#i should start a tag for disability talk

[ruegarding]

hi its tumblr user aroaceleovaldez (sideblog so cant send an ask from it) just wanted to say. love the tags you left on my post. thank you for the statistics about adhd/dyslexia mentions in HoO because i was also curious about that and complain about it frequently and. holy fuck! holy fuck. i am enthusiastically shaking your hand while also staring at HoO in horror. I've been meaning to go comb through TOA with a similar goal cause i know the lack of disability in that is Even Worse but seeing the actual stats from HoO now makes me afraid. also 100% agree about the rest of the tags. anyways always lovely to see your commentary in my notifs thank u for your excellent takes as per usual. i am gonna go stare at a wall for a bit or something now while i think about those stats.

hi! thank you!!!

the statistics for hoo shocked me to my core honestly i'll have to clean up the post (edit: here) (there's a lot of me going WTF which is why it's still in my drafts lol) bc i have a lot to say abt it.

i was so flabbergasted by the dyslexia specifically that i legitimately control f'ed "read" and "write" to see if there were any hidden (but still obvious) references to dyslexia in the series and. nope! the only bright spot there was jason needing glasses.

godspeed if u ever go thru toa. i remember i did a quick sweep thru (just searching "adhd" and "dyslexia") when compiling my post for hoo and um. well, let's just say it did not hit the double digits.

[uncanny-tranny]

I'm still thinking about how ashamed I was (and am) with being open about my pain because I am so young. It's so hard to feel worthy of having your pain taken seriously when the people around you insist that young bodies are always in pristine, untouched condition and that you must earn your pain through aging. Never is it considered that young people aren't lying or being a hypochondriac for expressing their pain.

Young people can be in life-altering pain. Young people can have debilitating pain. It doesn't matter what age it happens because pain doesn't discriminate. Complaining about pain and doing things to prevent needless pain aren't something you have to "earn" through aging.

If you want young people to be in less or lesser pain, then encourage them to do whatever they can to minimize it. Don't downplay what they're experiencing. Not everything is a lie, not every experience that is different than yours is exaggeration or deceit.

[deoidesign]

I’m a trans man that recently got diagnosed with hyper mobile eds, so now seeing Steve makes me extra happy, because cool disabled ftm rep. Thanks for making the radical dude bro, he’s funky.

same disability (waving hand emoji)

Always extremely fulfilling to know my work makes people happy in some small way, it means a lot. Thank you for sharing with me

[ominous-feychild]

Genuinely this is so important though. Like, it's a silent sign (pun unintended) of respect to those who aren't capable of speaking. I mean, sure, they can write stuff down or type things into a phone and show you what they want to say. Sure, they CAN do that!

But imagine, you're constantly in a place where everyone is running ahead of you and you can't catch up. Most people don't have the patience for you, won't slow down to keep up or roll their eyes when they do take the time out of their lives to stick around. Because, oh, they're being nice to go out of their way to talk to you. They want to be running ahead, not staying in a jog like you! Or they don't do any of that, maybe they genuinely don't mind jogging to chat! But you still have that little voice in your head telling you that they're annoyed with you, that they're just like everyone else but are just better at hiding it.

That ^^^ is the best analogy I can think of for what it's like to be unable to "speak normally". Because most people unfortunately aren't understanding, they don't care to accommodate you or their "accommodations" are to pat themselves on the back for being "a good person" rather than to just... talk to you.

Speaking back to someone in their native language--in this case sign language for people who are mute or possibly deaf--is such a gesture of familiarity and kindness. It's "hey, I get it." "Hey, I'm like you!" and/or "hey, maybe I'm not like you, but I care enough about you or your struggles that I'm going to learn your language to be able to communicate with you the way you are most comfortable with."

To disclaim, I'm neither deaf nor mute--just autistic. I go nonverbal a lot more than I think the people around me realize, but in my case I'm technically "able to still speak", it just comes out as a stutter and it's really hard to raise my voice. The stutter can get so bad that it takes several attempts to get out a single sentence, but I get it out because like... I have to. People watch me with that disapproving "what's taking you so long? Spit it out." look, or they'll refuse to try to understand my gestures, or they'll refuse to show they understand my gestures, or they'll just... roll their eyes when I try typing things into my phone to show them what I want to say instead.

My point is, just try to be understanding of people who have trouble speaking. Be supportive. If someone you care about speaks sign language, try to learn it to show you care about them. If someone you care about has another method of "speaking", ask them if they would like it if you joined them in it! Even those tiny things would mean a lot to us.

Benefits of knowing sign language:

knowing another language

even if it’s just one person that learns, it makes it so much easier for deaf people

being able to talk in places where you’re supposed to be quiet 👇

libraries

assemblies, concerts, plays

when the teacher says to be quiet

when your parents tell you to stop talking with your siblings

at night

when you’re sick or lose your voice

so helpful for noverbal people

talking about things without other people understanding

Literally, it’s so useful. Everyone should learn sign language.

[bamber344]

i really wish i could do that big stretch people do when they put their arms over their heads but unfortunately my shoulder joint is weak and i could dislocate my shoulder simply by doing that

on the other hand it does give me the ability to do the funniest possible thing if i want to get out of a situation at any point

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hey!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. A prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to imply that a character is two-faced but mostly just signals that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that. I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different. A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here) - maybe it will give you some ideas.

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way. A fav of mine.) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor. I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed.

[notjustjavierpena]

Peek

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Haven’t written about these two for a while! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Joel finds an excuse to get out of watching the Olympics but only so he can go upstairs and find you getting ready to go out while listening to the summer’s biggest album.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, basically pwp, dad’s best friend, age gap, immorality kink, dirty talk, groping, fingering, possessive behavior. pet names, Daddy kink, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, anal threat, creampie, y2k vibes, brat summer

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58023772

Peek

The TV is loud in your father's living room as the Olympics are on but Joel can concentrate on nothing but the thought of you being upstairs even if he had looked forward to seeing the competition in gymnastics this afternoon. He is here because it is tradition to watch whatever sports are on during the summer with your father, his best friend, but nothing feels the same since he started seeing you behind his mate’s back.

Carefully, he shifts his weight on the leather couch cushion, the heat of Texas making the material stick uncomfortably to the slightly exposed skin of his thighs. It creaks as he changes his position, leaning forward to grab his near-empty beer and sneak a look at your dad out of the corner of his eye. He tries to figure out if he knows that Joel has had his face buried between his daughter’s thighs just yesterday but he doesn’t even flinch, too absorbed in the intricate routine on the screen.

He leans back again and takes a long sip of the bottle in his hand, emptying it in case he has to think of a reply to a sudden question about you. It doesn’t come but instead, he receives a raised brow.

“You sure are thirsty there, Miller,” he says with a gentle grin, playful and normal in everything he does so that Joel may relax a little more. He laughs with embarrassment in return, a blush of guilt that he hopes is taken as shame creeping up from under the neck of his t-shirt.

“Hot day,” he answers simply. He covers up his train of thought with a conversation, “Did you see that landing? That was something else.”

Your father seems satisfied with that answer to the degree where he turns back to the television, “And that dismount. They’re gettin’ better and better each year.”

Joel follows his line of sight, fixated upon the tight suit of a female gymnast, and chuckles under his breath. He puts the bottle back on the coffee table, knowing he is no better than that; he can almost hear your soft laughter from upstairs as you chat with someone on the phone, can almost feel the warmth of your gorgeous body against his. This push and pull between what he should do and what he wants to do is slowly driving him to insanity.

Your father slaps the armrest in excitement as another woman does her routine without faltering, “Did you see that? Gold medal for sure.”

“Yes,” Joel lies like he has gotten so good at lately, for the first time in his entire life not very interested in sports, “Best thing I’ve seen so far, think you’re right.”

He is more busy with thinking about how to act in case you make your way downstairs, wearing a cute sundress and smiling at him like you always do but still in a way that it took him way too long to notice. He hopes you might give him the thrill of making an appearance soon.

During commercial break, your father gets up from the couch to get more beers from the kitchen and Joel has time to glance towards the stairs. He cranes his neck to see if you are standing at the top but he is left disappointed, left to imagine what you are doing upstairs in your childhood bedroom with the Hello Kitty computer mat. He remembers the way your tits were pressed against it the first time he fucked you and shamelessly hopes he’ll get to have you in this house again just once before summer ends. Perhaps today? No, he shouldn’t want to do anything with you in this house.

Time passes. Nothing happens. It’s with relief and disappointment that he concludes that he won’t see you, with a smile as he is handed another cold beer to not quite quench his thirst.

“Five more routines to go,” your father says with his glasses resting on the tip of his nose as he looks through the program on his phone, “Sprints later. Always exciting.”

“No volleyball?” Joel hates himself for joking with a wink.

“Not watching women in tiny shorts, are we?” Joel nearly jumps at the sudden sound of your voice, blushing at his own distasteful joke, “Didn’t know you were a pervert, Mr. Miller.”

“Mind your own business, you,” your father tuts with his eyes on his phone. It takes a moment before he glances over the back of the couch, giving Joel’s own eyes a second to stare at you while he clenches his jaw at the sight of your white sundress, tied in around your waist. You look radiant, pure, and forbidden. He wants to reach out to touch the bit of your thigh that peeks out.

“Another shitty day for women,” you roll your eyes teasingly and nudge him playfully in a way that sends electricity through his entire being. However, Joel tenses up at hearing you use foul language, an inside rule between you that he cannot tell you that you’ve broken.

Your father says your name in disapproval and glances apologetically at him, “Where did you learn to talk like that? Sure as heck ain’t from me. The kids you’re hanging out with tonight?”

Joel’s grip tightens on the couch as you giggle sweetly, the sound enchanting him to the point where he thinks of everything off-putting that he can come up with so his cock might flag again. He hopes it doesn’t strain against the loose fabric of his shorts. You are doing this on purpose, teasing him relentlessly now that he can do nothing about it, and he is so turned on that it makes him feel ill.

“Oh, you old man. You can’t keep me in line anymore. I’m over 21; I can do whatever I want,” you stand behind the couch and wrap your arms around your father, kissing his cheek from behind. Joel looks at the way your ass sticks out, quickly catching himself ogling when your father’s eyes fix on him with embarrassment.

“She’s incorrigible,” he says with resignation, patting the hand that you rest on his shoulder. Joel can only imagine what would happen if your dad knew what he was thinking about.

“I can imagine her being her own boss,” he laughs to make himself feel less like a creep but doesn’t quite succeed when your dad joins in.

“Why are you here?” Joel hears him finally say.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” you begin, pulling back a little to look at your father properly, “Can I borrow the car?”

He frowns for a moment but then nods, “Alright but be careful.”

“Always am, thank you, Dad. Love you,” you peck his cheek again to feel him smile, stretching to your full height. The wind blows in from the door to the garden and Joel catches a sniff of your perfume as you leave the living room, “I’ll go change now. See you, Dad! Joel!”

You disappear upstairs again and the atmosphere shifts significantly. Your absence sends him into small talk with your father, going over the usual topics of work, sports, and family. He tells your dad about a big upcoming project, that Sarah’s doing well at college, and that he actually never really cared much for cycling despite it being a massive hit each time the Olympics are held.

“Actually, I might head up for a sec,” he says when thoughts of you have raged long enough in his mind, making him shift in his seat before pushing himself to stand. He is too curious about seeing you, too desperate to have you alone, “Nature’s calling, and I can’t wait for the commercials.”

Your father chuckles, eyes still glued to the television where they are handing out medals, “Sure thing, Joel. You know where it is. Tell my offspring to get out if she’s barricaded the door.”

Joel nods, giving a relieved smile, and quickly makes his way upstairs. His heart pounds with the anticipation of the moment ahead. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hesitates briefly, listening for any sound of where you might be, and sure enough, he hears the faint hum of music coming from the bathroom and walks towards it.

Without knocking, he opens the bathroom door and finds you in front of the mirror, applying makeup to a song that he has never heard. The sight of you makes his erection come right back; you have changed into a pleated miniskirt that stops way above your knees, making the skin where your thighs meet your ass peek out. Above the waistline, he can see the waistband of your pink underwear and he has to adjust himself in his shorts.

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” He demands to know, shutting the door behind him with a click. The music fades to the background as you wiggle your hips automatically.

You look up from your lips, catching his eye in the mirror, and smile sweetly while applying lip gloss. The color makes your lips seem plumper, the shine most likely to accentuate your cupid’s bow if you were to stretch your lips around his cock. You look away again, purposely acting like a brat, “Out with friends. No boys allowed.”

“Seems like you’re dressed to impress someone,” he retorts. If you were to check him out again, you would see the way his eyes are going down your intoxicating figure. He stops at your ankles, knowing how you would be standing on your toes if he touched you between your legs, before going all the way up to your face again.

You snap the lid of the lipgloss closed with a click and place it on the counter. You grab the edge with both hands, still looking at him through the mirror, “Did it ever occur to you that I might be dressed to impress you, Daddy?”

Joel does a sharp intake of air at hearing his nickname. He takes a step closer and you allow him. Without a second thought, he places his hands on your gorgeous hips and squeezes until your giggles make the upbeat song sound like garbage, “You’ll have me thinking about you all night with this skirt, kiddo. I’m not sure I’ll have it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’ll feel your menacing presence all night?” You grin playfully, making a show of arching your back the way you sometimes do when he hits the right spot inside of you.

“I should run behind you to make sure you don’t expose your pretty pussy to strangers,” Joel lets his dominant hand slide down your thigh until he can clutch the fabric of your miniskirt. He pulls it down roughly to stress his point, covering you up as much as he can.

“You’re pulling it the wrong way, Daddy,” you tell him with a bratty grin, chewing your bottom lip to play innocent, “Don’t you want to have a peek? I’ll let you see up under it.”

“Daddy can’t promise only a peek,” he replies, making a point of his words by letting his bulge graze your ass. You push back into him to allow him whatever he wants without saying it explicitly, earning a moan that’s loud enough for you to reach for the small Bluetooth speaker and increase the volume a little. Your father must question the noise but he hopes that he simply thinks you’ve gone to your bedroom instead, letting the door stay open.

“What the hell is this garbage music?” Joel asks as he steps back to allow you to reach back effortlessly. You reach behind you to grip the hem of your skirt, lifting it with deliberate slowness. It is a teasing gesture, more about the act itself than the reveal of your lacy underwear that clings to your cunt and gives him the perfect outline.

“Stop sounding ancient,” you tease, shifting your weight from one foot to the other to strut your ass. You’re leaning forward a little to be more appealing, so easy to push forward so you have to grip the sink.

“You’re making it sound like a problem, Princess,” he replies with a chuckle. Yes, he could shove you down onto the counter but he chooses to finger the crotch of your barely-covering panties. You don’t seem to have predicted that he would actually dare to touch you in your father’s house, so you fall forward when he pulls your underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into your wet slit. He smiles tauntingly at you in the mirror, “Don’t act like you don’t cream yourself over older men like me or we wouldn’t be in this mess together.”

“What are you doing?” You ask with your glossy mouth hanging open. He turns his wrist to press against your g-spot and sure enough, you’re already on your toes with a filthy moan tumbling out your mouth. He admires the way you always manage to look stupid and cute when he touches you, and he notices that whenever he doesn’t pump his fingers inside of you, you fuck yourself onto them.

“I ain’t doing nothing,” he says casually and slowly drags his two fingers over the spot that belongs to him, the spot he always searches for and likes to stay on. The song is horrible for fucking but it’s loud enough that you can’t be heard downstairs and quiet enough that he can hear the wet squelch when he goes a little faster, “I’m just giving you something to remember me by when you’re showing your pussy to the whole world.”

“That’s not… Joel,” you say his name and he almost believes that you want him to stop but then you arch your back just how he likes and he slips his thumb between your folds to rub your clit. He has your cunt in an iron grip, flicking his wrist repeatedly to see beads of slick threatening to drip onto the tiled floor.

“Nuh-uh,” he sternly says and halts just a few seconds, “You don’t get to call me that when I hear you use your potty mouth around here. Who do you answer to?”

“You, Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whine and earn added pressure to your clit. You keen but then the song ends, and the both of you hold your breath for a moment. Courageously, you whisper, “He’ll hear.”

“Not if you shut your mouth,” Joel barks quietly back, relieved when another annoying pop song comes out of the speaker. He catches the pout on your lips in the mirror, the fake offense on your face that has his dick throbbing in his shorts. He needs to fuck you soon, hasn’t got a long time to do it before your father will get suspicious of what he is up to, but he won’t shove his cock in you before you have begged him to do it.

Then the line comes with a breathless moan, “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

Oh, so that’s the card you want to play to get fucked. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his knuckles brush your ass, avoiding your g-spot altogether, and practically lifts you on his digits. Your whole chest lays down over the sink and counter, your whole weight on your front instead of on your toes. It must hurt but not more than a dull ache when he pays attention to your clit as he does it.

“I sure as fuck shouldn’t but I didn’t think I’d find you dressed like a little cockhungry girl in here,” he tuts and abuses your perfect cunt. God, it sounds like he is splashing with water by now.

“I-I should be with someone my own age,” your voice shakes, your walls start to pulse slowly around him. It becomes hard for you to continue your chastising, ”God, you feel so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Ancient Daddy should pull out his fingers and fuck you while you’re on the verge of coming for him?” Joel mocks. He pushes down and drags the pads of his fingers against your front wall on the way out. His fingers are white with your creamy slick. He smears it over your quivering slit, talking softly while you are almost cross-eyed, “I need you, baby. Daddy has to do it even though it’s wrong.”

“No,” you protest but don’t mean it. You look back at the sound of his shorts being pulled down, whimpering feebly as his hard cock comes into your view.

“Yes, sweetheart, I gotta,” he holds the base of his cock in his hand, slowly dragging the tip through your messy folds. He pushes against your ass first, chuckling darkly when you tense up and shake your head. He teases you, “No? That’s not where you want it? Don’t want to get ass-fucked with your old man downstairs? This skirt surely tells me you like taking it up the ass.”

“N-no,” you let your head hang between your shoulders, exhaling shakily, “I want it in my pussy, Daddy. Please. Until you come inside.”

Joel gives in when you ask so nicely. He presses the head against where you need it the most, slowly letting your warm walls engulf his length while you release a relieved breath. He growls from low in his throat as he buries himself deep inside, touching where his fingers have been just moments before.

“You sure change your mind quickly, baby,” he points out after starting a rough rhythm that makes his thighs smack into your ass, the crotch of your panties straining against your cheek that bounces in rhythm with his thrusts. He settles his hands on your hips, dragging you onto his cock as much as he spears you onto it, “First you say no, and now you wanna get bred? What happened to my good girl?”

“I know it’s bad but it feels so good,” you pant softly, nearly sounding animated with how you moan and groan. You’ve reached to grope your tits through your lime green top, caressing yourself greedily as you are drowned out by some lady singing about Von Dutch, “Don’t stop, Daddy, please don’t stop.”

“Fucking hate this song,” Joel grumbles breathlessly while he keeps a steady pace, nudging something just right inside of you because you fly forwards, “Don’t tell me you’ll go out dancing to this.”

“I’ll come to it,” you groan, sucking in a breath as you start to squeeze around his girth, “Gonna come.”

“Give it to me,” he demands with heavy breathing. He lets one of his hands slide up your spine until it sits on your neck. He tilts his hips forward so he can pound you, rewarded with a squeak that he finds adorable.

Suddenly, the room goes completely quiet. The both of you turn your heads towards the speaker, noting at the same moment that its battery has run out and the possibility of getting heard has upped dramatically.

None of you say a word. Joel even tries to stop his heavy breathing, putting pressure on the back of your head when you squeeze him by wriggling slightly. He makes a quiet noise of disapproval, “Stop it.”

“We aren’t done,” you whisper with a wounded whimper. You try to fuck yourself onto him, “Daddy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he bites, listening for potential footsteps that could lead to his doom. Instead, he hears your father cheer in reaction to something on the television. Should he? He can’t go downstairs again with a raging hard-on and there’s no way in hell that he is jerking off in here alone like some perverse madman. He makes a decision.

Leaning down over your very still frame, he catches onto the tears that have welled up in your eyes and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck a load into you and you’re gonna be quiet all the way through, got it?”

You nod frantically. Joel’s hand on your hip tightens and he pushes to stretch to his full height again. He bottoms out inside of you, “If you can do that, I’ll let you come on it, okay?”

You nod again, pushing back eagerly to impossibly swallow more of him. With determination and efficiency, he draws back and slams into you with all the muscles in his neck straining to keep quiet. You feel like you have been molded into a perfect sleeve for his cock, like he couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever live up to what you are giving him right now; cheeks bouncing, spine arching, and walls clenching as you teeter on your high.

You come with a tiny whine that he’ll allow and he comes right along with you, high on the danger and the fact that you belong to him so desperately. He manages to just sound like he is doing a sharp intake of air, hinting at a growl, before he fills you with his warm seed, each pulse of your soft muscles milking him dry.

It is a dangerously addictive sensation. He pumps in and out of you until he is too sensitive, slipping out of your used cunt so he can see the drip of his load. He stumbles backward, tucks himself, sticky and overstimulated, back into his shorts, and watches you pull down your underwear and move to the toilet to not spill all over the floor.

You sport a lazy little smile, satisfaction all over your face. It dawns on him what he has done - the deprivation of it - so he tries to distract the feelings of disgust that he has towards himself, “Why are you going out anyway?”

You are both still panting. He grabs onto the sink to steady himself, feeling old as he leans against it while you pee, your knees falling inwards so you look innocent compared to what you have just done together.

“Getting a tattoo,” you reply with a dirty little smile.

That surely changes Joel’s train of thought. He straightens a little, “Of what?”

“Don’t know yet but I’ll tell you where,” you reach to point to your hip bone, measuring about an inch with your thumb and index finger. You beam girlishly at him and he feels his chest tighten with affection, “Right here. Cute, right?”

“Cute,” he manages to say as his mind automatically imagines it right there on your hip but the word comes out a little rougher than intended. He is let in on a little secret that only a few will be allowed to see. Perhaps, he’ll be the one who gets to be the very first to see it, or maybe the one who gets to be the closest.

You finish, wipe yourself, and wash your hands. Then once again, you are close to him but this time it is chest to chest. You link your arms around him, leaning close, “Perhaps I’ll get something that reminds me of that one time I hooked up with Joel Miller, my dad’s best friend.”

“Dangerous game you are playing,” Joel reaches down to graze the spot on your hip with his thumb. He is so into you that it is ridiculous, smirking as you bat your eyelashes at him and filling him with youthful energy that he remembers from crushes in his teenage days. The idea of you marking yourself for him has his head in a spin and has his cock stirring again.

“What can I say? I’m a brat,” you shrug with a grin and when you both hear your father shout at the TV again, you grin with your tongue in your cheek. Yes, you are.

“Oh, babydoll, you make me wanna kiss you,” he almost growls as he leans into you, eyes focused on your cute glossy lips as he tries to capture them despite knowing that he won’t be allowed to touch them.

“Nope, not the gloss,” you tease and gently push him away on his chest. When he tries again, you hold your hand over his mouth and he groans against your soft fingers like from not getting his way. You grin, eyes shining with affection, “Now get out so I can clean myself up. And don’t tell my dad about the tattoo.”

“Fine,” Joel gives you one last lingering look, squeezing your hip before pulling away. He leaves the bathroom reluctantly, stepping backward as he walks out the door to keep his eyes on. You roll your eyes at him without being able to stop smiling.

When he is out in the hallway again, he heads back down the stairs and into the living room. He pats the back of the sofa to make himself known in the room once more, startling your father slightly.

“There you are,” he says, watching Joel walk around the sofa, “What took you so long?”

“Got talking with your kid,” he answers as casually as he can muster. However, your father seems to be completely disinterested in whatever he has been doing upstairs.

“What? Oh, yeah. At least you got her to turn off that awful noise she calls music. Come on, you’ll miss the final run,” he says obliviously, and so Joel joins him in the chair opposite his couch to make sure he doesn’t smell how he probably reeks of sex.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[alexanderwales]

One of the things they went over when I took linguistics was the "euphemism treadmill", the tendency of initially-clinical or neutral words to undergo pejoration to the point that someone felt the need to replace the pejorated word with one that was clinical or neutral. And then of course the process of pejoration would start again.

The best example of this were words related to what we now call intellectual disability. In the past, "idiot", "simpleton", "moron", "feeble-minded", and "imbecile" were all relatively clinical terms. (This is one of those things that's often repeated, but if you go looking at newspapers from the 1920s, you do kind of wonder whether the negative connotations were just completely acceptable then, especially when they're talking about the successes of sterilizing the feeble-minded.)

The reason that pejoration happens is that while the word changes, the societal attitude toward the underlying thing most often does not, and so if they change the word and declare that this new word is totally neutral, then society's negative view is just going to keep making those words take on bad connotations. This will happen even with the most anodyne descriptions, like "mentally handicapped", which Google will inform you with a little warning is offensive and dated.

The linguistics class I took in the early 2000s spent a little time on the word "retarded", which by then was well on its way to complete pejoration (federal law was changed in 2010, from "mental retardation" to "intellectual disability"), but had not reached the point when it was "the r-slur". If I recall correctly, this was when "mentally handicapped" was still relatively in vogue, and sitting in that classroom I had thought that "retard" was going to go the way of "moron", a word that was used exclusively in a disparaging way. I thought it would be about as acceptable as calling someone an imbecile, I guess, which is impolite but which doesn't rise to the level of "slur".

But no, I was wrong. The euphemism treadmill will probably continue because we have not done anything about the underlying condition (that people with intellectual disabilities are less valued and looked down on), but "retard" has now become a slur, even if every other fucking word for low intelligence is still in common use as a disparagement.

It's wild how much you can see people dancing around this. I said above that Google gives an "offensive and outdated" tag to the term "mentally handicapped", but they also give that to "retarded". However, if you go to "imbecile" they don't give that tag. To save you the trouble of looking it up:

noun: imbecile; plural noun: imbeciles

a stupid person.

archaic a person of low intelligence.

Ah, lovely. So it's okay, because it just means "a stupid person", it used to mean "a person of low intelligence", but it doesn't mean that any more, so ... not offensive, I guess?

Except hold on, what does "stupid" mean again?

adjective: stupid; comparative adjective: stupider; superlative adjective: stupidest

having or showing a great lack of intelligence or common sense.

Oh, okay, I see. So in the archaic sense "imbecile" meant a person of low intelligence, but now it means a person who has a lack of intelligence. Totally different, very understandable. Nevermind that "imbecile" was pejorated in the same way that "retard" was, and that using a negative word to refer to someone who is lacking intelligence is basically the same thing.

I think if you want to fight against the pejorative use of the word "retard", you should probably be fighting against a lot more words, and you should definitely be fighting against the societal view that people with lower intelligence are lesser. You can fight the language issue all you want, but it's just going to lead to more cycles of pejoration. There's no way that switching over to saying "person with a learning disability" (as it seems the UK bureaucrats now favor) is going to somehow end it.

Personally, I'm the kind of person who just goes with the flow. I think people with intellectual disabilities are just as much people as anyone else, deserving of care and compassion, but I also value intelligence at least as much as my surrounding society does, and while I do make attempts to temper my language, saying that an idea is stupid rather than casting contempt on a person who is stupid, that's a mighty fine line to tow, and ... people just don't care. If I call a politician a moron, no one will bat an eye. I will refrain from saying the r-word, because people get mad at you when you do that. I think if I got hit in the head tomorrow and became intellectually disabled, I would be more or less happy with this.

I don't have a strong principled stance, more a stance of "come on, what are we doing here". Euphemism treadmill goes brrrr, language gonna language, I just wish the whole linguistic and social process didn't feel like some out of control machine that wasn't actually doing anything for anyone, and that people would pay more attention to the underlying mechanisms for how/why pejoration actually works. Changing the word is not going to usher in an era of understanding and equality, we've proven that, haven't we?

[italian-lit-tournament]

Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[royalarchivist]

Ramon had a cute idea for the Huevitos (members of Fit's community) to fill the #ramonbday tag with art and kind messages so he can show them to Fit for his birthday (February 1st), so here's my contribution! I have over 800 Fit-related clips, so it was hard to choose just a few fun moments from stream :'D

Even though the QSMP server won't be open until February 3rd, we still have a few more days to share messages, art, etc. – so if you'd like to post something for Ramon to potentially include in Fit's birthday surprise, make sure to post it by January 31st and use the tag #ramonbday!

[ Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

–

Fit: I can't believe I'm a homosexual now.

–

FitMC 2023 - 2024 Highlights

–

Vegetta: Leonarda, give me the picture.

Fit: Leonarda, you should give him a picture.

Vegetta: It's for saving your life!

Fit: [Picks up the photo she dropped] Oh, now I have it. [Sees its a photo of Vegetta and Melissa in their stripper outfits] Oh. Oh my.

–

Fit: It's a life experience Tubbo, you know? Aren't you glad you–

Tubbo: "Life experience" deez nuts, you bald bastard.

–

Fit: Ok, I'm looking through the bars– There's like, yeah–

Pac: [Falls off the wall] AAAAA–

–

Fit: [Dumping his wild cats in the Bakery] I'll just– I'll just release them in here. Screw it. What's the worst that could happen?

[The next day]

The big cats are still, uh– [Sees the cats mauling the Baker] Oh my god. They do NOT like the Baker

–

Jaiden: Fit, you're just a guy, right?

Fit: I'm just a dude. I'm just like– I'm just like the generic RPG protagonist. Like, human male, warrior. Like, it's– I'm as vanilla as you can get

-

Fit: Sneeg– shut up, I'm doing gay roleplay right now!

–

Fit: Tubbo, if you want to disable mines, you are disrespecting the entire Hispanic community.

–

Fit: What are you doin' staring at me, Baldy? Yeah, you think you're hot sht?

[The Binary Monster shows up]

Fit: OH, FCK–

–

Fit: The oldest anarchy server in Minecraft.

Fit: The youngest gay roleplay server in Minecraft.

–

Fit: [While playing "Hide and Seek" with Ramon] If he moves, then I know that was the spot.

Ramon: [Stares at him as the Metal Gear Solid "discovered by an enemy" vwing! sound plays]

Fit: [Cackles] WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY? WHERE YOU GOIN' BOY?

–

Fit: To be a turtle in the Arctic, you hate to see it. Yeah, you know this turtle is... not so different from me. It's living in a place that's trying to KILL it.

–

Tubbo: [To Pac] Just lay down. [Starts Casualonas-ing] This is for you.

Fit: [Immediately equips his weapon]

Tubbo: This is for you, king.

Pac: [Laughs] Fit - you see this?

Fit: [Shoots Tubbo, who starts screaming] I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Uh-

Tubbo: Ok, ok, well he–

Fit: Misfire, misfire, misfire!

Tubbo: He wasn't- he wasn't- OW OW OW!

Fit: Misfire!

–

Fit: Sometimes- it's not about doing the right thing, Phil – it's about doing the more entertaining thing. Right?

Phil: PFTTTTT–

Fit: They banned my ass. They're like, "Why are you talking to Pac like that?" That's unacceptable on this family-friendly Christian Minecraft server (TM). Like– "We can't be having any of that." "Can't be having any of THAT."

–

Cucurucho: [Slowly turns to stare at Fit while Pac is talking to him]

Fit: [Silently starts cracking up]

Pac: Ok Cucurucho, I'm gonna be waiting for your response

–

[Fit putting up art that Ramon drew]

Foolish: Boo it if it's bad!

Fit: Heyyyyyy! That's actually –

Foolish: Oh! Wait, that's– That's actually pretty good, what the fck.

Fit: Ramon, you weren't supposed to actually try. This is incredible!

[They both laugh]

–

Pac: Yeah, yeah! I was–

Tubbo: Everyone goes through their dick phase.

Fit: Yeah...

Pac: Yeah, everyone does.

Fit: Oh? Oh– is that so, Tubbo? Yeah?

Tubbo: Everyone- everyone–

Fit: When did you go through your dick phase? [Laughs]

Tubbo: I'd argue I'm in my dick phase right now.

Fit: Uh, you know, speakin' of spruce– you know Bruce Lee, right?

Phil: Yeah?

Fit: If Bruce Lee was a plant, he'd be Spruce Tree.

Phil: [Disappointed grumbling]

Fit: [Laughs]

[Fit gets kicked off the server]

Fit: [Laughs even harder]

[intervex]

What Pride Flags Mean, Part 1: Gender and Attraction

Welcome to the latest installment of my autistic hyperfixation on flags! I wanted to figure out a common language of Colour X means Thing Y. Like how pink is consistently used for feminine.

Having a common language for flag meanings matters because it improves cognitive accessibility of flags. ♿️💙

But I didn't want to be prescriptive about what colours should mean what. Just because I think Thing X should go with Colour Y doesn't mean everybody else would.

So this turned into a descriptive, empirical project. I gathered a data set of 2060 pride flag colour choices to figure out what are the most common colour-meaning combinations. Some of the results:

And here are the abstract modifiers: these are modifiers that were generally shared between the genders and the attractions. For example, black is used to indicate having no gender as well as having no attraction.

Click here for tables with okLCH values, hex values, definitions, and notes - I've put a more detailed write-up on my Wikimedia Commons userpage. (Mediawiki supports sortable tables and Tumblr does not.)

METHODS-AT-A-GLANCE

To make the figures above, I assembled a data set of pride flag colours. It contains 2060 colour choices from 624 pride flags, representing 1587 unique colours. Click here for a detailed description of how I gathered and tagged the pride flag colours and tagged them.

For each tag, I converted every colour to okLCH colour space and computed a median colour. OkLCH colour space is an alternative to RGB/hex and HSL/HSV. Unlike RGB/hex and HSL/HSV, okLCH is a perceptual colour space, meaning that it is actually based on human colour perception. 🌈

In okLCH space, a colour has three values:

- Lightness (0-100%): how light the colour is. 100% is pure white.

- Chroma (0-0.37+): how vibrant the colour is. 0 is monochromatic. 0.37 is currently the most vibrant things can get with current computer monitor technologies. But as computer monitor technologies improve to allow for even more vibrant colours, higher chroma values will be unlocked.

- Hue (0-360°): where on the colour wheel the colour goes - 0° is pink and 180° is teal, and colours are actually 180° opposite from their perceptual complements.

The important thing to know is that okLCH Hue is not the same Hue from HSV/HSL - the values are different! (HSL and HSV are a hot mess and do not align with human colour perception!)

You can learn more about okLCH through my little write up, which was heavily influenced by these helpful articles by Geoff Graham, Lea Verou, and Keith J Grant.

You can play with an okLCH colour picker and converter at oklch.com

🌈

MORE RESULTS: COLOUR DISTRIBUTIONS

Back when I started tagging my data, I divided my data into five main chunks: Gender qualities (e.g. masculine, androgynous), Attraction (e.g. platonic, sexual), Values (e.g. community, joy), Disability (e.g. Deaf, blind), and Other.

I'll talk about Disability and Values in future posts! But for an alternate view of the data, here are the full distributions of the colours that were placed in each tag.

They come in three parts: tags I created for Gender, tags for Attraction, and tags from Other. The abstract modifiers are spread between the first two, though their contents transcend Gender and Attraction.

Some distributions have a lot more variance within them than others. Generally speaking, major attraction types tended to have the least variance: sensual attraction is really consistently orange, platonic is really consistently yellow, etc.

Variance and size do not correlate. Many of the smaller tags are quite internally consistent. I don't have a ton of tags in "current gender" but they're all the same dark purple. Xenine/xenogender has a whole bunch of entries, and there's a really big spread from blue to yellow.

Some tags, like intersex as well as kink/fetish show there are a small number of different colours that are very consistently used. Whereas other tags like masculine show a very smooth range - in this case from cyan to purple.

Overall I'm pretty satisfied with how things wound up! 🥳 It makes sense to me that an umbrella term like xenogender would have a lot of variance. What honestly makes me happiest is just how many tags wound up 180 or 90 degrees from their opposites/complements. 🤩

Not everything lined up nicely (the opposite of drag is .... neuroqueer? awkward.) 🤨 Some things lined up in hilarious ways, like how initially I had the opposite of kink/fetish being Christian (amazing.)

But as a whole, there's a lot of structure and logic to where things landed! I hope this makes sense for other people and can help inform both flag making as well as flag interpreting (e.g. writing alt-text for existing flags). 🌈

I'm hoping to post the Disability and Values analyses in the coming days! If you want to learn more, my detailed notes along with tables etc are over on my Wikimedia Commons userspace. 💜

Everything here is Creative Commons Sharealike 4.0, which means you're free to reuse and build on my visualizations, tables, etc. Enjoy!

[buddierecs]

aly's recent reads - pt. 1

hi, i have been reading some amazing buddie fics recently so i wanted to make a list of them all for you guys! i will probably start doing this whenever i feel the need too :) these fics are mixed rated, so please check the ratings and tags!

loves a game, wanna play? by: 42hrb "in the aftermath of chris leaving for the summer, buck convinces eddie they should apply for love island together." word count: 57k rating: mature important tags: reality tv au - love island, humour, flirting, idiots in love, getting together, season 7, pining, social media time makes you bolder (children get older) by: sevensoulmates there’s a new resident moving into the suite across from buck’s. “what’s his name?” buck asks. “eddie diaz,” nurse corra tells him. “hey, you know eddie is also a retired firefighter." eddie diaz, new recruit, a voice echoes in his mind. “huh.” buck says. "never heard of him." word count: 26k rating: not rated important tags: future fic, old age, memory loss, this will make you cry!!

i think if you're lucky by: colonoscopys "evan hits him with his car" word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: royalty au, different first meeting au, firefighter!eddie all my little words by: youbetsya "eddie: did you just send me an email?? buck: yeah lol eddie: why… i dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. just stuff to print when your printer is broken buck: did you read it? eddie: not yet too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me buck: just read it dude 🙄" word count: 11k rating: teen and up important tags: texting, season 7, idiots in love, getting together, eddie diaz's mustache in love with every song you've ever heard by: timeshareindestin "how a conversation about tardigrades results in buck grappling with a disability he's suppressed, getting hearing aids, and realizing that the family he craves has been there for him all along. in that order." word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: character study, disability, getting together, coming out, hurt/comfort, angst, hard of hearing!buck loose-tongued, in love by: wenttoafortuneteller "the one where buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to eddie without realizing it." word count: 4.4k rating: teen and up important tags: love confessions, miscommunication, fluff, angst, getting together drift past the flowers by: dylanesthetics "buck and natalia get engaged, and eddie flees the state about it. a petty email correspondence ensues." word count: 45k rating: teen and up important tags: email correspondence, friends to lovers, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, minor buck/natalia paralyric narcolepsy guy hates buckley & diaz by: eightpackdiaz "paralytic narcolepsy guy is forced to listen to buckley and diaz talk to and about each other in his unconscious presence over the years. he insists he fucking hates them. but then he also accidentally helps them get engaged" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: outsider pov, narcolepsy, idiots in love, getting together perfect to me by: fallingthorns "eddie has bad posture, buck is a mouth-breather, and the rest of the 118 all have a thing, too" word count: 5.4k rating: teen and up important tags: team as family, bickering, humour keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia." word count: 23k rating: mature important tags: vacation, fake dating, gay disaster!eddie diaz, mutual pining treat an opportunity like it's treating you by: daisies_and_briars "after losing his leg as a result of the fire engine bombing, buck is presented with the opportunity to have a service dog donated to him." word count: 12k rating: teen and up important tags: service dog, amputee!buck, hurt/comfort, angst, pre-relationship jeep talking by: daisies_and_briars "a ride in the backseat of buck's jeep with buck and eddie in the front gives chim new perspective on his brother-in-law's strange dynamic with his so-called "best friend.' and chim is sick of them being so oblivious." word count: 2.2k rating: teen and up important tags: chim pov, humour

an inch away from more than just friends by: allyasavedtheday in which buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of eddie diaz. word count: 9.6k rating: teen and up important tags: fluff, falling in love, romance, feelings realization brojobs are normal, maddie! by: mihaly "buck and eddie are the most oblivious idiots on the planet and literally everyone knows they're in love but them." word count: 43k rating: explicit important tags: idiots to lovers, oblivious!buddie, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, size kink, daddy kink, phone sex, oral sex, anal sex save a horse, ride a mustache by: bisexualbuckley "eddie gets a mustache. buck goes insane. there's some miscommunication. mustache smut ensues" word count: 7.1k rating: explicit important tags: horny!evan buckley, misunderstandings, oral sex, face-sitting, praise kink, anal sex, come eating, top!eddie diaz, bottom!evan buckley, riding

[thehypnone]

Ain't No Hope In Hell

WC: 3k

Relationship: Zephyr/Rain

Tags: Disabled Characters, POTS Rain, Fainting, Semi-Public Bathroom Sex, Transmasc Rain, Non-Binary AFAB Zephyr, Cunnilingus, Minor Gender Dysphoria, Tail Sex

T4T Zephyr and Rain fuck in a disabled mall bathroom after the water ghoul has a fainting spell. That's literally it.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband!!! Also tagging @ominousposting because we talked about these two deserving such action a while ago :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The bond that Rain and Zephyr share confuses many. They don’t spend much time together and when they do it’s either to sit in silence for hours or fuck viciously for just as long.

Sometimes one follows the other.

Still, despite it seeming so shallow and even toxic to outsiders, the two ghouls need each other. They understand each other in a way that no other ghoul ever could. Their relationship is in their hearts, minds and souls, not so much in anything that’s on the surface.

And like this, Zephyr and Rain love each other fiercely.

One of the things neither of them would ever be accused of enjoying that they do enjoy when together, is going out. Not to clubs, bars or anything like that; what they like is simple dates like going shopping or to the cinema. 

Today they decided to take a train that leaves every hour from a station a few minutes away from the Abbey and go to a mall. They didn’t have any big shopping plans, just mindless browsing, so to speak. If something would catch either of their eyes they’d get it and be pleased, but they’d be as content to leave with empty hands, only having spent that time together. They can also get some food in there, maybe dessert, too—that’s the thing Zephyr and Rain love about malls; there’s everything there.

Well, maybe they are not very fond of the amount of humans they inevitably encounter every time, but that can be overlooked.

And they are having a great day, indeed, until Rain starts feeling unwell.

“Zeph? Think I’m gonna have a spell,” he mutters, blinking hard as his head sways on his neck. The air ghoul reaches out to grab his wrist and turns it to see his watch. His pulse is going one hundred and fifty beats per minute. “Can we go find a bathroom?”

It definitely isn’t anything more dangerous than his usual episodes, so they should be fine without professional medical assistance, but it needs to be taken care of nonetheless.

“Yeah, of course,” Zephyr says, “it should be just around the corner, are you gonna make it or do you want to switch aids?”

“I–I’ll make it,” the water ghoul breathes shallowly, leaning heavier on his crutch, “just gonna go slow behind you.”

“Alright, puddle. Alright, let’s go.” Zephyr grabs their wheels and rolls on slowly, looking over their shoulder every five seconds to make sure Rain isn’t doing worse. The walk lasts both a second and an eternity, but finally the big accessible bathroom’s door latches behind them and Zephyr only has a second to throw their leather jacket on the floor (of questionable cleanliness) before Rain slides down the wall and passes out.

The air ghoul does not worry, he’ll wake up in a few moments, as always. In the meantime they watch as the other’s glamor slowly slips and rummage through his backpack for a salty snack and some water.

Soon enough Rain opens his eyes.

“There you are, puddle,”  Zephyr chuckles. “Was starting to grow bored.”

“Sure you were,” the water ghoul groans, sitting up slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Whole…” they check their watch in a theatrical manner, “two minutes.”

“Hm.” Rain makes grabby hands when he sees the air ghoul holding his replenishment set ready and they can’t help but shake their head at how adorable he is while still so out of it. He’ll feel better once he munches on a few nuts from his obscenely salty mix, though.

“You think you can get up already?”

“Why?”

“I want you off that nasty floor,” Zephyr scoffs, “and in my lap, preferably.”

Rain rolls his eyes but gets to work on standing up. Thankfully this bathroom actually is accessible—unlike many fakely advertised ones—and there’s a lot of things he can hold on to to stand. It works, albeit the water ghoul still gets dizzy and there’s black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He grabs Zephyr’s hand in the dark and flops down onto their lap. “C’mere, puddle.”

“That is more comfortable,” he sighs, leaning back against the air ghoul’s chest. They place a little kiss on Rain’s neck, just under the gills that escaped his glamor when he was out cold. A pleasant shiver runs down Rain’s spine at the gentle touch and his fins ruffle. “Gimme more, Zeph.”

“Greedy,” they hum but oblige nonetheless, putting their mouth over the water ghoul’s gills and kissing them softly. Rain groans and lets Zephyr appreciate their neck for a little while longer before he can’t take it anymore; he needs their lips on his. He tangles his fingers in the air ghoul’s hair and pulls them away from his neck and up, to kiss him. He slams their lips together and they both moan into it, getting more desperate with every second. They only part to catch a breath.

“Have we ever defiled a disabled mall bathroom before?” Rain asks, panting, as he leans down and rubs his nose up and down Zephyr’s neck, breathing in their fresh summer scent.

“I do not believe that we have,” they answer as they continue to grope the pretty water ghoul in their lap.

He hums thoughtfully, “Do you reckon it is time to do so?”

“Absolutely I do,” Zephyr breathes before tangling their fingers in Rain’s hair and pulling him up to seal their lips in a kiss even more heated than before. Their teeth clank together and they both try to shove their tongue down the other’s throat in a battle for dominance. Even though it’s obvious who is—and is going to stay—in charge. It’s always Zephyr; the only one for whom Rain always subs.

The next time they need to pull away to breathe, Rain notices something on the wall.

“Why was I laying passed out on this filthy floor when there’s a perfect bench right there?” Rain scoffs and throws his hands up dramatically; the princess that he is. There really is a perfect bench right there; albeit a foldable and rather unobvious one.

“You were already going down,” Zephyr shrugs. It is the truth, there was no time, but the truth is also that they didn’t notice it earlier, either. “You know I like to see it.”

“Oh, do you now?” Rain scoffs at the air ghoul’s poor joke. Or a flirting attempt.

“How could I not?” they seem dedicated to making him blush impossibly more, now. “Who wouldn’t like to see a pretty water ghoul between their legs, hm?”

“Are you attempting to make an offer, you old tit?” said water ghoul laughs. Both ghouls are well aware of how the half-affectionate, half-insulting nickname sounds without context and even though it does not get much better with it, the situation improves slightly when one is aware that it originally came from the bird tit and the facts that Zephyr’s feathers in their fully unglamored form are a similar color to that of a tit. The fact that it’s a rather loaded homonym just adds comicality that both Zephyr and Rain love.

“Depends,” the older ghoul shrugs. “Are we in a rush?”

“Not at all. It’s hours until the last train back home leaves.”

“Well, then…Do you want to go down?” Zephyr winks.

“If I can kneel on your jacket.”

“Such a princess, aren’t you? I’ve got a better idea.” Zephyr lightly shoves Rain off of their lap before getting up from their wheelchair and walking over to the bench. They unfold it, look it over and press on it to see if it’s reliable for…more than sitting. It’s rather high, but that will only make the air ghoul’s idea work even better.

“Hop on, puddle,” they pat it in invitation, “today’s my turn to get my mouth on that pretty cunt of yours.”

Rain can’t stop blushing even hotter at that, but he follows the other’s command. As he situates himself on the edge of the bench, Zephyr returns to their wheelchair. They bring it as close to the bench as possible, sit back down and lock the brakes so they don’t just roll away mid eating Rain out.

“As much as I wish I had that skill, I don’t think I can fuck you with my tongue through your jeans,” they tease with a wink, patting his thighs.

“Oh, shut it,” Rain grumbles but does indeed start to fumble with his pants. He drops them down to his ankles but Zephyr tuts and shakes their head. “What?”

“I want my head between your legs, puddle,” they purr, “I need full access.”

Once again the water ghoul mutters something unintelligible under his breath, as if in protest, and yet still obeys Zephyr's every word.

His pants are all but ripped off and thrown across the bathroom to land in the sink—hopefully dry—and the air ghoul wastes no more time. They grab Rain’s thighs, spread them and lean in to nuzzle their cheek against his soft skin. The water ghoul’s lower legs end up hooked over Zephyr’s shoulders and their feet on the back of their chair. A rather solid position, if not for the bench under his ass. His back and hips will hate him for it later, no doubt.

Zephyr throws him one more look before descending onto his cunt and licking a fat stripe up his folds. As always, what they start with is a way to indulge themself more than the other—they love having delicate, wet skin under their tongue. They also love seeing how easy it breaks, but that’s for another time.

The water ghoul instinctively puts one of his hands on Zephyr’s head, digging his fingers into their scalp and pulling on their white as snow hair. They groan against his cunt, but not in protest. Lucifer only knows they grew their hair out just to get it pulled more and, oh, does Rain deliver every time. His tail wraps around Zephyr’s arm when they grip his hip.

Zephyr licks between his folds, up and down to flick the tip of their tongue against his clit and then goes back down to tease around his hole. They prod at it and Rain thinks they’re about to really lick into him when a wave of unpleasantness hits him. He curls in on himself slightly.

“Zeph, wait, uh–” Rain breathes out, tightening the hold he’s got on Zephyr’s hair. They pull away immediately.

“What’s wrong, puddle?” they ask with concern in their voice.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, just…” he bites his lip, “don’t put it in today. Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” the air ghoul smiles at him knowingly, with deep understanding. They’ve been there. “I’ll suck your pretty cock instead, what do you say?”

Rain only lets out a rather undignified grunt as a response as he throws his head back against the wall.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zephyr smirks and dives back down to take the water ghoul’s t-dick into their mouth. They start out light; swirling their tongue around it and petting it gently with the appendage. Rain is already so lost in it he can only whine and whimper; thankfully the bathroom is all solid walls, or else someone would definitely be calling in an emergency.

He’s pulling on Zephyr’s hair harder and harder with every lick over his cock, losing his mind even more when the air ghoul really starts doing what they’ve promised; sucking him off. Rain all but wails the first time Zephyr hollows their cheeks and sucks at his sensitive t-dick. It’s maddening.

At some point Zephyr grunts and takes one of their hands off of Rain’s thighs to move it down and fumble with their zipper, desperate for some kind of stimulation themself. They manage to open their pants, wiggle a hand inside and rub their own wet cunt. Rain only notices when the air ghoul’s moan vibrates through him.

“Zeph–” he pants, “Zeph, lemme–”

The water ghoul can’t really articulate what he wants, overwhelmed with pleasure. He unwinds his tail from Zephyr’s other arm and shoves it down their pants along with their hand.

“Oh,” they moan as they pull away from Rain’s cunt. They squeeze their eyes and rest their head against the water ghoul’s thighs, breathing heavily as he rubs their clit with the tip of his tail.

“Good?”

“Yeah, get it–puddle, get it in deep,” Zephyr begs and their shaky voice makes Rain whimper.

He obliges—once he collects himself enough to focus—and pushes his tail further down their pants. He finds the air ghoul’s slick hole and pushes in, slowly sliding his tail deeper and deeper until he all but runs out of it.

“Fuck…” they swear under their breath and follow it with a whine and it’s like a song. Zephyr returns to sucking Rain’s dick as if they want to slurp his soul out right through it and the water ghoul himself does his very best to stay focused enough to be able to fuck the other steadily with his tail.

There’s no rhythm to it, but neither of them cares; it’s all a blur of moans and whines and groans as they pleasure each other the way they know the other likes best. That’s the thing about them; they just know things, understand each other like nobody else.

Rain’s eyes cross when the air ghoul trails their wet tongue down, past his cunt to lick at his taint and tease his ass. Just for a moment, to make Rain soaking wet all around; they don’t go further, but Rain moans as they’re taking him apart piece by piece anyway. If Zephyr had access to the base of his tail, too, it’d all be over in seconds. Alas, their position makes it impossible.

There’s something about the softness of the skin in some places that makes Zephyr lose their mind. Another rather peculiar thing about them.

The air ghoul drags a smooth fang up the inside of Rain’s thigh—both a threat and a promise, but only for when they’re back home. They’re both wrecked and the fact that they’re in public escapes their horny minds entirely, it’s the instinct that keeps Zephyr in check.

“Do that…your tail, the–that thing you do…” they groan and even though it’s not much information, Rain knows exactly what to do.

“Lean back, need–need space.” He pulls his tail out of the air ghoul’s cunt and twists it tightly around itself, only leaving the spade out on the bottom. When he slides it back into Zephyr, it’s like a perfectly textured thick dildo with an attachment to stimulate their clit. Rain presses the flat tip of his tail against it and the air ghoul folds in on themself in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s good,” they moan and start rolling their hips slightly, riding Rain’s tail as much as possible as they return to the task at hand; the delicious, soaking wet water ghoul cunt right in front of their face. And making it even wetter.

It won’t take much more and they both know it; it’s just a minute after Zephyr puts their mouth on Rain’s cock that he cries out a warning, “Close…”

“Uh-huh,” Zephyr hums in acknowledgement and nods slightly. The water ghoul can only assume it means they are nearing their climax, too. Still, the air ghoul is focused solely on Rain and making him cum his brains out. They double down their efforts and the noises falling from rain’s lips gain in volume.

“Yes, yes, yes–I’m–c–cumming, Zeph, oh,” he moans—the loudest and most wrecked of them all—and the air ghoul can feel slick gushing out of him to drip down their chin and onto the godforsaken bench. Rain’s entire body goes rigid as waves of his orgasm wash over him; including his tail. The makeshift dildo becomes impossibly thicker inside them and Zephyr groans in a nearly pained manner as they’re thrown over the edge, too.

Rain sags forward, falling face first into Zephyr’s chest as they lean back in their wheelchair. The both of them breathe heavily for a longer while, slowly coming down from their highs.

“I hate you, you old tit,” the water ghoul murmurs at some point, making Zephyr laugh.

“I love you, too, puddle,” they reply with a grin, patting his back.

Once they deem themselves composed enough again, they get up to clean the mess that they’ve made of each other. Putting both their glamors back in place and adjusting their clothes and hair so as to not scream with their looks about what they’ve been up to in that bathroom, they get ready to go.

“I don’t even want to know for how long we’ve been blocking this bathroom,” Rain grunts, a little disappointed in himself. 

“Don’t worry, puddle,” Zephyr reaches out to pat his hip reassuringly, “it’s not a busy day and I’ve seen another one not so far from here, I’m sure we didn’t cause anyone inconvenience.”

The water ghoul hums in acknowledgement and finally unlocks the door again. To his great relief there isn’t anyone waiting. They leave the bathroom and decide to visit one more shop that was on their agenda; Rain feels alright now and one more won’t hurt anyone. After that they check potential trains that could take them back to the Abbey and start making their way to the station.

“We should have a list,” Zephyr proposes at some point.

“Of what?” Rain asks, genuinely curious.

“Places we defiled,” the older ghoul clarifies and Rain snorts out a laugh, “and places we have yet to defile.”

“I’m down,” he giggles under his breath, “but only if we write it down on a piece of paper that I can hang on the fridge in the den.”

“You got it, puddle,” Zephyr grins. “My requirement is that we put Primo’s closet at the very top of the been there, done that part.”

“Ah…” Rain sighs dreamily, “that was a glorious time, indeed, dear Zephyr.”

“Absolutely it was, dear Rain,” the air ghoul agrees. “Whose next, Terzo or Copia’s?”

“Secondo’s. Let’s go chronologically.”

“I love your brain, puddle.”

[pampushky]

Teaser: My Name Is Brutus (And My Name Means Heavy)

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader

oooo what's this?? me dropping a juicy little teaser of probably one of my favorite things I've written??

so. this is basically an ABO au with a race engineer & lauda mc, with the wonderful trope of enemies to lovers thrown in, as you will soon see from the scene I'm releasing a bit early.

other things about the fic: slow, and i mean fucking slow, burn. exploration of what disabilities would look like in the ABO world (especially centered around the sense of smell and how that could be considered a disability if someone doesn't have one in a world where most things are communicated by smell), societal pressures about what the ideal alpha/omega/beta should look like to the rest of the world which leads to Lando making assumptions about MC's secondary gender/sex, mentions of past emotional & mental abuse, PTSD, scarring, and worries about self-worth. Oh. and obvious hurt/comfort. But again, and I cannot emphasize this enough. Slow. Fucking. Burn.

uhhh i guess i'll do a tag list too for this so. tell me if you wanna be on that.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like, when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, icy eyes that challenge even the Lauda death stare. “What do you mean?” You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say whatever you were about to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The heavily medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissy fit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icy-calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or the way you speak to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you talk. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With the classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth....

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Eleven: Following Rivers Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 16.1k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, everyone is going through it, getting to know some more characters, love-triangle, Jin is being kind of a dick, I promise we'll start seeing more Jimin as this goes on but he's just really depressed right now, Sam is a HUGE flirt, Kook is a vibe and I love him, Secrets to be reveled later, disabilities are going to be a huge part of Yoongi's life now and his arc so bear with a lot of that being in his povs, he's my favorite person in this series (so far, later you'll meet by baby for life), possibly wrong medical terminology, sexism and misogyny will be hinted at, everyone is going through it, lots of grief and heartache, Babyboy just wants his best friend back, mourning her life she's dead, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Thanks for reading <3

prev. || masterlist || next

Yoongi's POV

The night was too loud—everything was loud—like the world had turned up the volume just to drown me out. Crickets chirped incessantly, their sharp songs digging under my skin. Somewhere in the darkness, the witches chanted, their voices twisting together like secrets I wasn't supposed to hear. I sat on the porch, my fingers tracing the worn grooves in the wood. It used to calm me when I was a kid. Now it just felt... empty. Everything did.

The stars above were a blur, smudges in a sky that once looked like magic. Now it was just a cruel haze—a kind of blindness that let me glimpse shapes and light but never enough to truly see. The battle with the elves had left me like this. Half-blind, half-alive. And I didn't know which half was worse.

My porch used to be our refuge. I could almost hear Y/N beside me—her laughter mingling with the fireflies dancing around us in Moland. But I couldn't picture her smile anymore, and that hurt more than anything else. Her memory was slipping away along with my vision, leaving only empty outlines where something bright used to be.

There was a party going on somewhere in the yard. The witches were celebrating Wendy's new role as head witch and our recent win against the elves. We would've done it sooner, but after Cordelia's death, any idea of joy felt wrong. I thought it was still too soon for something like this, but Wendy seemed up for it, and Jin went into full planning mode the moment she smiled. Their laughter and shouts made my head hurt. Some of them had offered to hang out with me back here, but I didn't want the company.

Pretending to be happy with near strangers wasn't something I could do.

I heard footsteps approaching—slow, hesitant. It was my mother. She didn't say anything at first, but I felt her warmth beside me. I avoided looking at her; everything looked like an old black-and-white film from Northorn, and it broke my heart every time I saw her without color. "Yoongi," she said softly, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. So light it was almost not there. But it was. Everything felt heavy now. "How are you holding up?"

I exhaled, the sound shaky. "I'm not," I finally said, the words coming out more bitter and broken than I intended. "I don't even know why I should try to hold on anymore."

Her hand tightened on my shoulder. "We've been through so much," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But we're still here, Yoongi. That means something."

Does it? I thought. I didn't say it, but the weight in my chest felt suffocating. Carrying it another day seemed impossible, and the thought made me want to scream. "I miss her," I whispered instead, your name lodged in my throat. "She always knew what to do."

My mother sighed, her fingers brushing my arm. "She did," she agreed quietly. "But she wouldn't want you to carry this alone. You've still got people who care about you. Jin—"

I flinched at his name, cutting her off. "He doesn't need me. Not when he has Wendy to think about."

"That's not true," she said firmly. "You don't have to do this alone, Yoongi. Let him help you."

"Wen's mom died," I reminded her.

"I understand that. Dee meant a lot to me. I've known her my entire life. But you're hurting, too," she replied thickly. "You've been doing your best to make him happy through all of this. He's just lost right now. Bring him back."

I stayed silent. The idea of reaching out felt impossible—a weight I wasn't ready to lift. The silence stretched between us, her hand on my shoulder more burden than comfort. "I'm tired," I muttered, leaning forward and resting my face in my hands. "I don't know if I can do this right now. Or ever."

I groaned, rubbing my eyes. The blur gave me migraines. "I don't think I can do anything anymore."

"You can," she insisted, her voice steady. "You're stronger than you think, and it's okay to let others be strong for you."

I didn't argue, but her words felt hollow. Letting people help me wouldn't prepare anyone for the war. Wouldn't fix the shining. I wanted to tell her how empty it all felt, how each day was a battle to find a reason to keep going. But what would that change? She couldn't fix this. No one could.

And the last thing I wanted was to worry my mother more than she already was.

Footsteps again—lighter this time. Wendy. Mom kissed my cheek, patted my shoulder, and headed back inside Mi-Jeong's house. If there was one good thing about staying here, it was how close Mom and Hoji had gotten with Jimin's mother. Even I had to admit I liked her. She made me laugh and went out of her way to make the house easier for me to navigate while we figured out a way to fix my eyes.

Once Ji-Hyun left to stay with Callisto's family just outside the gates, things got a bit quieter. Jin and I hadn't spoken much since everything settled; he was too busy helping Wendy take over as the head witch of her coven. Before Ji-Hyun left, we'd teamed up against the wolf a few times. His wife was the only reason we didn't confront him more.

Callisto was sweet and gentle, fiercely loyal to her husband and his whims. Ji-Hyun held a grudge against Y/N for reasons he wouldn't share. His wife, despite his silence, didn't let him off the hook if he even thought about saying something rude about her. He'd calmed down considerably before they moved out, but I had a feeling it was more for his mother's sake than any real remorse.

"Yoongi?" Wendy's voice cut through the thick silence, cautious. She stopped a few feet away, her figure a blur of gray against the darker gray of the night. "Are you okay?"

I almost laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. "No," I said flatly. "But I guess that's just how it is now."

She moved closer, her presence warm but almost suffocating. Everything was shades of gray, like the world had been drained of color. My eyes were still healing, leaving everything hazy and indistinct. "We're here for you if you need anything," she said, echoing my mother's words. "Jin and I—"

"Don't," I interrupted, my voice low and rough. "You know just as well as I do that Jin isn't here for me as long as you're around. So spare me the speech."

Her silence hurt more than any response could have. She sat beside me, her shoulder just brushing mine. I kept my gaze down; the porch beneath us was a washed-out gray, the wood grain barely visible through the blur. "He cares about you a lot, Yoongi," she said softly. "Even if it doesn't feel that way. Even when he's being... difficult."

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to feel something—anything. But all I felt was the same hollow ache that had settled in since that night. I nodded slightly, enough to make her think I was listening, but my eyes remained fixed on the indistinct, grey shapes at my feet.

Laughter drifted over from next door—too bright, too alive. It sounded out of place in this monochrome world. All I could do was sit there. It was so pathetic I wanted to cry.

"You know," Wendy said gently, her voice tinged with hope, "I've been trying to get him to talk to you more. Maybe if you put in a little effort, it could help. I know he misses you."

"Doesn't matter how much he loves and misses me," I muttered. "You're his top priority now, Wendy."

"But you should be, too," she insisted, her fingers lightly touching my arm. Her hand was a pale shade against the darker fabric of my sleeve. "Promise me you'll at least try?"

I nodded again, a mechanical gesture more for her benefit than mine. "Okay," I murmured, the word scraping out of my throat. "I'll... try." It was a lie, one I didn't even believe.

Wendy's hand rested on mine, warm against the cold that had settled into my bones. It should have been comforting, but now it was just... there. The lack of color made everything feel distant, unreal. Wendy had been a great comfort to me when we were younger, but now, after everything that happened, it just felt wrong. She shouldn't be here with me. If there was any hope that Jin and I could remain friends, she needed to stay as far away from me as possible.

But Wendy either didn't know or didn't care. When I talked to Jungkook about it, he said she was just naïve. Sam called her selfish. That made me laugh. It was something Y/N always said about her, too. I think everyone had at one point or another. Even Cordelia.

The name sent a shiver down my spine. It was ironic that I was calling Wendy selfish when her mother had died just weeks ago, and she was here comforting me. Jin was right. I was a bad friend who only thought about himself.

"You're not alone," she repeated, her voice steady.

I swallowed hard, my throat aching. Alone? I'd never felt more alone. Even with her beside me, it didn't change the hollow ache inside. The world around us was a blur of grays, shadows without definition. "I feel like I am," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"Don't say that," she said firmly. "You're still part of the family. You're still you."

Still me. What did that even mean anymore? The person I was before felt like a stranger. My fists clenched, the grainy image of my hands tightening in my lap. Frustration bubbled up. "Wendy," I began, my voice rough. "What if this is it? What if we never find a cure? What if I'm stuck like this forever? Then what?"

"Then we'd figure it out," she said softly.

"There is no 'we,'" I snapped, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The motion made the hazy edges of my vision swim. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my outburst. "Mom would have to move back to Bangtan, and while everyone else is playing house, I'd be stuck as the blind cripple who needs his mommy."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," Wendy said sharply. "Even if it doesn't feel like it, you matter to us. You're still the most valued person here. What do you think everyone is celebrating right now?"

I stayed quiet. Her words didn't reach the part of me that felt like it had crumbled to dust. The grayscale world around me felt empty, lifeless. It was easier to retreat into the numbness, to hold onto the pain because at least it was familiar.

"You, Yoongi," Wendy's grip on my arm tightened. Her face was a pale blur, but I could sense the intensity in her gaze. "You single-handedly took down more elves than anyone here. You sacrificed your body for us. Why do you think Jin's being a jerk? He feels insecure and inadequate next to you. You've never known how incredible you are, have you?"

I wanted to tell her I hadn't, but I kept my mouth shut. We were treading dangerous ground, and I prayed no one else heard what she said. The sea coven was full of gossipers, and I worried Jin would hear about it. I didn't want to fight with him.

"Thank you," I whispered eventually, the words thin and weak. The night pressed down, the grayness seeping into everything. My thoughts drifted to Y/N—her laughter, her vibrant presence that seemed to bring color to everything. Without her, everything felt impossible. Without her, I felt... nothing.

I knew if she were here, I'd be doing a lot better right now. Y/N and I had a bond deeper than any other I'd ever had. Samanya was becoming a close second, but we had a few cultural differences that made it hard to get as close. She was also one of the most beautiful beings I'd ever seen, her image in my mind a vivid contrast to the muted world before me.

There were only two others who'd ever made me feel the same way: Delta and a man here I refused to acknowledge existed half the time. The impossibility of that relationship made it easier to pretend that just the sight of him didn't make my heart race. Like I didn't watch him like a stray dog hoping for scraps. He never noticed. Of course he didn't.

Wolves didn't practice homosexuality. When I asked Jungkook about it, he said it was viewed as a mental illness. Mates were for breeding, and a wolf who didn't want to continue the bloodline was so out of the ordinary they didn't think it could be natural. Y/N had explained something similar before, but she didn't know all the ins and outs like the young omega did.

"I miss her," I muttered, my chest aching. "She made it all easier."

Wendy's voice softened, her grief barely hidden. "We all miss her. But she wouldn't want us to stop living. She'd want us to keep going."

"Going where?" I asked, my voice cracking. "What's the point if everything just ends?"

"The point is we're still here," she said gently.

I didn't answer. The world around me was a sea of gray shadows, the party sounds muffled and distant.

"Yoongi," she said after a moment. "I know it's hard. I know you feel like you've lost everything. But you haven't. You're just... hurting right now."

I wanted to argue, but the fight was gone. I just sat there, staring into the hazy blur of a world I couldn't fully see, feeling like a stranger to myself.

The night stretched on, Wendy beside me—a flicker of warmth in the endless gray. I didn't know if I believed her, but for now, I'd let her stay. For now, I'd let myself breathe. It was all I could do.

Eventually, Wendy stood up, leaving me alone. The party was still in full swing, a large bonfire crackling, casting shifting shadows in shades of gray. A group of women gathered around it, their figures indistinct. I watched Wendy find Jin, saw the way she fit under his arm—their forms blending into one another in my blurred vision. Either he hadn't seen us or was choosing to ignore it.

I hoped it was the latter.

I leaned back against the rough wood of the porch, every nerve weighted down by a relentless exhaustion. It wasn't just my body that felt broken—it was everything. The world, my place in it, me.

I'd lost count of the nights spent like this—stranded in the dark, drowning in thoughts I couldn't escape. For the first time, I felt like I understood Y/N's nightmares. When they were at their worst, I'd sleep in her bed to wake her up, and she'd spend hours telling me how horrible and guilty she felt for being so angry and upset all the time. She never called herself a burden, but now that I was in her shoes, I knew that's what she meant.

I knew she was fine and alive out in Lustra somewhere, but it didn't stop my mind from mourning her as harshly as I'd mourned Cordelia at her memorial service on the shores of Syrena. Maybe even more. I loved Wendy's adoptive mother, but I didn't know her as well as I should have. Y/N was my best friend, and her absence was gnawing away at whatever sanity I had left.

Minutes—maybe hours—dragged by, each one heavier than the last, until the soft sound of footsteps cut through the quiet. They were barely there, and if my ears weren't so tuned in to what was happening around me, I wouldn't have heard them at all. Then I caught the faint scent of mist and wet grass. I knew who it was before she spoke.

Minutes—maybe hours—dragged by, each one heavier than the last, until the sharp sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. They were barely audible, but I'd become attuned to every little noise. Then I caught the faint scent of mist and wet grass. I knew who it was before she spoke.

"Mind if I sit?" Sam's voice was brisk. When I looked up, her face was a pale oval against the darker grays of the night. I wished I knew what color her eyes were. They were the only thing I wasn’t confident in my guesses about. They were light, but I could not tell you what shade they really were. She'd always been beautiful, but tonight there was something different—something that made me appreciate her even more.

Her eyes were a soft gray, her hair a dark shadow framing her face. I knew that if I ever got my full sight back, she'd be even more striking. But for now, it was nice to be around someone when appearances didn't really matter. She didn't seem to mind helping me navigate or putting up with my bad moods, either.

Sam was nearly perfect. It was just too bad I had someone else in mind when we weren't together.

Those dimples were so deep I could make them out from the porch anytime he walked by...

"Go ahead," I muttered, nodding toward the spot Wendy had left.

She settled beside me with an ease that felt out of place next to my stillness, her energy humming softly between us. "You look like hell," she said bluntly. "What's got you in pieces this time, Yoongi?"

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "This time?" I echoed, shaking my head. "It's always the same stuff." I gestured vaguely at the night—at nothing and everything. "Take your pick."

Her smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, I thought she might soften—but Sam wasn't the soft type. She never sugarcoated things, never pretended it would all be okay. Part of why I didn't push her away like I did the others. Yet, anyway. I'd already drawn the line about romance with her in my head, but I knew I was weak, and she made me feel comfortable. She reminded me so much of Delta...

No, I couldn't go there.

"Yeah, it's bad," she agreed, her voice steady. "But sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to change anything." She leaned closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "Staring at them will make Seokjin angry, you know."

I snapped my eyes away from the fire. I hadn't been looking at Jin or Wendy, but it wouldn't surprise me if Jin thought I was. He'd become more paranoid and distant these days.

I turned to her, bitterness bubbling up, unable to hold it back. "What do you want from me, Sam?" I didn't care if it made her uncomfortable—she'd chosen to sit here.

Then I felt bad again. That wasn't fair.

Sam didn't flinch. If anything, her gaze sharpened, unwavering and direct. "You think you're the only one feeling this?" she asked, her voice low. "You're not. We're all carrying it, Yoongi. The war, the losses, the uncertainty—it's wearing us all down."

"Then why don't you look like it?" I snapped, my fists clenching. "Why do you still act like there's something worth fighting for?"

"Because the alternative is giving up," she said simply. "And I've seen what that looks like. It's worse than this."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Doesn't sound so bad right now."

She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice held a rare gentleness. "You're not the first to feel that way. And you won't be the last. But giving up? It doesn't end the pain, Yoongi. It just spreads it. You think Wendy's okay? Or Namjoon? Or the rest of us?" She paused. "We're barely holding it together. But we're still here. And so are you."

The mention of his name made my pulse quicken, and Sam knew it. She only brought him up to get a rise out of me. Her spending time with him didn't help. The thought of both of them together—breathless, naked, sighing—was the first thing that had truly distracted me all day.

He was so... captivating.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes—not that it mattered. Everything was just as hazy and muted as before. It was better at night. I could see things a little clearer. The sun made my eyes burn and itch, and I couldn't leave the house without shades. Taejin was kind enough to give me a few pairs.

"I'm not here, Sam," I whispered. "Not really. Without my sight, I'm a terrible fighter, and without that, what's left of me? I don't serve much use here."

She sighed softly. "You're still you, Yoongi. Maybe some things are different, maybe you're feeling lost. But you're still here. And as long as you are, you've got a chance to figure out who you'll be now. Life doesn't stop just because you want it to."

I wanted to argue, to push her away, but there was a stubborn truth in what she said.

"What do you want me to say, Sam?" I asked, the question slipping out more like a plea than I'd intended. "That I'm so messed up I can't even use magic? I keep trying, and nothing happens."

"You don't have to say anything," she said quietly. "I don't want anything from you. But maybe you should want something for yourself. You've lost a lot, but you haven't lost everything. You still have your mother. That's more than many here can say."

Guilt gnawed at me for snapping at Wendy earlier. It wasn't just Wendy, either. Jin had almost lost his father. Enver had nearly been killed multiple times in that fight. Sol, as much as I hated to admit it, had lost the only person she ever knew as family, and no one seemed to care. Taehyung, maybe, but I knew they weren't talking much. Countless others had fallen as well. Sam wasn't wrong—I was lucky to have my mother.

It didn't erase the fact that my life felt irreversibly damaged. I was the only witch with a permanent disability, the only one no one could heal. Maybe I had the right to feel a little bitter.

"I don't know how to do that," I murmured, barely audible. "How to want anything anymore."

She nodded, her expression unreadable in the grayscale blur of my vision. "Then start small. Want to survive. Want to see tomorrow. Want to believe things can get better. And if you can't want it for yourself, then want it for the people who still care about you."

I couldn't respond. Couldn't argue. After a while, Sam shifted closer, her movements deliberate but careful, like she was approaching a wounded animal. I didn't turn my head, didn't acknowledge her beyond the faint scuff of her boots against the porch. I didn't have the energy.

"You know, Yoongi," Sam said, her voice lighter than it had any right to be on a night like this, "I've always thought you were handsome."

"I know," I mumbled, barely more than a whisper, my voice worn thin. "You know how I feel about you already, just like every other person you’ve sunk your teeth into."

"You're my favorite," she chuckled softly. "You haven't even let me get that far yet. And your skin, those eyes..."

I rolled my eyes. No one ever liked me for my face, and I knew Sam would say anything if she thought I'd give in just a little. My body buzzed with anticipation that I forced down. I didn't know if I could handle something like that right now, even if it might feel good.

Sam's laugh faded, and her tone shifted. "I'm serious, Yoongi. You've got this whole mysterious, brooding thing going on. People like that."

I let out a bitter breath. "What people?" I muttered, shaking my head. Then, a faint smirk tugged at my lips. "I'm a blind guy who can't do magic. Who's lining up for that?"

"You'd be surprised."

I turned slightly toward her, a sigh escaping my lips. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"It's part of my charm," she said, and before I could respond, I felt her shift closer. Her breath was warm against my cheek, and then her lips brushed mine—soft, tentative, giving me a chance to pull away.

But I didn't.

Instead, I leaned into her, my fingers brushing against her arm as I kissed her back. It was brief, just a moment, but it felt like a small light flickering in the darkness. When she pulled away, I could still feel the warmth lingering, and it made me feel... something. Something other than emptiness.

"Thanks," she whispered, barely audible. "For letting that happen."

I swallowed, my throat tight, and nodded. "Thank you," I said softly. "For wanting it to happen."

She smiled—a gentle curve I could almost see in the hazy grayscale of my vision.

Silence settled between us, comfortable for once. I watched the party slowly disperse. Jin and Wendy passed by on their way back inside. Jin glanced down and grinned at me. He was probably happy to see Sam's head leaning on my shoulder. I didn't look to see Wendy's reaction. It didn't matter.

The ache in my chest didn't go away, but I did feel a little better than I had earlier.

Eventually, the last of the witches were gone, and the fire began to burn low. Sam was unusually quiet, but I think she knew I needed time to think. Watching the smoke curl up into the night sky, I tried to keep my mind off the sadder thoughts that seemed to be on repeat lately. Sam deserved better, and I was exhausted from it all. I needed a break.

The sharp creak of the front door pulled me from my thoughts, and Jungkook's familiar voice broke the quiet—loud and bright, just like always. I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. He was exactly what I needed, even if I wasn't sure I could match his energy tonight.

"Guess who!" Jungkook called, bounding onto the porch, his grin as wide as ever. "Hope you two haven't died of boredom without me!"

Sam smirked, standing up and leaning against the railing, arms crossed. "Not yet," she shot back. "But the quiet was nice while it lasted."

I chuckled softly but stayed quiet otherwise. The silence had been nice, and I wasn't quite ready to let it go. Jungkook's energy filled the space, bright and insistent, but I could already feel how drained I was from earlier.

"Perfect!" Jungkook plopped a couple of bottles on the table with a clink. "That's why I brought reinforcements. Drinks to celebrate surviving another day in this lovely mess we call life."

"Getting drunk sounds nice," I muttered under my breath, the words tasting bitter. I didn't feel like we were surviving all that well—maybe it was just me. But alcohol? Alcohol I could manage.

Sam glanced at me, her expression unreadable, then turned back to Jungkook. "And you think drinks are going to solve everything?"

"No," Jungkook shrugged, undeterred. "But they won't make it worse, right? And besides, who says no to a little fun?"

I let out a hollow laugh, the sound cracking in the still air. "Fun," I said, shaking my head. "Don't know if I'll be much help with that."

Jungkook's grin faltered, his eyes flicking toward me, then away. "Hey, come on," he said, his voice softer now. "You're still here, Yoongi. That's gotta count for something."

The words landed like stones in my chest. I gripped the bottle he handed me, the cold glass calming me for a moment. "I guess so," I said, barely above a whisper.

Sam straightened, her teasing demeanor fading. "Yoongi..." she started, but I shook my head.

"I'm fine, Sam," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just a rough day. Can we just crack open whatever the kid brought and have a good time?"

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, his bottle clinking as he set it down. "We all have bad days," he said steadily. "You’ve been having a tough time lately, and I don't think it's fair for anyone to make you feel bad about it. I can leave if that's easier. You two seemed fine before I got here."

"It's fine, Kook," I chuckled, touched by his thoughtfulness. "It's not your fault I'm so..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.

Jungkook's expression softened, and he reached over, giving my shoulder a gentle nudge. "Hey. We're all in this mess together, right?"

Sam sighed, stepping closer. "You're too busy shutting us out to let us help," she said quietly. "But we're not going anywhere, Yoongi. We're here."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. Their words didn't fix anything. They didn't make the weight on my chest any lighter or the darkness any less suffocating. But for the first time in a long time, they made me feel less alone.

"Now, come on," Sam teased, nudging my shoulder just enough to pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. "You're being so depressing you've got Kook acting serious. That's a first."

"Hey, I can be serious," Jungkook protested, though his usual smile was back, not quite reaching his eyes. "But right now? I'd rather laugh with my friends than sit around dwelling on things I can't change."

I raised my bottle in a half-hearted toast. "Sometimes, laughter is all we've got."

Jungkook lifted his own bottle, grinning. "To laughter, and to the best friends a guy could ask for."

Sam rolled her eyes, but her smile was genuine. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all mushy on us now."

We clinked our bottles together, the sound echoing softly into the night. The weight on my chest didn't disappear, but it felt a little lighter.

"I'll kick Chief Kim's ass for you in a heartbeat," Sam joked after taking a sip.

"And I'll turn Bo into a goat," I added, trying to keep the mood light.

Sam giggled. "We'd actually get some use out of her then."

"You two are so mean," Jungkook laughed, shaking his head.

"It's part of the charm," Sam shot back, her grin widening.

We finished our first drinks quickly, and Jungkook was more than happy to crack open a few more. The night was young, and the smell of the bonfire still lingered in Mi-Jeong's backyard. I used to love that smell, but now it brought back memories I didn't want—the kind that made me squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself that I was safe. That nothing bad was going to happen.

"So," Jungkook said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "what's next? More drinks? Truth or dare? I want to make things interesting."

"Let's not get too wild," Sam warned, though the curiosity in her smirk betrayed her. "We've got enough chaos in our lives. Don't think we need any more drama."

"True," Jungkook agreed, his grin softening. "But hey, we might as well have fun while we can. Those bastards will be back eventually."

Sam's expression shifted, a playful glint in her eyes. "How about a round of 'Devil's Lie'? Ever played, Yoongi?"

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. "Who hasn't? Are you sure you're ready to lose?"

Sam laughed, leaning in so close I could feel her breath. "Try me," she challenged.

Jungkook let out a playful hoot. He'd always said he wanted Sam and me to end up together, something about "eternal happiness" for his only friends. Sam and I just laughed it off. She didn't do the whole marriage and kids thing, and I was perfectly happy without any strings attached.

Jungkook tilted his head toward the house. "Hang on. I'll go see if Momma Park has a deck lying around." He disappeared inside, leaving Sam and me in the warm night air.

A moment later, Jungkook returned, holding a slightly battered deck of cards in one hand, a triumphant grin on his face.

Sam helped me over to the small table on the porch. I could see it was a shade of a mid-tone grey, but the design—a dark shape curled up on itself—was still a bit blurry. I settled into a chair, trying not to cringe as Sam's chair dragged loudly against the wood.

"Alright, game refresher," Jungkook announced, setting the cards on the table. "The rules are simple: play a card face down and say what it is. If no one calls your bluff, the game moves on. If someone thinks you're lying and they're right, you drink. If you're telling the truth and they call you out, they drink. First to lose all their cards wins."

Sam's eyes lit up as she grabbed her drink. "Finally, a game I was born to win."

I smirked, picking up my bottle. "We'll see about that."

Jungkook shuffled the cards with surprising dexterity, then dealt them out. "Let's make it interesting," he added, grinning. "Every round starts with 'I bet the Devil,' because why not?"

Sam leaned forward, her grin mischievous. "Oh, this is going to get ugly."

Jungkook went first, laying down a card. "I bet the Devil... this is a seven of spades. Also, I had a crush on a teacher once."

Sam groaned. "Seriously? That's your big confession?"

"I think he's lying about the card," I interjected, squinting at him.

Jungkook turned it over with a flourish—it was a seven of spades. "Drink up, Yoongi."

I groaned as Sam burst out laughing. "I'm going to be so bad at this. I can't see your faces that well without the moonlight."

"I can get a lantern," Jungkook offered, but I shook my head.

Fire wasn’t as bad as direct sunlight, but my eyes were sensitive enough right now that it added some strain.

"I'll manage."

"My turn," Sam said, sliding a card down with theatrical flair. "I bet the Devil... this is a king of hearts. I've never been with a woman before."

I squinted at her, trying to gauge the truth. "The card's a lie," I said confidently. "And that story is complete bullshit, too."

She flipped it over—it was a king of hearts. "Nice try, Yoongi. Bottoms up!"

"What about the story?" Jungkook asked.

"Oh, a complete lie," Sam replied, already reaching for her drink.

Jungkook leaned back, watching us with a grin as I took a reluctant sip. "This is going better than I expected," he admitted, placing his next card. "I bet the Devil... this is an ace of clubs. And I never snuck out at night."

Sam snorted. "You're full of it. No one makes it to your age without sneaking out."

“Card?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Think he’s being honest about the card,” Sam waved me off.

Jungkook flipped the card over—it wasn't an ace. Sam cursed under her breath and took a long sip while Jungkook gave us a smug look. "Told you I've got a good poker face."

"Good boy," I teased, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Mom's favorite," he shot back with a grin.

Jungkook had some of the brightest smiles I'd ever seen. The only flaw was his slightly too-long front teeth, but even that suited him. Namjoon's were a close second, but I didn't see him smile enough to compare.

I wished I could see him smile more. He was always so... compelling.

The night carried on like that—the game quickly evolving from simple bluffs to playful confessions and outright ridiculous lies. By the end, we were leaning into each other, laughing so hard that tears pricked at the corners of our eyes. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.

The dim light filtering through the tavern's grimy windows felt like tiny knives stabbing at my eyes, even from where I was tucked away in the corner. Without sunglasses, stepping into full daylight wasn't even an option—the pain just wasn't worth it. I hunched over my excuse for breakfast: rubbery eggs and toast so dry it could double as a coaster. Hunger insisted I try, but every bite tasted like last night—greasy, regretful, and tinged with the bitterness of too much ale and too little honesty.

I pushed the plate aside with a metallic scrape, wincing at how sharp the sound was. The murmur of voices around me tangled together, a blur of lives I wasn't part of, just out of reach. Conversations mixed into a static hum, like I was behind some invisible barrier, listening to a life that wasn't mine anymore.

The creak of the tavern door broke the monotony, a cool draft brushing past as it opened. Two voices followed—one light and easy, as familiar as home. Hoseok's laughter rang out, warm and effortless, undercut by Hyuna's softer chuckle. Their voices cut through the haze like sunlight piercing storm clouds.

"Mind if we join you?" Hoseok asked, his tone as laid-back as ever, though I could hear the weariness beneath it.

I gestured to the empty seats, managing a small smile. "Go ahead. Just a heads-up—the food's as bad as it looks."

"If Yala cooked it, I can imagine it's bad," Hyuna said, eyeing my plate with a smirk. "Greasy, stale, and questionable at best?"

"Pretty much," I muttered, pushing the plate farther away.

Hoseok chuckled, but the sound lacked its usual spark. "Hey, at least it's not rations out of a tin like the copiae are getting in the field. I'd take overcooked eggs any day."

We shared a weak laugh, but the moment was fleeting. The weight of everything we'd been through, the constant worry, crept back in—thick and heavy. Hoseok leaned back, his eyes drifting somewhere far away. "Bridd saved my life in that last battle," he said quietly. "I don't even know how, but she did. I keep thinking... it should be me out there instead of her, alone."

Silence settled over us, broken only by the clinking of glasses and low murmurs from across the room. A pang shot through my chest, the reminder of Bridd's absence cutting deep. She'd been our anchor, the one who kept us steady. Without her, it felt like we were all just... floating.

"You miss her," I said softly, voicing what we all felt.

Hoseok nodded, his face tight with worry. "We all do. But Jimin's taking it the hardest. He's been beating himself up since that argument they had before she left. This war... it's tearing us apart."

Hyuna's expression softened, her eyes distant. "I keep thinking I should've said something to her, thanked her for everything. But I didn't. None of us did, really."

"We didn't either. Barely saw her after she woke up," I swallowed, my voice rough. "She's the heart of our families, and I don't think she ever realized how much she held us together."

Hoseok's hand rested on the table, his fingers tapping lightly. "I can't even imagine what it'd be like if she doesn't come back. Jimin's trying to act strong, but he's falling apart."

"He's been so distant lately," I murmured. "He doesn't know who he is without her anymore."

"Namjoon's been keeping him company," Hyuna nodded, her voice quiet. "He's hardly around here anymore. Only talks to people when he has to."

"I've been trying to keep an eye on him," Hoseok muttered. "He's easy to find—training, Bridd's place, or scouting. He's here all day, then slips away when things get quiet to spend time at her house. He's been fixing it up."

That brought a small grin to my face. It was nice to think it'd be ready for her when she got back. Unless, of course, something happened to it again. I doubted the elves would bother returning to the clearing. The witches who'd gone to Clarcton to find family said everyone thought Y/N was dead when they found her cottage destroyed and 'the Bird' gone.

We didn't correct them until they were back in Foxglove. Y/N's whereabouts were classified now.

"I'm worried he might hurt himself if something happens to her," Hyuna whispered.

"He might, even if he doesn't know," Hoseok replied. "We're not meant to be apart from our mates for this long. He must be going insane."

Their words echoed the fears I'd been trying to bury. I clenched my fists under the table, feeling the rough wood grain beneath my fingers, focusing on the tavern's hum of voices and clinking glasses. Out there, life went on, uninterrupted. But here, in our little corner, everything felt like it was standing still.

Whether we liked it or not, the three of us would be on the front lines.

And everyone knew I might not make it.

No one wanted to admit it.

Hoseok broke the silence with a sigh. "Yoongi," he said quietly, "have you thought about what happens after all this? After the war?"

The question hit me harder than I expected. Survival had become everything—the only thing. Thinking beyond it felt strange. I wasn't sure I'd see the end of it. With my eyesight the way it was, I felt weak, at a major disadvantage. Magic was helpful, but without the confidence to use it, it was useless.

Most of my spells fizzled out lately, and I was too frustrated and upset to keep trying.

"I know with your eyes, fighting might be tough," Hoseok continued, not noticing how still I'd become. "I'd understand if you wanted to stay back, maybe help out at the palace with Sol. She's a bit immature at times, but she's a sweet girl. You'd be good for her."

I stopped listening.

I couldn't be stuck on the sidelines. I wasn't meant to be there. I was a strong fighter—the best at night by a long shot. Jin might have more brute strength, his energy electric and full of fire, but I was just as deadly.

I could make the ground split in two. I could turn blades of grass into vines strong enough to break steel. I could summon a hurricane with a whisper. I could do so many things if they'd let me.

If I could let myself.

Then the sound of screaming rushed in my ears, and a cold sweat broke out across my skin.

I needed air.

I managed to get outside, bumping into a few chairs and tables on the way. The cool breeze hit my face, and I leaned back against the weathered wall, letting the cold ground me. It cut through the fog in my head, the chilly morning a relief from the tavern's stuffiness.

The smell of blood and ash had filled the air, screams and the clash of steel blurring together. I remembered the weight of their stares, how hard it was to breathe, the sharpness of their blades. The elves had charged us swiftly, mercilessly. I'd fought, felt the sting of cuts I barely noticed through the adrenaline. I could still see the glow of that elf's purple eyes as he reached out and covered my face. And then, in one blinding moment, all I felt was searing, burning pain.

I had bested him in the end, but fighting after that had been nearly impossible. The only reason I'd been able to call out to Y/N was because things hadn't gotten as bad as they eventually would. While I was in the palace with Enver and Namjoon, everything went black. The small bit of vision I'd recovered was thanks to the countless healing spells everyone had tried on me.

I met Sam during that time—when everything was blurry and upside down. She told everyone the "shining" had its advantages, but that my body needed to heal on its own. Not many survive the initial burning, she'd said, and we'd have to wait and see what became of me. It took months for the full effects to settle in, but she could already tell my vision was adjusting to the dark. Each day, my eyes became more metallic, turning silver as they healed. She said the grayscale was a good thing.

I didn't believe her. Not at all.

Sam befriended me out of some morbid curiosity about what would happen to the little witch who survived elf magic. Now, she wanted to sleep with me. Quietus were strange creatures, but I'd come to adore Sam and all her odd quirks.

"Yoongi?"

I turned, steadying myself against the rough wall. Hoseok's footsteps were careful, like he didn't want to startle me. I hadn't even heard him come outside.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, concern threading through his words.

"I just... needed a minute." I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm easily overwhelmed lately. Apologize to Hyuna for me. That was really rude."

Hoseok was silent for a moment, then I felt his hand on my shoulder—warm and grounding. "We're all carrying more than we should," he said gently. "You can talk to me. Maybe it'll help. What does it feel like?"

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "What are you referring to? My eyes or the nightmares?"

"The nightmares." His voice softened. "I know enough about your condition. I just want to know about you right now."

I shook my head, pushing my glasses further up my nose. The sun was bothering my eyes even more out here, but I barely noticed. Everything was too bright, too sharp.

"It feels like they never stop," I admitted. "Even when my eyes are open, they keep happening. Sometimes I don't know what's real anymore. It's... frightening."

Hoseok took a deep breath beside me. "Hyuna's been having the same issue," he said, leaning against the wall next to me. "Waking up screaming my name. When we got separated, she barely noticed, but seeing me hurt like that was horrible for her. Her friends died. Both of my parents died. It's been really hard."

I hadn't realized he'd lost his family. I knew his older sister was still around the village. The Jungs were good at covering their pain, it seemed. I reached out, my hands fumbling until they found his shoulder—maybe a bit too close to his neck, but he didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling his fingers brush against my hand before enveloping it. His hands were large and warm—scorching, almost. I didn't know how Y/N dealt with it; it felt like I might melt. "I didn't realize. I would have gone to the funeral."

He shook his head. "We couldn't have proper funerals for anyone. Too many bodies. They burned them and gave the ashes to Ji-woo. We're too afraid to display them right now. They could get destroyed in another fight."

"I can charm them," I blurted out. "Make the porcelain sturdier. I can't make it unbreakable—charming isn't really my specialty; that's Y/N's thing. But I'm good enough to give you some peace of mind."

"We'd appreciate that," Hoseok said, squeezing my hand. "Thank you."

Bridd's absence gnawed at me. If she were here, she'd promise Hoseok and anyone else with a vase of ashes that they'd never break again as soon as she got her hands on them. Funny—we used to tease her and Wendy for struggling with defensive magic. Wendy said she didn't believe in violence but knew enough to defend herself if needed. Y/N was even less into it, but she was so resourceful she scared even the best fighters among us.

I'd never seen someone make fire so quickly and easily before. A natural talent, my mother had said. It was her only truly offensive attack, but even I could admit her protective spells were where she truly shined. Healing, shields, and all the strange and whimsical spells she made up to escape quickly and quietly—they were fascinating.

My heart felt heavier.

"What happened between Bridd and Jimin?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had haunted me since she left.

We all knew the gist: an argument that got out of hand, and Y/N had a really bad day. She left in a flurry of emotions and disappeared. Many of us were quick to blame Jimin for her leaving, but when details about Sol being the catalyst emerged, that blame shifted.

I felt bad for the girl. She didn't think Y/N would run off and hurt herself. I understood she was trying, in some ways, to get her to stay by making sure the one person who could convince her not to go was extremely against the whole idea. Unfortunately, she didn't know my friend all that well and ended up sending her packing even sooner than planned.

Sol was a child. Eighteen was barely an adult, and she'd been pampered and treated like a princess her entire life. What did anyone expect? For her to be mature and handle things like a seasoned warrior? Not likely. Especially not when she had such a sweet and bubbly husband like Taehyung, who just wanted to please her.

They still were hardly speaking.

Hoseok sighed heavily. "It's complicated," he said. "They argued about Sol, about her leaving. Bridd was trying to protect him, and Jimin pushed for answers. Things got heated, and they both said things they regretted. But Jimin..." He paused, his voice dropping. "He's a mess without her. Regret doesn't even cover it."

"I know. I guess I'm just trying to figure out what everyone is doing about the elves. Thelma hasn't been very helpful."

"The council meets daily, but we can't get on the same page. Namjoon, Jungkook, and I are doing most of the talking. Jimin's making hundreds of war plans for every scenario you could think of. There are so many maps in that room. Bo and Kim are trying to ease the minds of the older folks. Taehyung is shockingly level-headed, working with Jimin to iron out details."

"And Sol? Is she just hiding while we pick up the pieces?" I couldn't help the sharpness in my voice.

No one had seen the Luna since her wedding. It wasn't a good look, and when we heard about Jungkook being her personal guard through all this, we nearly stormed the palace to demand why she thought she deserved special treatment. Heji had calmed us down, but dissent for Sol spread through the village like wildfire.

Hoseok's grip tightened on my hand. "It's not that simple, Yoongi. They're keeping a close eye on her in the palace. She's trying to keep her family safe and deal with everything she's set in motion."

"That doesn't excuse her," I snapped, anger spilling over. "It doesn't excuse any of this. We're out here fighting while she sits behind walls. And Y/N..." My voice cracked, the ache in my chest almost too much to bear.

"Yoongi." Hoseok's voice was firm, cutting through my anger. "We're all in this mess, every one of us. The girl is having a mental breakdown in there. She can't even get out of bed anymore. Taehyung won't speak to her, and she's miserable. She tried... harming herself a few days ago, and now they have guards watching her around the clock. Blaming Sol won't bring Bridd back or make this any easier."

"I know." The anger faded, leaving only emptiness behind. "But it feels like everything's falling apart, and I'm completely useless. You know no one expects me to survive the next fight."

Hoseok let go of my hand, and I dropped mine from his shoulder. I could see his silhouette leaning back against the wall beside me. The light made everything an overwhelming flood of white and gold, edges blurring and details lost in the glare. I hoped I would find something better than these stupid human inventions with time.

The edges allowed sunlight in depending on which way my head turned and the coating on them wasn’t as dark and thick as I would have liked. Yet another thing Y/N would have figured out how to fix. She had the most creative spell ideas out of everyone I had ever met.

She might have even been able to find a way to get my eyes back to normal given enough time.

"You're stronger than you think," Hoseok said gently. "You made it through that battle. You're still here, and that means something, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

“I’m here for now,” I rebuttal, unhappily.

“You heard Samanya, sooner or later your eyes will be better than any of ours at night. Then, you’ll be the most useful person in the entire village.”

“Sure.”

The street around us was still, the morning quiet making me far more unnerved. Birds did not chirp anymore. Most of the deer were in hiding. Insects and the occasional frog were the only sounds. At that moment, it felt like we were in a bubble, the noise and weight of the war held at bay just for a second.

“Is Sol alright?” I asked.

“Doing better,” Hoseok huffed. “She’s not really sure what she’s supposed to be doing, and no one is willing to let her help with anything now. Bo isn’t letting her in on any of the war meetings, Namjoon’s father thinks she’s too stupid and frail to be any help, and I think Tae’s just too overwhelmed and overloaded to step in between them.”

“Still not talking?” I asked.

Hoseok shook his head. “He talked to her last night, and he’s been trying to spend more time with her, but Sol’s not being very receptive to him right now. Koda has been with her mostly, and she said Sol hasn’t eaten or spoken for days. Weeks if you want to count her just sipping on water and force feeding herself crackers and bread. She looks horrible.”

“And Taehyung?”

“Worried,” Hoseok cleared his throat. “Sorry, I have a cough. He’s just spread too thin right now, and no one is being very helpful. Jimin, maybe, but he’s too distracted to really give much advice. It’s why I think you going and being around Sol might help.”

I laughed, “And why would I be the ultimate solution to all of their problems?”

“Because you’re nice, and Sol needs a friend.”

I shook my head. The thought of spending time with the girl who was the reason my best friend left was not appealing to me, but I did understand where Hoseok was coming from. Even if I did not particularly care for her, it wasn’t nice to hear that she had attempted to take her own life. No one should feel like that is their only option.

Maybe I will stop by one of these days. See if I could get the girl a decent meal. Gods knows she was already skinny enough before. Has to be practically wasting away now.

I heard the tavern door open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps fell and were coming for the two of us. A good guess was that it was Hyuna. Peeking over Hoseok’s shoulder, I saw his wife.

She was tall and slim, just as skin and bones as her husband, with long hair. I remember meeting her once or twice before, but couldn’t remember the color of her hair. It was brown, not too light or dark, but that was all. Her skin was dark, the color reminded me of a bronze-gold Viola. She was pretty. I remember thinking she was pretty.

Right now, she just looked like a stick figure drawn in ink that was smudged with the side of a hand.

Hyuna’s voice broke the silence as she joined us, her tone steady and sure. “Are you alright?” Her hand found mine, warm and solid. “You looked shaken up.”

I swallowed hard, nodding as some of the tightness in my chest eased. “I’m alright, Hyuna,” I said, my voice thick. “Just a few things I’d rather not think about.”

“I have those, too,” she replied, her eyes kind.

The morning air was crisp and biting, but with my friends beside me, I felt a spark of warmth, a small flicker of hope breaking through the shadows. We’d lost so much, and there was still more to face, but standing there, I felt like maybe we had enough to hold on to.

“Come here, baby,” Hoseok muttered, grabbing hold of his wife. Hyuna melted into his side. He looked back at me. “We need to get back to the palace. Hyuna’s scheduled to watch Sol in an hour and I need to get back to the council room before Jimin rips Bo’s head off.”

“No problem, man.”

“Will you be alright?” Hyuna asked.

“Always am,” I replied.

They each gave me a small hug before heading off towards the palace.

I leaned against the cold, rough wall of the building, trying to catch my breath as my mind spiraled through everything weighing on us—the war, the losses, the unknowns stretching out like an endless road. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace, but the darkness clung to me, seeping into every corner of my mind.

The sound of footsteps pulled me back to reality. I turned toward them, and a flicker of relief went through me when I saw Sam and Jungkook. I couldn't see if they looked as rough as I did, but it didn’t really matter to me. We had fun last night and I felt bad for possibly ruining that light atmosphere we’d been able to hold onto for a few hours. Hoseok and Hyuna had most likely run into them on their way out. It was the only way either of them would have known I was here.

“Hey,” Sam said, her voice soft. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile, though it felt like it could break at any second. “Just needed some air,” I replied, my voice sounding as worn out as I felt. “How about you two? Holding up?”

Jungkook shrugged, his jaw tight, his usual spark dimmed. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Just… trying to make sense of it. Hangovers don't mix well with war meetings. Happy Jung is relieving me. I hate seeing my cousin like that.”

Sam took a small step closer. “Hyuna told us you were here,” she said gently, her voice carrying the same sadness that weighed on all of us. “She told me what happened. Are you sure you’re alright? She made it seem like you freaked out.”

I swallowed, the ache in my chest tightening. “Yeah,” I managed, barely above a whisper. “I’m just… everyone keeps talking about Bridd, and it brings back a lot of memories. I hate that she’s not here right now. The witches aren’t united and nothing is getting done. I’m pissed off and sad.”

The three of us stood there, caught in a silence heavy with grief. Y/N had been more than just a friend to me—she’d been my anchor, hope, and strength when I needed it most. And now, that strength was gone. She had made me feel like I was worth something. Like I could be something more than a conquest. She was the only person that we grew up with who made me feel like I was more than just a piece of meat. Nixie and Delta had been helpful as well, but the romance always left room for doubt in my mind. With Y/N I knew she just really loved and cared about me with or without strings attached.

She was like that with all of us. The most well-respected and adored little witch as far as the eye could see. And we all knew it. Jin, Wendy, our families, and the little witches—big and small—were all aware of the gaping hole we kept avoiding talking about. We needed her here right now, and nothing Thelma or anyone else did could change that fact.

The fact that Enver and Thelma might have known she would leave prior to any of this happening made my stomach churn uncomfortably.

“Have I ever told you I talked to Jin before?” Sam finally broke the silence.

“No,” My face scrunched up. “Why would you do that?”

“It was back when your vision was at its worst. Before Bridd even woke up.”

“Oh,” I said back, dumbly. Jin never acted like he even knew Sam existed half the time. The fact that he’d spoken with her at all was news to me. Wendy couldn’t have known about it. She would have told me. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself.

Wendy was bad with secrets. Jin, too.

Huh. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I had.

“What’d he say?” I asked.

“I told him I was worried about what would happen to everyone if she never woke up,” Sam’s voice was like butter. “That hope within your people would die out as quickly as it went in. He told me that Bridd used to say hope was like a stubborn weed. You could try to pull it out as many times as you wanted, but it would always come back, even stronger.” She let out a soft laugh, more sad than happy. “She woke up, of course. The whole conversation didn’t really mean much of anything afterwards, but I can’t help but think about that sometimes. Because she was right. You could see how defeated she was—her eyes couldn’t lie, but she still clung to the hope of finding something better and bringing it back. An impossible task and she looked at it with nothing but mild annoyance and disdain.”

Sam laughed in disbelief. “And then she went off on her own like a fucking lunatic. She left this place thinking that her fiancé hated her, her friends betrayed her, and that she would die out there one way or another—and she still went. She wanted all of us to live even if she died. She had hope that she’d make it far enough to find Naida and whatever happened after didn’t matter.”

“She believed in that hope, even when we couldn’t,” Jungkook added, his voice raw. “She made us believe, too.”

I nodded, the sharp ache of missing her settling deep. “She wouldn’t want us to give up,” I said, feeling the truth of it in my bones. “She fought for this—for us. I can’t let her down.”

Sam reached out, her hand resting on my shoulder, grounding me. “Your friend is as crazy as Queen Terra was, and that woman stood tall against the elves. A mass genocide and she was still screaming. That’s what your girl is doing, and we will be doing the same.”

Jungkook moved closer, placing his hand on my other shoulder, his grip strong. “For Bridd,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination, “and for everyone we’ve lost.”

Bridd had given everything she had to protect us, to stand for something bigger than herself. And even though she was gone, her spirit lived on in us, in the bonds we shared, in the strength that kept us going. The road ahead was dark, full of uncertainty, but we’d walk it together.

As the sun slowly rose, casting light across the worn cobblestones, I felt a hint of warmth—a reminder that dawn always comes after the darkest nights. We couldn’t change the past or erase what we’d lost, but we could honor Bridd’s memory by holding onto hope and fighting on. She’d left us with that much: a spark of resilience even in the deepest dark.

“For Bridd,” I murmured.

And for once, the light didn’t bother me so much.

I stood by the river, watching as the last of the sunlight hit the water. The river sparkled, flowing east where it would inevitably end up in the Talay Ocean. Around me, the sky was deepening. I had never realized how much I had taken sunsets for granted until I could no longer watch the colors swirl together. It was twilight now, and the sky would be streaked with crimson and plum. Sunsets this close to the water were always the most beautiful.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to reach for my magic. It used to come so easily, just a flick of my wrist, a thought. But now, it felt like pulling teeth. The light that once danced at my fingertips was nothing more than a weak spark, flickering out before it even formed. Frustration twisted in my chest, sharp and tight.

Nothing really was the same anymore.

Clashing metal, the roar of flames, blood, wolves at my feet, swirling smoke clouding my vision, white hair, violet eyes, burning, and then the screaming.

Always the screaming.

I tried to shake off the memory, forcing myself to focus on the gentle sounds of the river. It was a futile distraction at best. Bridd’s face surfaced in my mind, and I felt the sting of her absence all over again. I could almost hear Jin’s laughter, taunting me with each failure, each flicker of magic that sputtered out.

“Not so hot now, Min,” his voice was distorted and dripping with more malice than my friend was capable of.

I clenched my fists, trying to channel the frustration into something useful—anything that might remind me I hadn’t lost myself entirely. I flicked my wrist. Nothing came.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “You can do this.” But all I got were a few faint sparks that faded into nothing. Every failure widened the hollow ache inside, gnawing at my resolve.

The riverbank was too quiet. I wondered if it was as lonely as I was. I groaned, kicking my feet and connecting with a few stray rocks. The sun had finally set, and I ripped the stupid glasses off my face. With each passing day, things became clearer. Tonight, the lines were sharper, and the details between the trees a bit more noticeable. Of course, still no color had come back. Cadoc said it most likely never would.

Tears welled up in my eyes. My entire chest tightened with all the frustration, anger, and hopelessness I felt deep within me. I was a failure. I was nothing. I was...

I wished someone was there to break me out of my own head for a while.

A rustling in the bushes made me jump, my body tensing instinctively. But it was only a bird, flapping away, leaving me alone again. I sighed, looking up at the sky. At least I could make out the stars again. I looked around, hoping to find Scorpius.

I found it tucked away, forming a ‘J.’ I smiled. Antares was the easiest to spot, a faintly red and brightly lit star. The only thing that could rival the other star called Mars. I was not sure how they got their names, or when, but it was interesting to look at them all. This, at least, I could still do.

“Today is a new day,” I mumbled, tearing my eyes away from the sky.

I tried the spell again, but again, nothing happened. Again. A faint spark. All I wanted to do was a very simple, very basic electricity spell. Each failed attempt felt like a punch to the gut. I hated being reduced to this weak and pathetic state where the very thing I was born to do felt impossible.

I flicked my wrist. “Leohtfæt.”

A white-hot bolt shot out, but instead of flicking out like it should have, it exploded in a small burst just after leaving the tip of my index finger. I shouted, pain shooting through my arm. A murder of crows flew up from the surrounding trees in a flurry. None of them made a sound.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, and I let out a shout—raw and loud, breaking the quiet. I kicked at the dirt, wishing I could do something—anything—to shake this feeling. I was in a cage, a small songbird, and I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to sing anymore. Beside me, the river kept flowing, steady and indifferent. I stood beside it, stuck.

“Get it together,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You’re stronger than this.”

I didn’t believe myself.

I took a few steps back from the river’s edge until I felt the solid ground under my feet. It felt more reassuring than the wet mud had. My magic was still somewhere inside of me; I just needed to shake off the fear and regroup. I was able to make a bolt.

It blew up in my face, but it was more than I’d been able to do in a few weeks.

The river glowed underneath the moonlight, the world around me softening, muted. I leaned against a twisted tree, still caught up in the mess of my own frustration, when I heard her voice.

“Yoongi?” Sam called out.

It was soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt. I turned toward the sound and was struck by how much clearer she looked tonight. Her hair cascaded down her back, dark and perfectly straight, and she was wearing some kind of loose-fitting dress. I had never been able to see her features so clearly before. Bathed in a gentle, dream-like glow, she stood out against the trees like some sort of goddess.

Humans might even mistake her for one of their angels.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I tried to smile, though it probably looked tired. “Hey,” I said, my voice as worn as I felt. “Didn’t realize I’d been out here that long.”

Her footsteps were soft as she came closer. She was taking great care not to startle me. Footsteps and loud noises sometimes brought me back, and I’d be unable to speak for a few minutes. Her lips were pulled down into a half-frown. They were plump and full, and I rejoiced in being able to know that about her.

Such a far cry from a few days before on Mi-Jeong’s back porch.

“I just came from Jimin’s. He’s... well, he’s managing. Sort of,” she said quietly. “Namjoon and I kept him company for a while, but he ended up slipping out a few minutes ago.”

I swallowed, guilt biting deeper. “Is he alright?”

She hesitated, and I saw her shifting uncomfortably, searching for the right thing to say. I had never been able to see her squirm before. “Not really,” she admitted. “But he’s trying.” She found a rather large rock near the river’s edge and sat down. “Doesn’t sound like the magic training is going very well.”

I nodded, going over to sit beside her. She made room for me before leaning her head against my shoulder. Her small touches of affection were growing more common between us, but they did not bother me. In fact, I welcomed them. Even if I knew she had just been with Namjoon—I flushed as I thought of him—it never made me feel uncomfortable. If anything, it only made me want her beside me more.

It was almost like touching him.

“Nothing?” she asked, so gently that I almost wanted to cry.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my hands. “I got a few sparks here and there, but it’s hit or miss. I need to start testing a few of the other simple spells and see if it’s just my defensive magic that’s clogged up.”

She didn’t speak right away. Her head stayed on my shoulder, and her hand came to claim one of my own. She pulled it down to rest in her lap. Her legs felt cold against my skin. Her thumb gently traced my knuckles.

“That’s better than before,” she said finally. “I think your body is still a bit afraid after what happened. Might be trying to keep you safe.”

Frustration spiked again, making my voice come out sharper than I intended. “It’s not that simple, Sam. Bodies don’t do that.”

She didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. Instead, she squeezed my hand a little tighter. “No, it’s not simple. None of this is, but your body is far more complex than you think it is.”

I felt her lips against my neck. They were cold and wet. I shivered.

“It happened to me just after the Sarkan invasion,” she whispered in my ear. “I was a young girl, but I remember how afraid I was. I couldn’t do anything for years afterward. I felt just as human as the people who stole our land. So many of us were deeply affected.”

She sighed, shifting back to rest against my shoulder again. “I don’t think you’re all that different. King Castor, who wasn’t a king at the time, told us that our minds like to play tricks on us to protect themselves. Fear is the most powerful weapon in the universe. Have I ever told you about my time with the dragons?”

“No.”

She chuckled. “A story for another time, I suppose. They’re strong and brave people, but they understand much about the body that the rest of us don’t. His wife, Queen Affra, said she knew why iron hurt the fae people but no one ever believed her. It’s too long ago now to remember it, but I wish we’d taken them at their word sooner. It’s the only reason their numbers were able to recover so quickly after the end of the war.”

“I was always told it was because they fucked like rabbits.”

“Well, there’s that, too.”

We both shared a quiet laugh.

She slid her hand up my arm, her fingers tickling my skin, before she took hold of my bicep. “Being strong doesn’t mean you’re not scared,” she said. “It just means you keep going anyway.”

“Are you scared?” I asked, looking down at her face.

It was even easier to see it now. Her eyes were hooded, her nose too pointy and thin, and her face a perfect oval. She reminded me of a very beautiful fish. I leaned down and kissed her between her eyes. She hummed in contentment.

“More than I’ve ever been before.”

I swallowed, her honesty touching something deep inside me, a part of me I hadn’t let anyone near. “I don’t want to drag everyone down,” I said, my voice breaking.

“You’re not dragging anyone down,” she said, her voice fierce, eyes blazing. “Not me, at least. You matter, Yoongi. More than you even realize.”

Something warm flickered in my chest. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me.”

She kissed my cheek this time. “I care about you, Yoongi,” she said. It sounded like a promise. “And that’s not something you get to decide for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She smiled, and I wished that I knew what color her lips were. Were they like strawberries or the dusty roses in my mother’s garden in Clarcton? “You don’t need to thank me,” she said softly. “Just let me be here, okay?”

I nodded, and we let the silence settle around us. The river murmured, the leaves rustled above, and as night crept in, I felt the gentle hum of life moving forward. Faintly, the crickets were beginning to chirp.

The darkness wasn’t gone—it never really was. It still hovered there, the screams clinging to my mind. But with Sam’s hand in mine, something shifted, and I could vaguely see through the cracks in the trees. They weren't very big, but they were just enough to let a little light in. I took a deep breath, letting the cool night air settle me, and felt more sure of things than I had in a long time.

“You’re right,” I said quietly, my voice a little stronger. “I’m fucking terrified and I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings. I’m so lost and scared, Sam.”

“One step at a time, okay? You’ll figure it out eventually.”

I nodded, feeling gratitude I couldn’t put into words.

After a moment, Sam’s tone shifted, her voice taking on that playful edge I’d come to know and love. Did I love Sam? I couldn’t be in love with her, but I guess I did feel something akin to love. “So, I’ve got some gossip for you,” she said.

My curiosity sparked, tugging me out of the heavy thoughts weighing me down. Shifting, I bent over. Sam giggled childishly. I dipped my fingers into the river, feeling the cool water wash over them, and the residual ache from the spell was gone. I heard her shuffling around until she leaned in beside me, her warmth pushing back against the chill of the night.

Sam wasn’t as warm as me, and nowhere near as warm as the wolves, but I expected an air elemental to be freezing. She said when she “merged.” That’s what they called it when they became more air than solid. Merging with the atmosphere, or whatever Cadoc had said.

I rarely spoke with him, and when I did, I didn’t pay attention. He was nice enough, but boring to converse with. Sam said he wasn’t around much anymore since he was the official diplomat between Queen Nerezza and the Elder Council. Lorcan was their link with General Drystan, and Sam was Jarisa’s, the King’s Consort’s, closest friend. A few other quietus had joined us here in Foxglove, but they were the least experienced warriors they had. From what Sam told me, her king and queen were still wary of working closely with the wolves. Y/N fleeing only added to their suspicion. If she were able to come back with Naida or Khione with her, the rest of the quietus would come as well.

Where Naida went, it was far more likely for the fire dragons to come as well, though no one seemed particularly confident that would be the case. Fire elementals enjoyed keeping to themselves.

“What’s the tea?” I asked, my tone lighter.

“Turns out Ji-Hyun was the one who tipped Sol off about Bridd,” she said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Taehyung only confirmed it when she backed him into a corner. She didn’t really believe him until then, but whatever he told her is what she must have told Jimin. I’ve met with Taehyung a few times and he seems too sweet to make up lies.”

“Why would he do that?” I muttered, not really expecting an answer that would make any of this better. “I’ve never understood his disdain for Y/N. No one she’s ever met has disliked her so quickly, and even if they did, they’d get over it once they talked to her. She’s quite likable once you get past the quick temper and awkwardness.”

Sam leaned in closer, her breath warm against the cool air. “Lorcan overheard Ji-Hyun arguing with his wife,” she whispered. “Ji-Hyun’s best friend died in the siege, and he blames your little bird for not warning them. He just assumed the worst from the beginning, and he’s too stubborn to squash the beef. He’s angry, Yoongi, and telling Sol was his way of lashing out.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling bitterness rise. Ji-Hyun’s grudge was like poison, and his need for revenge was threatening to tear apart everything we’d fought so hard to hold together. “Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “Just what we need. Another reason for everyone to turn on each other.”

Sam sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Exactly. Everyone’s already on edge, and Lorcan thinks Jimin doesn’t know yet. He’s been around his brother too often for him to think he went behind his back in that way.”

I stared out at the river, watching the water flow. I could picture Jimin’s face once he learned the whole truth of things—the anger that would rise up in him, fierce and unchecked. “If Jimin finds out,” I whispered, the weight of it settling on my chest, “it wouldn’t surprise me if he killed Ji-Hyun. And that would be the end of whatever stability we have left.”

“That’s why we can’t let it get to that point,” Sam said, her voice sharper now. “We have to handle this carefully. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.”

I let out a long breath. “But what can we really do, Sam? The Parks aren’t exactly known for subtlety, and Ji-Hyun just has to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, and he’ll have to deal with Jimin and whoever else feels some type of way about Y/N leaving.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But we can watch, we can listen, and we can wait. If the opportunity presents itself, we’ll talk to him. Unfortunately, this is the smallest little village I’ve ever been to, and I doubt anyone can keep their mouths shut for that long. Wouldn’t surprise me if he already knew and was just saving face.”

I turned toward her. “It would explain why he’s staying away from his mom’s house.”

She nudged my shoulder, a smile clear in her voice. “Look at you being smart.”

A real smile crept onto my face. “No one’s ever liked me for my rugged good looks.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you have both, Mr. Min.”

After a beat, I snapped out of the lovestruck, dumb, idiot stare I was in. Was I in love with Sam? No, Yoongi, you’re just infatuated with a girl who’s being nice to you. Not rocket science.

“So he’s punishing Y/N for something she couldn’t control?” I shook my head. “If you haven’t noticed, my jaw is still firmly in place.”

Sam nodded, her expression hardening. “Yeah, but he’s misjudged how this will play out. Callisto isn’t taking it lightly either. If she finds out about Ji-Hyun’s involvement, things could get… ugly.”

That made me laugh. “If there’s anything that girl can do, it’s shit-talk with the best of them. I miss having her at the house.”

“One of the more entertaining people I’ve met here,” Sam agreed. “The other morning she called Namjoon an ‘absolute walnut.’ And then when Ji-Hyun laughed, she made the funniest faux-surprised face I have ever seen and shouted, ‘Oh my God! It Speaks!’ Lorcan and I were cracking up.”

“Damn spitfire,” I chuckled.

“You’d think she was a dragon the way she talks to these wolves.”

“Brave little human.”

“Brave, indeed.”

The evening deepened, stars twinkling brightly above us. It was quieter than usual. The crickets were a small hum in the background, and the frogs were giving us some space. The birds were in the trees, sitting silently and watching. I wondered if Jin and his family had spoken with them. We’d know when something was nearby that way. It would be smart strategizing. I’d talk to my mother about that and see what she knew.

Maybe I could go with Thelma and see what I could do to help. Being Sol’s babysitter popped up in my head, but it didn’t feel like it would be much help. I glanced at Sam and felt my heart melting.

She really was the most important thing in my life right now.

“Thanks, Sam,” I murmured, my voice catching as I looked away. It didn’t feel like enough, but I meant it. “For sticking with me through all of this.”

She gave the back of my head a gentle peck. “No need to thank me, baby,” she said, her voice as steady as ever. “We’re in this together. Besides,” she added, a little smile creeping into her tone, “you’re the only thing that makes me want to come back to this shitty little village anymore. Honestly, I would have only come to see Joon and leave. Leave Cadoc to do all of the bureaucratic bullshit.”

A laugh escaped me, breaking through the quiet. “So we balance each other out, huh? Fire and ice?”

“Fire and ice,” she echoed, her eyes gleaming with that familiar spark of mischief. “But honestly, I think you’re more earth, and I’m made from… you know, air.”

“Smart ass.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And I did.

I stared into my drink, the amber liquid swirling in slow circles, like it was trying to keep up with the chaos in my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still there, still in that battle, still surrounded by everyone I loved. But it wasn’t real, it never had been. It was just a nightmare.

In my dream, I was the last one standing. Everyone else had fallen—one by one—until it was just me, surrounded by their bodies, faces twisted in pain, fading into the smoke and ash. I’d thought I could protect them, thought I could stop the inevitable. But then the elves charged, all of them, eyes cold and faces unforgiving. I fought, I fought until my muscles gave out, but it was no use. Alone, I couldn’t stop them. And I couldn’t save the people who mattered most.

I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to remember how I felt, standing there with my sword in my hand, a useless piece of steel against the weight of the world. But it kept creeping back into my mind, dragging me back into the nightmare, every little detail too vivid, too real. I didn’t know how long I’d been walking, but somehow, my feet had carried me to the tavern in the middle of the night. The place was dark, almost empty, just the kind of place I could lose myself in.

I ordered a drink. And then another. And another. The whiskey burned going down, but it didn’t burn enough to erase the feeling of emptiness in my chest. The same emptiness that had been there in the dream, the same cold weight of knowing I was the only one left.

The tavern was its usual self—a loud, dim blur of voices and clinking glasses, the smell of stale beer hanging in the air. But none of it mattered. I could barely hear it over the pounding in my head. The world outside seemed far away, like I was in a different place entirely, a place where none of it had ever happened, where I hadn’t failed them all.

I watched the glass in my hand, the whiskey still swirling in lazy circles. No matter how much I drank, it wouldn’t stop the dream from coming back. It wouldn’t bring them back. It wouldn’t fix what was broken inside me.

Then the door swung open, and a familiar laugh sliced through the noise, grating and sharp. I glanced up to see Ji-Hyun stepping into the dim light, his mouth twisted into that smug, careless grin he always wore. He spotted me right away, and instead of looking the other way, like any decent person would, he headed straight for me. My chest tightened, and I could already feel my hand curling into a fist around my glass.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said, sliding onto the stool beside me without an invitation. “Didn’t expect to find you out, Yoongi.”

I forced the anger down, keeping my eyes on my drink. “I don’t expect to find you anywhere.”

Ji-Hyun laughed. “Cali keeps me on a tight leash, I’ll admit it. Got lucky tonight, though. She’s helping her momma knit some new clothes for the copiae, and I was able to sneak out.”

“Poor me.”

“I’m not that bad, hyung.”

The honorific was a surprise to me. As long as I had known the kid, he had been a walking dichotomy. Arrogant and condescending, but respectful and always keeping his manners. Still, he had never been quite as kind to the witches. I think our loyalty to Y/N didn’t make his life much easier, especially when his camp of dissenters quickly grew scarce and then disappeared altogether. He was the only person in town besides Bo who didn’t like Y/N, and even he sometimes was quick to criticize Bo’s more “ridiculous” reasoning for being so anti-Y/N.

Jealousy over someone else was petty. The death of a friend and three dozen village members was more than enough for Ji-Hyun’s open disgust at people like us who still loved her.

He was a very black-and-white thinker, and yet there was some space for nuance.

For example, he had never called me “Hyung” before, despite the fact that I’m three years older than him.

“No,” I took a sip of my drink. “You’re pretty fucking terrible.”

That only made him laugh harder. Had to admit, he looked a lot like his older brother when he did that.

“Only because you’re blinded by loyalty and I’m not,” he flagged down the bartender. “Not to Y/N at least. I am to my people, and I have a different opinion than everyone else.”

“Because you’re wrong.”

“No,” he stopped talking and gave Yala his order before turning back to me. “Think about it from my perspective. She saw the future, knew something bad was going to happen, and didn’t tell anyone but her loyalists. One of them being you. Don’t you see how that could piss off a guy?”

I had tried having this conversation with him before, but it had never gone this well. It was weird to think I’d thought this was going to be a fight. Maybe he was more like Jimin than I gave him credit for.

“She didn’t see the future,” I sighed, finishing off my glass. “Y/N can’t see the future. She was getting possessed by spirits who weren’t able to show her very much. It was vague, and she only told me because Thelma—the woman raising the real future-seer—came by and said something bad was coming. We should all be mad at Thelma if we’re using your metrics.”

“But she owed my brother that loyalty and respect, and she didn’t give it to him.”

Oh, that was fucking rich.

“You are such a fucking hypocrite,” I muttered, my voice low. I hoped he’d take the hint and leave, but he just laughed. “You don’t get to say shit like that and expect me to take you seriously.”

“Oh, I don’t?” He leaned in closer, his breath reeking of arrogance. “Last time I checked, I was free to say whatever I wanted. She wasn’t exactly the saint you all like to pretend she was.”

That was it. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I straightened up, turning to face him, letting all the anger I’d been holding back show. “You’re one to talk. You want to talk about loyalty and respect to your brother? It’s your fault this entire shitshow went to hell in the first place.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning back, completely unfazed. “Oh, please, don’t put that on me. What did I do, exactly?”

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep calm. “You told Sol about Y/N’s plan after you snuck around like the dirty rat you are. You went behind your brother’s back and fed lies to the most immature and naive person in this entire village to lie about his fiancé. It’s your fault the story was twisted, your fault she ran to your brother, and you sat back like a coward and let it happen. If you were so fucking loyal to your brother, you would have understood that he loved that girl and you would have been there with him.”

Ji-Hyun snorted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Oh, so now I’m responsible for her choices? Bridd wanted to play hero. She got what she deserved.”

“What about when everyone said that about Callisto?” Ji-Hyun looked surprised. “Yeah, I heard all about your girl getting beat up by a few of the wolves in town after you mated with her. And you know who helped you out? Jimin. You are no better than a bully, and you ganged up on a girl who gave up her entire life and future to help your people, and then because you’re so fucking entitled, and it wasn’t good enough for you, you decided to ruin your brother’s life just to get back at her? You think we didn’t lose people? Cordelia was like a second mother to Y/N when she was younger, and she had to find her dead body. She saved Hoseok’s life!”

“And none of that would have happened if she had said something.”

And then I snapped.

My fist connected with his jaw, and for a split second, everything felt right again. Like I was myself. Ji-Hyun stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise, but it didn't last. His face twisted with anger, and before I knew it, he grabbed my collar, his grip like iron. Then his fist met my cheek, and the world tilted. Pain exploded, but weirdly, it felt good to feel something.

The tavern erupted around us—shouts, scraping chairs, breaking glass—but it all faded into the background. All I could see was Ji-Hyun, and the anger that mirrored my own. The satisfaction of hitting him still buzzed under my skin. I wanted to swing again, to make him hurt like I was hurting.

Then someone yanked me back. Strong hands pulled me away, and I spun around, fists still clenched. It was Jimin. His eyes were hard, jaw set in that way that meant he was beyond mad. "That's enough," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. It wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be.

He held my gaze, and I felt something inside me crumble. Disappointment. That's what I saw in his eyes, and it stung more than Ji-Hyun's punch.

Ji-Hyun wiped blood from his lip, smirking. "Keep your little witch on a leash," he spat before turning and storming out. His words hung in the air, heavy and poisonous.

Jimin's grip on my arm loosened but didn't let go. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly. I didn't have an answer. Couldn't find words that made any sense.

I pulled away, my cheek throbbing, and headed back to the bar. The room spun a little, or maybe that was just me. I sank onto the stool, ignoring the bartender's wary glance. My drink was still there, so I took a long sip, letting the burn distract me.

The whispers started then. People pretending not to stare while definitely staring. Great. Just what I needed.

Ji-Hyun's words replayed in my head. He'd called me pathetic. Said she didn't care about me. No matter how much I tried to drown it out, it clung to me like smoke.

Bridd would've smacked me upside the head for that stunt. Told me to stop acting like an idiot. She always knew how to pull me back when I was spiraling. But she wasn't here.

I felt the weight of Jimin's gaze before I saw him. He stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, expression unreadable. Part of me wanted him to say something—to yell at me, to tell me I'd screwed up. But he just sighed and walked away, leaving me with my tangled thoughts.

I stared into my glass, the amber liquid swirling like a tiny storm. Maybe Ji-Hyun was right. Maybe I was pathetic. A witch without magic is just... nothing.

The noise of the tavern pressed in—laughter, clinking glasses, snippets of conversations. It was too much. I needed air.

I slipped off the stool, the floor tilting a bit under my feet. Ignoring the curious looks, I headed for the door and stepped out into the night.

The cool air hit me, and I sucked in a deep breath. The sky stretched out above, stars scattered like thrown confetti. I walked until the sounds from the tavern faded, finding a quiet spot near an old oak tree.

I sat down on the grass, leaning back against the rough bark. The ground was damp and cool, seeping through my clothes, but I didn't care. Tilting my head back, I gazed up at the stars. They were blurry around the edges, but constant. Unchanging.

I closed my eyes, the fatigue washing over me like a wave. The fight, the anger, the emptiness—it all felt distant now. Out here, under the vast sky, I could almost pretend that things were okay.

Sleep tugged at me, and for once, I didn't fight it. I let the darkness wrap around me, pulling me under. Just for a little while, I could escape.

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