#this film truly is like ‘you like curse of the werewolf?’

[papsiguesss]

Peter Cushing as Prof. Paul Cataflanque in Legend of the Werewolf

[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

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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.

Taglist: @greezenini @adventures-in-bookland @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @zae007live @jimin-neverout @nikkiordonez12 @canarystwin @yamekomz @chimthicc @michiiedreamer @amorieus @mima795 @yunki-yunki-yunki

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[aouiaa]

What if.. Dina + Werewolf reader

Maybe R is very secretive about it at first, nobody knows at all, they go about business as usual other than maybe disappearing every full moon. R is just pretty strong and fast and they can just write that off as being athletic or something

Dina could possibly find out when Dina and R are on patrol and they get ambushed by a bunch of raiders, then R is forced to transform into the big werewolf form in a last ditch effort to protect Dina?

Live Laugh Love Dina Nolastname..

❝ under blue moon ❞ — 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 !

warnings and disclaimers, established wlw relationship (not implicated), half werewolf/human!reader, reader has long hair, human!dina, cursing, angst with comfort, self-deprecation, sequences of violence, deaths, descriptions of wounds, mentions of blood.

TAPE THAT MOUTH SHUT, “we love you dina” we all say in unison.

like the repetitive tap of a foot, you were restless. plagued with conflicting emotions that a slip-up at any given moment could alter the course of history, a beloved one with many. every howl under a night sky, a display of unwavering loyalty, ignites a sense of profound shame within you. perhaps this constant state of self-deprecation and guilt stems from a deep-seated selfish desire to release, to finally be who you were meant to be, not forced.

from the unyielding itch to molting, you didn't wish to frighten or harm anyone, but sometimes it was necessary. a sharp whistle pierced the tranquil expanse of lush forests you patrolled alongside dina, morphing into a fierce war cry. your primary concern was preventing any harm from befalling your companion. the attack materialized so abruptly that it seemed almost surreal. the scathing slash struck swiftly, leaving a searing wound in its wake.

in your perception, the situation was akin to clinging to a rope for dear life, so tightly that it sliced through your skin, leaving behind scars begging to be licked clean. the rope itself was not robust, hanging by an exceedingly fragile thread. every action demanding meticulous movement, for a single misstep could spell doom.

the same doom that loomed over your relationships, uncertain if they could ever be salvaged. the relentless onslaught came fast, and just as quickly, the man perched atop you pinned you down, leaving you battered and close to your final breath. in that critical moment, you gazed over to your right, desperately seeking an escape. there, you saw dina, her life slipping away as she was being strangled. amidst the chaos, a profound realization washed over you. it’s clear like any human, they have a breaking point, and being half-human, you certainly experienced those moments of revelations too, just like you were destined to now.

at first, you felt a disconnect, as if the world had shifted into a hazy fog. then, through the blur, a trembling, bloodied figure came into focus. she looked up at you, her eyes wide with fear, as if you were some malevolent entity. the truth was, you were, yet not a monster in the conventional sense.

driven by primitive instinct, you lashed out at her and fled through the dense forest, putting distance between yourself and the once battlefield. with your heart pounding furiously, the stinging sensation of tears threatened to fall, it all felt useless, as if your efforts amounted to nothing. you were nothing, but a failure. now, certainly, you were gonna be alone. wearied, you gently placed the terrified girl on a patch of clear ground before collapsing at her feet, utterly spent.

as if in a scene from a film, a brilliant aura enveloped you, gently shrinking your form until you were your true self once more, but—were you ever truly your “true self” to begin with? your tresses fell like a curtain, shielding your face, almost as if they spoke on your behalf. shame cloaked you, fearing what the other might think, but realization sunk in: you couldn’t hide any longer, not anymore. you gathered the courage and swept your hair behind your ear.

inches from your visage was the face you dreaded, one that could turn away and call out wolf— literally. you stared up at her, tears streaming down your face. You weren't physically harmed, yet sobs continued to spill from your lips.

your voice quivered as you choked out, "i can't... i won't hurt you." you attempted to sit up, but to your dismay, she moved back, the small distance feeling like a chasm between you. it was as if the whole world had been turned upside down—your feet no longer firmly planted on the ground.

it might be for the best that everything unfolded this way, as deep down, you had no real grasp of whether you were truly domesticated. just like animals with their innermost instincts, there was a chance that an unexpected trigger could send you into a tailspin. with tears streaming down your face, you tearfully admitted, "i’m a monster." slowly, you began to rise to your feet.

“hey, hey,” her hands, gentle and soothing, came to rest on your tear-stained cheek to stop you, redirecting your gaze to meet hers. she softly reassured you, “you’re far from that.” like a mother calming a distressed child, she stroked your skin tenderly with her thumb.

“but you look at me like i am.” you murmured.

she huffed, clearly at a loss for words, “i—what is there to say to this?” her smile held a hint of resignation as she continued, “sure, you're a bit on the hairy side, but you did get us out of a hairy situation.” a pitiful attempt to lift the mood with a lighthearted remark in a tense situation wasn't so easily dispersed. unmoved by her attempt at humor, you offered her a cold shoulder, extinguishing the fragile flicker of light that had briefly appeared.

she notices your expression and sighs, momentarily resting her forehead against yours. as she inadvertently glances downward, the change in her expression prompts you to follow suit.

immediate embarrassment flooded you as you swiftly move to cover your private areas, your face beet red. "oh shit." you muttered, realizing you had forgotten a crucial detail.

her infectious laughter sliced through the tension in the room— or rather forest. with a toothy grin, she took off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders, quipping, “there you go, you wild animal."

"hey!" you pouting in response.

request are open, don’t be shy! :3

PERMANENT TAGLIST, @dyk3ang3l, @elliesprettygirl, @les4elliewilliams, @r3starttt, @slut4mascss, @marsworlddd, @bready101, @abbysleftbicepp, @airenaa, @caraphernellie, @astralnymphh, @whore87, @kaiilectric, @sapphicontherun, @mikellie, @nihilisticangelbby, @be3flow3r, @ppuussyyy, @clairoscharm, @lvlymicha, @brackishkittie, @loveyru, @drunkonnatasha, @leosw0rld, @visupremacysstuff

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[slasherbat]

Rating werewolf designs from movies because I really fucking love werewolves alright let's go:

The Cabin In The Woods (2011 or 2012, depends on how you see it)

I FUCKING LOVE THIS DUDE. I love this guy, one thing about me is that I think these kind of werewolves are peak design. They're a perfect balance between human and wolf, and although it's no big surprise I love this movie more than anything else, this werewolf is a huge factor as to why. It's such a well done design, and I just love it. Sigourney Weaver I understand you, I'd wanna work with this werewolf.

An American Werewolf In London (1981)

A classic, a beloved favorite for a lot of people, and of all the werewolf designs I've seen that are far more wolf heavy, this is my favorite. The transformation scene in this movie is my favorite part, and this movie and design simply cannot be defeated. Absolutely perfect.

An American Werewolf In Paris (1997)

What the actual fuck am I looking at? This is a disgrace of design, I hate it. It looks like it's been run over by a truck and someone who has never seen a werewolf before in their life made one. What went wrong? The downgrade from London is incredible, I've never seen anything like it. Why does it have human ears?

Ginger Snaps (2000)

I love this movie, it's phenomenal and simply a cult classic. I love the take this film had with the slow and gradual transformation. It built up a lot of excitement for me to see the final result! Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed, there's a lack of fur and the arms feel to human for me. Yet I still do like the design, I think it's trying it's best and I can applaud it.

Cursed (2004)

Everytime I saw this werewolf it looked so incredibly different. This films history is something fascinating to me with all the changes it's had. Including the storyline, R-rated to PG-13, going from Pratical Effects to CGI. I've got mixed feelings about these designs, and truly wish I could one day get to witness what Wes Craven himself had in mind. Anyway, sum it up. Mixed feelings, I prefer the design it has in the first image out of all 3 pictured.

Van Helsing (2004)

Before I watched this movie, I loves this werewolf design. It was really great, but after actually having seen the film, my feelings have faltered. It's not the best here, but it's not the worst. I think it could look a little bit better, but hey, it made me watch this film, and compared to what so many people say. It was enjoyable, not really re-watchable, but still the film and design were fun

And that is the end for me and this post. Perhaps I will get to reviewing werewolf designs from TV shows. I will leave you all with this photo I have saved of the Cabin werewolf and Kristen Connolly, I bid you all farewell.

[cowchickenbeefpork]

god I need to rewatch the wolf man (1941) again I take breaks while watching films often which is a bad habit I need to break I need to stop treating movies like they’re books this film was fantastic I just finished it and like it’s so fucking good. One of my favorite films. Made me wanna cry. Love the themes of isolation and how no one believed Larry’s illness he was either seen as being ridiculous or being inherently cruel deep down in his heart or even just the mere assertion he was insane and needed to get treatment for psychosis when that was not what he was facing in his struggles. He knew he was harmful to others he knew what was happening to him but no one took his word for it. No one truly believed except the mother of a son who lived and died as a werewolf. To know what is wrong with you and try to isolate, try to ensure everyone else is safe after finally acknowledging that is something you are going through, and for everyone else to never understand it is heartbreaking. He did nothing to deserve this fate. No one truly deserves being treated like this, being neglected like this.

I also kinda interpreted how Larry’s father reacted to his son behaving like this as him knowing that the asylums won’t help, you know? This is a recurring issue in their family, something that has sprung up again and again, family members with the same illness, the same curse. I feel like they have at least tried to institutionalize them before at least once, and realized how horrendous they treated them in it. He doesn’t want his son to go through that, he wants his son to just push through this “delusion” and make it through when he cannot. His father basically has to convince himself that his son can push through if he tries hard enough, because that itself feels like it is the only cure for something like this. He doesn’t want his son to become a husk, he doesn’t know how to help his little boy. His own attempts to help him by trying to make him snap out of it only pushes them further off the edge, leading to his death by the hands of his own father at the end of the film.

[honourablejester]

While we’re on this topic of old films we watched and enjoyed, some random movie recs from the 1910s through to the 1970s based on the things that popped into my head fastest. Warning in advance, I like horror, noir, swashbucklers, dark comedy and dodgy fantasy films.

1910s

Fantômas serials (1913/1914) – As I said in the previous post, if you ever get a random hankering for silent-era pulpy French crime thrillers, these are an excellent start.

1920s

Metropolis (1927) – the imagery in this movie is absolutely stunning, even if the morals are extremely heavy-handed. Worth it for the Robot Maria transformation sequence alone. Also, and I feel mean for thinking this, because the poor man’s going through hell, but there are moments where Freder is truly hilarious. And also, Batman: The Animated Series owes so much, visually, to this movie. It single-handedly shape a vision of what cities and the future and architecture and transport could look like.

Nosferatu (1922) – imagery. The Germans were so fucking good at imagery in early cinema. Admittedly the movie does some very strange things to the Dracula mythos, and is probably the source of a lot of later ideas of him that have nothing to do with the novel (the sunlight thing), but it’s so cool.

1930s

M (1931) – Peter Lorre is incredible. And actually the whole set up of this movie is so creepy and tense and enthralling, and then the court scene busts it wide open. Deals with some heavy things, including child murder, vigilante justice and mental illness, but it’s so good. And you will never hear ‘Hall of the Mountain King’ the same way again.

The Thin Man (1934) and sequels – they’re half hardboiled noir and half screwball comedy, but they’re not a parody, because they predate most of the noir genre, so this is more of a funny hybrid precursor series. And they’re really funny. If you just want some pep and jazz in your life, a good time for an hour or so, totally watch these, they’re adorable.

The Prisoner of Zenda (1937) – Okay. I just like a good swashbuckler? You will see Zenda several times on this list, because I enjoy a lot of versions of this, but of all of them you need to start with this one, because Douglas Fairbanks Jnr. No one else will ever do Rupert of Hentzau like him. If you like your charming, snarky villains, if you like your Lokis, Rupert of Hentzau. Douglas Fairbanks Jnr. If you also like your villain and your hero to have powerful sexual tension and lean very close to each other while crossing blades, again. Rupert of Hentzau. Just watch. You’ll see.

Son of Frankenstein (1939) – I’m not going to lie, I watched this movie purely to see where Young Frankenstein (1974, also very much worth a look) was getting a lot of its in-jokes and gags from (Inspector Kemp in YF is riffing off Inspector Krogh in this movie). But it is worth watching wholly on its own merits. Among other things, Inspector Krogh is a genuinely cool and compelling character (as a kid, the monster ripped his arm out during its first rampage, and during this movie Krogh fully stands up to that childhood nightmare and has a cool moment with his prosthetic arm), and if you have any interest in Basil Rathbone, Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi, this movie is fantastic. Lugosi in particular as Igor does so much in this movie. If all you picture when you think of him is Dracula, try this. (And The Black Cat (1934), which also has Karloff and Lugosi, but is significantly more intense).

1940s

The Mark of Zorro (1940) – Okay. I like swashbucklers. I like movie sword fights. This movie has the best movie sword fight ever. Basil Rathbone vs Tyrone Power. No contest. And, I mean, yes, the rest of the movie is also good. But watch it for the sword fight. Perfection.

The Wolf Man (1941) – This movie and Casablanca between them gave me a bit of a thing for Claude Rains. I don’t know, he’s just really compelling to watch. Very soft-spoken, but very there. And if you want the tragedy of the werewolf curse, this is the movie that started it all. This is not a monster movie. This is a psychological horror story of one man breaking apart under the burden of a curse. It’s so good.

Casablanca (1942) – I mean, it’s everyone’s answer. It’s stereotypical, the classic movie. But it is very, very good. Extremely quotable. I wish to punch Rick in the face several times over. And Claude Rains as Renault is so sleazy, but also so compelling.

Arsenic & Old Lace (1944) – If you ever wondered what the deal with Cary Grant was. This movie. His face. The whole movie just rides on his face. His reactions, his body language. I mean, the movie does a lot of things spectacularly. If you enjoy dark comedy, this is the pinnacle. Hiding bodies in window seats, kill count competitions between a psychotic criminal and his maiden aunts, the extremely morbid running gags of ‘yellow fever’ and Teddy charging up the stairs and the elderberry wine. But really it’s all Cary Grant and his fucking expressions. There are several points in this movie where I can’t breathe. For a man with so many suave, serious leading roles, his physical comedy was incredible.

The Big Sleep (1946) – This was the movie that introduced me to noir. Not the Maltese Falcon, not Double Indemnity, not Sunset Boulevard. This one. The Big Sleep. And you can argue that it’s not the best of the noirs, it’s a bit too caught up in itself, the plot if you pay attention has some big holes in it, and if you compare it to the book one female character in particular got rather cheated. But. As an introduction. It does land, very definitely. Bumpy Go-Cart (sorry, Humphrey Bogart) and Lauren Bacall are all that and then some. If you want to pick a noir, you can do a lot worse.

1950s

The Prisoner of Zenda (1952) – Mostly I like this as a compare/contrast to the 1937 one. It’s damn near a shot-for-shot remake, and while that could be a bad thing, it’s fascinating what differences and interpretations show up because of that. Watch the ’37 one first, and then watch this one. It’s just cool to compare them. And, you know. It’s still a really fun swashbuckler.

The Court Jester (1955) – Just the best time. The best. I have an unreasonable amount of fondness for this film, this gentle send-up of previous swashbucklers and period dramas in the vein of The Adventures of Robin Hood, and basically every movie Basil Rathbone ever made. Watch it for Danny Kaye, watch it for the tongue twisters, watch it for a baby Angela Lansbury, watch it for an absolutely hysterical duel scene, watch it for Maid Jean being the single most competent character there. Just watch it. I cannot entertain criticism on this point. It’s excellent, and I’m not sane about it.

Some Like It Hot (1959) – Jack Lemon is going to show up again later in this list, and for good reason, (as is Tony Curtis, but we don’t care as much about him), but Some Like It Hot is also, for a 1959 movie, a really gentle, funny, interesting look at gender roles? I mean, the premise is two dudes going undercover as female musicians with an all-female band to avoid mob hitman, and one of them keeps getting hit on by rich man while the other struggles to get it on with Marilyn Monroe in his male persona while trying to hide from mob assassins in a female persona, so it could be such a hot mess, but it actually … It’s quite gentle. Marilyn’s Sugar gets to talk about what men expect when they see her and, because he’s pretending to be a woman, Tony Curtis’ Joe has to listen to her, Jack Lemmon’s Jerry/Daphne gets to get genuinely swept up in the feeling of being romanced as a woman to the point that he’s semi-seriously talking about marriage, and in the end, when Jerry reveals he’s a man to Osgood, the rich old idiot who’s been trying to romance ‘Daphne’, Osgood famously just goes ‘well, nobody’s perfect’, and still appears perfectly willing to marry ‘her’. I mean, it has its issues still, but there’s such a lot of gentleness in it for a comedy movie made in 1959.

1960s

The Innocents (1961) – One of my two all-time favourite horror movies, on raw atmosphere alone. It’s so eerie. SO EERIE. It’s horrible and twisted and goes heavy places (child death, a child acting ambiguously sexually while possibly possessed, strong questions of sanity), but it’s done so gracefully and gently and eerily. If Gothic Horror is of interest to you as a genre, if you enjoyed Crimson Peak, try this. It is all beautiful sunshine and sprawling lawns and twisted desires and paranoid terrors and the single eeriest scene I’ve ever seen in anything ever. Watch the lake scene. It’s stunning.

The Raven (1963) – Pivoting back to comedy horror, this time with added fantasy. Vincent Price has been in a lot of better movies, but I’m not sure if he’s been in many funnier ones. Him and Peter Lorre just own this movie. Wall to wall ham. Just. Just go in, just watch it. There’s a loose frame plot of duelling magicians, vague references to Poe’s ‘The Raven’, Boris Karloff returning as a villain, animal transformations, and the obligatory young romance getting embroiled in their sorcerous parents’ plots (although, jarringly, the young romantic lead is a baby Jack Nicholson, which sure gives it a weird vibe), but honestly? You’re here for Vincent Price and Peter Lorre and the wizard duel.

The Great Race (1965) – Jack Lemmon is back, as is Tony Curtis, but we only care about the former of those, because Professor Fate (obligatory shouting). Okay. I don’t know how many people remember the old Hanna-Barbera Wacky Races cartoons? Am I aging myself here? But this is the movie they were based on, and Professor Fate is who Dick Dastardly was based on. The premise is a 1910s global car race between Curtis’ Great Leslie (you will want to punch him, and that’s perfectly natural) and Lemmon’s Professor Fate, an exaggerated eccentric conman and cheater and over the top cartoon villain of man, and you will love him. He’s the best thing in it. But there’s also Natalie Woods as the reporter who also enters the race, and a young Peter Falk as Fate’s sidekick Max. That’s a baby Columbo as the ‘villain’s more competent henchman. AND. For me, for bonus points, a huge section at the end of the rest is basically a whole-plot Prisoner of Zenda reference in which Professor Fate is the hero. Look. Look. Do you ever want to watch a live-action cartoon? This is that movie. Trust me. It’s fantastic. The romance has aged terribly, you will want to throw Leslie off a cliff, it has several extremely sixties tropes in it, but it’s that movie. Watch it. Have fun.

1970s

The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973) – Right. So. 70s fantasy movie. Not politically correct in the slightest, and some extremely unfortunate choices were made in it. But. Ray Harryhausen. Stop motion fantasy effects of awesome. And, also, I just really enjoyed the character of the Vizier. He doesn’t really get to do anything, he’s kinda just set-dressing, but he is the horrifically maimed advisor to the king who fell afoul of our sorcerous villain, and he has a cool golden mask to cover his scars, and you think he’s going to turn out to be treacherous but no, he’s rock-solid calm and noble and helpful the entire way through, and I just really really like him. The image of him stuck in my head for years.

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) – My other all-time favourite horror movie, and again it’s the eeriness. Pure eeriness. Nothing happens in this movie. There’s no monsters, there’s no explanations. 3 girls go missing on a rock in early 1900s Australia, in the midst of baking heat and sunshine and the looming shape of a volcanic geological formation, and the movie just follows their society unravelling in the aftermath. No one knows what happened. Grief and terror and unanswered questions destroy people. Reactions, prejudice, respectability and hidden flaws, loss of innocence, the unpredictable reactions of people unstrung by grief and fear, all of it snowballs in the wake of the disappearances, and over it all looms the sunshine and the rock. The score and the cinematography of this movie work so well to create this pervasive, eerie, unreal mood, this sense of something watching, this ancient force presiding over the unravelling of the false civilisation layered over top of it. I fucking love this movie. It’s stunning.

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) – A rather big jump in genres, we’re back to crime thrillers here, which we haven’t really touched since the 1910s on this list, but the sustained tension in this movie is par excellence. The opening half hour. A theme for the seventies movies on this list is going to be sunshine and drifting tension, and Precinct 13 does it so well. Heat, claustrophobia, urban isolation, siege mentality. And the character relationships that develop inside that siege mentality, the alliances and bedrock life-or-death trust that evolves between enemies, and then are brutally cut short by the re-establishment of the outside world at the end, the rude reintroduction of law and connectedness and social consequences, is just … amazing. The movie is a heat dream, a bubble of disconnectedness and violence and blood and faith, and then the ‘real’ world slams back down at the end. It’s good. It’s so well paced. Watch this movie.

Nosferatu (1979) – Just to, again, tie things back to the earlier entries on this list. Werner Herzog’s 70s remake of Nosferatu was actually the first version I saw, as it was considerably easier to get hold of. And it stuck. Even after seeing the original. And a lot of that, I think, was because of the opening, which is just spectacularly eerie. The drifting, eerie music, the monastic chant, the heartbeat under it, the panning shots of the mummies in the catacombs (which are from Mexico, but howandever). I mean, there are a lot of problems with this movie, Werner Herzog is not exactly the most upright and sensitive of dudes, (and it added some more questionable elements to the Dracula mythos), but for sheer imagery and tone-setting, this opening was incredible. And the movie does keep that tone, that eerie drifting, especially once Dracula starts bringing the plague behind him. Again, the 70s theme of sunshine and eeriness. It’s worth a look.

[thenightling]

My opinion on the G3 Monster High dolls

The G3 Monster High Dolls:

This is a small review by an older fan who loves monster dolls but does not actually own this line of dolls.     I have read the official press releases and watched several youtube videos about the new line of dolls and I have seen the photos so bear with me.

First the good.  I think these dolls look sturdier than the G2 dolls.  The last line of Monster High Dolls were frail and broke easily.   I absolutely adore Draculaura’s new body type.  Making her shorter and curvier was a brilliant idea.  I also love that Frankie is now nonbinary.  Having one of the monsters go by they / them is a good update.  And because they are the child of the Frankenstein monster you can easily side-step the fanatical, conservative backlash by reminding the potential complainers that this character IS made of the parts of several dead people.  An alternate reason to be they / them.  

At first I did not like the idea of Frankie having a “bionic” leg.  I’m not a fan of steampunking the Frankenstein monster or the Frankenstein Monster’s child but I realized this could make Frankie more relatable to kids with prosthetic limbs.  So I warmed up to the idea and now find it charming.

I love the scales on Lagoona.  And I love the fur they added to Clawdeen.  These are good touches. And Cleo is fine.

I don't really like that Deuce's snakes are now "The Seven deadly sins."  He's from Greek mythology.  Stop Christianizing Greek mythology to make anti-Pagans comfortable with it.   It keeps misleading people about what the Greek myths are all about, like making Hades into a Satan-Stand-in in Disney's Hercules.   Now for the semi-bad.   I’m perfectly fine with the cultural / racial changes for Clawdeen

 and Lagoona though I think I’ll miss Lagoona being portrayed as having an Australian accent.  My one complaint here is having Clawdeen as multiracial is perfectly fine but I don’t really understand the “Half-werewolf” thing.  You either are a werewolf or you’re not.  It’s like being diabetic.  You can’t be half.   You inherit the werewolf curse (even if one parent isn’t a werewolf) or you don’t.  The “Half” thing doesn’t make sense to me.  A full werewolf but with one human parent still works, like the “half-bloods” in the Harry Potter books.  

Now for the parts I actually don’t like at all.   I (and apparently several other fans) don’t like the practice of witchcraft being used as a possible gay metaphor. The logic behind monsters being against the use of magick is a bit flimsy and didn’t even work well in Vampire Diaries or Blood Ties.  It sort of reminds me of when they made the Frankie Ghostbuster doll in 2016.  It was cute but you don’t want to think about the premise too long.  I like Draculaura practicing magick but wichcraft being frowned upon in a monster school is just silly to me. The one thing I think was a truly bad decision was changing Lagoona’s skin to pink.  Draculaura is already pink.  This just reenforces the old and wrong stereotypes that “These are just for girls.” and “Girls like pink, right?”  I’ve read the comments on the official Monster High website and it appears a lot of the younger demographic fans don’t like the change either.  Of course not.  She’s the daughter of The Creature from the Black Lagoon. And with semi-recent films like The Shape of Water people expect her to be blue or green. To me changing the color of Lagoona to pink was a big misstep.  It was already a big change to have her as no-longer Australian and lots of fans thought the accent in the promotional material and web series was cute.

Also they should NOT have removed Lagoona’s webbed hands.  Her webbed hands were cute and gave her a unique look.  They reminded me of the 2001 film She-Creature. I almost feel like they deliberately dropped the ball on Lagoona, like they don’t want her new doll to sell well. 

In general I think this was an improvement over the 2016 (G2) line of the dolls but still not as good as the 2010 G1 dolls.   The G2 dolls were cheaply made and the storyline given to them was clearly “borrowed” from the premise of Hotel Transylvania.  The only thing I liked about the G2 line was the presence of Count Dracula, himself, as founder of the school (Even if it felt like a knock-off of Hotel Transylvania).  I still missed the Headless Mistress and Ghoulia. I’d lose the Witchcraft is frowned upon in monster society angle, and quietly change Lagoona’s colors back to aqua.  Lose the pink.  Finally, yes, keep Clawdeen as multi-racial but as I said- folklorically speaking there’s no “I’m half werewolf.” You are or you aren’t.  The curse passes down even if one parent is human.  It’s like having a genetic disease, there’s no halving it.   

 The dolls are cute and I definitely like what they did with Draculaura and Frankie.  That’s pretty much all I have to say about it.

[faerune]

— OCS AS TRAGIC HORROR TROPES

Tagged by @jackiesarch​ and @dihardys​ to take this uquiz ! Thanks you two 🥰 Tagging: @solasan​, @prometheas​, @jendoe​, @queennymeria​, @chuckhansen​​, @aartyom​, @shadowglens​, @arborstone​, @faarkas​, @arklay​, @indorilnerevarine​, @leviiackrman​, @jillvalcntines​, @cptcassian​, @risingsh0t​,  @jennystahl​​ and anyone else who would like to!

THE WEREWOLF

there's something inside a werewolf that's sharp, thorns and barbs coiling up in tight knots of vine even on their best days. halfway through a conversation, you'll forget your happiness and the pain comes back in a flash. you never meant to, but the sharpness has done harm on your behalf. it's defensive. it's leftover artillery from a battle you spent so long fighting that it still doesn't feel like it's truly over, does it? you want so badly to be soft. to take the hand that you are offered instead of baring your teeth. and it might be hard to believe, but you are soft. you're the softest one out there. it'll just take a while to untangle those vines enough to know that very little is often life-or-death, and not everything touches to hurt.

THE HARBINGER

the harbingers have been through fire. you've got the scars to show for it. some people say harbingers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don't understand that the harbinger has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbinger means you're cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn't enough for you; you know what they're getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won't they just listen? it's frustrating. it's terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can't protect everyone but it's damn noble of you to try. it's not your job to save the world but i hope you know you've already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart.

THE ONE WHO OPENED THE DOOR

you turn the door handle. you call out, "who's there?" and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would've commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn't, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn't ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

[simonxriley]

What Tragic Horror Character Is Your OC

I was tagged by the wonderful @natesofrellis @leviiackrman @chuckhansen and @dihardys to take this uquiz. Thank you! 💜

Tagging @playstationmademe @nightwingshero @sstewyhosseini @chazz-anova @thomrainer @cameoninja @hoesephseed and anyone else that wants to do it!!!

The One Who Opened The Door

you turn the door handle. you call out, "who's there?" and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would've commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn't, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn't ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

The Ghost

it's an odd thing, to feel so far from grounded and yet trapped, tethered, unable to escape. there's more you have to do! so why can't you move? i'm sure you have an answer to that, at the very least in the back of your mind. people love to say that ghosts hold grudges or haunt for revenge but they always get it wrong; you're stuck because something or someone chained you down and left you there. you try and reach out to all those bright people who pass through your life, but it rarely feels like it does much more than knock a cup off the table, blow some papers into the air. i need you to trust me- they see it. they're listening. they'll keep looking for you and, eventually, they'll be able to see you too.

The Werewolf

there's something inside a werewolf that's sharp, thorns and barbs coiling up in tight knots of vine even on their best days. halfway through a conversation, you'll forget your happiness and the pain comes back in a flash. you never meant to, but the sharpness has done harm on your behalf. it's defensive. it's leftover artillery from a battle you spent so long fighting that it still doesn't feel like it's truly over, does it? you want so badly to be soft. to take the hand that you are offered instead of baring your teeth. and it might be hard to believe, but you are soft. you're the softest one out there. it'll just take a while to untangle those vines enough to know that very little is often life-or-death, and not everything touches to hurt.

The Witch

people need to find blame wherever they can; it makes the bad things in their life feel just a touch more bearable. the witches are so often blamed for the curses others are under that no one even questions it anymore. you point to a supposed witch and everyone else prepares the stake, no matter their innocence. to be born and believed a witch is one of the worst curses of them all- you can have friends and family, but there's always a dread that someday, someone will point to you, and everyone you once trusted will throw you into the pyre. if you're here, reading this, you've probably been burned before. and i don't blame you for wanting to hide away, to really become the witch they all say you are, to curse them. but to be a witch is to brush your fingertips over the bark of a tree and watch it grow a touch stronger. keep that in mind.

[playstationmademe]

TRAGIC HORROR TROPES

Tagged by @florbelles and @simonxriley to drag some of my OCs through this uquiz! Thank you lovelies! 💜💜

Tagging @cybersmallz @nightwingshero @verai-marcel, @slothssassin and anyone else who wants to try! 💜💜

The Harbinger

the harbingers have been through fire. you've got the scars to show for it. some people say harbingers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don't understand that the harbinger has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbinger means you're cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn't enough for you; you know what they're getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won't they just listen? it's frustrating. it's terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can't protect everyone but it's damn noble of you to try. it's not your job to save the world but i hope you know you've already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart.

The Werewolf

there's something inside a werewolf that's sharp, thorns and barbs coiling up in tight knots of vine even on their best days. halfway through a conversation, you'll forget your happiness and the pain comes back in a flash. you never meant to, but the sharpness has done harm on your behalf. it's defensive. it's leftover artillery from a battle you spent so long fighting that it still doesn't feel like it's truly over, does it? you want so badly to be soft. to take the hand that you are offered instead of baring your teeth. and it might be hard to believe, but you are soft. you're the softest one out there. it'll just take a while to untangle those vines enough to know that very little is often life-or-death, and not everything touches to hurt.

The One Who Opened the Door

you turn the door handle. you call out, "who's there?" and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would've commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn't, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn't ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

[untaemedqueen]

SandB Series

Alpha Werewolf!Taehyung x Mate!Reader

Chapter 12.

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Feelings of Inadequacy, Use of Oc's Powers, Dirty Talk, Begging, Praise, Lactation Kink, Sexual Acts Involving Jeongguk, Jimin, Yoongi, Use of The Term: Bitch, Pregnancy Kink, Milk Drinking,  Cunnilingus, Knotting, (Minor) Jungkook Handjob, Cream Pie

Being in Summit is eye opening on levels you never thought you would begin to grasp.

It's not just discovering you have powers, it's seeing how these two species you once considered mythological act around each other.

Even how they act within their own groups.

You've come to understand recently, or feel more accurately, that the Fae do not actually like the werewolves. In fact, there's a film of hatred that pours from their territory into the wolves.

It's shocking in all honesty, how do they keep up the charade? How do they keep the wolves from not knowing their fervent hatred?

It astounds you almost everyday.

What you've also come to realize is how different packs are than the one you're in.

Yes, even though you're a human, you've been told very rigorously by the servants that you are indeed still a part of the pack.

With your mate being pack Alpha, it seems that you're also held to a higher standard than all the other wolves in this group.

You can feel constant judgement from other female werewolves when you pass them in the streets or when they just pass by you on a whim.

Sylai, a female Omega you've been spending time with almost as much as Namjoon has been, seems to know all the hot gossip at the drop of a hat. However, she is timid and skittish at times whenever your best friend Alpha is around.

The pretty Omega is always quick to tell you why you're an outcast here and although you shouldn't be upset about it -- you almost always are.

You've come to terms with the fact that werewolves don't normally find their mates in humans, you've heard it from Taehyung's lips on more than one occasion, but you didn't think it would disgust others as much as it does.

When you've had the chance to view other packs, they seem to operate on levels of hierarchy you've never seen before.

The Alphas are always on top, the Betas a close second and the Omegas, most times, are treated like play things. Which is why you can understand that Sylai makes herself so small around Joon.

When you've been able to see other Alphas mates, they're very accommodating and docile. They're almost always pregnant which you understand and they bow to their Alphas every wish.

Sometimes you recall your past fights with Taehyung and lump forms in your throat. You can remember how he wished that you would just listen sometimes or not make comments and it truly makes you wonder… what if you aren't right for him?

You feel strong, thick muscled arms curling around your waist as you stare at the other packs down below your bedroom balcony.

"Hi, beautiful," your mate whispers, spreading his hand over your small belly.

"Hi," you breathe, letting your eyes flutter shut.

He's been away a lot recently, most because of the High Council asking his opinions of what to do with the rabid werewolves still at large -- including his parents.

"I missed you, baby girl." he coos, drifting his lips slowly over your mate mark.

You hum in agreement, running the tips of your fingers over his arms.

He peeks over your shoulder to look down at the random pack near the forest's edge.

He watches the Alpha snarl and snap his teeth at a Beta when he gets to close to his mate. Your fiance chuckles, burying his face in your hair.

"What's funny?" you inquire softly.

"Betas don't know how to behave sometimes," he replies, lifting the hem of your shirt to caress your growing belly.

Sometimes you feel completely out of your element and this feeling has been growing ever since you found out you're one of the Fae.

Maybe it's because you feel like you don't even know yourself anymore. You don't know who you are or who you should be.

The soothing scent of pine and musk breeches your senses once more and you allow yourself to be calmed by your mate at this very moment.

"Sylai has been spending a lot of time with Joon." you comment to him.

He hums in agreement, wanting to ignore his Alpha duties for just one minute of the day. If he accepts this fact, then his wolf will have to welcome someone new into the pack and he would just rather have these moments alone with you.

"I've seen it." he murmurs, pulling you closer to his body.

"Are you going to let her join your pack?" you ask, turning around to him.

You really like Sylai and you would really appreciate more female company around.

"Probably, Joon deserves to be happy." he answers, not wanting to dive head first into the matter.

"I mean, she's really sweet. I think she would be good for your pack."

The words 'your pack' don't sit right with your mate for a second. And he voices it openly as he pulls you over to the bed. "Why do you keep saying that? You keep saying 'your pack'? It's our pack. You're my mate, you're in this pack too." he inquires with a raised eyebrow, sitting down on the bed.

He pats his lap, leaning back on his elbows and like always you straddle him immediately.

"Well, I'm not a wolf. I'm a Fae or… just human so…"

He can smell your timidness, he can hear your heart hammering with worry and his wolf suddenly feels protective.

"What's wrong, baby?" he whispers, dragging his thumb over your lower lip.

You shake your head slightly, running your fingers over his tight black t-shirt that seems to hug each and every sinewed muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Hey now," he breathes, flipping you over so you're laying down beneath him.

You don't make eye contact with him, you don't so much as look above his stomach as he lays down beside you.

"Y/N?" he murmurs, kissing your temple.

It's stuffy in the room, you've come to realize or it just feels that way with his prodding questions.

"Y/N?" his voice is more forceful and you're just embarrassed to speak.

Werewolves aren't known for their patience. They need to know what's wrong, why this is happening and how to immediately fix it or there's very little in the world that will calm them down until the problem is solved.

The growl Taehyung emits throughout the room is a warning to you. It's a warning for you to speak up.

But you've seen Alphas immediately give in to their mates when they bare their necks. So you do so as well.

Taehyung's heart clenches in the recesses of his chest and he can almost scoff at your meekness. "Don't do that," he breathes, nuzzling your neck with his nose.

"Where's my spit fire mate today? What's wrong, baby?" he gasps, burying his face into neck.

"I'm sorry," you bleat.

"Sorry? Sorry for what? You're perfect, baby."

Your fiance can quite literally feel his heart panging with worry. He can hear some of your thoughts like you're screaming in the quiet room.

Inadequate

Unaccepted

Different

Human

Disgrace

"No, baby, no." he hisses, turning your face to look at him.

When your eyes don't meet his, he can only swallow thickly.

"I love you, baby girl." he promises, drifting his lips over your jawbone.

"I love you too." you mumble, looking down at your engagement ring.

"If-If you wanted to get another mate… maybe a wolf… I would understand."

The sharp breath Tae takes between his teeth, makes you shudder beside him. "Don't you dare, ever, suggest something like that. You're my soulmate, do you understand? You're my woman. My mate. I don't want anyone else, I could never be with anyone else."

"I'm not a wolf," you explain, turning to face him.

"So?! What does that have to do with anything?" he scoffs, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Well, most other wolves are disappointed that I'm a human. I'm not-"

"Who fucking cares about those newborn pups?! Who cares what the fuck they think?! They aren't in my pack and they aren't my mate!" he curses, sitting up and carding his fingers through his silver mullet.

You can see his chest vibrating with growls and snarls. You know you're pushing him to the edge but you just can't help it -- your insecurities are trumping everything right now.

"Are you embarrassed of me? Embarrassed of our children? Our pups?" Taehyung inquires, looking at you with hardened blue eyes.

"No," you reply, turning your body away from him.

"Then what is going on in that head of yours? You feel inadequate? Because wolves look at you differently?"

You stay silent, squeezing your eyes closed.

"Answer me, Y/N." he urges, running his hands over your back.

"They...They just look at me like I'm a disease or something. Like I'm not worthy of being with you. And… I don't want to be a burden to you or your pack."

He scoffs loudly, hooking his arm around your body and pressing his chest flat to your back.

"I don't care about others. You're not a disease. You're not a burden. You're mine. You're my beautiful, precious, headstrong mate who is just as much a part of my pack as Guk or Jin." he breathes.

When your silence bleeds throughout the room, he doesn't think he can stomach it for another second.

His canines drop out of instinct and he clamps his teeth softly down on your mate mark. If you were a wolf, you would be arching back into him needily already but it grounds him to know that things aren't so easy.

Yeah, you're stubborn and reflexive but you're his. And he loves that so much that if the Earth was crumbling he wouldn't care as long as you're in his arms.

Taehyung lifts the hem of your shirt, cupping your small belly. "I don't need anyone else but you, Y/N. You're a fierce woman and I count myself lucky to know you and to have you as mine."

"I'm sorry… I was just embarrassed… I don't want to burden anyone." you hiccup, looking down at his hand.

"Never, baby. You're never a burden." he promises, pulling the straps of your tank top down.

From your belly to your clothed core, his hand digs beneath the band of your leggings.

"Why would I want a meek little wolf when I can have a fierce fairy in my bed." Tae quips, turning you flat on your back.

Your breath hitches and you gasp gently when his fingers part your lower lips.

"T-Tae," you whimper, allowing him to position you as he sees fit.

As he climbs above you, his eyes roam over your body as if you're prey and you can't help the excitement that begins to bleed from your pores.

"Do a little magic for me, babe," he quips, kissing down your neck.

Snapping your fingers, you relish in the deep growl he gives when you both are stark naked.

"Pretty girl," he drolls, palming both of your breasts in hand.

When your nipples begin to bead milk, he can almost surely feel his knot twitching to expand already.

"I love you." his voice is a purr that echoes throughout your limbs.

"I love you too."

The kiss he captures you in is passionate and heated. You can feel the sharp points of his teeth raking over your bottom lip until your aching with need at your center.

"Flip over for me, my wolf wants to show you how loved you are." he coos, suckling at your nipple.

Flipping over onto your front, you perch your ass in the air for him and the complete sense of dominating ripples through your mate.

His eyes harden over, pupil dilating as he stares at the puckered mate mark that scars your skin.

"My bitch is so pretty full of my pups," the Alpha growls, knocking his forehead against your temple.

His movements are fluid and firm, spreading your legs to situate himself between them.

The head of his cock glides through your now sodden folds and you quiver with anticipation.

"Alpha, please," you beg, lowering your forehead to the pillow.

His sharpened nails dance over your spinal column, purring at how submissive you sound beneath him.

"What is it my pretty mate? You're aching? You need Alpha's big cock in you? Want me to split you open so well you don't even remember your own name?" he prods, rutting his cock to your core.

"Yes! I need it!" you preen.

His hands grip onto your hips, massaging the flesh within his large, warm grip.

"Well, if that's what you need," he hums, entering you in one intrusive motion.

Your mouth drops open into a silent scream, your hands fumbling to grip the sheets until your knuckles turn white.

This sex is primal and mind shattering -- and everything you need.

Taehyung can hear your thoughts screaming once more and he's pleased with what he hears this time.

More.

Complete.

Mine.

Ours.

Nuzzling your neck, he lets your cunt accept the intrusion of his large cock. He takes to caressing your three month pregnant bump to distract you.

"That's it, baby. You look so gorgeous stuffed with my cock inside your pregnant pussy." he mumbles against your ear.

You can feel his muscles contorting and hardening against your back.

"I would never love someone like I love you. I would never wish to be buried in someone like this, baby girl. Let them talk all the shit they want, because you're the one that gets this hard cock at night." he growls, rolling his hips for you to feel every inch of his cock within you.

Your mouth waters and a sharp moan emits from you at the feeling.

"No one takes my knot but you. And no one would ever take it so well."

Taehyung lets his prideful thoughts bleed past his lips because he knows you need to hear them. He knows you need the assurance. And he may be Alpha, but he's a slave to your love first and foremost.

When he pulls his length almost all the way out, your body sings with hot pleasure -- it's every thick vein and ribbed muscle along his cock that gets your mind numb.

"Only my beautiful mate," he thrusts back in to prove his point, "gets fucked stupid by my cock."

Your back arches, his name falls from your lips like a prayer and you don't even have the strength to lift your head up and look back at him.

He creates a dazing, relentless pace, fucking you just hard enough to keep you babbling but not hard enough to get your orgasm to approach.

He's proving a point. He's making you his again and again with every thrust.

His canines sharpen longer and they clench down on your mate mark just hard enough for you to feel a sting sing through you.

"Hey, Tae-" the door is thrust open and you can barely focus on who's just intruded but your mate just chuckles against you.

"Come in and sit." he orders, pushing your hair away from your mate mark.

His fingers glide over your distending skin, kissing down your back with soft, open mouth pecks.

"My mate thinks she's not enough for our pack." he announces and fuzzily you can hear murmurs of shock.

"She thinks she's not worthy of my knot and my pups," he growls, fucking into you harder.

"Tae!" you whine, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust.

"But she's a pretty bitch that still bends to my will," he coos, focusing on how much of your arousal has coated his long, thick length, "Yoongi, come."

He pulls you up by your shoulders, pressing you up against his chest with a snarl.

Yoongi sits before you, not knowing where to look but licking his lips hungrily.

"You want him to suckle? You want our pack to need you, bitch? Is that it? You want your scent all over all of them? To show these filthy mutts who live in this city that you're a queen amongst mongrels?" he inquires, kissing the shell of your ear.

You don't know what's driving you, you don't know if it's the insanely arousing thought of being above everyone else or it's the thought of being on top of this pack. But the sharp 'yes' you moan out has Yoongi growling with anticipation.

"Feed," he orders the Beta.

You gasp loudly at the foreign feeling of Yoongi's lips against your puffy nipple. You adore how his eyes screw shut at the taste of you. His hands grip onto your sides and you're lost for words when he ruts his clothed hard cock against your thigh.

"See, my beautiful mate, you're above all here." Taehyung coos, pressing his hand to the apex of your thighs and rubbing smooth circles to your swollen clit.

"Jimin." Taehyung calls and you hear the earnest whimper of your best friend.

"No, I don't think I should… I'm-" Jimin breathes nervously.

"Well fuck, if you won't I will," Jungkook groans, pushing Jimin out of the way.

Your head lolls back to your mate's shoulder and your vision becomes blurry with the attention your body is being given.

Taehyung knows that his wolf is sharing you for the sake of proving a point but he can't help the way his cock twitches within you as he watches Yoongi hump your leg like a dog in heat.

Jeongguk's lips on you are familiar and suddenly you can smell the forest from that fateful day when your fiance shared you with the youngest pack member.

"You gonna cum? Hmm, beautiful? I can feel your pregnant cunt trying to milk my cock," your mate growls in your ear.

The small whimpers of the wolves suckling from your breasts, sends you over the edge and Yoongi is quick to press his hands against your rib cage to keep you from falling.

"That's a good little bitch," Taehyung gasps, fucking you with a fierceness to cum inside you.

"You want it, baby? You want my cum?" he goads, kissing over your mate mark.

"Yes, please," you cry out, carding your fingers through both Yoongi and Jungkook's hair.

Jimin lets out a sharp whine, feeling conflicted on what to do. But, this probably will never happen again in his lifetime and even though you're his best friend… he's not missing this. "Fuck it," he curses, jumping onto the bed.

He eyes you wearily for a second, avoiding your stomach which he knows is solely the Alpha's property and heads straight for your swollen, over-stimulated clit.

Your mate on instinct cups your growing stomach, growling as his best friend makes his dissent.

Your body shivers like a leaf when Jimin's plush lips kiss at your bundle of nerves.

"Oh God!" you cry out, gripping onto the boy's hair harder.

Yoongi curses against your breast, pulling off your nipple to catch his breath as his shorts become sticky and slack against his golden skin.

"Fuck, baby girl. I'm cumming," Taehyung murmurs breathlessly.

The swiftness of Jimin's tongue knocks the wind out of you and you spiral into another orgasm with ears filled with white noise and eyes seeing stars.

"Shit! Y/N!" your mate growls, pulling you back roughly to his cock until you’re squirting your arousal onto his thighs.

Jungkook whimpers needily, guiding your hand to his swollen cock.

"Pup," Taehyung warns him, stilling your hips as his thrusts become erratic.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, cursing loudly when he begins to cum inside you.

His lips tremble against your mate mark when his knot begins to inflate and you can only whimper at the stretch.

"Good girl taking my cock so well," your fiance coos, pressing his index finger beneath your chin and turning your head to kiss him.

"Noona, please. God!" Jungkook whines, nuzzling his face to your breast.

Taehyung can only give a breathy laugh against your lips. "See how needed you are? Guk is going to explode if you don't help him."

Jimin pulls away from your core with innocent eyes and he kisses your forehead gently.

"I'm gonna go check on Baek and Chan." he murmurs, hopping off the bed.

Your mate's eyes follow him as he leaves the room and he doesn't appreciate the bloom of pheromones that bleed from the Omega. Almost as if he's caught feelings for you.

You haven't noticed with your attention on the youngest.

He suckles eagerly from your breast, whimpering and whining as he fucks up into your hand.

"Gonna cum, noona. Oh shit," he whines, burying his face into the valley of your breasts.

You hum sweetly, combing your fingers through his long black locks.

The warmth that explodes onto your hand is a knowing sign of the youngest's release and he cries out softly against your skin.

"Clean her up," Tae warns him and he's quick to do the Alpha's command.

You can feel your tiredness beginning to exhaust you and your mate knows it right away. "She's sleepy, let me lay her down," he whispers, laying on his side with you.

The tug of his knot has you wincing slightly but he makes up for it with his sweet kisses to the back of your neck.

"One time thing," he tells them.

Yoongi pulls at his cum covered shorts with a grimace. "Good enough for me."

Taehyung's large hand caresses over your head and he can't help but think of the scent that was drifting off Jimin in waves.

"I love you," you mumble, closing your eyes.

"I love you too baby girl. You and our pups," he replies, drifting his hand over your belly.

He knows your asleep when his breathing gets shallow and his knot finally deflates after a while.

Taehyung turns onto his back, perching his hands beneath his head as he closes his eyes. His ears perk up and he takes a sharp breath through his nose when he hears Jimin mumble across the mansion.

"I-I don't know. I just felt so-"

"Don't let Taehyung catch you talking like this! She isn't ours," Yoongi hisses to the younger Omega.

"I almost had her before Taehyung y'know, is it so wrong of me to still want her?! You all wanted her at that moment!" Jimin scoffs.

"Jimin, what we did was to help a member of our pack feel safe. You are becoming obsessed with her." Jungkook accuses.

Taehyung's eyes spring open, a deep low growl emitting through his chest. He can feel his canines and nails sharpening themselves. Gripping his shorts, he jumps out of bed with one thing on his mind -- vicious anger.

He can hear the maids and servants whispering nervously as he stalks through the wolframite hallways.

Your mate isn't in the headspace to calm anyone down at the moment, he can't possibly think of others when his wolf is yearning to tear out his best friend's jugular.

Slamming the doors to the dining room open, his eyes scan his pack before finding him.

"Oh shit," Jin mumbles, cupping his mouth.

"GET OUTSIDE!" Taehyung barks to the Omega.

The whole pack avoids eye contact even Jimin.

Taehyung is fast -- so fast that Seokjin's hair blows in the breeze he creates.

The pack Alpha grips the Omega by the neck, hurdling him over the wooden bench he's currently sitting on and dragging him towards the large glass doors that lead out to the backyard.

"Taehyung!" Jimin whines but he's quick to shut up at the feral snap of Taehyung's teeth.

"Someone go wake up Y/N! This is so bad!" Jin yelps, rushing after both of the wolves.

SandB Taglist-  @jvcqneliue, @gooplibrary, @imaforeigner, @wickizer, @mychemical-friendship, @justmewondering-recs, @stories1907, @stressedinmedschool247, @taeslittletiger, @claireelise19, @neobanguniverse​, @kb-bangtanenthusiast​, @almosthappysublime, @thedarkwinterrose​

[zoyazenik]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐜?

i was tagged by the incredibly lovely @kingsroad​​​​ to take this uquiz for my ocs!!! it was so much fun and i had a great little time doing it for my current muses!! i’m tagging @samwilsonns​​​, @impales​​​, @czernyss​​​ and anyone who wants to do it!!!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ the vampire ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ it is the loneliest day of a vampire's life, the first time they look into a mirror and see their reflection missing. drinking blood sucks too, don't get me wrong, but as a vampire you had to learn to hide from the sunlight, from your family, all your friends, because you were unavoidably different now and you didn't know how to explain that to them in a way they would understand. you could get stranger's blood in bursts, but what is life when you can't know someone for longer than the night lasts? you left everything behind because it was easier than trying to tell them. i just hope you know you're not the only vampire out there, and that there exist people who will understand your situation without a word. they'll sit with you in the dark for as long as you'll need them to.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ the harbinger ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ the harbingers have been through fire. you've got the scars to show for it. some people say harbingers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don't understand that the harbinger has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbinger means you're cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn't enough for you; you know what they're getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won't they just listen? it's frustrating. it's terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can't protect everyone but it's damn noble of you to try. it's not your job to save the world but i hope you know you've already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ the werewolf ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ there's something inside a werewolf that's sharp, thorns and barbs coiling up in tight knots of vine even on their best days. halfway through a conversation, you'll forget your happiness and the pain comes back in a flash. you never meant to, but the sharpness has done harm on your behalf. it's defensive. it's leftover artillery from a battle you spent so long fighting that it still doesn't feel like it's truly over, does it? you want so badly to be soft. to take the hand that you are offered instead of baring your teeth. and it might be hard to believe, but you are soft. you're the softest one out there. it'll just take a while to untangle those vines enough to know that very little is often life-or-death, and not everything touches to hurt.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ the harbinger ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ the harbingers have been through fire. you've got the scars to show for it. some people say harbingers are jaded- scary, even, to people who don't understand that the harbinger has seen the edge of the world and survived it. but being the harbinger means you're cursed to watch younger, brighter eyes fall for the same traps you did. trying to help isn't enough for you; you know what they're getting themselves into, and you want to protect them the way no one ever protected you, so why won't they just listen? it's frustrating. it's terrifying. no one should have to live through what you did, and i hope you know that you can't protect everyone but it's damn noble of you to try. it's not your job to save the world but i hope you know you've already made a difference to everyone who has taken your words to heart.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ the one who opened the door ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ you turn the door handle. you call out, "who's there?" and the crowd has the audacity to groan, to get frustrated with you. as if the gift of hindsight was something you had. how the hell were you supposed to know you were born into a horror movie? no one bothered to tell you. say, if instead this was an action film, or a fantasy, would they still be telling you how silly of a mistake it was to press further on your quest? they would've commended you for your bravery. you thought you were going to be saving a princess in a tower, not getting stabbed in the back by a killer in the shadows. how is that fair? it isn't, and none of that was ever your fault. it is not wrong to believe things are good. your trust, your optimism, it shouldn't ever be mistaken for ignorance or stupidity. we need more people who open doors. how else are any of us gonna move forward?

[revchainsaw]

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

Welcome to the Cult of Cult! I am Reverend Chainsaw and Today we read from the book of 1st Lycanthropy and indulge in a truly impactful cult film; John Landis' An American Werewolf in London. As far back as I can remember I thought that being a Werewolf would be nothing short of bad ass, but An American Werewolf in London totally delivers in the horror of the affliction, a task all to often ignored by werewolf films.

The Message

An American Werewolf in London tells the story of an American Werewolf in London. The name is a quite apt plot summary in the way of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. You will know exactly what you're getting with this movie. Two young American men known as Jack and David are backpacking across Europe and they find themselves on foot travelling across the moors of Yorkshire. They discover an unwelcoming pub known as the Slaughtered Lamb. They quickly put off the patrons and are ominously warned about beasts that are out on the moors, but are ultimately made to leave the pub. While out in the moors the two boys are viciously attacked by a mysterious creature.

David wakes up in a London hospital and learns that his friend and Travel companion Jack was killed by the beast. David is held by the hospital and begins a romance with a nurse named Alex. Alex eventually lets David crash at her place and things get spicy. But the whole time David is beset by dreams and visions of violence, and wakes up in strange places like the London Zoo. One of his most recurring visions is the phantasmagoric image of his dead friend Jack providing macabre warnings and exposition about exactly what David is going through. Jack urges David to kill himself before he fully succumbs to his lycanthropic curse.

David's budding romance with Nurse Alex, and medical professionals insistence that he's just a little twisted in the head from his trauma leads him to ignore these prophecies and he eventually undergoes one of the best looking werewolf transformations ever put to screen. David eventually does try to off himself but it's too late and as a wolf he terrorizes the streets of London until Alex is forced to witness him mowed down by a shower of police bullets.

The Benediction

Best Aspect: The Horror! The Horror!

As I mentioned earlier many Werewolf movies simply insist that being a werewolf is a scary thing, but they play the 'curse' like a superpower. The monster doesn't attack anybody who doesn't deserve it or something. In An American Werewolf in London the curse of Lycanthropy feels constantly dangerous for both David and the people around him. There is always a tension that the next person he hurts will be someone he loves. The other downside that just ups the misery of the werewolf experience is the painful transformation, the social stigma of being a maniac who thinks he transforms into a wolf, and the mental torture of your victims ghosts haunting your waking hours. It's a truly terrible fate that has never been portrayed as powerfully before or since. Werewolves are often badass but they are rarely scary. This is not a problem for this film.

Worst Aspect: Comedy?

An American Werewolf in London is often touted as a great example of Horror Comedy. But here's the thing, the comedy is not very comedic. I've never watched this movie for a laugh. As mentioned above the overall tone of this film is bleak and nihilistic. It's a miserable fate and the film doesn't play it for laughs. It's a horror movie with effective levity, but it is not at all a comedy, I don't care what John Landis thinks. If this is a comedy, it's a piss poor one. That's not really a problem for me though, the horror is good enough.

Best Dialogue: Bedside Manner

In one of the above mentioned moments of levity that might actually qualify as the only joke that lands is when Nurse Alex is dealing with a little boy who's staying at the hospital. This precocious runt is giving her a difficult time by playfully responding "NO" to everything she asks of him. She then asks if he's "ever been severely beaten about the face and neck?" and it's pretty freaking funny. But it doesn't play as a gag, as much as a little insight into the wit of Nurse Alex's Character.

Best Effect: Obvious Winner is Obvious

Google "Best Werewolf Transformation" and I'm sure you will see this exact scene. If you have never seen An American Werewolf in London I am certain you've seen this sequence. If you haven't then you are severely missing out. Stop reading this right now and look it up. This transformation sequence alone is worth watching this film for, the good news is that there is a pretty great horror flick on both ends as well.

Best Sequence: Nightmarapalooza

The best sequence of An American Werewolf in London is another absolutely overplayed and obvious answer. The Nightmare that David has in the hospital that features a violent invasion of gun toting, dog faced Nazis blowing the place to hell is pretty much a weird ass 80s metal music video in the middle of a werewolf movie and it provides just enough novelty to this film to set it apart from your typical full moon fare.

Honorable Mention: Moon's Out

There's full on butt in this movie. So if you like butt's. It's full of butt.

Summary

An American Werewolf In London falls into the category of movies that it almost feels like a waste of time to review, but it also falls squarely into the category of movies that are the whole reason that I do this for myself. This is a personal project of getting my feelings about these kinds of spooks out.

An American Werewolf in London is on an objective level the best Werewolf movie out there for your money. It's honestly a shame we don't have more, but we'd need about a hundred more before we can beat this picture. On a subjective level American Werewolf is still not my favorite. The carnage is slow to arrive, but when it finally does it is well worth the wait. The characters are not particularly charming or engaging. I spend a lot of time waiting for my favorite parts to happen and not particularly enjoying the spaces in between. Some horror flicks set up an atmosphere that just makes the whole film feel like a part of the cohesive horror experience and this movie doesn't. It has too much of a love story between two not particularly loveable characters. It's never a bad time to watch, it's just not as fun as you'd expect the "best horror comedy ever' to be.

To keep it short, An American Werewolf in London is a bleak and frightening monster movie with positively impressive special effects that hold up 40 years later. You have to see it.

Overall Grade: A

[tlbodine]

A Horror History of Werewolves

As far as horror icons are concerned, werewolves are among the oldest of all monsters. References to man-to-wolf transformations show up as early as the Epic of Gilgamesh, making them pretty much as old as storytelling itself. And, unlike many other movie monsters, werewolves trace their folkloric roots to a time when people truly believed in and feared these creatures. 

But for a creature with such a storied past, the modern werewolf has quite the crisis of identity. Thanks to an absolute deluge of romance novels featuring sometimes-furry love interests, the contemporary idea of “werewolf” is decidedly de-fanged. So how did we get here? Where did they come from, where are they going, and can werewolves ever be terrifying again? 

Werewolves in Folklore and Legend 

Ancient Greece was full of werewolf stories. Herodotus wrote of a nomadic tribe from Scythia (part of modern-day Russia) who changed into wolves for a portion of the year. This was most likely a response to the Proto-Indo-European societies living in that region at the time -- a group whose warrior class would sometimes don animal pelts and were said to call on the spirit of animals to aid them in battle (the concept of the berserker has the same roots -- just bears rather than wolves).

In Arcadia, there was a local legend about King Lycaon, who was turned to a wolf as punishment for serving human meat to Zeus (exact details of the event vary between accounts, but cannibalism and crimes-against-the-gods are a common theme). Pliny the Elder wrote of werewolves as well, explaining that those who make a sacrifice to Zeus Lycaeus would be turned to wolves but could resume human form years later if they abstained from eating human meat in that time.

By the time we reach the Medieval period in Europe, werewolf stories were widespread and frequently associated with witchcraft. Lycanthropy could be either a curse laid upon someone or a transformation undergone by someone practicing witchcraft, but either way was bad news in the eyes of the church. For several centuries, witch-hunts would aggressively seek out anyone suspected of transforming into a wolf.

One particularly well-known werewolf trial was for Peter Stumpp in 1589. Stumpp, known as "The Werewolf of Bedburg," confessed to killing and eating fourteen children and two pregnant women while in the form of a wolf after donning a belt given to him by the Devil. Granted, this confession came on the tail-end of extensive public torture, so it may not be precisely reliable. His daughter and mistress were also executed in a public and brutal way during the same trial.

Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? 

The thing you have to understand when studying folklore is that, for many centuries, wolves were the apex predator of Europe. While wolf attacks on humans have been exceedingly rare in North America, wolves in Europe have historically been much bolder -- or, at least, there are more numerous reports of man-eating wolves in those regions. Between 1362 and 1918, roughly 7,600 people were reportedly killed by wolves in France alone, which may have some bearing on the local werewolf tradition of the loup-garou.

For people living in rural areas, subsisting as farmers or hunters, wolves posed a genuine existential threat. Large, intelligent, utilizing teamwork and more than capable of outwitting the average human, wolves are a compelling villain. Which is probably why they show up so frequently in fairytales, from Little Red Riding Hood to Peter and the Wolf to The Three Little Pigs.

Early Werewolf Fiction 

Vampires have Dracula and zombies have I Am Legend, but there really is no clear singular book to point to as the "First Great Werewolf Novel." Perhaps by the time the novel was really taking off as an artform, werewolves had lost some of their appeal. After all, widespread literacy and reading-for-pleasure went hand-in-hand with advancements in civilization. For city-dwellers in Victorian England, for example, the threat of a wolf eating you alive probably seemed quite remote.

Don't get me wrong -- there were some Gothic novels featuring werewolves, like Sutherland Menzies' Hugues, The Wer-Wolf, or G.W.M. Reynolds' Wagner the Wehr-Wolf, or even The Wolf Leader by Alexandre Dumas. But these are not books that have entered the popular conscience by any means. I doubt most people have ever heard of them, much less read them.

No -- I would argue that the closest thing we have, thematically, to a Great Werewolf Novel is in fact The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Written in 1886, the Gothic novella tells the story of a scientist who, wanting to engage in certain unnamed vices without detection, created a serum that would allow him to transform into another person. That alter-ego, Mr. Hyde, was selfish, violent, and ultimately uncontrollable -- and after taking over the body on its own terms and committing a murder or two, the only way to stop Hyde’s re-emergence was suicide. 

Although not about werewolves, per se, Jekyll & Hyde touches on many themes that we'll see come up time and again in werewolf media up through the present day: toxic masculinity, the dual nature of man, leading a double life, and the ultimate tragedy of allowing one's base instincts/animal nature to run wild. Against a backdrop of Victorian sexual repression and a rapidly shifting concept of humanity's relationship to nature, it makes sense that these themes would resonate deeply (and find a new home in werewolf media).

It is also worth mentioning Guy Endore's The Werewolf of Paris, published in 1933. Set against the backdrop of the Franco-Prussian war and subsequent military battles, the book utilizes a werewolf as a plot device for exploring political turmoil. A #1 bestseller in its day, the book was a big influence on the sci-fi and mystery pulp scene of the 1940s and 50s, and is still considered one of the best werewolf novels of its ilk.

From Silver Bullets to Silver Screens 

What werewolf representation lacks in novels, it makes up for in film. Werewolves have been a surprisingly enduring feature of film from its early days, due perhaps to just how much fun transformation sequences are to film. From camera tricks to makeup crews and animatronics design, werewolf movies create a lot of unique opportunities for special effects -- and for early film audiences especially (who were not yet jaded to movie magic), these on-screen metamorphoses must have elicited true awe. 

The Wolf Man (1941) really kicked off the trend. Featuring Lon Chaney Jr. as the titular wolf-man, the film was cutting-edge for its time in the special effects department. The creature design is the most memorable thing about the film, which has an otherwise forgettable plot -- but it captured viewer attention enough to bring Chaney back many times over for sequels and Universal Monster mash-ups. 

The Wolf Man and 1944's Cry of the Werewolf draw on that problematic Hollywood staple, "The Gypsy Curse(tm)" for their world-building. Fortunately, werewolf media would drift away from that trope pretty quickly; curses lost their appeal, but “bite as mode of transmission” would remain an essential part of werewolf mythos. 

In 1957, I Was a Teenage Werewolf was released as a classic double-header drive-in flick that's nevertheless worth a watch for its parallels between werewolfism and male aggression (a theme we'll see come up again and again). Guy Endore's novel got the Hammer Film treatment for 1961's The Curse of the Werewolf, but it wasn't until the 1970s when werewolf media really exploded: The Beast Must Die, The Legend of the Wolf Woman, The Fury of the Wolfman, Scream of the Wolf, Werewolves on Wheels and many more besides.

Hmmm, werewolves exploding in popularity around the same time as women's liberation was dramatically redefining gender roles and threatening the cultural concept of masculinity? Nah, must be a coincidence.

The 1980s brought with it even more werewolf movies, including some of the best-known in the genre: The Howling (1981), Teen Wolf (1985), An American Werewolf in London (1981), and The Company of Wolves (1984). Differing widely in their tone and treatment of werewolf canon, the films would establish more of a spiderweb than a linear taxonomy.

That spilled over into the 1990s as well. The Howling franchise went deep, with at least seven films that I can think of. Wolf, a 1994 release starring Jack Nicholson is especially worth a watch for its themes of dark romantic horror. 

By the 2000s, we get a proper grab-bag of werewolf options. There is of course the Underworld series, with its overwrought "vampires vs lycans" world-building. There's also Skin Walkers, which tries very hard to be Underworld (and fails miserably at even that low bar). But there's also Dog Soldiers and Ginger Snaps, arguably two of the finest werewolf movies of all time -- albeit in extremely different ways and for very different reasons.

Dog Soldiers is a straightforward monster movie pitting soldiers against ravenous werewolves. The wolves could just as easily have been subbed out with vampires or zombies -- there is nothing uniquely wolfish about them on a thematic level -- but the creature design is unique and the film itself is mastefully made and entertaining.

Ginger Snaps is the first werewolf movie I can think of that tackles lycanthropy from a female point of view. Although The Company of Wolves has a strong feminist angle, it is still very much a film about male sexuality and aggression. Ginger Snaps, on the other hand, likens werewolfism to female puberty -- a comparison that frankly makes a lot of sense.

The Werewolf as Sex Object 

There are quite literally thousands of werewolf romance novels on the market, with more coming in each day. But the origins of this trend are a bit fuzzier to make out (no pun intended). 

Everyone can mostly agree that Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire was the turning-point for sympathetic vampires -- and paranormal romance as a whole. But where do werewolves enter the mix? Possibly with Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter books, which feature the titular character in a relationship with a werewolf (and some vampires, and were-leopards, and...many other things). With the first book released in 1993, the Anita Blake series seems to pre-date similar books in its ilk. 

Blood and Chocolate (1997) by Annette Curtis Klause delivers a YA-focused version of the classic “I’m a werewolf in high school crushing on a mortal boy”; that same year, Buffy the Vampire Slayer hit the small screen, and although the primary focus was vampires, there is a main werewolf character (and romancing him around the challenges of his wolfishness is a big plot point for the characters involved). And Buffy, of course, paved the way for Twilight in 2005. From there, werewolves were poised to become a staple of the ever-more-popular urban fantasy/paranormal romance genre. 

“Sexy werewolf” as a trope may have its roots in other traditions like the beastly bridegroom (eg, Beauty and the Beast) and the demon lover (eg, Labyrinth), which we can talk about another time. But there’s one other ingredient in this recipe that needs to be discussed. And, oh yes, we’re going there. 

Alpha/Beta/Omegaverse 

By now you might be familiar with the concept of the Omegaverse thanks to the illuminating Lindsay Ellis video on the topic (and the current ongoing lawsuit). If not, well, just watch the video. It’ll be easier than trying to explain it all. (Warning for NSFW topics). 

But the tl;dr is that A/B/O or Omegaverse is a genre of (generally erotic) romance utilizing the classical understanding of wolf pack hierarchy. Never mind that science has long since disproven the stratification of authority in wolf packs; the popular conscious is still intrigued by the concept of a society where some people are powerful alphas and some people are timid omegas and that’s just The Way Things Are. 

What’s interesting about the Omegaverse in regards to werewolf fiction is that, as near as I’ve been able to discover, it’s actually a case of convergent evolution. A/B/O as a genre seems to trace its roots to Star Trek fanfiction in the 1960s, where Kirk/Spock couplings popularized ideas like heat cycles. From there, the trope seems to weave its way through various fandoms, exploding in popularity in the Supernatural fandom. 

What seems to have happened is that the confluence of A/B/O kink dynamics merging with urban fantasy werewolf social structure set off a popular niche for werewolf romance to truly thrive. 

It’s important to remember that, throughout folklore, werewolves were not viewed as being part of werewolf societies. Werewolves were humans who achieved wolf form through a curse or witchcraft, causing them to transform into murderous monsters -- but there was no “werewolf pack,” and certainly no social hierarchy involving werewolf alphas exerting their dominance over weaker pack members. That element is a purely modern one rooted as much in our misunderstanding of wolf pack dynamics as in our very human desire for power hierarchies. 

So Where Do We Go From Here? 

I don’t think sexy werewolf stories are going anywhere anytime soon. But that doesn’t mean that there’s no room left in horror for werewolves to resume their monstrous roots. 

Thematically, werewolves have done a lot of heavy lifting over the centuries. They hold up a mirror to humanity to represent our own animal nature. They embody themes of toxic masculinity, aggression, primal sexuality, and the struggle of the id and ego. Werewolf attack as sexual violence is an obvious but powerful metaphor for trauma, leaving the victim transformed. Werewolves as predators hiding in plain sight among civilization have never been more relevant than in our #MeToo moment of history. 

Can werewolves still be frightening? Absolutely. 

As long as human nature remains conflicted, there will always be room at the table for man-beasts and horrifying transfigurations. 

--

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[qqueenofhades]

If Cursed had asked you, a medieval historian, what to do, what would you have told them?

Ahaha. Ahaha. Hah. Full disclosure, I know/knew absolutely nothing about the show apart from reading this horrible article, but methinks, enough to get a sense of it. And even without the author of this article wildly making up their Blackadder version of history (as my dearest and oh so correct @oldshrewsburyian​ put it yesterday), the quotes from the actors/producers/etc are just... they are just.... SO BAD.

Starring:

"But when we got into filming and the brutality, the mud, the bugs and the blood, I thought, 'I'm not sure I could handle this in reality'.

"I have a feeling I'd get sick and die pretty quick."

"I'd be dead," adds Frank Miller, very matter of fact.

"I mean it was a time of wild plagues and disease and they didn't have much use for people who do the kind of stuff I do."

Ah yes, medieval life. Mud, blood, bugs, and death. “Times of wild plague and disease,” unlike today, where we never have a problem with plague at all. And I’m sorry, the medieval world had no use for artists??? What are you even SMOKING MY DUDE MY BRO MY PAL (and if you don’t know this, WHY ARE YOU MAKING A MEDIEVAL SHOW SUPPOSED TO BE “ACCURATE?”) Have you LOOKED at ONE SINGLE MEDIEVAL MANUSCRIPT? HAVE YOU WALKED INTO A MEDIEVAL CATHEDRAL AND LOOKED AT THE STAINED GLASS WINDOWS? LOOKED AT ANY JEWELRY? ANYTHING?????

(Okay I gotta pace myself, there’s a lot to yell at here and it’ll take a while.)

"If I was living in that time, I think I would want to be a witch but you would stink," Devon Terrell, who's taking on the role, laughs.

As would most people, with a lack of basic sanitation and plumbing which meant human waste was often thrown out close to where you lived.

"And I like a good fairy tale but I wouldn't say I was longing for a time that was much less scientific. I'd probably get killed for heresy or something. I'm not great with authority or religious oppression and that sort of stuff. So, yeah, I don't think I'd fare too well."

There’s just... I don’t know where to even.... /SCREAMS

(And I even cut out the especially face-palming quote from the article about “thousands of people burning for heresy” in the 11th/12th century. “Much less scientific,” well, Roger Bacon’s brazen head just called AND IT THINKS YOU’RE A MORON, DEVON.)

The woman playing Morgana Le Fay talks about your life being “very short” and getting drowned as a witch and whatever Bad Guy Du Jour talks about having no dentists or medical care. We get the picture: they.... really did not do their homework. I’m not sure they even touched Google. So basically, we’d need to start by burning everything down and then asking if really, truly, do we NEED to make this adaptation. There are EIGHT THOUSAND MILLION GODFORSAKEN RETELLINGS OF ARTHUR/THE ROUNDTABLE RIGHT NOW. NOBODY NEEDS ANOTHER ONE! EVEN FOR WHATEVER PSEUDO-FEMINIST TAKE YOU SEEM TO BE TRYING TO PUT ON THIS ONE! ENOUGH! ENOOOOUGH! THINK OF SOMETHING DIFFERENT! THERE ARE SO MANY MEDIEVAL ROMANCES OUT THERE THAT DON’T GET MADE!!!

For example, you know what I would suggest? Bisclavret. Where is my lavish beautifully designed historical-medieval-fantasy queer werewolf romance, I ask you? (Answer: just like that novel I stumbled upon yesterday that decided to make some random Vatican maidservant into Cesare Borgia’s ~truest and purest love~, y’all are too cowardly to do it right.) YOU KNOW WHO WOULD LOVE THIS? THE GAYS! THE GAYS WOULD LOVE IT, PATRICIA! We have a central queer love story (Bisclavret and the king). We have a distinct physical and geographical setting (12th-century France). THE GODDAMN THING WAS WRITTEN BY A WOMAN! (Marie de France.) We could develop the character of Bisclavret’s wife and give her backstory and into a sympathetic and complicated but ultimately redeemed antiheroine, blackmailed by the male/patriarchal/heterosexual villains of the establishment, if y’all REALLY want to get into some subversive queerfem medievalism and not your little weaksauce Nimue in her polyester corset. We could LITERALLY MAKE A QUEER MEDIEVAL WEREWOLF ROMANCE WRITTEN BY A WOMAN!!! HOW ABOUT THAT YOU DINGDONGS?!!

You could decorate the sets beautifully by, I don’t know, LOOKING AT THOSE MEDIEVAL ARTISTS WHO SUPPOSEDLY DIDN’T EXIST. You could bring in other medieval monsters, such as walking corpses, and have brawny young men beating them to death with shovels (as various medieval chroniclers matter-of-factly report on). You could do something besides the TIRED ASS “superstitious peasants think woman with vague evidence of a personality must be a witch!!” You could ground your story in the vivid and colorful politics of 12th-century France and the underground queer life for people in Paris (MAKE PETER THE CHANTER THE FROLLO-ESQUE VILLAIN, I’M JUST SAYING!) EXPLORE THE METAPHOR OF QUEERNESS VIS A VIS MONSTROSITY WITH BISCLAVRET THE WEREWOLF! You could STOP ACTING LIKE GAME OF THRONES IS HISTORY AND “DIRTY PEOPLE IN TUNICS GETTING KILLED MEANS IT’S MEDIEVAL!!!”

/takes a deep breath

But alas. As established, they are Cowards. So, if we absolutely HAD to be lumbered with another goddamn Arthur adaptation:

STOP ACTING LIKE SOME RANDOM VAGUELY 12TH-CENTURY SETTING IS ~tHE hISToriCAl ArThUr!!~ IF HE EXISTED IT WAS IN LIKE 5TH-CENTURY POST ROMAN BRITAIN AND A) WE ALREADY HAD THE TEDIOUS BIG BUDGET “ACCURATE KING ARTHUR” WITH KEIRA KNIGHTLEY DRESSED IN WHATEVER THAT WAS, I’M GAY SO I’M NOT COMPLAINING THAT MUCH BUT ALSO ACCURATE MY CYNICAL LESBIAN BACKSIDE!

....where was I...

Ah yes. Post-Roman 5th-century Britain is A VERY DIFFERENT SETTING from the random-ass mishmash of “medieval” tropes you people seem to want to throw in. Or ANOTHER IDEA: junk the idea that “King Arthur” is ever going to be a remotely accurately represented historical concept, and just make it lavish, fantastic, magical, dark, and compelling without yoking yourself to the fuckin’ BORING ASS “must add mud and blood and suffering and misogyny for More Realism!” It’s FANTASY, TREAT IT LIKE FANTASY AND NOT HISTORY LIKE “A FAIRYTALE!” HOW ABOUT THAT IDEA?!?! AND MAYBE STOP ACTING LIKE YOU HAVE PRETENSIONS TO “tHe wAy it ReALLy wAs” because we have established YOU DO NOT!!!

(God Game of Thrones is the WORST, and you KNOW they’re doing this trying to be GoT-lite, and I.... /mutters incoherently)

OR MAKE ANY OTHER OF THE ARTHURIAN ROMANCES IF YOU REALLY HAVE TO DO A CAMELOT STORY! THERE ARE LIKE EIGHTY MILLION OF THEM! PICK A SIDE ONE WITH CHARACTERS THAT YOU CAN DO FRESH RATHER THAN THE ARCHETYPES THAT HAVE BEEN DONE TO DEATH!!! ACTUALLY ASK A MEDIEVAL LITERATURE EXPERT AND A MEDIEVAL HISTORIAN FOR ADVICE BEFORE YOU GET THIS FAR AND EMBARRASS YOURSELVES!!! (OR MAYBE SEVERAL OF THEM!!) ACTUALLY ACT LIKE REPRESENTING THE PAST AS A FULL AND COMPLEX AND BEAUTIFUL PLACE AS WELL AS A DARK AND DANGEROUS ONE CAN STRENGTHEN YOUR STORY AND DISPLAY HUMAN EXPERIENCE MORE ACCURATELY! RATHER THAN “HURR DURR DARK AGES” BECAUSE I AM TIRED!!!

TIRED!!!!

...Anyway. I clearly handled this well. Whew.

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 12: Fight For Your Right To… Work Out!

Clash of the Marauders

~

PETER LYNNE: Well, hello there, runners. It's me here, Peter, and my trusty sidekick, Mr. Fox. Miss Fox? Actually, not sure. There really isn't much sexual dimorphism in foxes. Um, let's just go with... Foxy the Fox. Great. So uh, Foxy and I, well, we're still locked in the Princess Louise theater projection box. We're playing films to keep the zoms in the auditorium occupied while we eat, sleep, and of course, work out.

That's right, runners, it's time for some more exercise! So... Oh! If you fancy spicing up your workout with some weight, we've found that tin cans are brilliant. Uh, now would be the time to grab those. Marvelous. Right, now time to start warming up. Do a nice little dance, jog on the spot, jumping jacks, whatever you fancy. Start to stretch it out, feel it to the extremities.

Oh uh, by the way, great news. So Sam helped me fix the looping playlist, so Foxy, the zoms, and I are now watching Clash of the Marauders! It's the video game adaptation, yes. [sighs] Listeners of a certain vintage might remember picking their fighter from the pixelated lineup at the arcade.

See, I could never decide on my favorite. Everyone else had one, um, but should I go with Ninja Vampire? Pirate Queen? Werewolf Scientist? Mutant Rhinoceros? Yeah, in the game, they then fought each other in these crazy arenas that tied into their backstory. So you'd have to fight Pirate Queen on her galleon and Werewolf Scientist in his lab on the moon. That's right.

The film... ah, it makes a valiant effort to tie the stories together, but no one would accuse it of being great cinema. Didn't matter to me much when I was nine, though. God, I really, really loved it. I mean, to a kid who's just stuck in the suburbs, it made the world feel really big and just amazing and weird, like one day somehow I'd be able to experience something more. And yes, of course that might involve having to brawl with an evil squirrel the size of a T-Rex, but at the time that seemed like a very reasonable price to pay.

Anyway, one thing everyone can agree on is that Clash of the Marauders has a superlative soundtrack, so I'm going to run the music through the comms. Let's just dance, or throw some fighting shapes, either way, as we enjoy our title song.

~

PETER LYNNE: So contrary to what those opening credits suggest, violence actually isn't always the answer. I mean, fair. Historically, violence against zombies has often been the answer, but if like me, you are heavily outnumbered, then staying inside is an even better answer. But just because we're inside, well, that doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good workout.

So we're going to start with our old favorite, the hooks, which you'll remember from our Rocky workout. You see, this bit of Clash of the Marauders where the alien pugilist avenges her sister is - and I've always thought this - quite like Rocky, actually. Except instead of the Philadelphia meat packing district, well, I mean, of course, it's set in a forest of sentient mushrooms.

Uh, first off, right, get back into your classic boxing stance. So stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Now step your right foot back a little. Hold your fists up with your right hand close to your body and the left hand in front protecting your face from that imaginary target. Now we're swinging our right fist across the body in that horizontal arc. Do not forget to shift your weight to your left foot as you do it and follow through with the right shoulder. It's the whole body thing. Imagine this nice big thwadoompf! as your fist collides with the side of that invisible specter.

Oh, uh, the alien pugilist is fighting the um, scheming toadstools that killed her sister. So in honor of her, imagine giving those nasty fungi what for. And if you want to make it more challenging, by all means, hold those weights whilst you punch. Right, okay. We're going to do 30 seconds of hooks on the right and then – warning - we're going to switch to the left.

Ready? Three, two, one, punch! Oh, it's lovely form. You have been practicing, my word. 15 seconds down, runners. Now remember, you're swinging the punch across your body in the shape of a hook. Now that's 30 seconds. So it is time - and I apologize - to switch stance so that your right leg is forwards and we're moving to be swinging our hooks from the left. Your 30 seconds on the other side start, ready? Now.

There we go. I'm not gonna lie, it's not quite as smooth, but keep on punching, runners. You show those filthy toadstools whose boss. Beautiful. Oh, nice work! Those mushrooms truly are mush, or at least uh, the ones on screen are. The alien pugilist, by the way, has just been recruited to the marauders, so it's time for her to teleport to earth and time for us to take a music break. So you can keep swinging those hooks if you're in the zone, or just have a bop to this next song. Do enjoy.

~

PETER LYNNE: Ah, Foxy, my boy. Girl. I don't know. When I was a kid, you see, I-I used to get absolutely livid when people mocked Clash of the Marauders. I mean, you know what it's like when you really just love something, it's yours. Someone criticizing it, well, that feels like a personal insult. But yes, as an adult, I will grant you the film has a few faults.

Like the fact that it spends so much time establishing the characters’ backstories, none of them actually meet until the middle of the film. I mean, the first half, it feels like 10 different movies. One set on a mushroom planet, one's on a galleon, one's in the jungle, one's on the moon. The current situation feels a bit like we're all the heroes of different films. It should be the same, but no matter how far apart we are, at the very least we're... we're doing these exercises, we're doing something together.

Us and good old Teenage Warlock, whose evil mentor, by the way, has imprisoned him inside a cursed mountain. So how tough is your life? Young Warlock has to contort his body into the most ridiculous shapes in order to cast his spells because he... actually, I don't know why, but for some reason, Teenage Warlock can only bend the bars of his cage by putting his feet behind his head. Don't worry, runners, we're not gonna do that one today.

Instead, why don't we do some forward lunges? Teenage Warlock uses these to manifest a bridge over the lake of lava keeping him from freedom, but we're probably just going to use them to work our legs, hips, and core. But I'm not ruling it out. If any of you want to cross the lava, you can.

So stand with your feet together and your back straight. Now take one step forward, keeping your knees and feet pointing straight ahead. You lower your back knee so that it almost but doesn't quite touch the ground. Make sure your front knee doesn't extend beyond your toes and your center of gravity is above the hips. Now raise back up. Nice. Now switch legs, do it on the other side. Lovely. So for a little more challenge should you need it, no pressure, hold those weights whilst we go.

So we're going to do 60 seconds of lunges, starting three, two, one, now! And there we go. 15 seconds down. Remember to keep the core engaged and the back straight. Imagine you're a pencil with legs. You're working them, but everything from the hips up, rod straight. And you're halfway there, and that's just like Teenage Warlock being halfway across the lava lake. So just 15 seconds to go, runners. Keep it up! There we are, you can see the finish line, and we've done it once again.

Oh, and by the way, that is just in time for Teenage Warlock's theme song. Oh, love it. Cast some imaginary spells with your dance moves or just keep on lunging. Either way, I'm going to enjoy myself.

~

PETER LYNNE: So how are the weights working out? Honestly, if you're not using them, don't worry, it doesn't matter. Just curious, and it's more important to listen to what your body needs and do the exercise that's going to make it feel best. You know, if you happen to be shut away with someone - maybe it's, just hypothetical, a small fluffy someone who insists on staring at you with their big yellow eyes whilst you work out - just remember that no one else's opinion matters. Oh! Uh, sorry. [laughs] This is time for the Marauders’ big training montage now, so obviously we've got to join in with them, and so we're going to do some crunches.

So if you've got a yoga mat or a towel to hand, perfect. Lay that out now. If you don't, don't worry. But you want it lain out and then lie down with your back on top of it. Totally fine if you don't have one, just a bonus. Right, so your feet should be flat on the ground with the knees pointing up towards the ceiling, then you want to raise your hands so that they're just resting near but not on your ears. Great. So then lift the torso slightly off the floor, but you're using your abs. Don't curve. You keep your neck and back straight as if they're one solid block. Don't try to lift the torso too high, there's no point. Focus on control, that's the point. And keep your core engaged, that's what it's for.

To make it easier if you need, extend your arms out in front of you when you lift up. If you want to make it harder, grab those weights, keep your arms up high. But if you do so, make sure that you are being very careful to protect the back by keeping your core firmly engaged.

Right, we're going to do 60 seconds of crunches, and that's going to start now! Beautiful! Oh, I could watch this all day, if only I could watch this. Beautiful. You've crunched your way through 15 seconds, runners, just like I've crunched my way through 15 hot dogs this week. And yes, I've cooked them badly. Halfway there. Remember to lift with your abs, never with the back. Almost there, only 15 seconds to go. Keep on going. I'm doing it with you. You don't know if that's true, but I'm telling you it is. And we are done! Marvelous. Now if you're up to it, why not keep on crunching straight through this music break?

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh, Foxy. I've always been into my fitness, but even I catch myself watching Clash of the Marauders and I feel a little bit wistful that I'll probably never be able to bench press a monster truck. Still, that kind of thinking leaves me less motivated, not more, and that's no good. If you are struggling with motivation, the first thing to remember is that you have already made the effort to work out, so you're already doing an amazing job. That's the hardest part!

The second thing is you can actually get a buzz from improving, regardless of what fitness level you start from. It's just... okay, perfect example. Take a look at Mutant Rhinoceros. I mean, he starts out pretty down on himself after the accident with the gene splicer, but he takes things day by day, learns what he can do with his new body, and in the end, it's his horn spin that saves the day.

So with that in mind, our last big exercise is one that can be tough when you first try it, but it's so very rewarding as you improve. It's the horn spin! Joking, it’s wall sits. Right, get ready. Stand a little over a foot away from a wall with your back facing it. Then carefully lean back against the wall until your back's flat against it. It's fine to use your arms to guide you, not a problem.

Now you may need to do a little bit of adjusting here. You want your thighs and calves at a 90 degree angle with your thighs parallel to the ground. However, if that's too much, no problem, don't worry. Move your feet close the wall and your knees will then be at a more gentle angle. Now we're going to hold that for 60 seconds, or as close as you can get, starting from now!

See, it's so comfortable. How could this be an exercise? It's hardly any effort at all. You've made it to 15 seconds. Uh-oh, the burn’s beginning. Now you're starting to feel it. Oh, there's a reason we're doing this. Halfway through. Keep your back, head, and buttocks straight flat against the wall. You can do it. You've got to keep a straight line, otherwise the whole game falls apart. It's like a house of cards, but made of you. Right, almost there, runners. Just 15 seconds left. Don't just feel the burn, embrace the burn, love the burn, be the burn. And we're done!

I tell you what, you have certainly earned a dance break to this next song, but if you happen to be feeling as tough as a mutant rhinoceros, well, you just keep on propping up that wall.

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh yes, here we go. See, the Marauders are gearing up for the final clash. You see, what I love about this part - aside from the amazing music, obviously - but it's how it shows the Marauders make a great team because they all play to their different strengths. Yes, the Pirate Queen has a cutlass, but Tiger Witch’s moves, they're all claw-based, and then Flame Dancer!

Oh, Flame Dancer is my favorite. He's just, I know, he's just got so much flair, you know? He just casts these arcs of flame with this perfectly timed hip swivel. Um, I mean, also it is refreshing to have an explicitly bi character in a video game adaptation. [mockingly] "Oh my God, I can't imagine someone who likes fighting evil and dancing and boys and girls."

You know, every single one of the Marauders’ unique fighting styles are ultimately needed to take down Rex Farringdon. He's the monomaniacal billionaire who's hellbent on repopulating the world with clones of himself. So for our final music break, I would love you to dance in your own unique way as the Marauders, too, fight for their right to be themselves.

~

PETER LYNNE: Oh, what moves, runners! My word. And congratulations, you are just in time for all of the Marauders to come together as they send Rex Farringdon and his clones all the way to the mushroom planet. [sighs] You know, Clash of the Marauders really is just by far one of the best video game adaptation movies. Even Foxy seemed to like it, and Foxy has some very strong opinions about films. You should see what they did to the carpet during Cats III.

Oh, this is so nice. This is the scene where the whole cast walks off into the sunset together. Apparently, they were genuinely good friends as well. Oh, I suppose it's going to be a while before all of us runners are able to actually be together, run again. I mean sure, well, I've got someone to watch films with now, but it would be really nice to see the rest of you. For one thing, you all don't express affection by leaving bits of chewed-up hot dog on my chair. Yes, I appreciate the thought, Foxy.

You know, if like me, you get lonely sometimes, it's just human. You might find it helpful to remember that at the very least, by staying safe and keeping not just physically but mentally healthy and caring for yourself, you are doing your part to help everyone rebuild when the time comes. Anyway, until next time runners, this is me and Foxy, signing off.

~