins. “I don’t know about you, but I would very much like to find out what that is. If it’s valuable enough for them, it is valuable enough for me.”

And, Matt thinks, it’s valuable enough for Joe.

By the end of their conversation, Townsend practically yells to stay heard above the storm. The downpour comes on suddenly, rain rushing in at an angle and skipping across the concrete platform in violent waves. Lightning and thunder share the same second. The river roars. Most of the crew have taken shelter, waiting for the worst to pass, and the resulting emptiness might be how Matt spots the lone figure looking on.

Small, and soaked, with bright red hair.

She keeps her distance, but Matt can still see her features sour at the sight of him. Or, more specifically, at the sight of Townsend, who Matt realizes too late shouldn’t be here. Of course he shouldn’t be here. Of course she would recognize the man who’s been following her across the world. Of course she would expect Matt to be alone.

He holds out a pleading hand to her. “Catherine,” he says, “just wait.”

Her eyes flit between Matt and Townsend. Matt and Townsend. Matt.

And then she runs.

Matt lets out a very overt groan as he takes off after her, throwing a halting wave back toward Townsend. “Stay there,” he growls. “Do not come after us.”

“But—”

“Stay here, Townsend.”

It is maybe Matt’s greatest curse in life, to be surrounded by quick and practiced runners when he himself can barely hold down a fifteen-minute pace. Matt is slow, and his body is broad, and his feet are heavy. He can either run, or breathe, but not both. Never both. 

Joe has tried like Hell to speed Matt up, but in truth, Joe started running circles around him in Basic, and he’s been doing the same every day since. Joe Solomon is a runner in every sense of the word, as quick as Matt is strong, and never is it more clear than in moments like this. Usually, it’s Joe who runs after a skittish agent, and Matt just pins them down once he catches up. But Joe’s not here and Matt’s going to have to put his own pace to the test.

The concrete is slick, which doesn’t work in his favor. It’s clear in the way she moves that Catherine was born into a natural grace—and made clearer with each container she clears and each pipe she swings through. Between the rain and the dark, he barely keeps eyes on her, relying on the orange glow from shipyard streetlights to spot glimpses of her shadow. He’s losing her. He’s not going to make it on speed alone.

So he changes tactics and goes wide. Wide enough to lose her behind massive shipping containers. Wide enough to squeeze through a corridor with no visibility. Wide enough to meet her at the other end, with the water at her back. Wide enough to corner her between him and the Moskva River.

She’s shaking when she spots him, eyes wide and breath heaving. Matt tells himself it’s because of the rain. “Catherine,” he huffs, catching his own breath. “You have to—”

“Him?” she screams. “You’re working with him? Was this all a trap?”

“What?” says Matt, but his breath doesn’t allow for more than one word at a time. “No—”

“Was Joe in on it too?”

“There’s nothing,” he says, “to be in on.”

Matt’s an earnest kind of guy, but all of his earnestness is wrapped up in his lack of air, tangled and flopping like fish out of water. Catherine doesn’t buy any of it. “Let me go, Matt,” she says. “You have to let me—”

“No.” Most of his sharp reply is born of breathlessness, but the frustration sneaks in without warning. “You say you’re on my side? Prove it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re running.”

“You tricked me.”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but he doesn’t have the stamina to keep arguing. “Look.”

He pulls the leather bag from his shoulder, grabbing it by the strap and holding it toward her. She eyes it with a suspicious want. “Is that…?”

“The passports,” Matt confirms. “All of them. Take these, and you can walk away from this op like nothing went wrong in Moscow.”

She inches closer, and Matt’s pretty sure it’s subconscious. One step at a time, eyes locked on the leather bag, she approaches him with an abundance of caution. Matt gets the feeling she approaches everything with that same demeanor.

When she reaches out to grab the bag, Matt snatches it back. “One condition.”

Catherine blinks, not giving away a single thought.

“If I give you these passports,” he says, “you forget everything you saw in the city. You forget me. You forget Townsend. You forget my partners at the Bolshoi.”

Catherine sneers. “Then tell your girl to stop coming after us.”

His girl. Rachel. “She’s not coming after you.”

“Oh please—”

“She’s not,” Matt insists. “She’s coming after me. She’s coming after me, understand?”

Matt searches her eyes, hoping to find a scrap of mercy, sympathy, understanding, something. But he doesn’t spot it. All he sees is the same look he’s seen in all of his informants, right before their body washes up on the coastline—an agent in too deep, with a dangerous desire for self-preservation.

“Catherine,” he pleads. “Let me handle her. You handle the rest, but let me handle her.”

The end of Matt’s plan starts to form and, for a flickering moment, he sees everything go as it should. He sees Catherine take the passports. Sees her hand them off to whoever sits above her in the chain of command. Sees Joe spot the trade from his place within the Circle, sees the two of them chasing this new lead, sees Rachel safe and sound in Baltimore with her sister. 

But when Catherine actually grabs the bag and lifts open the flap, Matt realizes that the bag had felt too heavy all morning. He realizes that verifying the passports before a mission is the type of detail he would usually count on Rachel to prepare, and he realizes that instead of trading identities, he’s trading soggy notebooks and blank pages. Because of course Rachel didn’t leave ten passports hanging unattended on the back of the bedroom door. Of course it was a decoy.

Catherine doesn’t know any of this, which is why she says, “It was a trap.”

And Townsend’s timing really is impeccable, when he rounds the corner with his pistol in position and screams, “Put your hands up!”

It’s the perfect storm, literally, and Matt’s finally soaked through. Catherine is quick and graceful compared to his clumsy, breathless shuffle, so it’s easy for her to grab at his wet shirt and swing him toward the very edge he used to trap her in place.

Catherine runs. Matt falls. A flash of lightning cracks skyward.

Just when Matt thinks it's impossible to be any more soaked, he hits the Moskva. The impact knocks any remaining breath from his chest and the chill steals away his screams. In the gray river, below gray skies, he loses his direction and can’t find his way to the surface. Even if he could, the current would surely drag him under and away. Under and away. Under and away. The river fades from gray to black, and he’s not in his mama’s crick any longer.

He’s not sure how long it takes for someone to drag him out of the water. Even when they do, his teeth keep chattering, and his body keeps shaking, and he’s pretty sure his lips are blue. He feels heavy, heavy, heavy, as slim hands carry him by the collar. He blinks upward to see a head of red hair, dragging him uphill through the mud. The sky, like the river, fades from gray to black.

The next time he comes to, everything is red, red, red.

Hail Mary. 

Full of grace. 

The Lord is with thee.

#Full Circle #In which Townsend is an equal opportunity mansplainer #sorry sorry sorry! #Im gonna fix him I promise!

[agentsofoakenshiield]

I want to write a gallagher girls / covert affairs crossover where annie walker is a gallagher girl who meets Cammie in the CIA & they work together to take the Circle down post-series.

#gallagher girls #covert affairs #cammie morgan #the circle of cavan #circle of cavan #annie walker

[bookwormobsessed]

I just reread the Gallagher girls books again and can’t stop thinking about how joe says that cammie will always be in danger and I can’t help but think this doesn’t just apply to the circle after her.

Also I wish there was more books.

#gallagher girls series #cammie and zach #zammie #circle of Cavan #joe solomon #cameron morgan #gg series #Allie Carter

[ancient-myth-daily]

not to be racist but Crom Cruach sounds like a very drunk person asking for a bowl of their favourite cereal. Please tell me about the real (?) Crom Cruach

Crom Cruach is an old, pre-Christian Irish god, so saying it sounds like a drunk person is probably the worst thing you could have said lol

Little is known about this figure because a lot of pagan Irish culture was erased/changed by the Christians, who painted Crom Cruach's worshippers as giving him human sacrifices, and Crom Cruach as a dark and evil demon. The legitimacy of that claim is... questionable, but sadly there aren't really any remaining pagan sources as to what sort of god he was, really.

What we DO know about him is that his name might mean "crooked hill". There are some archaeological objects, decorated stones, that may be related to Crom Cruach, and the later folk figure Crom Dubh, "dark crooked one", came from Crom Cruach. There is (I believe) a festival called Crom Dubh Sunday which is part of Lughnasadh (in August), but I am personally not sure how popular that is nowadays.

What the Christian sources tell us about Crom Cruach, besides that he was sacrificed firstborns, is that he had a cult-image (like the decorated stones) made of gold and surrounded by 12 stone figures in a circle. The sacrifices would be made in exchange for good crops and milk. This suggests to some that Crom Cruach may have been a fertility god, though some academics theorize that he may have been a solar god due to the positing of the 12 stones (like the zodiac I guess). But again, these Christian sources are not going to be totally accurate since they had a clear agenda in portraying pagan religious practices in a negative light. The cult-image of Crom Cruach and the sacrificing was said to be at the historic plain Magh Slécht in County Cavan, and the worship of Crom Cruach was said to be ended by St. Patrick.

It's sad that we don't know as much about these gods as we could have but at least we still know their names.

(PS I am so SO sorry that I took so long to respond to this, asks were not giving me notifications.)

#crom cruach #irish mythology #pre-christian ireland #crom dubh #mythology #fertility god #human sacrifice #st patrick #christianization #asks #lughnasadh