#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

[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"

[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.

[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."

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Social Media Odds and Ends

As always, here are some things that I've either found or have been sent to me in the past week or so.

First, it appears they've pushed the Richonne spinoff back. No idea why. Could be any number of logistical, money- or business-related things.

My Bethyl heart would like to think it's because they're going to make Bethyl the focus for this year. Richonne's will be the focus of next year.

No way to know, of course. That's just me guessing and hoping, but there it is.

Then this.

Yeah, no idea what he's alluding to here, but clearly it's TWD related. So, not really Bethyl, but to me this shows that what we've been saying all along is true. Even the characters not currently slated for a spinoff (such as Zeke, CAROL, Aaron, and others) are still involved in the TWD universe and there are things in the works that the actors clearly know about. So, just kind of interesting.

Norman posted this as well:

I'll just copy and paste the short convo my fellow theorists and I had about it:

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Okay, we all know that Norman is into some weirdo stuff. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he’s pals with Ozzy Osbourne, as we already know he’s friends with Marilyn Manson. (Or he may just like Ozzy’s music. And, you know, cool.)

But even so. Isn’t this like the dozenth time in the past month that he’s posted something about either wolves or moons?

Can’t help but think of that scene in Diverged where he’s fixing his bike and hears wolves howling in the distance. 🤔

@wdway:

He does seem to be on the theme of wolf and wolf related things, doesn't he?

@galadrieljones:

Funny you mention Diverged, @twdmusicboxmytery, as I immediately thought of the [howling] caption. I feel like we focus so much on Find Me but Diverged is also a total puzzle. I know we’ve tried to speculate whether it was written before Carol exited the spin-off. I really think it had to be, considering that it’s called “Diverged” and is a man allegory of separation.

It’s also a story about process, and problem solving. A very weird episode. Daryl has to fix his bike, which requires him to solve the problem of his missing knife. Carol is solving multiple problems at Alexandria, and the knife helps her solve those problems. Each character is dealing with an obstacle. Daryl is dealing with a slew of military walkers. Carol is dealing with a rat.

The howling wolf is fully environmental. It must be foreshadowing. It’s almost comical. Any and all wolf imagery refers back to Beth and to Coda, re: Gimple’s “Up the Wolves” and the Hannah Fairlight magazine cover. I really don’t see how they’re gonna have a bunch of wolf and full moon references and NOT expect a scrupulous audience to draw a connection back to Still and Coda. So, yeah.

Oh, and in Diverged, the knife is another callback to Beth, re: the transfer of a knife between Carol and Daryl, but the knife doesn’t belong to either. In Them, the knife is Beth’s. In Diverged, the knife is Leah’s. Leah is a mirror image or inversion of Beth, but at the time, she didn’t look like Beth yet, and we were confused. Now, however, after the “Ponytail,” we know that Leah is meant as a clear Beth proxy/inverted doppelgänger. So it changes things.

Finally, Emily posted this:

@wdway:

I find it interesting, but I'm also a little clueless as to what she's referring to. I want to believe it might be love, but that's probably just my Bethyl bias blindness.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

I mean, I think love works as the answer, but that's very broad. She's talking more about attractive forces in the universe, drawing what you want toward you. Witches use spells to get what they want. Evil ones might use them to hurt others, but they're still after something they want. Manifestation is about "manifesting" the life you want. Quantum physics is science's answer to attractive forces in the universe. (Love is one of these forces, btw.)

So, I think it's about what many people would consider the mysterious forces that lead us toward fate, destiny, etc. That bring us answers and help us understand the meaning of our existence.

Sounds like an allusion to Daryl finally finding Beth to me. ;D

@wdway:

Thank you so much for explaining and I love your explanation. That writers perception is very helpful.

@twdmusicboxmystery

So yeah. There's the social media tidbits for this week. Make what you will of them! 😉

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Chaos Chapter 5

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Master Post - Patreon

Ealdhelm was relieved to see everyone arrive at city hall. “Adelheid, Ulrich, glad you two could make it.”

“Good to see you’re doing well, Ealdhelm” Ulrich replied as he took a seat. “Hopefully Wulfric hasn’t given you too much trouble.” 

“It’s been the usual…”

Adelheid went straight to Ealdhelm. “How wonderful to see you again, my dearest Ealdhelm.”

He kissed her hand. “I feel the same, my love.”

That threw Tusk for a slight loop. “Hold the phone! Ealdhelm, did I just hear all of that right?”

“Indeed, Tusk” he answered with a chuckle. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Well howdy-do! As an aside, I’m getting married when this is all said done.”

Now Ealdhelm was thrown for a loop. “You don’t say! Who’s the lucky girl, Tusk?”

Tusk laughed. “Come on, who do you think?”

“I figured it’d be Donia,” Ultimatum pointed out. “I saw how close you two are when I visited the forest.”

“Well congratulations, Mr. Willfort” Adelheid said with a light applause. “I’ll have to put together a wedding present for the occasion.”

Tusk shifted his gaze in contemplation. “Hum, I probably should work on getting a present of my own while I’m here…”

“Don’t worry, Tusk, you’ll figure it out” Razor reassured as he patted him on the back. He then looked around, noticing things were slightly vacant. “Hey, where did the others go?”

“They all retired for dinner,” Ealdhelm answered. “Speaking of which, I had some food arranged in the mess hall. It may not be the most fancy dinner, but it’s better than nothing given how hectic today was.”

“Oh come now, Ealdhelm,” Adelheid replied. “You know I don’t mind. Besides, I’ve grown a bit bored of the more luxurious meals served at the cathedral. You can only have prime cuts and meat pies for so long before they lose their appeal.”

“Well all of that’s fine with me,” Razor interrupted. “It feels like I just ran a Moon Wolf Relay with all the running around we just did.”

That caught Adelheid’s interest, despite the intrusion into the conversation. “A Moon Wolf Relay? Do tell, Mr. Scully.”

“The Moon Wolf Relay is a rite of passage for when we Sunset Wolves turn 16. We run the perimeter of The Unending Forest, mimicking the cycle of the sun and moon.”

“How fascinating…” She was about to ask about the symbolism when she was cut off by a young boy with white hair entering the hall.

“Dad! Dad!”

Ulrich smiled. “Quasar! What are you doing all the way here?”

“Dad!” He shoved a book in his face. “You have to read me a story tonight.”

“Goodness, Quasar!” A man wearing an old fashion lab coat said as he caught up, out of breath. “Where do you get all this vigor from?” Notably he had a German accent.

Ulrich lightly cleared his throat. “For those of you that are new, this is Doctor Alfred Schwartz, my champion.”

“A good evening to you all,” Alfred said after a round of greetings. “Quasar, you shouldn’t go running off like that.”

The boy’s father picked him up and set him on his lap. “Aw don’t worry, Alfred. You can’t fault him for wanting a bedtime story.”

Quasar looked over to the podium. “Hey, Aunt Adelheid.”

“Good to see you again, Quasar,” she said with a smile.

“So my boy, you really want that story?” Ulrich asked. Quasar nodded. “You know what? How about we have a little vacation to Droomopolis, since I’m going to be busy working. Does that sound good?”

Quasar nodded again. “Sure, dad! That’d be really cool.”

“Dr. Schwartz? You have free reign of the space station until we get back.”

Alfred was a little surprised, but accepted the responsibility. “Very well, my liege. I shall make sure everything is spick and span for your return.”

Before he could leave, Ealdhelm spoke up. “Keep your eyes and ears open, Doctor. General Karnage is up to no good again and General Raisa was antagonizing Ultimatum.”

“Duly noted, Ealdhelm. I shall spread word to Leonard and Rahela.” He then vanished into a cloud of sparkling particles.

Ulrich then turned to Tusk and Ultimatum. “Hey, guys? Can Quasar join your guild eventually?”

“So he does have the potential for ULTRAMagic?” Adelheid questioned, receiving a nod in return.

Ultimatum shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure Blood-Wraith and Deimos would say yes.”

Tusk bent down and leaned on his knees. “So, you think you got what it takes, kiddo?”

“Yes I do, Mr. Willfort” Quasar replied. “Dad’s been telling me all about what’s been going on. I want to be strong, just like you guys.”

“That’s the spirit. Consider yourself an honorary member of the guild. We’ll promote you to full membership when you’ve got your ULTRAMagic all sorted out.” He then held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

“Thank you, Mr. Willfort,” Quasar answered as he accepted.

Ulrich also shook Tusk’s hand. “You have my gratitude. This little vortex here has been talking about ULTRAMagic nonstop.”

Tusk dusted off his hands. “So what do you think, Ultimatum? We’ve barely started on this little escapade and we already have three new members.”

He smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “A job well done, Tusk. Here’s hoping future recruitment goes well.”

Razor went over to Quasar and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Quasar. I’m Razor Scully. I’m going to be joining the guild too.”

“Nice to meet you too, Razor.” The handshake triggered a very weird sensation in Razor, causing him to vibrate a little.

“Whoa, what was that?”

Quasar burped. “Oops, sorry, Mr. Scully. I ate some of your energy by accident.”

“How…?”

“I’m a black hole.”

Razor looked at him weird. “Come again?”

Ulrich nodded. “My son is a gravitational singularity. What you see before you is his event horizon.”

That was bizarre to hear, causing Razor to take a step back. “Uh, Tusk? Haven't you been in one of these gravitational thingies before?”

“I’d prefer not to think back to that, but yes.”

The wolf man took a deep breath. “Incredible…”

“Don’t put your fingers in my mouth” Quasar cautioned. “It won’t end well.”

Razor nervously chuckled. “No pressure…”

Adelheid had a look of curious amusement on her face. “Truthfully the only thing you’d have to worry about is how long it would take us to reconstitute you, Mr. Scully.”

A timer on the podium went off, with Ealdhelm going to stop the ringing. “Well how about we cease this worrying and put some food in our mouths instead?”

Dinner was quite good. It was nothing fancy, just a mix of roast beef, barbecued pork, and hamburgers. For sides, there was a choice of fried foods or vegetables. Ealdhelm figured he would have some younger guests along in addition to Adelheid, so he made sure there was some variety. Quasar definitely appreciated the hamburgers and french fries while Adleheid preferred the roast beef and vegetables. Mizuki and Cyneberht had shown back up and were talking to Ealdhelm and Adelheid, accompanied by the others. Tusk on the other hand wanted to speak to Ultimatum alone.

"So, Ultimatum, you hear about the results of Blood and Dunja’s duel?” Tusk asked.

“Yup…” he answered as he took a bite of his burger.

Tusk then ate some more of his pork. “I’m a bit concerned about his mental state. I just know losing is going to mess with him. He was adamant about proving Dunja wrong.”

Ultimatum sighed. “Deimos and Achasiah’s plan worked, but I share your concerns. I’m really hoping Blood is able to pursue a normal childhood, despite everything going on with the guild. Of course, Karnage’s scheming has me gravely concerned that a certain event will come to pass…”

“And what’s that?”

“I can’t say yet. What I will say is that Karnage pursuing ULTRAMagic will be disastrous for us all.”

Tusk did not like the sound of that. “Should we stop him then?”

“That’s the part that worries me. I have no idea. I want to, but Leif asked me not to. Tusk, Blood-Wraith is Leif’s successor. Do you know what that means?”

“Do I want to know?”

“It means that Leif has plans for him, even if they get a bit messy.”

Tusk groaned and shuddered. “I hate it when things get uncertain like this…”

“Ha, how do you think I feel?”

The tension was broken by Ealdhelm, as he could sense what they were discussing. He knew it too. “You two look uneasy. Come on over and join the conversation.”

Tusk and Ultimatum looked at each other and nodded. They needed to get their minds off of the future, so they scooted over to the group. Mizuki asked what was up, leading to the two replying that it was complicated. It was definitely a bit concerning, given that she was going to be potentially joining the guild soon. Ealdhelm wanted to say something to comfort the pair, but he was at a loss just like Ultimatum. Regardless, the rest of the meal went well.

That night, Tusk, Razor, and Mizuki were invited to stay at the monastery of the arbiters. It sat atop an artificial, forested hill in the far north of the city (which was no problem to travel to given the power of the arbiters). Ealdhelm was planning to switch operations to the monastery, so it made sense to have the three sleep there. Plus the cozy, impenetrable nature of the monastery made everyone feel more secure. As for Tusk, it was a wonderful trip down memory lane.

The next morning was fairly calm as it was a day to rest up while Ealdhelm finalized everything. Tusk this opportunity to show Razor and Mizuki around. The monastery was quite fascinating, having traditional, wooden architecture that blended with the techno-organic nature of Droomopolis. Seeing the arbiters in a more casual setting was also fascinating for Razor and Mizuki. Despite their immense power, they felt like regular people. Eventually Tusk brought the two to one of the zen gardens to relax and have some lunch. The garden surprised Mizuki as it had grass and flowers as opposed to something like sand and rocks.

“Training here was quite the privilege,” Tusk said as he looked up at the old oak, reminiscing. “I really hope the arbiters can go back to that.”

“Hey, Tusk?” Razor asked as he flipped through a book he had borrowed. “I was reading about ULTRAMAgic. Is it really this complicated? I’m a little concerned when it talks about stuff like over exerting oneself.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Razor. That’s more directed at people from the Cosmos Proper…” Mizuki raised an eyebrow. “...who haven’t had proper training beforehand.”

Razor nodded. “I see. Still, I’m worried about my energy. We wolves eat a lot, you know?”

“Have you had any problems yet?” Tusk questioned.

“No, just a little more hungry at mealtime.”

“The key is to not go overboard with your magic. Just because you’re more powerful does not mean you're invincible…”

“What about Blood-Wraith though? I’ve heard he’s been going crazy with his powers.”

Tusk paused. “Blood is a special case even I’m not sure of.”

“Perhaps he’s meant to have ULTRAMagic?” Mizuki suggested.

“Well obviously considering he was created to stop The Lich, return Deimos to his body, and shake things up enough for Shadowland to break free of Milosh’s clutches. Sometimes I wonder if whoever truly created him just gave him ULTRAMagic by default and the fragments were just there to unlock abilities he already had…”

“Would you be surprised if that was the case given his origins?” a voice asked.

This startled Tusk. “Cyneberht! Where did you come from?”

He chuckled. “Waltheof and I would like to speak to you, if you have a moment. You’re welcome to come too, Razor and Mizuki.”

“Sure,” Razor replied. “It’d get me away from this book.” Out of courtesy, Cyneberht snapped his fingers, teleporting the book back to where it came from.

Mizuki also stood up. “That would be nice. What shall we be discussing?”

Cyneberht began to lead them towards Waltheof’s room. “This and that, relating to the arbiters. Given all of the hullabaloo with Wulfric, it feels good to talk about to outsiders and get fresh perspectives.”

Tusk moved his jaw back and forth. “I’m going to assume this is in regards to Ealdhelm and his rapport with Adelheid last night.”

“Very astute, Tusk. I’ll admit that there is some context and concerns we’d like to talk about to you. I figure since he’s your godfather, you deserve to know.”

Tusk nodded. “Given that relationships have never been his strong suit, I’d say yes. I’ll admit my memory is a bit fuzzy though.”

“Ealdhelm has been single?” Mizuki wondered. “That’s surprising.”

“Love and romance has not been a concern for the arbiters” Cyneberht explained. “This was until Ealdhelm witnessed the union of Wulfric and Delphine, however.”

Razor had a good idea of what was going on. “Oh, so he wants some of that, helped by realizing he doesn’t have his own kid thanks to Tusk.”

“A very good deduction, Razor” Cyneberht complimented. “I must admit that I’ve begun to yearn for such a relationship myself. A fair lady in the upper class district has stolen my heart, so it would behoove us to finish this conflict of ours as soon as possible.”

Next: Chapter 6

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[casspurrjoybell-27]

In a Heartbeat - Chapter 34 - Part 1

*Warning - Adult Content*

Simon

"Is it true, what Chase said?" I brought the subject up to Vince one night.

It had caught him off guard, given we've really only made small talk for the past two weeks.

"About your wolf?"

"Huh?" was his reply, as he seemed to completely forget what I was referring to but who could blame him.

Most days, I hung around Xavier, either cleaning or cooking with the maids and cooks within the pack-house.

To some, it might've seemed like I was avoiding Vince for the past two weeks.

It wasn't like I actively avoided him but it was easier to just hang out with Xavier or Aspen.

Sure, Vince would occasionally bump into us, telling us we looked crazy for doing chores but I insisted it kept us busy.

I wasn't just going to spend all day holed up in his room or laying around doing nothing.

I'd just be a burden and a deadweight if I did and I enjoyed helping out.

It kept my mind busy, away from dwelling on the fact that I had been living with Vince for the past few weeks.

Being busy kept me from thinking too much, and it was probably the only reason I had tolerated our situation for this long.

Of course, it was always awkward being in the same room and at night it was a wonder how he was putting up with me and my nervous antics and quite honestly, I was surprised it had lasted this long to begin with and Vince was sleeping in his own bed again.

No more awful cot to sleep on for him.

He had complained about it incessantly, even though I told him he didn't have to.

I'd wait for him to fully fall asleep before I could even close my eyes but it was progress, as slow as it was.

So bringing up what Chase said probably sounded so out of the blue but I needed to know.

The past few days I had been thinking about the pills Chase had given me, thinking about how Vince had become so dependent on it that it may have had lasting impacts on his wolf and if his wolf truly was dying, where would that leave him or me?

Would he really go insane?

Would I end up like their mother?

But I already knew the answer, it was just a matter of when or if it could be reversed.

"Your wolf," I reiterated.

"Is your wolf dying?"

He blinked before shrugging.

"I don't know. Fuck, what does it matter?"

He turned around and started to pull his shirt over his head.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Vince..."

"Look," he turned back to face me, his features taut as his lip threatened to show his teeth.

"I don't know what your game is, alright? Why does it matter?"

I bit my lip before stepping closer to him, summoning all my courage to be firm with my words.

"Chase told you what would happen. You really can't feel him, can you?"

He scoffed at my question.

"Of course I can feel his annoying ass."

"But hardly," I muttered out without thinking, finding it hard to meet his glare now.

"You don't know shit," he sneered, his voice raised a bit.

"How could you possibly know what I feel?"

I immediately thought of the one time I could feel his wolf in over sixteen years.

During his fight with Michael.

How desperate his wolf was during that time and how free he felt for the time being and then I remembered when I had first found out about Vince being my mate.

The pull of the bond pulling our wolves together, the incessant whining and demands to get closer no matter how far apart we were.

It had been before he started those suppressants, his wolf free from the oppression of those stupid pills.

His wolf was at full strength then and when I had reached out to Vince, touching his arm, it was a feeling I couldn't describe.

The sparks I felt, the sense of peace and euphoria that washed over me and my wolf was a feeling I thought would last forever.

It was a brief moment.

Maybe a mere few seconds, until Vince had jerked away and his bout of rage and wrath took over but those few seconds had been the best feeling in the world and I wanted more.

So I knew exactly what it felt.

Even being a couple of feet away, I couldn't sense his wolf at all, when back then, I could feel the pull from miles away.

Back then it felt like a taut piece of string had connected us, while now it was so loose, that even pulling at it felt like there was nothing there on the other end.

"I've felt him before," I informed him, looking up but only as far as to his chin, not feeling confident enough to meet his eyes like I had before.

"And then when you were fighting Michael."

"You saw that?"

"Yes but he was weaker than before."

I frowned.

"And now I can barely feel him at all."

He didn't say anything at first.

Then ran a hand through his hair.

"So, what? You're going to fix him?"

I ignored his comment, trying to find a way to get him to see reason.

If not for me, at least push him to do something right for his wolf.

So despite the protest and overwhelming nerves and bouts of anxiety, I reached forward, shortening the distance between us as I placed my hand on his chest, right above his heart.

Just like it had in the conference room, his skin seemed to burn and I had to force myself to keep it placed there.

I stared straight ahead, afraid to look up and see what kind of expression he might have on his face.

Hell, I was surprised he hadn't jerked away at this point, instead, standing incredibly still, only the hairs on his arms had moved, standing straight up.

I waited, hoping that whatever ounce of the bond was left could be felt, the slight tug of the string between us, that at such a close distance I hoped could be felt again.

That sense of peace I felt so long ago was something I yearned for.

Just to calm the nerves, to even ease my racing thoughts a fraction would be a blessing but nothing happened.

Closing my eyes, I focused entirely on searching for anything, letting my wolf come to the surface beside me.

We stood there for what felt like hours, as I tried to ignore the pounding of my heart in my chest, listening for anything that would indicate Vince's wolf was there and then there was something.

Like a slight hold of the other end of the frayed string and a low hum. It didn't tug or pull but I could sense something there at the other end.

My wolf whimpered, the presence of Vince's wolf seemingly miles away.

So muted and distant that I wasn't sure if he could even sense us back.

Then the fear was back.

Was there even a chance of redeeming him back?

Could Vince even reverse the damage he's done?

Would I ever feel that feeling again?

This time, I jerked my hand away from him, mumbling some half-hearted apology, before slowly looking up at his expression, wondering if it would hold the same disdain as the last time.

Luckily, it wasn't disdain, more like a confused, maybe even an annoyed look.

At some point I said out loud...

"He's still there, barely."

"See, he's not dead."

He didn't get it, still didn't get it.

"If it wasn't for my wolf, I'd be dead a long time ago," I told him, thinking about all the times I'd wake up in a pile of blood, all the scars I carried on my arms.

The scars from rogue attacks, even the scar on my hip from crashing into Sam's car.

If I had lost my wolf, those all could've killed me easily.

He huffed, before sitting at the edge of the bed unamused.

"Your point being?"

"Maybe Chase is right," I said.

"Maybe I can help you, with your wolf."

"And if you can't?"

I gulped.

There was a good chance I wouldn't be able to.

A lot of it rested on Vince's part, lowering his doses, having the will to try too but if I didn't try, then the chances to feel the way I did back then really was zero and if it meant just a fraction of a percent chance of making things right, it would be worth it.

"Well, at least we can say we tried."

I frowned, looking toward the bags on the floor.

"And if it doesn't work, I guess I'll stay out of your life for good. Whatever and wherever that means."

"Fine by me," he mumbled before heading to the bathroom to shower.