#where wolves? the answer may surprise you

[andrea-lyn]

“I’m not entirely sure if it was a purposeful act from my ex-husband, a pack bonding instinct from several of the players, or if we’re simply lucky, but Richmond happens to be the foremost werewolf-friendly team in the Premier League. Over seventy-five percent of our players happen to be lycanthropes.”

Turns out, there's a lot that Ted hasn't figured out in this world, but he's happy to learn. In this case, that means getting a crash course in werewolves and pack dynamics.

[bitterrfruit]

houndtooth [7]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - 3.9k words

The air of your cell is thick and savoury like soup. You choke on it, every breath, drowning in it – filling your lungs with its foul warmth and barely slaking your battered body’s need for oxygen.  

The sore minutes following your husband’s execution had blurred into incomprehensible smoke. Fleeting. Suffocating. Obfuscating.  

You are lost. Uncertain whether or not you are grieving. And if you’re not, whether you should be. 

His words were each a bullet, each meticulously calculated to injure you where it would hurt you most. Almost perfectly crafted to ensure your captors lose any semblance of pity or reverence they held for you – so that they might lose whatever restraint they’ve been attempting to maintain. So that they may do to you whatever they have been itching to do. Their exploitation justified. Because you’re just a whore.  

But in your desperation to comfort your own distraught mind, you argue with yourself. Your own devil’s advocate. 

Perhaps it was a game. Could have been a bluff. 

He must have loved you, right? After years of serving him, of acting your part, of loving him the way he wanted you to.  

He had to have loved you. You had always dreamed someone would. 

No matter the case, the outcome is the same. There’s no way back. Whatever nightmare you’re stuck in will only, only, get worse. Regardless of which pack of wolves you are left to, your fate remains inescapable. You’ll be used. Consumed. Digested. Shit back out.  

The Captain had ferried you to a new cell – the one you now sat in, atop a makeshift bed with a squealing steel frame. He had carried you like a child, an arm under your knees and an arm under your neck, he let your head fall on his chest despite your fading effort to stay skittish and defensive. His charity disingenuous. White knight he is. 

But you’re weak. Exhausted. Delirious.  

You sit in dead silence, knees tucked up tightly to your chin, body only partially dry after your water torture.  

The Captain stands in front of you. Hands magisterially on his hips, he pouts under his beard. Wrestling with how best to interact with you, like you’re an animal in an exhibit. Careful not to scare you off, but frightened you’d bite if he gets too close.  

“There were no bullets in the gun, by the way,” he says gruffly, voice hoarse like he’s gargling gravel. “I wasn’t going to kill you. It was a… a bluff.”  

You say nothing. Give him nothing. You glower at him from under your brow, hoping he leaves so you can finally lie down and cry like a hurt little girl.  

“Can I get you something? Water?”  

You say nothing.  

“Look. We’re – we’re not going to hurt you. But I need you to answer some questions, alright?” He insists. “We need to know about who your husband worked with. I’m guessing he must have called them his colleagues, eh?” 

Give him nothing.  

“Do you know a Vladimir? Makarov?”  

That name, you know. You know it well. You know it like an apple knows teeth. Like a deer knows an arrow. Like a carcass knows a knife.  

Less so a colleague and more a rival. Two lions fighting for the same throne. Vladimir hated your husband so viciously it wouldn’t surprise you if he had orchestrated this entire series of events just to be rid of him.  

But the enmity between he and your husband isn’t what strikes icy shards of terror through your chest. Isn’t what churns your stomach and pushes dark bile up your throat. 

You swallow. 

“Mh. Looks like you do know him,” he grunts, crossing his arms over his broad chest, rocking on his boots. “Can you tell me about him?” 

He persists in his questioning, despite your sealed lips. You know that talking might help you. That spilling your vague knowledge like water from a faucet might ingratiate you. Might earn your freedom.  

But what freedom awaits you?  

If these soldiers cast you back to your blood-soaked estate, or your petit trianon – as a traitor of your husband, a scorned widow – you will simply be bait. Raw meat to lure bears. Honey to lure wasps. There is nowhere you could possibly hide to evade them, no scheme to outsmart them.  

You’d be better off dead.  

“When was the last time you saw him?”  

“Did he come to your estate a lot? Did he travel with your husband?”  

“Have you ever spoken to him?” 

“Does he know you?” 

“Could he help you?”  

“Where is he?”  

He leans forward, props himself up with his palms on his knees. His blue eyes are piercing, discerning. “Do you know where he is?” He insists, “Mia. I’m trying to help you.”  

You say nothing. 

He is quick to grow frustrated, grunting like a bear and standing upright, he rubs his temples in exasperation as if you’ve given him a headache.  

“You don’t want to talk to me. Okay.”  

Give him nothing.  

“Who will you talk to? Anyone?” He presses, tapping his boot in impatience. “Do you want to talk to the Lieutenant?”  

You say nothing – but some shift in your expression must have said something for you. You’re not sure if it was the widening of your eyes, the softening of your brows, the loosening of your shoulders – but he spotted it. And nodded slowly. Knowingly.  

“Alright, love. I’ll go get him. Then you’ll talk to him, eh?”  

“Simon,” came the gruff bark of Price’s familiar voice. Irate.  

Ghost sat on a bench in the empty mess hall, under a flickering fluorescent bar. Bouncing his knee, leaning his elbows on the table in front of him, he pinches a cheap Russian cigarette and holds it between his teeth.  

Tastes like shit. Does the job.  

“What,” he grunts, swivelling on the bench so that he faces out towards the approaching Captain. “Did she kick y’in the head, too?”  

Price only frowns, confused and plainly irritated, he comes to a stop before him and crosses his arms. “No,” he puzzles. “She kicked you, eh? That’ll learn you.”  

Leaning back indolently, Ghost tugs the base of his balaclava back over his mouth, tucking it under his jaw. Squishes the butt into the plastic surface of the table behind him.  “Not me.”  

“Mh,” the Captain acquiesces. “She does seem to like you.”  

Ghost only scoffs, not quite a laugh, but carries the same disbelieving amusement. “Right,” he chuffs, “for killing her husband?”  

“Possibly,” Price shrugs derisively, “beats me.”  

“Has she said anything?”  

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Like talking to a brick wall,” the Captain complains. “A pretty little brick wall.”  

Ghost rolls his eyes, turning his head to look at the open door to the hall. He rubs his brow vexedly with his thumb. And you chide me, you hypocritical prick.  

“She’ll talk to you,” Price insists.  

“Why the fuck would she talk to me?” Ghost retorts. “I waterboarded her.”  

“I asked her.” 

“What, and she requested me?”  

Price tilts his head, a lazy shrug. “Not in so many words.”  

“Right. So you’re full of shit.”  

“Jesus, Simon. Don’t make me order you,” Price sneers, “No clue why she’s interested in you, but, you never know with women like that, eh?”  

His stomach churns at Price’s insinuation. Must have taken your cunt husband’s ramblings at face value. Rookie error for a captain.   

Ghost bounces his knee in annoyance. “Just let her sleep, for fuck’s sake. She’s probably delirious.” 

“Exactly,” Price nods. “She’ll be nice and compliant, eh? Open to persuasion.” 

He's right. Ghost is playing dumb. He’s very familiar with the game, so fluent in the art of exploitation that he could do it with his eyes closed. Beaten, defeated, worn down to a quivering mess is when you’ll be most susceptible to influence. The most pliable.  

Letting you sleep, allowing you to recover your strength as you cocoon yourself in your shell is a surefire way to ensure you never utter another word. He can’t let your fear bubble into spite, into anger, into vengeance. He must kick you when you’re down.  

But – he's tired. He’s already fucking sick of it. Sick of being confused by his own repulsion. Sick of his pathetic eyes raking over your body despite his efforts to restrain it. Sick of your eyes looking through him like you know him better than himself.  

“Too delirious to give us anything useful,” Ghost clarifies, through teeth.  

“I don’t give a shit about whatever vapid rumours she has about Zakhaev. It’s pretty clear she knows nothing about his enterprise.”  

“Then why the fuck do you want me to keep interrogating her?”  

“I don’t want you to interrogate her, Simon,” Price badgers, “I want you to convince her.”  

Ghost frowns, crosses his arms testily. 

“Convince her to what?”  

~

Ghost hears the squeaking of your shoddy bed as he brutishly unlocks and opens the door to your cell. 

You had been lying on your side, curled up like a foetus on the mattress – but the second you are disturbed, you sit yourself upright. Alert. Frightened. Skittish. Stare at him like a cornered cat. 

Looks like you’ve been crying. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks glistening with the afterglow of your tears. Your lips part just slightly as your weary eyes land on him, as though a rush of air just escaped your lungs. He shuts the door behind him, stands in the middle of your small cell with crossed arms. 

He mines his thoughts for words to say. Finds them turning to ash on his tongue. 

“Sorry about your husband,” he says, eventually, tone more facetious than he had intended. 

He sees the cinder flickering in those sparkling little eyes, your chest rises as you inhale in preparation for your retort. “How can you – how can you say sorry for killing–” 

“Not for killing him,” he clarifies with a grunt. “Sorry that you married him.” 

That leaves you quiet. You look sour, because he’s right. 

“Was he always like that?” He persists, feels the snake of spite rising to his throat, needlessly adding an air of mocking derision to his words. “Did–” 

“Why are you here,” you snap to cut him off. Your cadence needle sharp, so starkly at odds to the sweetness of your earlier pleading. Nothing left to beg for, he supposes. 

Ghost draws in an impatient breath. He doesn’t want to be here either. “Boss said you’d talk to me.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you grumble, voice wavering. Pouting at him. Cute. 

He sucks his teeth. “Right,” he scoffs. “Yet you’re talkin’ to me, aren’t you?” 

You fall quiet again, pulling your knees up to your chest, you clutch your bare feet with agitated fingers. “He’s nicer than you,” you mutter scornfully. 

“I bet,” he agrees dully. “But you won’t talk to him.” 

“Don’t trust him.” 

“Oh?” He queries cynically, “so you trust me?” 

You seem to think for a pointed moment before you speak. Wet stare lands on him, scans from boots to head, evaluating. 

“You do what you say you will,” you bitterly admit, and he can see it pains you to say so. 

Christ. 

You trust him? Or, rather, whatever tentative hopeful dependence that you are forced to rely on in a predicament as dire as yours. Still. He squirms at the thought that you’ve decided he’s the best you’ve got. You’ll be sorely disappointed. 

Won’t you? 

“Have you got more questions for me,” You ask flatly, breaking the off-putting silence. 

The defeat in your voice is like nails on a chalkboard. He’d rather you be hysterical, tearful and delirious, overwhelmed with grief but a still riddled with a desperation to survive. 

Instead you’re merely hushed and trembling. Perhaps you’re in shock. Perhaps you’ve got a plan. But, what he is most fearful of, is the likelihood you’ve given up. No desire to fight for whatever life might await you now that your husband is out of the picture. 

Detrimental to their entire operation, yes. They have no leverage to use against you if you have no interest in staying alive.  

More than that, though, he needs you to keep fighting him. To berate and antagonise and kick and scream. All of his adversaries would viciously resist him and that would justify Ghost’s brutality. When his blistering hatred for you was at its peak, not ten hours ago, he could justify hurting you as badly as he wanted to. 

Now what? 

How can he bring himself brutalise you when you look at him like that? Teary-eyed, shaking in either cold or panic - but giving him no resistance? No talk-back, no threats, no ploys to escape? 

How can he hurt you any further? 

He can tell you just want to sleep. Your lids are heavy and swollen despite how hard you try to keep your eyes open and vigilant. Poor thing. 

Ghost shakes his head, stepping towards a steel chair that sits propped against the wall. He lifts it with ease, twisting it in the air and putting it down in front of your bed – sits in it casually, leans back. Thighs spread and fingers interwoven in his lap, he bounces his knee as he chews on his response. 

“If you’ve got information we can use, sure.” 

You sigh deeply and slowly, picking at the cherry-red polish on your toenail with a ferocity that appears to him like self-flagellation. “I don’t know what information I have. Let alone whether it’s useful.” 

“’Alright,” he huffs, takes a minute to think of the question. “Said you’re from Nottingham, yeah? How’d you meet him?” 

A crease forms in your brow as your dubious eyes jump around his face, searching for an intention. You won’t find one. He doesn’t know what it was. 

“How is that useful information,” you seethe. 

He shrugs indifferently. “Need details.” 

You huff as though reluctant, looking at your feet. “I met him in Berlin.” 

He stays silent, and when your stare quickly jumps to him for approval, he gestures with his brutish hand to elaborate. Unsatisfactory answer. 

Your gaze returns to your toes. Focusing as you scrape the glossy red paint with your fingernails, leaving specks that look like dried blood on the dirty mattress. 

“I was a dancer. Um – he came into the club I danced in, with some other men. All in expensive suits. Rich men like that are cheap. Usually never spend a thing. Still want a piece.” 

A stripper. Not what Ghost would have guessed. But he can picture it, all the same. And he does. Pictures you spinning on a slippery pole, peeling off a lacy bra, slender little hands stroking over your buttery body as you present yourself to dogs like meat. 

He grounds himself with a clearing of his throat. “S’that right.” 

“Mhm,” you answer distastefully. “Was always the working boys that spoiled us. Wanted to spend what little money they had just to please. Just because they could. Men in suits, they want what they pay for. And they pay next to nothing because that’s what we’re worth to them.” 

“And Zakhaev…?” 

You draw in a slow breath. “Victor was different.” 

That’s it? C’mon, love. His silence an insistence to continue. And you do. 

“I dunno,” you sniff, he sees your eyes swell red. “I guess he saw something valuable in me.” 

He chastises himself for his interest. Why the fuck does he care how a whore comes across a man like Zakhaev? Billionaire wants a trophy wife, so he buys one. It should be no surprise at all. 

“So he bought you, eh?” Ghost asks harshly, and your wet and angry stare shoots daggers at him in response. 

But you relent. Maybe he’s right. Your gaze returns to your toes and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. 

“He gave me fifty-thousand euros for a private dance.” 

Fucking hell. 

Can’t even fathom spending that much money on anything. But when he looks at you… if he had that kind of money, maybe he’d do the same. 

Nearly smacks himself at the thought. 

“Generous,” he says instead, disdain on his tongue. 

“He was sweet,” you continue, voice wavering as you visibly swallow the urge to cry. “He – he said he could save me. Would take me to his nice house and protect me. Said he’d treat me like a goddess.” 

Ghost snorts spitefully. “Did he?” 

You scowl at him. “Yes, he did.” 

A knife of guilt plunges through his sternum, a truly unfamiliar sting. 

Did you love him? 

He cannot fathom that you could have. Not after that repulsive tirade, so unbearable to hear he felt compelled to execute him just to make it stop. He thought he had done you a favour. Still mostly believes he has. 

“Didn’t sound like it,” Ghost remarks derisively. 

You chew your lip. “It’s your fault he snapped,” you murmur, under breath. Doesn’t sound like you believe what you’re saying. “He was – he was good to me.” 

He sniffs, licks his teeth. “You had bruises.” 

“Fucking ‘course I have bruises, you tortured me.” You hiss. 

Shakes his head. “Before,” he ripostes. “You had bruises on your collarbone. On your thighs. From him, eh?” 

You bite down on your tongue, he sees your eyes well. Must have prodded a sore spot. 

“What is this? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you he beat me so you feel better about murdering him?” 

That sparks his anger. 

“You think that would make me feel better?” He barks, “I feel fucking fantastic. Shooting that cunt is the best thing I’ve done all week.” 

“You’re sick,” you breathe. 

“I’m sick? Do you know what your fuckin’ husband did? Do you know what he was?” 

“He was a businessman,” you utter, unconvincingly. 

“He was a mass-fucking-murderer. He started a war. You wanna know what the body count for that is?” 

You fall quiet. Shivering and tearful. But you listen. 

“Your husband was busy building bombs. Chemical weapons. Busy selling explosives to fucking terrorist militias in the middle east. Paid for the bombings in London last year. I’m fuckin’ proud that I shot him, whether or not he beat you.” 

You’re ghostly. Blood drained completely from your apple cheeks. Your mouth opens to sip a trembling breath, and your tears begin their cascade. 

“I didn’t know,” you whimper. 

“’Course you didn’t,” he chides doubtfully. 

You heave in a whining sob, tears dripping off your chin as you plunge your face against your knees. Was that your last straw, little thing? 

“I didn’t,” you stutter, snivelling. “I – I knew he… he was an arms dealer. Just an arms dealer.” 

He’s nauseated at the sight of you sobbing so sorely. Finds himself wondering you look like when you smile. 

“He was a warlord.” 

You sob, dropping your knees open so you sit cross-legged, Ghost’s eyes shoot between your legs. Get a fucking grip. Watching you cry and still stealing his glances? Can’t help it. You cry too pretty. 

You move the focus of your self-mutilation from your toes to your fingernails, picking off the lacquer. You sniffle quietly for a minute, and he lets you. What else can he say to you? He’s not much interested in comforting you. 

But there’s an ache, sharp and yet nebulous. The acknowledgement that you didn’t know the extent of your husband’s evil. That he likely kept it hidden from you. Or you, hidden from it. That your torture was fruitless and extraneous. Cruelty for the sake of it. 

“What happens now,” you ask, near-whisper. 

Ghost leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees, lets his hands hang nonchalantly. “Still got one use for you.” 

Your stare lands on him carefully. You breathe as though preparing yourself, a tear lands in the corner of your parted lips. You uncross your legs, hanging them slowly off the edge of the bed, hands turn to fists on your knees. 

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you squeak. 

Ghost’s jaw clenches inadvertently, biting down on nothing. Knows what you’re implying. Do you think he’s here to rape you? Here to unwrap you, to tear off that tissue that barely conceals the prize? 

His glower is probably serving as evidence. Boring into you with a hunger beyond his control. Jesus. Control yourself. 

He could do it. Fulfil your suggestion, accept your offers. Play the role of the lecherous hound you believe him to be.

You’d let him. 

You’d lie face down on that bed for him. You’d let him hitch up your hips, presenting your soft pussy for him to take. You’d let him rake down those pathetic pink knickers. You’d let him spit on his fingers and push them into you, to prepare you for the incursion of his spiteful cock. He’d curl and drive them deep, he’d make sure your pussy releases a spate of its sweet liquor just for him.   

You’d probably whine sweetly – in pain, at first, as he penetrates you, as your cunt stretches to fit him. But those muffled whimpers into the mattress would evolve into cries of shameful rapture, poignantly humiliated by how good it feels when he fucks you. He’d fuck you slowly. Deeply. He’d make sure the blunt head of his cock rams into that aching spot that makes you squeal. 

He’d coat his thumb in your syrup, he’d press the pad of it against your puckered hole. He’d listen to your cloying noises as he pushes it, popping past your tight, clenching entrance, easing it in until he’s knuckle deep. He’d feel his cock rutting in and out of you, through the thin fleshy wall between your holes. He’d feel it cinch so tightly around his thumb, pulsing in rhythm with the abashing orgasm that he fucks out of you. He’d threaten to pump you full of his come, and when you only mewl wetly in response, no dispute, fucked drunk; he’d oblige you. 

He’d let you think he’s finished. He’d give you a moment to breathe, as he pulls out of you, as his hot come drips from you, coating your thighs. Your pussy would look too pretty drenched in a concoction of your fluids and his, twitching still in the aftershock. 

So he’d flip you, hoist up your soft body by the hips as he sucks your cunt into his mouth. He’d eat another orgasm out of you, voracious and messy, he’d swallow it, and continue; just to feel you writhe in dispute of the overstimulation, just to listen to the squeals of contest that squeak from your wet throat. 

He’d leave you choking, panting for air, as he allows you to recover. He’d let you sleep, and he’d know that you’d dream of him. 

You fucking animal. 

Pulled back to reality by a shivering sigh from your chest - he’s repulsed by himself. Reels in self-loathing as his cock jolts behind his trousers, swelling in anticipation of a crime he won’t commit. 

His peers have chastised him for being a beast. An uncaring monster. The kind of animal that would fuck you while you cry, that would take pride in making it hurt.  

They’re wrong. 

You simply look at him, pupils stretched wide and dark, glassy with worry. Your cunt might be pulsing in between the thighs you hold together so tightly, readying itself for him, preparing for the worst. 

No, little rabbit, he wouldn’t do that to you. Not unless you beg him for it. 

So he leans back in his seat, feigning disinterest, hoping you don’t notice the turgid heat that radiates from him. 

“Not that, sweetheart,” he sighs hoarsely. “We’ve got a more important use for you.” 

here's your tag bestie: @rafaelacallinybbay

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 65

Masterlist

Chapter 64

Quick A/N: I know in the book, there was contention between the historians about whether or not Cregan Stark had a half-sister by the name of Sara Snow (if you read Fire and Blood, you know what I'm talking about), but for the sake of this story, I'm going to say Sara does exist in this universe.

-----------King's Landing: Maegor's Holdfast--------

Jaskier had never felt such relief in his life the moment he was led out of the dungeons and freed from his bonds. The Bard rubbed his wrists where the chains previously were, part of him wondering if his sister had managed to escape or not. He hadn't been given any recent updates on your whereabouts, so he was understandably concerned.

Although, if the fact he was released from the dungeons so suddenly without so much as an interrogation, the chances that you had escaped didn't seem all that likely.

Actually, right now, panic may have begun to settle when it occurred to Jaskier of the possibility that he might be led to an execution with no trial. 

"Greetings, Viscount," a male voice caught Jaskier's attention, making the man yelp and almost jump back in surprise. Larys Strong leaned against the wall, an undecipherable look on his face. "You really should not be sneaking up on people like that," Jaskier scolds, "you'll give someone a heart attack one of these days. You look familiar, have we met before?"

"Not exactly," Larys admits, "but I believe we share a mutual acquaintance in your sister." Jaskier put two and two together when he remembered his last visit to King's Landing, "You're that one fellow who helped bring Geralt here when he got lost somewhere up North. Lord Strange." "It's Strong, actually," Larys corrects, "Larys Strong, Lord of Harenhal at your service."

"Right," Jaskier says, "Larys Strong. I don't supposed you were the one who pulled strings to release me from my former lodgings."  "Much as I would like to take credit for such, I'm afraid that was not my doing," Larys admits, "That was accomplished by the Lady of Larks. It seems she has found a place in court once again. His Grace, the king has appointed her personal troubaritz to his children."

"Oh...ah, deja vu," Jaskier said, realizing the cycle was repeating itself, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say we've both gone back in time." "There is more," Larys continues, "the king has also seen fit to appoint you a position in his court, Viscount...as the court jester."

"What now?" Jaskier says, dumbfounded, "Court jest- are you shitting me?! I am not...I am a lot of things, a lover of people from lowborn and high, a composer of many famous songs and ballads, a member of a spy network for at least two different kingdoms, and an occasional drag performer. But this?!"

"If you allow me to further speak, I believe I can offer some reprieve from your new demeaning position," Larys offers. "What kind of reprieve, dare I ask?" Jaskier frowns a bit. "You mentioned you had experience in spy work," Larys explains, "and what better way to spy on the court inconspicuously then when you play the role of the royal fool?"

-------------meanwhile in the nursery-----------------

"What song would you like me to play for you, sweet prince?" you inquire of Jaehaerys as soon as you stepped into the nursery with Alicent following behind. "Wait one moment please," Jaehaerys says as he runs up the stairs.

You stand there waiting expectedly for the prince to return.

"Lady (y/n)," Alicent speaks up, gaining your attention. "Your Grace," you address back. "It is...good to see you again. I couldn't believe my own eyes seeing you, being back here of all places." You were silent for a bit before you answered the queen, "it is good to see you as well, Alicent, if we can be familiar with each other for the moment."

Alicent nods, giving permission.

"What is this I hear about my daughter turning traitor?" you ask, those words Otto spoke still ringing in your head.  "You...don't know?" Alicent frowns a bit, to which you shake your head. "I haven't seen Aemma since she returned to Westeros from the Continent," you admit. "She did tell me you were alive," Alicent admits, "but I must confess, I...had trouble believing it was so. I heard what befell you six years ago. I was sadden when that news reached my ears when it happened...and to hear you survived..." "To be fair, a lot of my friends and loved ones on the Continent had a hard time believing it as well," you say with some humor, "even my own brother couldn't believe his eyes."

Alicent made a small smile at that. She then proceeded to catch you up on the most recent events, from the passing of King Viserys, to the crowning of her son, which if you weren't already aware that Aegon was now king, you would've gone wide eyed from hearing that particular news. "So...Viserys saw fit to name his eldest son heir then?"

"It came as a shock to me as well," Alicent admits, "he spoke those words to me in the night before the Stranger came for him. It was what he wanted."

You fought the urge to give Alicent a rather incredulous look. For as long as you could remember, Rhaenyra was the uncontested heir, even when Viserys had more children, at least two of them being sons, and this was something Aemma had confirmed to you before the two of you parted ways. The fact that Viserys never changed the line of succession even after all this time- after two decades have past- and then for him to suddenly change his mind at the very last minute on his deathbed didn't make any sense to you.

But you keep those thoughts to yourself. You've seen first hand the lengths Otto was willing to go to use you as a hostage against Aemma for apparently saying similar thoughts out loud.

"And Aemma doesn't believe otherwise?" "I tried to reason with her," Alicent assures, "but she wouldn't listen. She still has it in her head that Rhaenyra is meant to sit the Iron Throne." "Where is Rhaenyra?" you ask. "Probably still on Dragonstone I wager," Alicent answers, "Along with...Prince Daemon." Alicent noted the way you went rigid at the mention of that name, "So it is true..." you heard her mutter.

Before you could ask her what that meant, Jaehaerys came down the steps with Jaehaera behind him, "it's the Lady of Larks," the boy whispers to his sister with excitement, "I told you she was here."

"Who is this?" you inquire of the prince, "this is my sister, Jaehaera," Jaehaerys introduces. Jaehaera first approached her grandmother, while still keeping her focus on you. "Go ahead, sweet girl," Alicent encourages. Jaehaera approached you, making a small, shy smile as she reached a hand to you, which you accept.

"So these are His Grace's  children," you state, "who is their mother, if I may ask?"

"Lady Lark," a strange voice catches your attention. A young woman with long blonde hair walks in the room, a baby in her arms, "you came back to us." "Helaena," Alicent tells you, which made you look at the woman in shock. "Helaena," you say back, "you really have grown. You were just a child last I saw you." "And now I have a children of my own," Helaena says with some pride in her voice, "you've met the twins. This here is Maelor, the youngest. Look, Maelor, it's the Lady of Larks." Maelor reached a tiny hand out to you, which made you smile.

"Will you sing to us now, Lady Lark?" Jaehaerys asks with glee.

"Alright," you nod. You take a seat nearby. Jaehaerys was quick to climb up onto your lap, clearly eager to hear you sing up close. You go along with it and begin to sing, hoping it wouldn't take long for the children to fall back to sleep. You decide to go with a simple ballad composed from a troubaritz whom you know resides in Novigrad (not exactly a song you overly enjoy given who the song was about, but you had hope it would get the job done).

As you hoped, the children slowing started nodding off, their eyes growing heavy as they began to fall asleep. Alicent surprisingly felt her own eyes become moist as you serenaded her grandchildren; it brought the dowager queen back to a time when she was still a girl, younger than Helaena, when she would sit beside Rhaenyra when you entertained the two with your songs.  It brought her back to a time before she was queen, when she was still young and innocent. When she was still known as the Lady Alicent. 

Things were so much simpler back then, and a considerable part of her wished it was that way once again.

What nobody in that room knew was that outside the nursery, Aegon stood by the door, listening to you sing to his children. Through the crack in the door, he could see the way you held his son while you sang, how your voice, sweet and gentle, brought great comfort to Jaehaerys and his siblings. He saw the way Maelor fell back to sleep in his mother's arms, comforted by your song, how Jaehaera leaned into her grandmother from feeling the same comfort. Even Helaena and Alicent looked much relaxed as your song filled the air, as if they could forget everything else that was going on right now.

He wondered if this was how you acquired your sobriquet as the Lady of Larks.

Aegon leaned against the door frame, careful not to put too much weight into it, also feeling like he could lose himself in your soothing siren's call, and he began to wonder if you sang similar songs to him back when you held residence in this place 16 years ago. Aegon felt an odd sense of peace in this moment...something he couldn't even remember the last time he ever felt, if indeed, there even was a last time. 

At last, the children were sound asleep. Once the same children were placed back into their beds, you deigned to speak to Alicent once more.

"If you would indulge me my curiosity, your Grace, where is your other son Prince Aemond?" "You met him?" Alicent asks with shock. "Back on the Continent," you confirm, "Aemma introduced me. He seemed...quite a studious young man. And though he tried to hide it, he seemed quite taken with Aemma, almost like he were smitten with her." "More than just smitten," Alicent admits, "Aemond was in love with her. He...he wanted to marry her." "What?" "He wanted to take Aemma to wife," Alicent repeats, "and I had given my blessing as I had once before...but that was before Aemma left for Dragonstone."

"Where is Aemond now?" "He should be in Storm's End by now," Alicent tells you, "treating with Lord Borros Baratheon to assure the man's loyalty and support for Aegon as king. And...Aemond was given explicit orders by my father to offer himself to take one of Borros' daughters to wife, whomever he will choose."

---------Winterfell--------------

"I trust you are enjoying the tour so far, princess," Sara Snow inquires, getting Aemma's attention off the cold momentarily.

Aemma pulled the fur cloak closer to her body, doing her best to retain whatever warmth was left as she was given a tour around the grounds of Winterfell, courtesy of Lord Stark's half-sister, while Jace and Cregan were off hunting in the nearby woods.

After receiving a proper welcome the day before, by the Lord of Winterfell, Jace and Aemma were shown to the guests chambers, which to Aemma's relief, were warmed up with a roaring fire going in the hearth and hot food and tea had already been brought to the tables by the servants. And also to Aemma's gratefulness, a hot bath was being prepared while she partook in her meal.

Definitely a luxurious upgrade compared to her winter lodgings in Kaer Morhen. Despite the cold exterior of the North, it seemed the halls of Winterfell were designed to be the complete opposite: warm and inviting.

The company was a bit of a mixed bag in that regards; some were warm and accepting to have a Targaryen prince and princess grace these halls, while others were a little more standoff-ish, only giving the bare minimum of courtesy. Cregan was surprisingly the most inviting of the welcoming committee, seeming to have found a kindred spirit in Jace of all people. Aemma, however, wasn't sure what Cregan thought of her. The Lord Stark had saw fit to observe the social courtesies and place a chaste kiss on Aemma's wrist after Jace introduced her to the man, as was expected. Apart from that, there wasn't much further interaction between her and the man whom she was to consider as her potential betrothed. 

Once inside the halls of Winterfell, Cregan then introduced Jace and Aemma to his half-sister Sara Snow, who seemed to take an instant liking to Aemma. Aemma was a little put off by this initially, but she found herself warming up to Sara, especially when the woman volunteered to offer Aemma a tour of Winterfell itself and around the grounds while the men went off hunting the next day. The two had much to bond over, one of the big ones that they were both base born, though Aemma found herself privileged in that she was declared true-born by the king, an opportunity that has yet to be presented to Sara.   "I like it so far," Aemma assures, still shivering a little as she pulled her fur cloak closer, grateful this part of the Northern ensemble was offered to keep warm, "I am, however, not so overly fond of the weather, if I am being honest." That statement had Sara giggling in response, "typical Southerner can't handle a little late summer weather." "I'm actually not a complete stranger to the cold but...this is summer weather?" Aemma frowns a bit, "I dare not even begin to imagine what winter is like in this part of the world." 

"Let's just say that once the winter does arrive, which it will, it will cover all you see," Sara tells her, "and all memories of warmth will be long forgotten."

"Is this a warning for if and when your Lord brother does consider Her Grace's offer to take me to wife?" Aemma ponder out loud, which she took note of the way Sara frowned at that statement. "Oh forgive me, I didn't mean to cause offense," Aemma hastily apologizes. "You do not wish to marry my brother?" "To be candid, your brother is as of now, one in a long line of men who have been considered as a potential marriage prospect," Aemma admits with some humor, "At this point, I'm just starting to make bets with myself with how long this betrothal would last. Also, to be even more honest, I'm not so sure Lord Stark even wants to marry me. He hasn't exactly made it known if  he even desires such a prospect." Sara was silent for a bit before she spoke up, a somber tone present, "Try not to take it so personally, princess. You have to understand. Cregan he...the loss of his lady wife, the late Arra Norrey, it still weighs heavily on him at times. Despite increasing pressure from his counsel to wed again, he has been reluctant." "He loved his lady wife," Aemma says in realization. "They were childhood friends," Sara tells her, "they grew up together. It was practically a match made in the Seven Heavens, as you Southerners would say." "I see," Aemma nods in understanding. It was similar to how she felt about Aemond. The two had also grown up together, were close friends, and if Destiny had been kinder, the two could also wed...if only certain recent events hadn't happen.

"If it's any consolation, princess, it did come as a surprise to Cregan that the Queen would offer you as a potential match," Sara changes the subject, "you...have garnered a reputation of sorts even as far as Winterfell." "Oh?" "The daughter of the Rogue Prince by a Continental troubaritz, the famed Lady of Larks," Sara explains, "And then the same princess disappeared for the last six years without so much as an explanation, only to reappear so suddenly. Princess Aemma the Wayward, is what I have some of the Northern lords refer to you as."

"I see," Aemma felt her face grow hot for some reason, not realizing her disappearance to the Continent would garner so much interest even all the way up North. "I don't suppose...you would like to indulge me of your little adventures," Sara asks. Aemma made a small smile, "Well, if you must know, I spent those lost years on the Continent, my mother's homelands." "Well you tell me more?" Sara presses, "I've heard some tales of those lands. That they are full of monsters...and witches." "I suppose I could tell you more of their lore," Aemma offers, "provided you can tell me more of the North. I do hear this place is...quite different from much of Westeros. A place filled with ancient magic, and of course I've...I've always wanted to know more about the Wall." 

So the two women exchanged stories and bonded further during their walk. Aemma had also deigned to introduce Sara to Cirillia, and also taught the Snow woman how to play Gwent inside the hall, which admittedly took Sara some time to figure it out, but with enough practice, she soon became well versed in the game.

Right around the time the sun was setting, Jace and Cregan had returned from their long day of hunting, and having brought in a bounty of birds and a couple deer, one for each presumably. Both men had smiles on their faces, even Cregan who still held an air of stoicism as he approached Aemma and Sara. 

This time, Aemma took note of the way Cregan eyed her medallion. For a brief moment, he seemed fascinated by her memento, and she was wondering why this was so. Had Cregan seen something similar at one point in his life perhaps?

Aemma brushed it off when she and Jace returned to the guest quarters to ready themselves for tonight's supper of fresh venison stew and fire roasted birds. "So, I take it you enjoyed your little hunting excursion then," Aemma comments. "More or less," Jace nods, "Lord Stark allowed me the honor of making the first kill when we spotted the first stag." "How nice," Aemma nods, "sounds like you and Lord Stark have gotten on quite well. Mayhap you should be the one to be betrothed to him instead."

Jace laughed a little at that statement. "No seriously," Aemma deadpans, "I have yet to break Lord Stark's icy exterior. Has he even taken an interest in me? Actually, is he even interested in marrying again?" "Well...I can't say for certain," Jace admits, "but he may have asked a question or two concerning you. I made sure to put in a good word for you where I could." "Gee, thanks," Aemma deadpans again to which Jace had to stifle a laugh. 

Jace noted the look on Aemma's face. Thinking back to what his mother told him, he spoke to his stepsister once more. "....mother did express a sense of urgency of securing an alliance with House Stark. We shouldn't lose sight of that." "I'm well aware of that, Jace," Aemma says through slight gritted teeth, which took Jace off guard. "Sorry," she says.

"Aemma...is there something you want to say?" "What makes you ask that?" "Well...you haven't exactly been yourself since coming back to Dragonstone...after speaking to your father when he dismissed everyone back in the council chambers." Aemma looked at Jace, wondering if Baela or Rhaena had said anything to him or Luke, if they deigned to disclose what she told her sisters. Additionally, she wasn't exactly looking forward to marrying anyone apart from the one she loved with all her heart, but she couldn't tell Jace that due in part to the fact the two of them were on one side of the conflict, the one man she loves is on the other side. If she were to say something, if she were to proclaim her love for Aemond, would Jace accuse her of treason?

"It's nothing," she assures her, "I'm aware of our objective, brother. I'm just not sure how to get to Lord Stark as easily as you have." Jace nods in understanding, having some idea of what he could- or more specifically what Aemma could do- to persuade Lord Stark to form a marriage pact with her.

The two part ways so as to get ready for supper tonight.

--------------- Meanwhile, elsewhere in Winterfell, Cregan had deigned to visit his son before readying himself for tonight's supper. He held little Rickon in his arms, the tot currently pulling strands of Cregan's dark hair, and then proceeding to poke at his father's face. Cregan playfully snapped his teeth at the intrusive fingers, causing Rickon to giggle in the process.

Looking at his son, Cregan could still bit and pieces of his late wife in Rickon, from his eyes to his smile. It still felt like only yesterday sometimes that Arra Norrey lost the fight to bring her child into this world.  It was a wound that would never fully heal, no matter how much time has passed.

When he had received word from Queen Rhaenyra that her eldest son and stepdaughter were making their way to Winterfell to treat with him, Cregan had been taken aback that Her Grace had offered Princess Aemma for a potential marriage pact should he make it official to uphold the oath his father made 20 years ago. While Cregan had every intention of upholding that same oath, regardless if a betrothal would be brokered or not, some on his counsel had seen it as a sign from the Old gods that he was meant to remarry, as this was around the same time said counsel was 'lightly' suggesting that Cregan considering marrying again so as to further secure his bloodline with more potential heirs. Sure, proposals from Northern ladies had been offered every now and again...but the fact he was given an offer for a Targaryen princess right around this time could not be seen as a sheer coincidence.

He didn't know Aemma all that well, and even among the Northerners, the wayward princess was considered something of an enigma. He knew she was the daughter of Prince Daemon with the Lady of Larks, whom the late Lord Stark had once said was the only good thing about coming to King's Landing, when he was summoned to swear obeisance to acknowledge Rhaenyra as the late king's true heir. Cregan had heard his father speak many good things of the Lady (y/n) and her singing which truly lived up to her moniker.  And Princess Aemma had reportedly possessed her mother's singing talent as well.

And, of course, there was the rumors that had spread to the North when Aemma disappeared without a trace, only to suddenly reappear six years later.

Still, Cregan wasn't sure what to make of Aemma. When the princess landed and dismounted her dragon, the first thing he took note of was her sword...and her medallion. The moment he caught sight of the silver necklace, Cregan felt himself flashing back to a moment in his childhood when he saw a similar trinket around the neck of a  strange man he discovered in the woods. A wounded man with hair, white as snow, and eyes like those of a wolf, and one who saved Cregan's life despite the strange man's injuries. From what little interaction they had, Aemma seemed like a honorable woman, and Jacaerys had nothing but good things to say of his stepsister despite her six year disappearance. Cregan found a kindred spirit in Jace, as the young prince reminded him much of his late younger brother, and Cregan was surprised he enjoyed himself hunting in the woods with Jace, forming something of a brotherhood between the two.

Cregan's contemplation was brought to a halt when the doors opened and his sister stepped in. "Am I interrupting?" Sara inquires, starting to make faces at Rickon as he made grabby hands towards his aunt. "Not at all," Cregan humors, "if anything, you saved me from this little pup's intrusive hands ripping loose strands from my scalp." Sara laughed and took Rickon from Cregan's arms. "I take you enjoyed the princess's company while I was away with the prince." "More or less," Sara nods, keeping her focus on her nephew before she turned to give Cregan a serious look, "I know you're not ready just yet...but I think if you were to cave into the pressure from your counsel...princess Aemma may not be the worst possible outcome."

Cregan was silent on that so Sara continued, "Well, if anything, I hear the princess has a talented singing voice. She could sing you to sleep every night. And to Rickon too." She boops Rickon on the nose, causing the boy to giggle. Cregan made a small smile at the interaction. His sister appears to approve of the princess...perhaps he should give her a chance as well.

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

The fire roared with life in the great hall as the food was served. Aemma and Jace sat at one side of the table with Cregan and Sara sitting on the other.

Much conversation was had, particularly between Jace and Cregan. Aemma had some conversation with Sara in between savoring the venison stew, made from the bounty of today's hunt. The mead and ale was served generously in between courses, which Aemma was grateful for, as it helped to warm her bones and would also aid in allowing her to sleep tonight.

"Princess Aemma," Cregan speaks up, getting Aemma's attention from her food for a brief moment, "your stepbrother tells me you have a gift for singing."

Aemma saw that certain look on Jace's face before she answered, "I have, on more than one occasion, been told that I have inherited my mother's gift for song, my Lord." "Your mother was the Lady of Larks, was she not?"  "She was my mother, yes," Aemma confirms, "you heard of her?" "My father was once summoned to King's Landing many years ago," Cregan explains, "he had the honor of listening to the Lady Lark's mysterious ballads and epics from her homelands across the eastern Continent. He said it was the only thing that made the journey to King's Landing all the worth while." "There are instruments here at your disposal," Cregan gestures to the musicians playing to entertain, "would you care to grace these halls with your voice, princess?"

Aemma noted a lute one musician was playing and thought of a Skellige based song she once learned during her time in Cidaris. So she stands and approaches, intending to oblige the Lord and his courtiers.

Aemma took the lute and tuned it some before she began her song:

As Aemma continued to sing, she kept her attention to the instrument in her hand, filtering out the stares that were she was surely receiving the moment she hummed the first note.

She didn't notice the way Cregan was looking at her at this moment.

Once Aemma finished, there was a brief moment of silence before the hall erupted with thunderous applause for her performance. 

Aemma resumed her seat at the table and finished what was left of her food and drink.

Conversation continued even after the meal was concluded, and Aemma found herself start to nod off a little, feeling tired from the long day she's had added with the amount of mead she's consumed with her meal tonight. "Princess," Cregan gains her attention, "are you well? You look as if you are about to pass out." "I'm fine, my lord," Aemma assures, "I may have overindulged with the ale tonight." Jace and Cregan both had humorous smiles on their faces from that explanation.

"Allow me to escort you back to the guest chambers then," Cregan offers. "I can do that," Jace says, "I don't wish to trouble you, my lord." "No trouble at all, my prince," Cregan assures, "you are my guests after all." "Much appreciated," Aemma says, allowing Cregan to lead her back to her rooms.

"You sang beautifully tonight, princess," Cregan complements as he led Aemma down the corridor, "I've never heard anything like it before." "Oh, it's nothing exceptional," Aemma says with modesty, "you should've heard my mother sing...my father once said hers was a voice so beautiful that the larks would stand silent to listen." "After what I heard tonight, I have some trouble believing your talent is nothing," Cregan lightly scoffs, to which Aemma smiled at the complement.

"You flatter me, my lord." "Not at all," Cregan assures, "...perhaps you would honor us further and grace these halls with your honeyed voice once again, and perhaps many more times after." Aemma looks up to Cregan, wondering if this was his way of implying he would consider the offer to take her to wife.

Aemma stopped in her tracks, which took Cregan by surprise. "Lord Stark," Aemma addresses, "I know...we have only met just each other. We are only strangers. Any marriage pact my stepmother the queen has offered would be nothing more than a political alliance should anything come of it." "Princess-" "I know about you and your late lady wife," Aemma blurts out, "uh, your sister told me. That the two of you grew up together, that you loved her, and...how much her death affected you so. I'll understand if this is not what you want, if you are not ready. I...I know something of what that feeling is like. There is someone I grew up with as well, that I love very much, and it would've been the greatest luck if we could've engaged in a similar union."

"...Are you referring to prince Jacaerys?" Cregan asks, tilting his head a little at Aemma's vague statement. "No, it's not Jace it's...someone else," Aemma tells him, "I would request that you don't ask me to elucidate any further." Cregan silently nods in understanding, "you are right, princess," he admits, "I am not yet ready to wed again. I loved Arra very much, we were nearly inseparable as children. She made a man of me. Her loss is a wound that will never fully heal."

There was another moment of silence before Cregan spoke again, "I had already intended to uphold the oath my father made to King Viserys 20 years ago, marriage pact, or none. Starks do not forget their oaths after all, no matter how much time has passed. But as Warden of the North, I still have other duties to oversee...Winter is Coming."

Hearing the words of House Stark uttered by the Lord of Winterfell, Aemma knew how serious those aspects of his life were at this point in time. "I understand," she says, looking to see she was now at the door to her chambers, "thank you for the escort, Lord Cregan. Goodnight."

"Princess, a moment," Cregan speaks, getting Aemma's attention, "I meant to ask earlier...that necklace of yours. Wherever did you get it?" Aemma was taken aback by Cregan's seemingly sudden curiosity for her medallion. She touched a finger to it before she answered, "it was a memento I acquired during my travels on the Continent. Why do you ask?"

"It...it looks familiar to a trinket I saw once when I was a boy," Cregan explains, "instead of a dragon, there was an engraving of a wolf." Now that peaked Aemma's interest, "where did you see such a trinket?" "Around the neck of a strange man I once saw in the woods," Cregan tells her, "at first I thought perhaps it was a daydream, but he was real."

"What made you think it was a daydream?" "I've never seen a man like him before," Cregan admits, "he...I wasn't entirely sure if he was human...or if he was a wolf wrapped in a human's skin. His eyes were an unnatural gold color...and his hair was white as snow." 

Upon hearing those words, it took a great deal of restraint on Aemma's part to conceal the shock she felt. Right on cue, she saw a moment into Cregan's past, back to when he was boy running in the woods. Cregan saw strange tracks, which he followed, and saw the strange man in question. To Aemma's shock and confirmation...that strange man was the White Wolf himself.

"Princess Aemma?" Cregan's voice brings Aemma back to the present, "Are you alright, princess, it looked as if you were going into some kind of trance."

"I'm...I appear to be more exhausted than I thought," Aemma offers for an excuse, "Again, I appreciate the escort, Lord Stark. And I am also grateful for the hospitality you have shown to me and Jacaerys. I must bid you good night now." 

Aemma hastily enters her chambers and closes the door before Cregan could have  a chance to ask anymore questions.

Chapter 66

[savagewildnerness]

I wanted to do the bit before too… Mother knows best… and we talk often of Lestat’s state-of-mind post Akasha… but because Lestat doesn’t fully tell us about it & we have instead to work it out, sometimes we can forget to acknowledge how existentially fragile Lestat was not only post-Akasha, but as a young vampire, as a young mortal human & even as a child.

I’ll say it a thousand times - a person who takes on a pack of wolves alone goes into that on some level knowing “I may live. I may die. And that’s fine.”

Gabrielle: You must promise me something.

Lestat Of course. *But I was so broken in spirit now I didn't want to talk anymore. The colors dimmed. The night was neither hot nor cold. I wished she would just go, yet I was terrified of the moment when that would happen, when I couldn't get her back.*

Gabrielle: Promise me you will never seek to end it without first being with me, without our coming together again.

Lestat *For a moment I was too surprised to answer.*

Lestat: I will never seek to end it. (*I was almost scornful.*) So you have my promise. It's simple enough to give. But what about you giving a promise to me? That you'll let me know where you go from here, where I can reach you -- that you won't vanish as if you were something I imagined -- *I stopped. There had been a note of urgency in my voice, of rising hysteria. I couldn't imagine her writing a letter or posting it or doing any of the things that mortals habitually did. It was as if no common nature united us, or ever had.*

Gabrielle: I hope you're right in your estimation of yourself.

Lestat: I don't believe in anything, Mother. You told Armand long ago that you believe you'll find answers in the great jungles and forests; that the stars will finally reveal a vast truth. But I don't believe in anything. And that makes me stronger than you think.

Gabrielle: Then why am I so afraid for you?

For all of the unspoken truths Lestat either doesn’t know or denies that are himself…

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Tide That Turned Everything: Chapter I - Separated, Hurting, Broken

Summary: Aleksander is alive but he paid a price for surviving. Because of his actions Grisha are hunted and executed. They find a place where they can be safe. There you meet with Alina, Mal and Prince Nikolai. They plan to bring the country back together and destroy the Fold. In the meantime Aleksander gathers his own army. The question is, on which side will you be?

A/N: Here is another fic about General Kirigan and Reader! It's the third part in series about Reader being a Tidemaker. It concentrates of the events in season two of the show. I hope you will like it! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". But I've almost finished reading the books! The only one that remains is the "Rule of Wolves". But this story still only focuses on the TV show. Also, English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Kirigan is searching for you and nothing will stop him from finding you. Nikolai tries to save his country. Alina tries to gather Morozova's amplifiers. And you? You try to mend your broken heart. Which may be difficult with everyone not trusting you and news you hear from David.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov/Mal Oretsev

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, David Kostyk, Genya Safin, Fruzsi, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Nadia Zhabin, Mal Oretsev, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Adrik Zhabin

Word Count: 4428

merzost – magic, abomination, unnatural creation, something from nothing moi tsarevich – my prince, son of tsar milaya – sweet girl There is a slight plot from third episode of the second season and also a bit more from the fourth episode. Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683705/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089584620/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683695/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684424/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683637/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559895/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

Aleksander and his followers have set up a base in a house of an aristocrat family. Yes, he has survived. But paid a price for it. He created creatures of shadows with merzost, but because of that his health is falling. He's coughing, often with black substance, has headaches and has scars on his face that can't be healed. His condition deeply worries him. But something troubles him even more.

One day another group of recruits arrives. Aleksander immediately goes to greet them and looks at their faces. He's happy to see David and tells him that. Then, he returns to looking around. However, he doesn't see what he wants.

'Was [Y/N] with you?' he asks David, who's retreating with Genya. They stop. The Durast shakes his head with sorrow.

'I haven't seen her since the day we left the Little Palace after…' he doesn't finish. But Aleksander knows what he wanted to say. He nods. He walks to Fruzsi, another Tidemaker.

'Ask everyone who has arrived whether they have seen [Y/N] [L/N] during the last weeks,' he orders her. Fruzsi is surprised by this, but nods. She comes to his room an hour later.

'And?' he asks, expectant, hoping.

'No one has seen her,' Fruzsi answers. Aleksander's shoulders slump. He sighs, and runs a hand through his face.

'Tell the search parties to look specifically for her,' he orders. 'I want her found. As soon as possible.'

'I know she's close to you,' Fruzsi says, frowning. 'But shouldn't we focus on-'

'She's not close to me,' Aleksander interrupts her. 'She's everything to me.'

Fruzsi is surprised, guessing what he means. He turns away from her.

'With all due respect, sir…' she says slowly, '… why her?'

Aleksander turns to her. There's something in his eyes Fruzsi has never seen.

'Why anyone else when she exists?' he asks. The Tidemaker lingers only for a moment longer. But her place is quickly taken by someone else…

'Fedyor!' Aleksander says, happy and relieved. The Heartrender smiles and bows his head to his general. Kirigan walks to him and the two shake hands. The Darkling notices the tiredness and sadness in his friend's eyes.

'Ivan…' he says, his smile falling.

'Is alive,' Fedyor says. 'That's why it took me so long to get here. He's wounded and scarred. Healers are putting him back together at the moment.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Aleksander says. 'He… he did well in the Fold.'

Fedyor nods. He bites his lip, hesitating.

'Any news of [Y/N]?' he asks. Sorrow fills Kirigan's eyes. He shakes his head.

'Not yet,' he answers and sighs heavily. He walks to his armchair and falls on it. He runs a hand through his face.

'I need her, Fedyor,' he says. 'Every time I turn my face, I expect to find her there. And I find nothing. It physically hurts. I've never known I'd meet a girl like her.'

'[Y/N] is one of a kind,' Fedyor agrees. Aleksander shakes his head.

'It's more than that,' he says and smiles softly. 'When I told her about my past, what I did, what I fear… she looked my demons in the eye and… smiled. She fell for the very thing I thought she'd fear.'

'I haven't met a kinder heart,' Fedyor says with a smile.

'Kind,' Aleksander says. 'Compassionate. Understanding. Gentle. That's who she is. That's why I fell for her. And I failed her. When she needed me the most, when they were throwing Grisha out of the Little Palace, I wasn't there. I even insisted she stayed there. She should have gone with you, like she wanted. But now she may be dead. And it's my fault.'

'She's not dead,' Fedyor says strongly. Kirigan looks at him with doubt.

'How can you be so sure?' he asks.

'Everyone knows she's important to you,' Fedyor answers. 'I think that if they had managed to kill her, they would have made every Grisha aware of it.'

He has a point, Aleksander must admit it. Hope reignites with him once more. Fedyor smiles.

'Fear not, General,' he says. 'She might look like a fragile flower, but her stem is made of steel.'

Aleksander can't help but smile. He nods. Fedyor's eyes suddenly light up.

'What about the gift you gave her for her last birthday?' he asks. Aleksander instinctively touches a ring on his finger. He sighs deeply.

'The problem is, I gave it to her so she would call on me if she needed help,' he says. 'Until she says my name while touching the necklace, I can't use my matching ring to track her. Believe me I… tried.'

'Well, we have David now,' Fedyor says. 'Maybe he could think of something.'

'He'd need something that belongs to her,' Aleksander explains, remembering how the Durast made the ring and necklace.

'And we don't have anything,' Fedyor sighs. Kirigan shakes his head.

'We will get her back, General,' the Heartrender assures him.

'I know,' Aleksander says and a look in his eyes darkens. 'I promised her. That the world can't keep us apart. And that there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her by my side. I fully intent to keep that promise, Fedyor. No matter what.'

*

In the meantime, Alina and Mal have teamed up with a privateer, who's just turned out to be Prince Nikolai Lantsov. Together, they hunted the Sea Whip for Alina. She now has two amplifiers. She tried to destroy the Fold, but failed. After that, they head for the Spinning Wheel, a place where apparently Grisha have found a safe heaven – the Spinning Wheel. There, Alina reunites with Nadia… and Zoya. But the conversation with Zoya goes well, to Alina's surprise. They are now allies. After they walk their ways, Nadia joins Alina's side, uncertain.

'Someone else is in here you might be interested in,' she says.

'Who?' Alina asks, frowning. Nadia simply grabs her arm and drags her somewhere. A few corridors later the Sun Summoner sees a familiar back.

'[Y/N]!' she exclaims happily and runs forward, freeing herself of Nadia's hold. You turn around, surprised. You huff, when Alina falls into your arms. You hug her back slowly.

'Saints, I'm so glad you're okay!' she says, pulling away. You force a smile.

'Thank you,' you say. 'I'm happy you're alive as well. After I heard what had happened in the Fold…'

'I made it,' Alina says, smiling, and looks over your shoulder. 'Thanks to Mal.'

You turn your head and see a young man, looking both familiar and unfamiliar. He notices you and his frown tells you he has the same situation with you.

'Mal, look who's here!' Alina calls him, waving at him with enthusiasm. The man joins you, looking at you with interest.

'I hope you remember our dear friend from Keremzin, [Y/N] [L/N],' Alina says, looking between you two. Mal's eyes spark with recognition. He smiles broadly.

'How could I not?' he says and chuckles. 'You almost cracked my skull open once!'

'You definitely deserved it!' you laugh and go in for a hug. You hold each other tightly, then pull away. In a moment Mal's brows cease with worry.

'No offense, but you look awful,' he says. You smile wryly. You're well aware of the dark circles under your eyes, puffy eyes, pale face and so on.

'Well, I sleep with my one eye open,' you say. 'I'm not exactly welcome here.'

'Why?' Alina asks, frowning. You give her a look.

'I was one of Kirigan's most loyal Grisha,' you explain. 'No one here trusts me.'

'But you didn't know what he's planning,' Alina says vehemently. The corners of your lips lift slightly.

'How can you be so sure?' you ask.

'Yes, how can we?' a voice asks. You turn your head and see a young man in a uniform. You bow your head.

'Moi tsarevich,' you greet Nikolai. He stops by Alina and Mal's side.

'So?' he asks, eyeing you. 'How can we be sure we can trust you?'

'Nikolai!' Alina scolds him. You look tsarevich in the eyes.

'I didn't know Kirigan had planned to expand the Fold,' you declare. 'In fact, we haven't been close for a long time.'

'Why?' Nikolai asks, frowning. You smile wryly at him.

'I've been asking myself this question for months,' you answer. Nikolai eyes you again.

'I trust [Y/N],' Alina says strongly. Nikolai looks at her and they exchange a look. Finally, he nods and smiles at you.

'Alina's friends are mine friends,' he says and takes your hand in his, then kisses it. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss [L/N]. And I'm sorry for the suspicion.'

'Charmed,' you say, smiling slightly. 'And it's perfectly alright. I understand.'

'Come, we have a lot to catch up,' Alina says, taking your arm and you start walking. Soon enough she tells you what happened to her. She tells you how Baghra warned her about Aleksander. How she escaped. How she met with Mal. How they found the Stag. But then Kirigan found them. He killed the Stag and joined Alina with its bones. He tried to harness her powers for himself. He used them to expand the Fold. But there Mal and three rouges from Ketterdam saved her. She and Mal escaped to Novyi Zem. There they met Nikolai.

'And that's about it,' Alina finishes her story a moment later.

'You've certainly been busy,' you comment. Your friend sighs. There's sadness in her eyes.

'I still can't believe I let him fooled me,' she says. 'I… I honestly thought we share some sort of connection, you know?'

'Yeah,' you answer quietly, now sad as well. But Alina quickly becomes angry.

'I still can't believe how cruel he really was,' she says with venom. 'All those people he murdered… because he wanted more power. How could someone be so cold-hearted?'

'Behind every cold-hearted person there is a kind heart which has been treated with coldness for a while,' you say quietly. Alina looks at you with surprise. But you don't say anything more.

'What about you?' your friend asks. 'How did you escape from the Little Palace?'

'I didn't,' you answer after a moment. Alina frowns at you. She looks you up and down, no doubt wondering how you can be here if you hadn't escaped from the Little Palace. You avoid her eyes.

'When the First Army raided the Little Palace, I focused on getting everyone else out,' you start. 'Especially the children. So, when I was about to evacuate myself… it was too late. I was caught.'

'[Y/N]…' Alina says, horrified. You force a smile and shake your head.

'It wasn't really for a long time,' you say. 'I escaped.'

'How?' Alina asks. You're silent for a moment. You try not to think about the time you were a captive. About what they did to you…

Darkling's whore… Filthy witch… Stupid serving girl…

'They were careless,' you answer. 'Thought they broke me. I used it against them. Then I found out about this place. Others weren't exactly thrilled to see me but they took me in. I guess my sorry state made them pity me.'

'[Y/N]… what had they done to you so they thought they broke you?' Alina asks with worry.

'Hurt me,' you answer after a moment and force a smile at her. 'You should rest. You've had a tiring journey.'

'But-' Alina starts, frowning.

'I'll see you later,' you say, hug her briefly, then walk away. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don't look back. You don't think about what you told Alina. You don't think about it so much, you bump into someone.

'Sorry!' you apologise. The person turns out to be Zoya. She looks you over.

'How are you looking worse and worse every day?' she asks. You smile wryly.

'It's my hidden talent,' you answer and attempt to walk past her. But she grabs your arm. You look up at her. There's seriousness in her eyes.

'You're not alone,' she says, confusing you. 'Kirigan had us all fooled. I know it's hard for you, you were his personal servant and then his trusted Grisha. I know you must have certain attachment to him but… you have to let it go. He murdered innocents. And would do it again.'

'You… "Attachment"?' you repeat with disbelief. 'Zoya, I… He was the first person who saw I'm more than just a plain serving girl. Every time I struggled, he was there to help me. He saved me every time I was in danger. Do you remember Tsybeia? Even before it turned out I'm a Grisha he was always kind to me and protected me. And now… everyone tells me what he did, who he is. But I can't just forget about all the good stuff he did.'

Zoya looks at you. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. You stiffen. You know she realised your secret.

'And you love him,' she guesses and crosses her arms. 'Tell me, if he handed you a bloodied hand, would you take it, only because it was his?'

You stare at her. Tears well up in your eyes. You smile sadly, a bit brokenly.

'I honestly have no idea, Zoya,' you whisper and turn. You walk away, trying to blink away the tears. And you definitely don't think how much you miss Aleksander. Nor how much you wish he was alive.

*

The night falls. It is a relief to you, because you finally are away from the judging eyes, hurtful whispers. But the sleep never comes easily. Your thoughts are always a mess. Today as well.

You lay down in bed and try very hard to fall asleep. Your thoughts drift to everything that happened that day. You sigh and hesitantly grab the necklace on your neck. Pain clenches your heart.

Aleksander…

Suddenly you find yourself in Kirigan's chambers in the Little Palace. Everything is just like you remember. You look down at yourself and see the clothes you were wearing as Aleksander's personal servant.

'I did miss the sight of that band on your arm,' you hear. Your heart stops. Oh, how you longed to hear that voice. You turn around and see Aleksander leaning on his table. He looks just like he did when you last saw him.

'Yet I still preferred to see you in your kefta,' he says, slowly walking towards you. 'It suited you. It was meant to be yours.'

'Sometimes I wish I've never discovered my powers,' you admit. 'Then I would just admire you from afar. I wouldn't feel this pain now.'

'Do you really?" Aleksander asks. You think for a moment. You smile sadly and shake your head.

'Not really, no,' you answer. 'Because it was worth it. Being with you was the happiest time of my life. Even though you insisted on hiding it from everyone.'

Aleksander stops in front of you. He hands his head.

'Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?' he asks. You're quiet for a moment.

'I don't know,' you answer honestly. Aleksander nods, understanding. He looks up and reaches toward your face, but hesitates. His hand hangs in the air.

'I hate seeing you sad,' he says.

'Then come back to me,' you say, tears filling your eyes. 'I just want to see you. Hold you. Hug you. Touch you. Kiss you. Cuddle with you. Love you. Then I'll stop being sad.'

Aleksander looks at you with pain. He hates to see you like this.

'I want this too, milaya,' he says. 'So much.'

'I waited for you,' you say. 'Like I promised I would. Part of me still does. Even though it's impossible for you to return to me.'

'[Y/N]…' Aleksander whispers. He slowly reaches out to you again. When you don't flinch away, he cups your cheek. The moment he does, your clothes change into your kefta from the winter fete. He smiles softly.

'I didn't even tell you that you looked magnificent that night,' he says quietly. 'Beautiful. And your performance… You were extraordinary.'

You smile. You waited so long to hear those words. You lean into his touch.

'It's hard without you,' you say.

'I know the feeling,' Aleksander says quietly. You touch his hand that is on your cheek. You turn your head and kiss it.

'Everyone is sad to be gone from the Little Palace,' you say. 'They say their lost their home. But I lost mine before the First Army attacked us.'

'Because I was your home,' Aleksander says quietly. You nod. Kirigan presses his forehead to yours. He closes his eyes.

'I wish I was kissing you instead of missing you,' he whispers, his voice shaking from pain. You close your eyes, fighting with tears. You fail, obviously. You can feel them falling down your cheeks.

'Did you think of me?' you dare to ask. 'When you were in the Fold?'

'Yes,' Aleksander answers, clenching his jaw. 'I wanted you to be by my side. And then I wanted to come back to you.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you ask. 'About your plans about Alina and the Fold? The real ones.'

'Because you have a compassionate heart,' Aleksander answers after a moment. 'You'd disagree with my plan. Maybe leave me.'

'You don't know that,' you say, shaking your head.

'Wouldn't you?' Aleksander challenges you. You're silent.

'I don't know what would I do,' you say and look him in the eyes. 'You robbed me of that choice.'

Kirigan looks down. Maybe he's actually ashamed a bit.

'But I know I wouldn't leave you,' you add. Aleksander's head shoots up. You cup his face.

'I promised you to be with you for better and for worse,' you say. 'No matter what would happen, I would be with you.'

'And then maybe you would die in the Fold,' Aleksander says flatly. 'This one time I wouldn't have been able to save you.'

'Maybe I would have saved myself,' you suggest with a small smile. Kirigan sighs and shakes his head.

'Sometimes I really can't with you,' he says. You grin at him. But then your smile falls.

'Kiss me?' you plead. You don't have to ask twice. Aleksander cups your face and kisses you.

'We shall be together again, my darling, I promise,' he whispers.

'I want this more than anything,' you whisper back. 'So much.'

'Be patient, [Y/N],' Aleksander pleads. 'For me. Please.'

'I'm waiting,' you whisper. 'I'll be always waiting for you.'

Kirigan opens his eyes. He's met with the wall of his room in the residence. He sighs heavily and sits up. His finger caresses the ring on his finger. Then, he lifts it to his lips.

'Please, [Y/N],' he whispers. 'Call for me. Call for me and I'll come for you. I swear. I will always come for you.'

*

You, Tamar (a Heartrender) and Nadia watch Alina training her new abilities. She thrusts light at her target… but even though it's impressive, it doesn't even reach it.

'Absolute rubbish,' she grunts. Nadia scoffs and gives Tamar a look.

'It's the second amplifier,' the Heartrender explains. She walks to pick up a mannequin. You three follow her.

'With the Stag, summoning came like breath,' Alina says. 'This is like… reining chaos. Crossing the Fold was a disaster.'

'Hey, we'll get you there,' Nadia comforts her. 'If it helps, I could hit you with a switch and call you "stupid girl".'

'It may come to that,' Alina sighs. 'How is it I'm overwhelmed by the second amplifier and at the same time feeling the lack of a third?'

'Well, for now, let's focus on what we can fix,' Nadia says.

'Your aim, for starters,' you suggest. Alina gives you a look and scoffs. You all go back.

'As leader of the Second Army, I need more,' she says. Ah, yes. You had a dinner with the Lantsov family (you were so not happy they've arrived). During that Nikolai announced he and Alina are engaged (yeah, because you didn't see how she and Mal look at each other) and that from now on she's the leader of the Second Army. Not everyone was happy about it (ekhm, Zoya).

'I need to learn the Cut,' Alina says, turning to you. You stiffen.

'That was Kirigan's way, to lead with fear,' Nadia protests. 'You can lead with your heart. The Second Army will be better for it.'

'You make a good point,' Tamar agrees. 'But I wouldn't completely reject fear. Can't tell you how many have taken one look at my girls and… reconsidered. I don't know how the Cut works, that's a top-shelf Etherialki move, but I do know how to direct power. It's all about intention. I like to picture the face of the person I want to crush. Try it.'

Alina positions herself and exhales. She closes her eyes. Soon light surrounds her. A moment later she grunts angrily, waves her hands and light shots forward. You all look at the effect with wide eyes.

'Well, it's not the Cut, but… it's effective,' Tamar laughs. Nadia suddenly straightens up.

'Wait a moment,' she says. 'We do have here someone who's managed the Cut.'

She and Alina look at you. Tamar looks at you, impressed. You gulp.

'Once,' you say. 'I did it once. And I have no idea how. I… didn't exactly plan it.'

'Well, what did you think about then?' Tamar asks and you stiffen. 'What did you feel?'

You see in your mind Aleksander and Alina talking together, laughing. You remember the pain and hurt you felt. You were so overwhelmed you just had to let it go. And slashed the dummy.

'Anger,' you finally answer. 'I felt anger. The kind that was killing me.'

Before anyone can ask you more, you hear footsteps. You turn and see Adrik, Nadia's brother.

'I know, not to be disturbed, but they need you in the war room,' he says to Alina. She nods and looks at others. Tamar and Nadia turn and start walking. Alina grabs her jacket and follows them. But then she notices you're not following.

'[Y/N]?' she asks. You shake your head.

'My presence will not be welcomed there,' you say and smile. 'Go without me.'

Alina hesitates, but eventually nods and leaves. Adrik is behind her. You turn to look at the dummy the Sun Summoner hit. It has a hole coming from the arm to the stomach. Almost like the Cut.

You leave a few minutes later. You take a few turns, heading toward your room, when…

'David,' you say, surprised. David with his hands spread is being led by Tolya (a Heartrender and Tamar's twin) somewhere. They stop, hearing your voice. The Durast's eyes go wide.

'[Y/N],' he says and goes pale. 'Oh, Saints, you're here…'

'Why are you…?' you start but then remember. David was the one who made the collar for Alina. They don't trust him here.

'Come,' Tolya says and continues to take David away. You're left there, stunned and shocked. You can't believe your dear friend is here. And that he is a prisoner, while you walk free…

Later you come across Alina on the corridor. She smiles at you. You look at her, troubled.

'I need to ask you a favour,' you say.

'Anything,' Alina says at once. You gulp.

'I need to see David,' you say. Alina blinks.

'And you need me for…?' she asks. You sigh.

'For getting through the door,' you say. 'Alina, just because you trust me, doesn't mean others do. Please. I need to know if he's okay.'

Alina nods and walks with you to Nikolai. The prince isn't happy but he grants you your request. A moment later you enter David's cell. Alone.

'[Y/N],' he says, straightening up at the sight of you. You smile.

'How are you, David?' you ask.

'I'm… fine, thank you,' he answers. You frown. He's terribly stiff.

'And not exactly thrilled to see me,' you point out. David sighs.

'Forgive me,' he asks. 'Of course, I'm happy to see you. But if he finds out you're here…'

'Who?' you ask, blinking. David stares at you. He stares at you with disbelief, when he sees you're not fooling around.

'You… you don't know?' he asks.

'About?' you ask, confused. David shifts, uncomfortable. He doesn't know if he should say it. But you won't let it go, he just knows it.

'Kirigan is alive,' he finally says quietly. You stumble back and hit a table with your back. You stare at David, shocked.

'No,' you say, your lip trembling. 'You're lying. He can't be.'

'I would never lie to you about this,' David says softly. You stare at him. And see no deception in his eyes. He's telling the truth.

You bring hands to your mouth and let out a sob. You close your eyes and cry. You cry for the first time since the raid. These are tears of anger, sadness, pain, sorrow… and joy.

'How?' you whisper, looking at David again. 'How did he survive?'

'He created something in the Fold,' he answers, wincing. 'Creatures made of shadow. I guess they helped him. But he… he paid a big price for it.'

'What price?' you demand.

'He's troubled by coughs, headaches, pain,' David answers. 'I… I fear only merzost could cure him.'

Your heart aches. You don't know how you feel about all that.

'[Y/N]… that necklace I gave you… where is it?' David asks. Your heart speeds up.

'I don't know,' you lie. 'I lost it when the Little Palace was attacked.'

'Are you sure?' David asks. 'Because if even by accident you call him… he will come here at once for you.'

'Me?' you ask, raising your eyebrows. The Durast looks at you. He hesitates again.

'The priority for him and his Grisha is finding you,' he finally says. 'He… Every day with no news about you is making him more agitated. He insists that he needs you by his side. He more or less admitted that there was something going on between you two.'

You're quiet. You shake your head.

'I'm not the one he needs,' you deny and leave. You stop a few turns later. Your hand reaches to the hidden necklace under your kefta. You stop your hand mid-air. You shake your head and resume walking. You must let go of Aleksander. For your sake. And for others'.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49965037/chapters/126151432

[katvaramell]

And the last jumble of my JJK thoughts

Because JESUS CHRIST IT JUST KEEPS GETTING WORSE

That’s how nanami dies???? After everything???? Just being disfigured by mahito??? And itadori has to watch it after dealing with all the sukuna shit 😭

This poor little boy is 15!!!!! And now he has to deal with this and mahito is just a little shit with no emotional intelligence at all

The music during the fight between mahito and itadori is so silly I thought it was a very good opposite to the fight with choso. A lot of people think the fight with choso is the best one in shibuya, but I actually thought the one with mahito was much more compelling to watch. Even though the techniques and the mood of the choso fight were very very interesting. The best one in the arc for me has to be the sukuna fight just because of the animation of the the techniques

Now kugasaki dies as well???? Give itadori a break please he’s already so traumatized 😭😭 especially after he was so glad to know that he’s not alone, when her attack resonated through mahito

I’m glad todo found him so he’s not alone, but I hope jujutsu high has a therapist on staff for afterwards

And todos necklace having a photo of takada and itadori I can’t that’s so cute 😭 idk what it is about itadori that just makes ppl want to be his brother but it’s a much needed bit of fun. Also very smart of him to clap with Mahitos hand but if this boy dies as well im rioting

The end of the fight between itadori and mahito is a true masterpiece

I don’t know why they’re suddenly in the snow, but my guess is that that is itadoris domain. It was so thrilling to see the bunnies and wolves, especially once the white wolf with the same wound in his face as itadori turned up. The calm in itadori, finally being able to fulfill his promise. I also liked that there wasn’t really any music in the background and then the sudden geto reveal was actually surprising!

I’m quite disappointed that fake geto interrupted itadori killing mahito. Even though it may have worsened itadoris mental state it would have helped mine. And it’s nice that mahito got absorbed because it’s a fuck you to him, but it’s really really bad because now fake geto has transfiguration :((

And I think it’s so fucking funny that itadori gives off some kind of connection that makes ppl want to be his brother 😭 but very intriguing that it’s possible that choso and him are really brothers through the brain thingy. Maybe it possessed one of itadoris parents at the time, we never got to know them. Very very curious to see where that storyline goes

Am I understanding that right that literally everything is going to shit now? Just curses everywhere and complete global break down? At least Yuta is back 😔 and rika is as well???? I am very confused

I love that Yuta and yuki are allies absolutely cunt duo

Itadori cut off toges arms???? 😭😭😭 noooo pookie already has enough trauma from sukuna we don’t need that as well and poor toge hes just a lil guy 😭😭😭

AND NOW THEYRE DECLARING GOJO A CRIMINAL???? What’s that for????????? And helping him is a crime????? I am SO CONFUSED

I mean I already thought that the leaders of jujutsu society were corrupt but Jesus fucking Christ this is another level

And now they’re sentencing the principal to death??? For what? Letting two gays have a break up?

And Yuta as itadoris official executioner? I’m rioting

And what is going on in that last scene with itadori clapping and then huge curses jumping out of the water??? Give me the manga right now I need answers 😭

[specialagentlokitty]

Giles x reader - don’t go

Part three:

Giles was marking off the days you had been gone, keeping track of them.

He had tried reaching out to your through spell Willow had used to contact you the last time, but you weren’t in one spot.

He would appear just in time to see your wolf form running through the trees.

Weeks were turning into months, and there was no word from you.

“I’m sure she’s okay Giles.” Tara smiled.

“Yes, I’m sure she hasn’t been hunted and killed yet.”

Everybody glared at Anya before turning back to Giles who was stood behind the counter of his shop reading your letter again.

“I feel she should have been back by now.” He said.

“I mean she said she needed time to think… maybe she’s just somewhere.. you know.. thinking..” willow smiled.

Giles smiled a little back, and folded the letter up, putting it back in his pocket and walked over to help them with their new demon problem.

Your paws slammed though the water, and you slid to a halt as you looked around the forest.

You had dealt with the e rouges over a month ago, now you were wondering, trying to figure out what you were doing.

You were near the town you had left, when you dealt with the wolves you had found your way back there just wondering the edges.

You carried on wondering again, making your way to a deeper part of the stream and you crouched down to look at the reflection of yourself.

Your amber eyes beamed back and you huffed a little as you stretched.

You wanted a peaceful life, one where you didn’t have to keep running from everything, where you weren’t scared.

You wanted to be human, things were easier for them, less worry about hunters and werewolves and all that sort of stuff.

But at the same time, you loved this. The wolf, the wild, the power you had and everything that made your stand out.

Maybe that’s why you were running.

You began your wondering once more, you made your way towards the town, turning back to your human form.

You wondered through the streets, hands in your pockets and you paused, not really sure where to go.

Your feet seemed to lead the way, and you to where they wanted to go, and you stood outside of the magic box looking in.

They all seemed to be having fun, and you smiled a little bit.

You turned around and began to wonder once more, going to find somewhere to get some actual good food and a hot drink, something you had missed.

Sitting down, you nibbles on your fries as you stared at the table deep in thought.

You felt somebody tackle you and you yelled in surprise, punching them in the face.

“Ow! (Y/N)!”

“Oh shit, sorry Xander!”

He laughed a little, sitting opposite you, Anya, Tara, Willow and Buffy all crowded you with their own food.

“How long have you been back? Where did you go?” Anya asked.

“Yeah why did you come see us?!” Willow pouted.

You laughed, shaking your head at them and picked up another couple of fries to eat.

“I just got back today, I was just wondering I suppose.”

They carried on barraging you with questions, and you answered them, sometimes avoiding telling them the real answer.

After a few hours they all left aside from Buffy, she wondered the streets with you.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” You asked.

“I’ve got to patrol soon, but can I uh.. can I ask you something? And get like a real answer?”

You glanced at her.

“Of course.”

Buffy stopped walking, sitting down on a bench so you did the same thing.

“How long have you really been back?”

You sighed, looking down at your hands.

“About a month if I had to guess, I’m not too sure. I’ve been at the edge of town.”

She nodded her head.

“Why didn’t you come back?”

You leant back, tilting your head back to look at the stars that were barely visible.

“I.. I’m not sure really… I just..”

Sitting yourself up you turned your head to her.

“This may seem weird, coming from well, someone who’s in their 30s, but have you ever felt so conflicted about something all you want to do is runway?”

“Well, I actually did runaway once, so yeah. I do.”

You went quiet.

“You know he waits for you, right?”

You looked down at your hands again.

“Buffy.. what if I.. what if I’m not the right person for Rupert. I mean he’s a human, I’m a werewolf, what if he gets hurt or realises that I’m a threat or something?”

“Are you like having a midlife crisis? Because vampires and demons I can deal with but not this.”

You laughed, grinning a little at her.

“No! I’m not having a midlife crisis! I just.. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

She jumped up and pointed at you.

“Oh my god you’re having a midlife crisis!”

You swatted her hand away, and stood up.

“No I’m not!”

“You totally are! Oh my god! And Giles is the reason!”

She seemed to think about what she had said and gave you a disgusted look.

“Ew that’s gross, he’s old.”

“What the hell does that make me?”

“Not as old?” She grinned sheepishly.

You laughed softly, shaking your head at her and you smiled, putting your hands into your pockets.

Buffy smiled back, and she crossed her arms.

“Just go and see him. Talk to him.”

“I don’t think I can that’s the point, I get all nervous and scared and I’ve never really thought about anything other than you know? Werewolf stuff.”

“(Y/N), he keeps a stupid little calendar book and he marks off the days you’ve been gone, he carries that latter you gave him everywhere and when he hears a dog howl he gets all excited hoping it’s you.”

You furrowed your brows a little.

“He is madly in love with you, just go see him. Go talk to him, I mean he’s Giles, he’s nothing but understanding.”

“He has to be since he’s the watcher of a heathen like you.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be helpful here!”

You grinned a little.

“Get your werewolf ass out of here and find him.”

You raised your hands.

“Alright, okay I’m going. I’m going. Safe hunting.”

“Good luck!”

You left, and wondered the streets again, thinking about the conversation you had just had.

It had given you some perspective at least, but you were still slightly conflicted.

Then you stopped, looking at the sweater you wearing and smiled a little to yourself.

The little reminder of Giles you had stolen when you had run off.

You made your way back to the shop to see it was closed, and you knocked on the door, waiting for a response.

When one didn’t come, you began to wonder away, and you made your way towards his house.

You had missed this, the weird town teeming with supernatural. The people. Your weird band of misfits that you seemed to have adopted as your own family.

But most importantly you missed Giles.

While you were running around in the wild hunting down the people who had hurt him.

It made you realise you couldn’t picture a future without the man in it, he had just stumbled unto your life literally with him walking into you while he was reading.

Since then he was stuck on your mind, and your fates intertwined together, getting all tangled and twisted.

You didn’t want a life without him, no amount of running around freely, no amount of werewolf perks or anything would change that.

Everything was clear now.

Your walk started slow, then turned into a jog which turned into an all out sprint.

You jumped on to cars to cross the street, jumping on to someone’s roof, you began using that as a way to get there faster.

And it was.

You jumped down at his door and you knocked a few times, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

He didn’t answer fast enough so you tried the handle, finding it unlocked you walked in and he poked his was walking down the stairs.

“You know leaving your door unlocked isn’t safe, any werewolf could just walk in.”

Giles stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at you, and you smiled sheepishly.

“(Y/N)… you.. when..?”

Giles walked over, taking your face between his hands and he crashed his lips on to yours,

You grabbed his shirt, leaning up into the kiss, pulling him closer.

Pulled yourself away and he smiled softly as you.

“You came back…”

“I said I would, right?” You asked softly.

Laughing slightly, Giles nodded his head, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he moved away.

“Though word of advise, you do have a smell.”

You slapped his arm and moved away.

“Sorry Rupert showers aren’t actually common in the forests. Though I really want a shower so I’m taking yours then we can talk.”

“I’ll get you some clothes.”

You followed Giles upstairs and he got your sweater for you and some sweatpants, handing them over and you wondered to the shower.

You got out and made your way back down the stairs, dropping yourself on to the couch.

“I’ve missed couches and showers.”

Giles chuckled, and you turned around to look at him in the kitchen.

“Well, it’s good to see you’ve missed the important things.”

You grinned at him.

Giles looked at you, offering you a small smile before he looked away and his smile fell.

You jumped over the couch, walking into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway.

“Rupert?”

“Why did you run away…?”

You sighed, turning your gaze away to the floor instead.

“To be completely honest, I was scared, I was confused.”

Giles turned to look at you.

“About what?”

“About everything.. a.. about us..”

You walked over to the counter and jumped on it, swinging looking at your hands.

“My whole life I’ve always been taught that my whole life was to run a pack, rule over them, and I didn’t want that, so I passed the role on. Because I did that people got hurt, then hunters came here and they hurt you all, then there’s.. there’s you..”

“Me?”

“You make me feel normal, cared for. I’ve never had something… someone like you I guess.”

Giles turned fully around to look at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You are my everything, you’re my light in the dark, you’re the hand that guides me. I left and all I could think about was running back here, running back to you. I was scared about the future, my future, but I realised I can’t tell what it’ll hold, but I know I want you in it.”

You sighed again.

“It’s clear, I am meant to be wherever you are, I want to be wherever you are Rupert. And I promise I’ll always come running back to you. I want a future with you… if you want that…”

Giles took your hands in his and you looked up at him.

He wore a gentle smile, and he gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

“I want you in it, every hour and every minute.” He whispered.

“Really?”

“You gave me no choice but to love you my dear…”

He leant down, pressing his forehead against yours, you could feel his breath on your lips.

You leant up, connecting them and he smiled into it.

It was a gentle kiss, soft, and warm, pouring everything from the months you were gone into it.

When he pulled away you frowned, resting your head in his chest instead making him chuckle.

He placed his hand on the back of your head, gently messaging your scalp, and you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“So, is there anything werewolf wise I should know?”

You looked up at him a little confused.

“Like what?”

“Well, how tall are you like that? Triggers? Do you control it? That sort of stuff.”

You hummed a little, patting his chest to him him move back and you jumped down, walking into the living room.

“This might be easier outside.”

So you took him out there and you stood on the steps, with a leap you jumped and changed, paws hitting the ground and Giles took a step back.

You stretched, and stood up, wondering over to him, eyes connecting with his.

“Well.. I uh.. I would safely say large..”

He reached out and hesitated.

“May I?”

You sat down, letting him place his hand on your head, smoothing his hand over your hair and you locked eyes with him.

He saw your tail swish a little bit which made him chuckle.

“May you turn back?”

You moved away, changing back and you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Well I can’t say I have ever uh.. ever had a relationship with a werewolf before.”

“There’s always a first try?” You grinned.

“Well I’m glad, now come inside it’s cold and I.. I understand you may not get cold but well.. it’s cold.”

Giles lead you back inside and you sat down on the couch with him next to you, turning on the tv and he picked up a book while you flicked through the channels.

You noticed him shiver and you shuffled over, moving his arm so you could tuck yourself into his side and he wrapped his arm around your waist.

He looked away from his book at you.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

You looked up.

“No, but you are.”

“What..? How did you know?”

“I just know these things.”

You yawned, and stretched yourself out, and he adjusted himself so you could lay on his chest, and he covered the pair of you with a blanket.

Giles set his book aside, placing a hand on your back.

“(Y/N)?”

You hummed a little.

“You.. you won’t just runaway again will you?”

“No, unfortunately for you.”

He chuckled, running a hand up and down your back.

“Well, I suppose I consider myself rather fortunate then.”

He tightened his hold on you and you smiled, closing your eyes as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat.

This was all you had ever wanted, something exactly like this and you didn’t want to run away from it again.

You felt safe, and loved, and for once you had somebody to call your own, somebody who really loved you for you.

And when he planted a gentle kiss to your head all you could do was beam a little bit more.

You tucked your head under his chin, and you closed your eyes while he kicked his legs on to the couch, resting his chin on your head as he did the same thing.

Right now was all that mattered, you in his arms, not going anywhere anytime soon

[wordycheeseblob]

"Beware"

A/N: a short dark fairytale fic Inspired by this post over here

Featuring: Emma the Hunter, Gilbert as Mr. Wolf, and starring Roderich in the role of Little Red Riding Hood.

Warnings: mentions of blood and Gilbert

Word count: 730~

Emma was familiar with the woods.

She knew the dangers lurking within, unbeknownst to those foolish enough to trespass. The beast that preyed on unsuspecting travelers who strayed from their path. As a hunter, she sometimes helped these lost souls find their path anew. Until nightfall. Before it was too late.

The sky was tinted in a soft pink, the long day was finally approaching its end when she ran into a trail. Dark red droplets scattered leaving a thin streak on the frozen winter ground. The raspy call of crows confirmed her suspicions. Another victim, the second within a week. It was not long before the wolves showed themselves, invited by the deathly song, to tear the carcass while leaving the spare parts for the birds.

Emma spread the ice-covered barren branches, leading to a clearing. Grip tightening around the axe handle only to soften at the sight of a petite hooded figure, the red of their attire clashed in stark contrast with the freshly fallen snow. This is where the trail ended.

Even though she spent her whole life there, the forest kept its darkest secrets well guarded, hidden from the ordinary man, so despite practically growing up surrounded by the wilderness Emma still found things that mystified her.

"Hello? This is not a place to stroll"

Her words were met with silence, the stranger didn't as much as flinch at her sudden appearance. Emma worried her wording might have sounded too harsh, but this really was not the time and place for a regular civilian.

"Look, I'm sorry, you stand out like a sore thumb, dressing up bright red for a snowy day is not a good idea, especially in a place like this. You may attract someone. Predators and what have you. If you're lost there's a settlement not far away from here. I can take you there."

Huffing a vapor cloud, she wondered whether to approach any closer.

"Do you hear?"

The character did not move, did not turn, and did not speak a word in return.

"Let's move before it's-"

"Too late?" Emma quivered, but the cold was not to blame. The amiable voice didn't come from the figure but anywhere from the side.

"Mrs. Rabbit, well what a surprise to find you here so deep in the forest" A shadow branched out from the dark mass of trees.

Unlike the hideous monster rumors made him out to be, his beauty was alluring, ethereal even. Mr. Wolf wasn't here to scare, but to draw you in with his words, like the devil himself.

"Before it got dark, I was going to say," replied Emma dismissively, untying the wood from her shoulders. The bundle fell onto the snowy ground with a mute clatter. A matter of caution, both fleeing and throwing hands was easier with no weight on your back.

"Too bad," he said with a shrug,

"What are you going to do now?"

Emma gripped her weapon with one hand and tugged on the caped stranger's arm with the other.

"So that's your answer" Mr. Wolf only moved his head in lament. "To slaughter an innocent?" Beware that, when you fight monsters, you yourself don't become one"

Emma stood before the red hood defensively.

"Liar. You are no saint," she said through her teeth.

"Watch out for accusations." Emma wasn't sure if she imagined it, but his smile appeared sharper, like a predator showing its teeth.

"I have claimed to be innocent, not holy. Haven't done anything yet, have I? Instead, you should be concerned about protecting a sheep-clad wolf."

The stranger turned her way at last, but Emma could not see their face. It was as if she were gazing into the abyss itself under the dark hood and it felt... empty and hopeless. The same sensation she had looking into Mr. Wolf's eyes. It felt so strangely similar and every bit as chilling to the bone.

The shade moved as the sun sank behind the horizon, and Mr. Wolf moved with it. Closing In In no hurry, as if he were the one driving the light away.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter. Because If you kill me..."

Emma pulled on the hooded stranger urging them to go, but they didn't budge, only observing In an unnervingly calm manner for the situation they found themselves in. Almost as if they were in no danger to begin with. As if they never were the prey.

"someone else will take my place"

[desperate-daydream]

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male reader ⚣︎

A/N: ok, I'll admit it.. I've had a crush on this cutie since like forever and I have daydreamed many scenarios with him. XD

(Maybe I could write down a few more.)

tags/warnings: plays after the last movie, reader is a hybrid like renesme, he has siren-powers, including the headcanon that the vampires don't sparkle but their skin becomes "see through" when the sun hits them so you can see black blood swirling beneath it etc., I tried to make Edward a bit less suffering drama queen and a bit more comical/happy

side ships: Renesme x Jacob, Bella x Edward, etc. (Cullen coven & Quileute pack canon ships)

So, you’re a siren

"Hello", Carlisle spoke with his soft tone to the wolf pack, "We're glad you came." He signaled for them to get inside the big house with floor-length windows. The sunlight shone through them for a few seconds and caught on the vampires' skin.

Some of the wolves still flinched at the sight of the swirling black blood, frozen organs and white bones under the translucent pale skin. It was something shocking, even horrifying. It made the fact even clearer that those people infront of you were undead. Caught it this body, this age and state, forever.

Edward heard all their thoughts. He had gotten used to the nonverbal comments, the mental shiver going through them at this scene. But as always he wasn't prepared for some of the more comedic things some of the boys thought from time to time when it came to his family of immortal beings.

He let out a snort and turned away to hide his growing grin as he surpressed the fit of giggles rising in his chest. The try to restrain made his organs visibly twitch and fortunately the sun went to hide behind a cloud again so that it was only noticable for a second.

Carlisle who had yet again been very observant smiled softly. "Apologies for making you a bit uncomfortable with this sight but we like to have one place where we don't have to hide."

"Don't worry", Sam answered just as calmly, "You don't have to apologize. It's just a bit surprising seeing it happen in real life. We'll get used to it eventually."

They had greatly detailed stories about the translucent skin of vampires and they had heard them a few times already. But as good as a storyteller can be, even if it's an old sacred legend, seeing it in person can be slightly terrifying. It made it much more real what actually happens around you.

"Tell me about it." Bella stood in the doorway to the kitchen and made her way towards them to hug her best friend Jacob. Just in time before her daughter walked out of that room too to hug her soulmate.

"So", the older alpha started, "Why did you want us to come over?" He had not missed the fact how Esme had placed a grounding hand on her husbands shoulder, how both Rosalie and Emmet seemed to stand guard on the stairs leading up towards the living room or how Renesmee stayed glued to Jake's side with a worried look on her face.

"We have something to show you. Or rather someone to introduce to you. We wanted to inform you properly of our newest family member since.. well, follow me and see yourself."

Sam quickly exchanged looks with some of his pack members before moving. They followed the vampired up the wooden stairs. Emmett, Rosalie and Jasper stood infront of the sofa purposely blocking the view to the person sitting there. When everyone stood in place Carlisle gave a signaling nod to the wall infront of their newest member.

"May I introduce (Y/N) to you. The reason why we wanted to do it this way is beacause he is like Renesmee. He is half vampire half human." The vampires moving to the side revealed a boy looking around the age of 19. You seemed worried and clearly anxious looking up at them and Emmett stayed close to you - just in case.

You looked into each new face trying a nice smile even though you knew it looked more like a forced grimmace.

When you came to a certain boy's face with warm eyes, cute features and a welcoming curious gaze everything stopped. The wolves tensed up slightly as they felt and saw the change in the room and Edward shoot up from the armrest of the chair Bella sat on.

The young wolf's eyes widened just like yours. And on top of that you also blushed as you couldn't turn your gaze away from him. "At least you can be sure now that he won't get hurt by us", Jake jocked earning a slap from Nessie.

Carlisle looked at Edward questioningly even though he was quite sure what was going on. Ed sighed and then grinned. He was happy for Seth who had become a good friend and almost like a brother to him. And he was happy for (Y/N) too. You had been so anxious the whole time with your thoughts racing around constantly and imagining almost every possible bad scenario.

"Seth imprinted. On (Y/N)", Eddie finally said out loud. Seth let out a heavy breath and looked at his sister anxiously. But she smiled when she catched his look even though she was still suspicious of this new boy they didn't know anything about yet.

Carlisle smiled calmly again. "Well then, I guess we get to the part of explaining a bit more." He gestured for everyone to get more comfortable. Seth immediately went to the sofa (Y/N) sat on making them both blush when he realized that his body had moved entirely on its own. Most of the others sat down or leaned against something while hardly suppressing giggles.

„Alright, another reason for that is the fact that he has powers too“, Carlisle continued. Every wolf‘s gaze went to the new hybrid trying to figure out if you had mental powers like Edward or Alice. „Do you want to explain them yourself?“, the oldest vampire asked you softly. You considered it for a moment before nodding. He smiled and signaled you to start.

“Uhm.. so, my dad, the vampire, had the powers to lure people in so that they would do what he wants them to do. That‘s how he managed to impregnate my mom who was apparently a very good singer. And well, my powers are basically a mix between those. I can hypnotize people through singing.“ You looked down at your hands feeling insecure with being so exposed to all those new people. „So you‘re basically a siren“, Seth said. You looked up at him with wide eyes.

You could only nod slowly and blushed again when your eyes caught his again. You had never thought of it this way. This term made your power seem really cool to be honest.

“Sorry“, Sam said to get your attention, “May I ask how you came to be here with the Cullens.“

Your eyes instantly went to Carlisle and Esme. They had been the most calming parts to you from the start. As well as Jasper of course who used his power a tiny bit so you wouldn‘t get another panic attack.

Esme gave you a warm smile. So, you gave them a short summary of your not so pleasant life.

How you were born and your mother had died immediately. That you were ‘raised‘ by her boss - the owner of a strip club. You didn‘t really have a choice or chance to get somewhere else. Then your so called father had shown up when he heard of your powers and wanted to take you with him.

Well, jokes on him because you had researched in secret, had heard from the Cullen clan and actually managed to run away. Bonus point that your ‘dad‘ had followed you and was.. removed with the help of the Cullens who had took you in when they heard your story.

It was quiet for only a few seconds but it was enough for your heartbeat to pick up again as you started to tense up.

Untill warm fingers brushed over yours. Seth didn‘t take your hand entirely but it helped you calm down. You looked at him and saw the small smile he gave you. It was warm, sweet and sunny. And you noticed that he had a cute dimple.

You gave a smile back, almost not noticeable. But Seth‘s senses were already fully focused on you. Every little change in your handsome face, those pretty eyes or your body was as clear as day from the moment you had linked eyes.

“Thank you for telling us“, Sam said with a warm voice. “I guess it is already clear that we will protect you as well. And you‘re always welcome on our land.“ He looked at Seth and then at your liked fingers laying on the cushions.

After that you all relaxed much more. Emmett still stayed close to you - he was pretty sure that you weren’t in danger anymore but he couldn’t deny that he had immediately had the urge to be like a big brother to you. And like with all his family, he wanted to protect you no matter what.

Leah came to you and introduced herself. She was still a bit cold and reluctant at first but soon warmed up to you. You really seemed like a good choice for her little brother - though she still swore to give you at least a light shovel talk once you felt better and safer. She didn‘t want to scare you off, just give you a little warning with care.

[andreal831]

If Hayley and Elijah had been together prior to the arranged marriage thing between Hayley and Jackson was brought up, how do you think things would have differed? Would Hayley had still went through with it, and if so, how would the dynamic between Hayley/jackson and Hayley/elijah have changed? Would Elijah had still told her to marry him? What do you think Klaus would’ve done/suggested?

I think it would change a lot but also nothing. It would have made it even more tragic that Hayley and Elijah were being torn apart if they had actually been in an established relationship. It also would have made it harder for the love triangle to exist.

To me, the writers weren't sure what they were doing with the love triangle. All they knew is they wanted one. When TO came out, every single romance in media just had to have a love triangle. Season 1, they toyed with a klayley/haylijah love triangle or a jayley/haylijah love triangle. By season 2, they seemed to toss klayley aside, probably because they already had a whole show devoted to a girl choosing between brothers. Also it would make it hard since they were so focused on expanding Elijah's obsession with Klaus.

I hate love triangles but the jayley/haylijah could have been a good dynamic if it was done well. And it wasn't.

Hayley wasn't just torn between two men but what each of them offered. Jackson offered her a simple life at the head of her pack. He represented everything she could have had if she had grown up with her family. While Elijah represented her new family and everything she had become as a hybrid. These two dynamics really should have been explored more and would have allowed Hayley to be the complex character she is.

I think a big reason it wasn't done well was because Nathan Parsons (Jackson) started getting casted in other roles. So instead of showing Hayley struggling between the two, Hayley had a clear choice. We didn't really even see much of her relationship with Jackson until after they were married. So based on what we saw, without the necessity of the unification ceremony, Hayley would not have chosen Jackson. She and Elijah may have taken a little longer to get together because they are stubborn, but that was always where she was headed. If Klaus would have gotten out of the way earlier in Season 1 and haylijah would have truly gotten together, he still would have told her to go forward with the unification ceremony because he knew how important getting Hope back was to Hayley, and how important it was to himself.

Hayley went to Elijah so he would tell her not to do it. She calls him before she agrees to the unification, but because he doesn't answer, she goes forward with it. Then when she tells him, you can see the devastation and surprise on her face that he is telling her to do it. It would be so much more devastating and surprising if they had been together for all of those months. Elijah would have stepped back and ended their relationship, or at least tried to, so that Hayley would have the chance at the happy, simple life Jackson was offering. The biggest difference would be in Hayley.

Hayley wouldn't have let Elijah end things, but she would have set a more clear boundary with Jackson. I will admit that she gave him a lot of mixed signals. But with her relationship with Elijah, there would be a clear line telling everyone the unification was just for the pack rather than some confusion on what Hayley expected out of it. I also never bought the whole argument that they had to "live as a married couple" for the unification to work. Jackson moved out for a month and the pack didn't lose their powers. They were living as wolves for six months and the pack was still connected to Hayley. So who's to say that Hayley and Elijah couldn't have been together as long as Jackson and Hayley were both representing the pack. Does the magic of the unification ceremony care or even know if it's an open marriage? There clearly wasn't a requirement that the marriage had to be consummated. So what does it mean that they had to "act as a married couple" if they didn't have to be sexually together or even living together? It just seemed like a convenient way to insert Jackson in between Hayley and Elijah. Again, stripping Hayley of her ability to choose.

I'm also still confused how exactly the unification is supposed to work. Because when Hayley was cursed, supposedly the whole pack was got cursed too because Jackson's heart was a mirror of hers and that controlled the pack. Does that mean when Hayley's wolf side was bound, did the pack lose their wolf abilities? Or did it just sever the connection? Did Jackson's death sever their power? This wouldn't make sense since the unification was supposed to be how werewolf packs had different abilities initially but then all ended up the same because of so many inter-pack marriages and the powers were passed down to next generations. This is a side tangent, but the magic never made sense to me.

I think it would have been an interesting dynamic for Hayley and Elijah to be together but her to be "unified" with Jackson. It would have forced Jackson to think more like an alpha rather than a jealous husband. He would have known from the start he wasn't going to get the romantic relationship from Hayley, so he would have focused more on what the ties to the Mikaelsons could do for the pack. My biggest complaint with the pack is that none of them act politically except Aiden. Instead of allowing Klaus to manipulate the pack, Jackson could have used the connection to get help for the pack. Instead of treating Hayley like a figurehead "Queen," they could have focused on what it meant to have a woman from two factions who was tied to one of the most powerful players in the war, on their side. TO was so good at putting relationships on the back burner to focus on the family/storylines, except when it came to the werewolves.

Klaus would have done the exact same thing. The issue with the Originals is they live forever. They have no concept of pain, emotional or physical, because they will always live long enough to get over it. Klaus doesn't hesitate to murder the people his siblings love because he knows eventually they will heal and forgive him. So Klaus would still have put pressure on Hayley to go through with it because he wanted Hope back and he wanted power over the wolves.

I think it would have been a really compelling storyline and given the werewolves the chance to be a bigger player in the war between factions.

Thanks for the ask! It has been too long since I've talked about haylijah on here <3

[lady-laureline]

On today's episode: how trauma1 fuels cognitive dissonance, specifically when healing from withdrawal.

×

The emergency tactics of the human brain are effective methods of self-preservation as well as spectacular exercises in self-sabotage.

Take stress: the ability to enter 'fight or flight' at the blink of an eye is an outdated function, working as intended. Modern threats to our survival are much more tangential than your friendly neighbourhood sabertooth tiger, but the nervous system still responds to due rent as it would to a predator.

Social withdrawal as a trauma response has aged a bit better - creating a buffer between us and the people that hurt us still serves to give us time to lick our wounds without the risk of reopening them - but there are significant downsides to keeping your distance for longer periods of time (including but not limited to: depression, heart problems, existential torment2, a shortened lifespan).

In pervasive situations, the detrimental effects of isolation have to be weighed against whatever drove us there in the first place. Both can be incredibly harmful to our sense of community and sense of self, and if we are repeatedly cycling back and forth between opening up and drawing back, the two sides might feed into each other to create a merciless self-fulfilling prophecy.

Each failed attempt to reintegrate - every time you were a little too bold or let your guard down a little too soon - justifies and perpetuates the (real or imagined) inadequacy that others us from the rest of the group. Trauma knows better, why didn't you listen to it? Why would this time be any different?

×

If you're wondering if there's a name for this, the answer is yes. Rejection-sensitive dysphoria (or RSD) is characteristic of neurotypes that commonly experience social rejection at a young age, fine-tuning our perception of exactly that to a painfully counterproductive degree.

In previous posts, I've talked about how growing up undiagnosed is permeated by a constant feeling of being in the wrong - RSD kindly provides a "better safe than sorry" approach to the fallout of whatever it is we've said or done this time.3

It should come as no surprise that developing self-compassion (arguably our greatest asset in caring for our mental health) is a rather grueling task for this subgroup of society. After all, compassion isn't that readily offered to us, especially the kind that comes from a place of understanding.

×

Coming out of isolation signals the end of a metamorphosis that, if we've managed to unlearn a bit of fearful perfectionism, may involve having a few new boundaries in place, perhaps a pinky promise with yourself to do whatever it takes to show up authentically in some way.

This is where the cognitive dissonance comes in, because now that you're going out and talking to people again, there is a raging battle going on in your head. Inside of you there are four wolves:

- one that's determined to find some genuine connection and is ready to meet people halfway;

- one that would rather pretend to be a papillon than risk ever getting hurt again;

- one that is convinced you are entirely undeserving of anyone's time and should go rot in a hole;

- and one that's angry at having to isolate, angry at having to do the work, and very fucking angry at having to wheedle your way back into people's lives for the sake of your stupid mental health.

Overthinking minute interactions is difficult to avoid when you've done nothing but think for the foreseeable past, and now you've got all these built-up feelings grappling with each other while you're trying to remember how socialising works.

Also, people are generally more well-meaning than they are frank, and if you're not tuned into the non-verbal gestures station you are at quite the disadvantage in determining what sort of impression of you people are left with, something that scares me more than I'd like to admit.

Still, what can a girl do but try?

Whether we've given up on it or not, connection is our north star in this whole mess or a journey. We cannot ignore the pull to be seen (even those of us who hate being perceived) for who we are.

×××

1 Terminology side note: when I say "trauma", I'm using the clinical definition.

2 Great read. Turns out that isolating really puts you in touch with your own mortality (and I thought I was just being extra).

3 Some say it's a form of CPTSD.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 50

Chapter 49.5

Masterlist

"By my beard..." was all Zoltan could say as he gazed unto the sky as the largest dragon in the world swooped over the battle making a low rumbling sound as she did so.

Aemma and Aemond look up to see Vhagar as well. Iorveth and the Scoia'tel look in both awe and fear. Iorveth mutters a few swears in Elven when he recognized the dragon, something that didn't go unnoticed by Aemma.

"You recognize her?" She realizes. Iorveth ignored her, still unable to process that the former nest mate of the Black Dread was here on the Continent.

Aemma held her breath, realizing Vhagar was here to protect her rider, being Aemond, and she wasn't so sure the dragon would be able to recognize who was friend and who was foe in this battle; knowing Aemond, that he tried to deceive Aemma and drag her back home, Aemma had the feeling all these people may as well be foes in Aemond's eyes. Enemies in his eyes would very well equate to enemies in Vhagar's eyes.

"Aemond, you need to call out to Vhagar," Aemma insists. "What?" "You need to stop her," Aemma elaborates, "people fighting on our side might be harmed if she rains fire onto the battle!" "Even if I wanted to, I doubt Vhagar would be able to hear me this far from the ground," Aemond scoffs.

What the two didn't realize was that when Vhagar made her descent, she made direct eye contact with a certain person who was leading one side of the battle, the elder she-dragon taken by surprise that this person was able to communicate with her from this far up. Hearing what was silently spoken, Vhagar looked down to see the battle beneath her, turning her gaze to see her rider looking up to see her. 

Having some idea of what needed to be done, Vhagar faced the battle once more and opened her mouth, directing her fire towards the Kaedwen army.

The Kaedweni soldiers, boiling in their armor from the heat of the flames, scattered in fear and pain in trying to avoid the wrath of the dragon who swooped over them.

Vhagar flew over to the other side of the battle, preparing to land. Aemond rushes over to her. Aemma turned back to see Geralt and Zoltan had closed the main gate to Vergen, effectively trapping what was left of the Kaedwen army, leaving them like sitting ducks as the Scoia'tel launched their arrows to finish off what was left.

With the army disseminated, and being trapped with nowhere else to go, and with a dragon that could fly over and burn the rest of them, King Henselt raised his arm, singling to his men and to Saskia's army that he was surrendering.

"We won," Aemma sighs in relief.

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

Aemma ran over to Geralt and Zoltan.

"Looks like we won," Aemma says, gaining the witcher and the dwarf's attention towards her. "Aye we did," Zoltan nods, "thanks in part to that dragon it seems." He nods towards the direction where Vhagar just landed, seeing Aemond patting her on the snout and speaking softly to her in Valyrian. Criston stood by, keeping an eye on whoever was looking on. Some of the Vergen soldiers couldn't help but stop and stare, some in awe, others in fear. Some even wondering if Saskia- a proclaimed dragon slayer- could take on the likes of this beast if for some reason Vhagar decides to turn and attack the town.

Aemma made a small smile, wishing her own dragon was here right now. She hoped the next time she saw Cirillia it would be in this world and that her dragon still had her mother in tow.

 "One of yours? Your family?" Zoltan brings Aemma's attention back. Aemma turned her gaze to Geralt to see a neutral look on his face before she answered. "That's Vhagar," she answers, "the oldest and largest of the Targaryen dragons. She was once bonded to my stepmother the Lady Laena Velaryon. Now she is bonded to my cousin."

"Hmm," was all Geralt had to say. He subtly turned his gaze over to Saskia who was receiving and congratulating the surviving Vergen soldiers for their bravery on the battlefield. The witcher had to wonder- given what he had discovered in the underground mines when and Saskia were down there earlier- if the dragon resting away from the village knew there was something off about the 'dragon slayer'. 

It didn't matter so long as the dragon's rider decides not to sic her onto the village locals if it meant dragging Aemma back to her home. Right now Geralt was just glad it wasn't the blood wrym and his rider they would need to deal with.

"Silverlark!" Yarpin calls out over to Aemma, "the battle has been won! Though, I am hoping it won't come to a second battle, especially with that beast looming over. Not even sure the great dragon slayer Saskia could take on something so massive."

Aemma looked over to see Aemond still tending to Vhagar. She noticed the way he turned his gaze over to her, a knowing look on his face. She wasn't sure what it meant. Now that his dragon was here, did Aemond now expect Aemma to mount the saddle so the two of them could fly back to King's Landing? Was he expecting her to just go back? Even after he tried to deceive her, even though he was already prepared to drag her kicking and screaming.

Thinking about that, Aemma felt anger start to rise. Here Aemond was, having professed earlier that he still cared about her, but then he was prepared to take her away without her so much as given a say-so.

Standing straight, Aemma turned towards the direction of her cousin and his dragon, "that...won't come to that," she says confidently in a low tone, "leave this to me." She walked over slowly towards Aemond, knowing exactly what needed to be done.

Meanwhile, Jaskier had joined Geralt, Zoltan, and Yarpin, rubbing his head, almost like he took a hit in that area. "What happened to you?" Yarpin questions. "I uh, I kinda fainted," Jaskier admits, "I was watching the battle happen and then next thing I...I must've been hallucinating because next thing I noticed I saw a REALLY large dragon fly over. I'm certain my mind was playing tricks because it was even bigger then the one that monster Rogue Prince had." "Uh, I wouldn't look that way then," Geralt says.

Too late. Jaskier looks over to see his niece approaching Aemond and right next to the guy was Vhagar.

Needless to say Geralt was quick to catch Jaskier before he made contact with the ground due to fainting the second time around.

-----------------meanwhile----------------------

Iorveth stood there, motionless. The battle was won, and the elf wanted nothing more than to celebrate this victory. This is after all the first major step into establishing a separate ruling governance for Upper Aedirn, for the non-humans. It was one step closer to fulfilling the dream of returning these lands that once belonged to his forefathers.

But, something else was now weighing heavily on Iorveth's mind. He stared over at Ivan, who was currently cleaning his sword. This half-elf...this foreign born knight...was supposedly his son.

How was this possible, Iorveth thinks? How could he have been able to produce a son? Iorveth was well beyond his years even after that dalliance he started all those years ago, there was no way he could've sired any children at this point in his old life. But apparently that was not true. Looking at Ivan, Iorveth could see bits and pieces of himself in the boy. And he could also see bits and pieces of the woman he once loved.

Iorveth wasn't even sure what to say. What could he possibly say? That part of his life, with Joanna, he had put it in his past, it was a lifetime ago. Now, that part of his past had come back in the form of a child he never knew existed. Steeling himself, keeping his stoic composure, Iorveth approached the boy. Ivan sensed the elf was behind him, but he keep on cleaning his sword, not entirely sure what more he could say. "Your mother," Iorveth speaks, "She...you said her name was Joanna. From Flotsam." Ivan stopped his task and stood and turned to face the elf. "She was," Ivan confirms. "I had thought...this whole time," Iorveth says with a somber tone, "I thought she had perished in that pogrom that took place twenty years ago. It was a bloody massacre. Elves, dwarves, and even d'hoinne were caught in the onslaught. I had thought this whole time she was killed." "She escaped," Ivan confirmed, "We both did. Some of the mob had broke into our home. They...I don't remember much of what happened. I was only a small child at the time, and frankly what little I do remember I had gone to great lengths to block that part of my life out. But the names they called her...those awful words they had for her...I could never forget all that. The only reason we survived at all was the help of a dwarf who helped us escape Flotsam. We reached Novigrad, my mother used what money she had left to buy us passage to King's Landing. We lived in poverty the whole time there until a sickness broke out in Flea Bottom and took her from me and I spent many years on the streets before an accident at the docks put me in a position to have a princess in my debt who paid it back by taking into her family."

"I never knew..." Iorveth said once more.

Ivan felt himself getting frustrated at the elf's lack of emotion at this point. The only emotion he's really seen from Iorveth so far was anger and stoicism, and the fact that the death of someone he supposedly cared enough to fuck and have a child with wasn't enough to elicit anything else... "Well why didn't you try and find out?!" Ivan snaps, "was your cause so important you couldn't have been bothered to investigate and try and look for us?" Iorveth flashed a look of anger at Ivan, "you shouldn't speak of things you know nothing of, boy." "If you had put in the effort, if you tried to look for us, she wouldn't have died!"

Iorveth said nothing, not even a change in his usual stoic expression. Well, actually that wasn't true. The elf had been taken aback by Ivan's outburst, and it showed for a split second.

Of course Iorveth had tried to find Joanna, searched high and low in the aftermath in the cover of night so no one would recognize him, tried to get some kind of confirmation that the woman he once cared for was either alive, so that he may leave with a clear conscious, or dead so as to properly mourn her. He never learned she had a child...he never imagined it could've been possible.

"...I understand you are angry with me," Iorveth says in a low tone, "I very much regret how she left this world, the life you and her were forced to live. I cannot change what has passed."

Ivan scoffed, taking a few steps back before he turned his back on his father, "your reputation as a hater of humankind is well known throughout the Continent," the half-elf speaks in a low tone, "I had a hard time believing someone who hates the d'hoine as much as you do could possibly have any kind of intimate relations with their kind." Ivan turns back to face Iorveth, a look of fiery anger in his eyes, "Seeing the way you look at the Virgin of Aedirn, however, it makes more sense. You may hate them...but not enough to not fuck them and then leave them when they've worn out their usefulness." "Now see here-" "I had to scrap and steal what I could on the streets of King's Landing in order to survive. It was by sheer coincidence that I saved the life of a member of the royal family that I was able to make something more for myself. The life I had in Flotsam I had to put it behind me to live the life I am living now as a knight of the Kingsguard. So, all that said you may have sired me...but you are not my father." 

"Do you honestly expect to be welcomed back with open arms, especially you revealed your true heritage?" Iorveth calls out as Ivan walks away, "even if that knight the Targaryen prince swear to keep your secret, how long will it take when others begin to notice how slow you start to age as the decades begin to pass? You may be half human, you may not live as long as your full blood Aen Siedhe brethren, maybe not even as long as me, but your elven blood will allow you to outlive your d'hoine comrades. What do you think will become of you by then?"

Ivan ignored the elf and kept walking, silently scoffing that this guy would now have the audacity to be act concerned for his future well-being.

---------------meanwhile--------------

Aemma walked over towards Aemond and Vhagar, the prince giving his dragon a soft look when the old girl turned her gaze towards Aemma.

Aemma looked up to Vhagar, the elder she-dragon giving her a certain look. Aemma smiled, thinking back to the times she flew on Vhagar with her stepmother when she was a child, her holding onto Laena with one hand and using the other to reach out and feel the wind blow whenever Vhagar soared through the sky. Vhagar brought Aemma many fond memories of her past. Aemma reached out, maybe hoping the dragon would recognize her. Vhagar made a low rumbling sound, almost akin to a cat purring. Aemma smiled when the dragon lowered her head so she could stroke her snout.

"Ziry iksos issare sīr naenie jēdri, uēpa hāedar," Aemma speaks to the dragon in Valyrian (It's been so many years, old girl), leaning in a little closer so as Vhagar could only hear what next she had to say, "Ziry iksos nykeā shame īlon jāhor daor sagon hēnkirī olvie longer." (it is a shame we will not be together much longer)

"Aemma?" Aemma turned to Aemond, a stern look in her eyes, "I am grateful for Vhagar for helping win the battle," she addresses. The Vergen residents watch from afar as Aemma continues speaking to her cousin.

"Now that your beloved dragon is here, Aemond...I think it best you leave." Before Aemond could say anything, Aemma added, "without me." Aemond was shocked at first, but opted to dig his heels in instead, "I'm not leaving without you," he insists. "Yes, you are," Aemma insists with an unwavering voice, "you can't stay here. I...Nyke kostagon't pāsagon ao" (I can't trust you).

Aemond knew what she was talking about, he responded back in Valyrian as well, "Nyke istan mērī doing skoros jorrāelatan naejot sagon gaomagon," he insists in a low tone, (I was only doing what needed to be done) "Ao sagon daor keskydoso issaros nyke remember. Ao've changed. Ao. Ao sagon daor isse se paktot state hen mind." (You're not the same person I remember. You've changed. You...you're not in the right state of mind).

"...what do you possibly know of my state of mind?" Aemma brings up in the Common tongue, "we haven't seen each other in six years. And yet, this whole time we've been together it's almost as if you've expected me to stay the same. No, not the same, it's almost like you've crafted this image, this idea of me in your mind, someone who is more like your mother or your sister and...that's not me, Aemond. That was never who I was, and you know this. You knew it the moment you caught sneaking out of the Red Keep to go to the docks when we were children. You knew...and you still expected me to become someone I was never going to be. And now it has gotten to where you keep overriding any and all my decisions, whatever path I try to take, you've gone and tried to force me away from it, to the point of kicking and screaming. If I choose to stay right now, would you even let me?"

Aemond was too silent for Aemma's liking, making her scoff, "yeah, that's what I thought. That's why you must leave." "Aemma-" "I want you to fucking leave, Aemond!" Aemma snaps at him, "I mean it. Leave. I don't want you hear anymore. If you try and stop me, try and drag me away, I will fight you every step of the way. Just go, Aemond. Tell your mother whatever you wish, tell her I'm dead for all I care. I just...I can't trust you won't try and drag me away again."

Aemond was angry. He wanted to drag her away from this place, but he knew that would only prove her point. He looked at the Vergen locals and saw their looks mirrored hers at this moment. They were looking up to her as some kind of symbol. This heir of the dragon slayer that had led their army. Aemond had half a mind to have Vhagar burn this place to the ground if it would make Aemma see reason...but knew if he did something so rash and cruel, it would only guarantee that Aemma would just turn and run away to the ends of the earth, never to see or speak to him again.

Aemond sighed, feeling like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Ultimately, he nodded before speaking once more in a low tone, "Nyke hope bisa adventure istan worth ziry naejot ao. Bona ao pālegon qrīdrughagon hen aōha lentor isse pōja hour hen jorrāelagon." (I hope this adventure was worth it to you. That you turn away from your family in their hour of need)

"Ser Criston," Aemond speaks to the man, "gather Ser Ivan. We are leaving." "Without the princess?" "Yes." "My prince," Criston tries to reason, "I swore to your mother, the Queen, I cannot-" "You can and you will," Aemond insists, "I will speak to mother. I'll take the blame if I must. You know the way back."

With that, Aemond climbed up Vhagar and mounted her saddle. At his command, the dragon rose and flew up into the sky, eventually disappearing from view.

Before that, when Aemond looked down, he could see Aemma receive cheers and praises from the residents down below, he could hear the chants of "Silverlark" being shouted in Aemma's direction. She wasn't the same person Aemond thought he once knew. Was she even that person to begin with?

Aemond looked down once more to see the witcher and his friends join in on the cheering. He looked away, guiding Vhagar to take him back across the sea to King's Landing. Criston and Ivan would surely find their way back. Make their way to Novigrad and find passage on a ship back to Westeros.

-------------------Back inside Vergen--------------

Ivan and Criston left the town shortly after Aemond departed on dragonback. The two knights were offered transportation to Oxenfurt this time around. It wasn't Novigrad, but the two could still find passage to King's Landing from there.

Worth noting Criston was dealing with the fact that Ivan wasn't who he thought the guy was and Ivan was still reeling with the revelation of Iorveth being his father. Neither would have the time or place to sort out their feelings, save for what conversation could be told on the road. To Criston's relief, Ivan elected to put his headband back on, to hide his ears, but Criston still felt mixed feelings about it all. As much as he was still contemplating whether or not Ivan should be put to the sword or not, Criston felt it would make him something of a hypocrite to even contemplate such a thing for something that was technically not part of the Kingsguard oath. There was nothing against being a half-elf, and did Criston Cole not do worse when he soiled his white cloak with Rhaenyra 16 years ago?

Back in Vergen, Aemma rejoined Phillipa and Saskia who were stating the terms of surrender to Henselt. During this time, Aemma began to feel lightheaded, her vision becoming slightly blurred.

"You did the right thing sending the Targaryen prince and his dragon away," she heard Phillipa speak...not out loud, but the sorceress was talking to her telepathically, "now we can begin the plan of building and ruling."

"How? What's..."

From that moment on, Aemma felt herself in a dazed state. She couldn't quite describe the feeling, but as she looked onto Phillipa and Saskia demanding Henselt hand over Dethmold to be executed for war crimes, Aemma found herself agreeing. Well, to be fair, Aemma wasn't found of the guy especially since he almost killed her when trying to extract her power to destroy the mist earlier, but she wasn't so sure she would've wanted him dead.

The feelings became moot the moment she spoke, "he must pay for his war crimes." Why did she say? She didn't want this? Not unless there was to be a trial first with witnesses and evidence. Isn't that how things were supposed to operate in this new established order? Isn't that what Aemma tried to do with Prince Stennis when he was accused of poisoning Saskia?

Those doubts went away however when she made eye contact with Phillipa. This is what she wanted, so this is what needed to be done.

Shortly after Dethmold was beheaded for his war crime, Aemma felt herself drawn to follow Phillipa and Saskia to wherever it was they were going. Phillipa opened a portal and gestured for the two women to follow. Aemma was last to go through, completely unaware that Geralt and Iorveth were trying to follow, concerned for both Aemma and Saskia as they blindly follow Phillipa through the portal, wondering what had the sorceress done to put the two under her spell to do what was clearly her bidding.

It appears a dragon was actually the least dangerous object they had to worry about.

Chapter 51

[animehouse-moe]

Undead Girl Murder Farce Episode 11: Where The Wolves Dwell

Well, it took 11 episodes for it to happen, but I'd say this is the first episode where I'm sufficiently whelmed. I don't think there's anything too crazy going on with the direction of this episode, nor really the degree of the story either. Rather, it feels impressively par for the course. And that's not really a bad thing when you consider the baseline, and doubly so when there's still quite a bit to talk about.

Right away, I feel like the use of visual storytelling certainly remains strong. We start with a flashback of Rosa while she was still pregnant being subject to some trial by her village. But that's neither here nor there, what I'm more interested in is the details of stills such as this one.

You can tell that the walking stick has worn down the stone over time, which implies the fact that the village elder has been using this trial for quite some time, even further back than this view into Rosa's past. Just a very cool little piece that while adding impact, also adds significant detail.

Following that, we begin to display the various curiosities that this episode has to deliver (so long as we skip over how we arrived at this point in the first place). The girls of the werewolf village detail a similar string of murders taking place "within" their village, under eerily similar circumstances to that of its human.... counterpart.

Anyways, alongside the matching requirements for a murder to take place, there's a few disparities that have occurred. The first is that when Nora talks about each of the murders, the visuals displayed are not devoid of color, nor are they accompanied by heavy and ominous music. It causes the pair of sequences to contrast each other to a surprising degree.

Originally, I thought ages were to play a significant role in these initial batches of three, but there is discrepancy between the ages of the girls from each of the villages, so that is not true.

However, there is something that adds up. Nora is the only girl of the werewolf trio to not be wearing a necklace that indicates they are a priestess. The girls and women of the village may only wear it once they turn thirteen. Oddly enough, Louise is also noted to have been just shy of turning thirteen before she was abducted/murdered.

The piece that causes confusion, is that Nora appeared in the werewolf village when she was four (or about 8 years ago), while Louise's earliest instance of "disappearing" was one and a half years ago. So what could be the connection? It's hard to say, really.

But I suppose the simplest piece is assuming a connection between Alma and Nora. Blonde hair is entirely unseen in the droves of denizens in either village, and neither having a family and being transplants in their respective villages makes things seem odd. But then, what is the connection with Louise? It's a puzzle that goes around in an endless circle, so I suppose I'll talk about another piece that's been introduced.

Rather than the grisly murders of the human village, the ones in the werewolf village are perpetrated with a shotgun, which has also stated to be presumed to be using buckshot.

Viewers know there's only a single weapon out in the wild in these mountains: Gustav's old shotgun. It disappeared prior to the murders in the human village, and now we know why. It paints a very curious picture. Just what is going on here? Is Jutte fighting a battle on both sides, as both werewolf and human have forsaken her? Is she attempting to spur each side into a battle of mutually assured destruction? It's very odd, but so is Nora's accounts of these murders.

Apparently, not a single gunshot was heard from the murders. So, is it truly a shotgun causing these murders? Once more, it's hard to say. It feels like we're a single piece in the puzzle away from discovering the answer to this question. We know for a fact that the girls were killed in their human forms - if they weren't, they would have remained in whatever form they assumed (Rosa's skeleton remains in the same form she died in). We know that they were likely killed on the same nights as one another, but that the werewolf and human children couldn't have killed each other as the werewolves died in their human forms. And most of all, we know that the fourth deaths occur to deeply similar people.

Nora and Louise, oddly familiar characters. Both sporting blonde hair, both with aloof and reserved personalities. Both dying before their thirteenth birthday. Both breaking the habits of the killer(s).

With Nora's death, the whole village is able to hear the gunshot coming from the forest on the West side of the village. The side that Nora said she would lure/bait the men towards. Of course, that bait never happened. Did Nora purposely head towards the forest on her own, or was she captured beforehand?

Regardless, we get to see Shizuku try her hand at being a detective, and it falls short. She confirms that Nora was wet before she put clothes on, and that the hole in her chest (not her head like the others) was not from a shotgun.

However, further in she notices marks on a tree that resemble buckshot. Upon inspection, the marks are still warm from where the blast made impact.

So why, for the very first time, was a shotgun heard? Why was it used on a tree, and why did the reasoning behind Nora's murder, much like Louise's, differ from that of the rest?

With Louise's side, Jutte's motive speaks clearly. Jutte could have been wronged by the girls in the human village, with Louise taking the cake, but what about the werewolf village. What would she have known about a place that she'd never known?

Although, I suppose it isn't much of a stretch, considering that Jutte would have been able to exist in the village at some point, or perhaps even be Nora herself. Yes, it's a crazy theory. However, the night on which Rosa's mother died was eight years ago, Nora only appeared in the village four years ago, and did so on her own. We know that Rosa mistook Louise for her daughter at one point, so it's pretty clear that the two bear resemblance to one another. With that in mind, while it's a crazy theory, it's possible that Nora was Jutte, but that doesn't explain why she chose to die on this night.

However, it seems like most if not all will be revealed with the next episode.

Overall, as I said to start, it's certainly a whelming episode as opposed to an overwhelming one, but the mystery runs so deep and is so curious that you hardly notice. There's some off model moments, a bit of funky animation here and there, and a rather noticeable lack of creativity as compared to the prior episodes. But, it is not bad, rather it's far from it. It's a good episode, a surprisingly good one when you consider it's Lapin Track, it just doesn't live up to the incredulous nature of the prior ones.

[lordofthestrix]

Does Tristan ever miss being Human? What does he consider the worst part of being a vampire? The best?

The short answer is no. He doesn't miss it. Now, to the surprise of no one who knows my Tristan-centered strolls, here is the longer answer: Tristan would go as far as to consider himself incomplete without his immortality. Everything that means to be a vampire and Tristan are in perfect harmony. This is a small excerpt from a thread with Elijah that showcases that, for as many problems as he may have with his sire, he still mentally admits his transformation as something of irreplaceable value he obtained from him. Credit to Cathy aka @deceptivemorals. “It is a frequent flaw of our species. Both ancestral and new. Those who knew nothing of it as mortals can easily become inebriated by its allures. But power, unless skillfully wielded and wed to something more meaningful, is often a treacherous rope around your own neck. I was born with power. I had an appreciation of its deceitful snare far before you gave me the fangs to tear a neck apart.” He acknowledged his immortality, for the fleeting of seconds, as the one gift from Elijah he treasured. So where does he stand on the whole you are now a bloodthirsty and cursed creature of the night side of things? The truth is that Tristan has a sincere and maybe even unusually positive outlook on the nature and potential of vampirism. He would argue that it only sets your soul ablaze. Making you more yourself than ever before. This next except is part of Tristan's words of advice while doing his best in trying to help a fanged newcomer find her footing during the first transitioning period of her vampirism. Credit to Cali aka @dethtale “I can’t say that an exceeding number of the vampires I cared to meet share that despondent outlook but bear in mind we can be a theatrical bunch. Undead is the most misleading of descriptors, even if it was death that brought us here. We are more fiercely alive than any other creature. Not even the howling wolves with their disposition for a quick temper can truly grasp the extent of our passions. Always remember that you are not a defenseless witness to the ever-changing world whenever hopelessness poisons you. You are free to compose any symphony you please. Guard and protect whatever you cherish with merciless devotion. Above all else, be yourself. You will do splendidly.” And this one is Tristan alluding to that very same worldview during a much more casual chat. Credit to Pyro aka @fablewoven "Who could ever claim to be more alive than us? Vampires experience the world with senses no other beast or artist would understand. We hate with ardent frenzy. We love with unquenchable passion. We thirst. We devour. Euphorically…I would invite you to consider yourself not a resurrected corpse but a soul set afire. One burning so very alive even the minutia of its death wasn’t able to stop.” Tristan misses something he used to unflinchingly know for certain for most of his humanity. But he doesn't miss humanity itself. He upgraded. The best part: Immortality. He enjoy all of the benefits but this is the genuinely important one. My feelings on Tristan and forever are a bit complex so... Here. This headcanon summarizes one of the basic principles on why eternity is so important to him. The worst part:...The weakness to sunlight. All of Tristan's suits are tailored with an additional small inner pocket to guard an emergency daylight ring in case his sister misplaces hers without realizing it. Tristan lives in an expertly subtle but sharp state of hidden, constant alert whenever Aurora starts distractedly playing with her jewelry. Credit to 🅹🆄🅻🅴🆂 aka @ladamedemartel

[legofanguy1999]

This is a entry for day 7 of @inuvember event Inuvember 2023 featuring Rin.

Since the death of her parents and brothers to bandits, there is doubts that Rin would survive into adulthood as she become homeless, living in a hut far from her village. The horrible murder of her family has left Rin with nightmares and made her mute.

Rin find a strange young man in armor with long white hair and a wound. As Rin walk up to him, the man growl at her direction and his eyes turn red. Rin was a bit stunned, but she remain her spot as the man lay back due to his injuries. Rin see that the wound is not deep, but this man need medical aid or else he will die. The wounded man said to her without opening his eyes, “Leave me to die. I will not help a child help me.”

For a few days, Rin has been taking care of the strange man, despite his refusal. One day, the man said to Rob, “You are quite strange. You are willing to help a person that you just meet.” and Rin smile.

When Rin got back home, she saw a ugly looking man with a scar over his left eye and wearing a wolf fur drinking her water and noticed the girl right away. As Rin become frightened of the man, he noticed her and ask the girl, “What do you want, girl? Does this old hut belong to you?” Rin nod to answer the stranger’s question just as she hear screams and wolves groans which scare both Rin and the man as he said, “Damn it! They’ve caught up with me already.” and he run away as Rin watched wolves attack the villagers. As the man with the scar got tackle by a trio of wolves, their master, a black hair young man with a brown wolf tail, walk up to the man and said to him, “I had to search high and low for you, thief. You should not leave members of our pack for dead just for the sacred jewel shards.” The young man got a shard of a jewel and then said to the man, “This is for Fenis and Loco.” before he slash the man’s neck. The man said to his wolves, “Well, you have not eaten food for awhile since our hunt on this traitor. You can stay in the village and feed to your hearts’ desire as I go on ahead to check on the others.” and the wolves start attacking and killing the villagers to Rin’s horror.

The wolves come close to Rin and she fear that she may be the end.

Rin awaken in the forest and she was a bit confused as she recall the wolves killing her. Rin made a sound, “Where...” and that surprised her that she could speak again. She then noticed the strange man standing over her as he put a sword back in its sheath and then walk away, “Saying to a strange little green creature, “Let’s go, Jaken. I can smell the nearby village may be already destroyed by those wolves.” Jaken call out to his companion, “Yes, Lord Sesshomaru.” He then said under his breath that Rin overhear, “Even if I’m confused why you use the Tenseiga to bring a human girl back to life, milord.” This surprised Rin that this man, Sesshomaru, bring her back to life. She got no place to go now, but she have to follow him, wherever his travels take him.

Getting on her knees, Rin said to him, “Please my lord, let me travel with you.”

Years has passed since that day and Rin has become a young woman as she put on her hands on her belly where her child is sleeping. After much hardship, Rin has survived to adulthood, all thanks to her encounter with Sesshomaru.

[madamhatter]

"Are you a cat person? Or a dog person?" His wolfhounds, never far from their owner, are watching Miss Hatter intensively as if to guilt the answer out of her.

Surrounded by the imposing figure of the Celtic Mage and his wolfhounds, Sophie instinctively adopts a composed stance, her hands joining in a familiar, graceful manner. "Good morning, Master Chulainn," she welcomes, greeting underscored by a gentle head tilt.

Standing in her plainly gray attire, Sophie anticipates the dance of customary dialogue. In their curious nature, the alabaster-white wolfhounds take in the scents of their surroundings, their bright yellow eyes shimmering with playful intrigue. "And to you both," she acknowledges them with a broader smile, casting a warm glance at each dog.

Master Chulainn slowly removes his light blue hood, unveiling striking ruby eyes with a captivating allure. A spectacular sight if one's favorite color was red; his gaze is nothing short of mesmerizing.

Rather than reciprocate the greeting, the mage pivots to inquiries. Sophie's internal can only emit a long sigh, echoing her annoyance at the personal line of questioning. Her talents and time, after all, were best employed in professional evaluation and decision-making.

"What an intriguing way to start," Sophie muses aloud, deftly veiling her surprise.

Instinct leads her imagination to the stockier, holier form of the priest under her command; his unassuming brown eyes cleverly mask their true intent until one realizes the rotted reality behind them. Had the priest's distaste for dogs spread to those who would take offense? Had the priest's opinion included her, as they were undeniably associated with one another as coworkers, Servants, and Summoners?

A downward glance sealed her fate; the mage's wolfhounds fixed their intense gaze on the magus, bearing their wet eyes directly into the magus's soul. Loudly swallowing, her eyes dart back to the mage, her smile becoming strained under the combined scrutiny.

As tolerable as Sophie may be to cats, the unspoken truth is her underlying apprehension towards these whiskered felons. Blame childhood nightmares of being cursed as a mother cat, left to wander the streets without any chance to break it! Naturally, such vulnerabilities are not details she wished to disclose nor hint at.

And truly, no one was pressuring Sophie to reveal the multifaceted reasons for her answer. The blame for her spiraling thoughts rested solely on her overactive imagination!

"What spurn this line of questioning? I hope I have not done anything to make it seem I harbored any ill feelings towards your companions, Master Chulainn," she apologizes, palm flat over where her heart resides. "If so, I sincerely apologize for that. They," her eyes look back to the wolves, "have always been a wonderful company to have and see around the base."