Nnotabilis
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When an encounter with a fan goes about as badly as physically possible, Rumi tries to do the right thing. What she ends up doing is stealing his soul (it was an accident) and pressing it into service (it was an accident!) and earning the attention of an independent group of demon hunters who want her head (that part was just bad luck).
Bookmarked by Nnotabilis
28 Jun 2026
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Once a generation, a sacrifice is made, and the Honmoon replenished. It's not so great a price to pay, really: one innocent soul to save countless others.
For as long as she could remember, Rumi had known that somewhere, very far away, lived the two girls that would kill her one day.
Bookmarked by Nnotabilis
28 Jun 2026
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“Hold on!” Zoey said like it was some great epiphany, stepping forward into the weak light that filtered through the boarded windows. “If you don’t remember what happened to you, and nobody knows what happened to her, then… Who’s to say you’re not her?”
Rumi stared at them, jaw slightly limp. Mira could almost see the gears turning in her head, slow and uncertain.
Mira stepped in smoothly just as Zoey backed off a bit, letting certainty fill her voice.
“Either way, you get where you’re trying to go. If you are the Princess, then you’ve found your family. And if you’re not…” She shrugged gently, as though it were all so simple. “You still make it to Paris.”
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OR: Ten years after the revolution, the exiled Queen searches for her daughter. Mira and Zoey just need a quick buck. And Rumi? Rumi has no clue who she used to be—so why not a Princess?
- Language:
- English
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- Chapters:
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Bookmarked by Nnotabilis
27 Jun 2026
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It's just social media numbers, Bobby. Not the end of the world.
Bookmarked by Nnotabilis
26 Jun 2026
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A delicate and flowering thing—like faith, like hope and trust—that blooms for a time, in warmth and sunlight, in the easy joys of summer.
Yet nothing lasts forever. In time, like faith, it fades. Nothing lasts forever; pushed to its limit, it dies. But nothing lasts forever—and winters end. The grey and cold are not eternal. Even withered stalks, if tended, may yet have strong roots.
In time—like trust, like hope—it blooms again.
Bookmarked by Nnotabilis
26 Jun 2026