#super powerful but mentally fragile

[lobeliamaximoff]

OMG

they are really paralleled in every fucking screen I just can't

[rowinablx]

Sentry has one of the most twisted and convoluted origin stories in Marvel Comics, and it’s a big part of what makes him such a compelling character. His backstory is a mess of trauma, addiction, and cosmic power, all wrapped up in a fractured psyche that’s as dangerous as it is tragic. Here’s the breakdown:

Sentry’s origin starts with Robert as a junkie, a lowlife meth addict desperate for a fix. He breaks into a lab where he stumbles upon a secret super-soldier serum—a leftover from the Weapon X program, juiced up with some experimental cosmic sauce. He drinks it, and boom, he’s suddenly got “the power of a million exploding suns.” That’s not hyperbole; it’s how his power level is described. Instantly, he’s one of the most powerful beings in the Marvel Universe, on par with or exceeding heavyweights like Thor or Hulk. But here’s the kicker: the serum didn’t just give him power—it split his mind and birthed the Void, a dark, apocalyptic alter ego that’s basically his ID unleashed. The Void isn’t just a villain; it’s a part of him, a reflection of his guilt, self-loathing, and repressed rage.

What makes this so fucked up is the psychological toll. Robert’s not a hero by nature—he’s a broken man who accidentally becomes a god. He tries to do good as Sentry, but his mental instability and the Void’s constant presence mean he’s a walking disaster. Early on, he’s retconned into Marvel history as this Golden Age-style hero who’s been around forever, but his mind’s so shattered he can’t even trust his own memories. Turns out, he begged the world—including his best friend Reed Richards and Doctor Strange—to erase him from existence because he couldn’t control the Void. They mind-wipe everyone, including him, to forget he ever existed. That’s some dark shit: a guy so powerful he’s a threat to reality, yet so fragile he’d rather be unmade than live with himself.

Then there’s the reveal that the Void killed his wife, Lindy, in a fit of rage—or maybe he did it as Sentry and blamed the Void. It’s ambiguous, and that’s the point. His whole deal is unreliable narration. He’s schizophrenic, delusional, and his perception of reality is a mess. Every heroic act he does is shadowed by the fear that he’ll snap and end the world. In Siege, he loses it completely, and the Avengers have to take him down—Thor yeets his corpse into the sun. Even then, he comes back, because death doesn’t stick for a guy like him.

Why does this matter for Thunderbolts? The upcoming MCU movie is bringing Sentry in, played by Lewis Pullman, and it’s heavily implied if not outright shown he’ll be the major antagonist. If they water down his origin—make him just another strong guy with a generic villain arc—they’ll miss what makes him tick. Sentry’s not a straightforward hero or villain; he’s a cautionary tale about power without stability. The Thunderbolts are a team of antiheroes and misfits, and Sentry fits that vibe perfectly—a wildcard who could save them or doom them. His addiction, his mental illness, the Void—it’s all crucial to showing why he’s not just a Superman knockoff but a deeply human fuck-up with godlike power. Strip that away, and you’re left with a bland cape guy. Keep it, and you’ve got a story that could rival the best MCU character arcs, like Tony Stark’s or Loki’s. Messing it up would be a disservice to one of Marvel’s most unhinged and tragic creations.

*just found out that Sentry's creator has been involved from the beginning with Sentry's character in Thunderbolts and is basically contracted to write a Sentry project!!!

[munchhmm]

hey ml! Was wondering if you could do headcanons of one piece men, specifically Zoro, with a love interest (preferably fem) who is SUPER strong, and fast, like Saitama.

Thank youuu! Byeee

More Than Muscle

Hi annon! I’m sorry I’ve never watched One Punch Man and I'm not feeling very well oops, but I have an idea (I think) of what you were expecting though!! hopefully this is good :’)

The boys reacting to reader being super duper strong! ♡

Image above is mine.

Pairings: Zoro, Ace, Law, Smoker, and Luffy x F!reader.

Warnings: None! ᐢ. .ᐢ

Word count: 550 I'm sorry It's so short :(

Zoro > ᴗ•

Doesn’t want to admit you might be stronger than him.

Sees firsthand how powerful your skills are—he’s in awe but would never show it.

Trains harder to try and get on your level, even though in the back of his head he knows it’s probably not possible.

Secretly finds it cute and fun; sparring with you felt like a real challenge.

“Where did all of this come from?” —asking out of sheer curiosity but with a hint of annoyance, knowing you’re beating his ass.

Protects you silently; he sees your strength but knows everyone gets tired sometimes.

Lets you lean on his shoulder, eventually his lap after practice—running his fingers through your hair when he knows you’re asleep.

Ace ´ ᵕ `

Smirking but wants to be your biggest fan on the inside.

Constantly puts you up to tests, timing your speed and agility.

In awe when you fight, almost to the point he forgets he’s in the scuffle himself.

Still tries to take care of you like a baby—he admires you so much. Even if you’re strong, you’re still his love.

Honestly would probably try to stop you from going overboard, like you’re all fighting and he grabs you so things don’t get too heated. Haha, literally, right? Get it with Ace? I should shut up…

When you get tired, he scoops you up and holds your body like you’re the most fragile thing on earth.

Doesn’t care about the teasing—he respects you even if your power can compare to his.

Law ᵔᗜᵔ

Doesn’t say a word outright, just a small smirk across his face.

Worries way too much—his doctor instincts kick in. Are you pushing yourself too hard? Are you hurt? These thoughts circle his mind constantly.

Stands behind you with his eyes closed like he isn’t paying attention. He most certainly is.

Offers practical help: meditation and cold compresses. This is his way of showing he cares.

When you do inevitably push yourself too far, he’s the first to notice—almost forcing you to rest and take things easy.

In secret, he lets you lay on his chest while he watches your face, trying to read what mental and physical state you’re in.

Would never let anyone tease you—giving deadly glances when anyone dares to open their mouth.

Smoker •⤙•

Cold and stern outwardly; on the inside, he’s really impressed.

Worries about you in battle but knows you can handle it.

If you ever did get hurt, he’d calmly bandage you while cursing himself for not being there sooner.

Never lets you push yourself too hard, even when necessary—he cares too much about you.

Watches with a focused eye at all times.

Brags about you to other Marines without even realizing it.

Keeps your weak spots in the back of his mind so he can help when—really if—needed.

Luffy >ヮ<

Biggest fanboy from the very start.

“WOAH, THAT’S SO COOL! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Wants to join every fight you’re in from that point forward.

Secretly learns the way you fight so maybe he can copy you.

If anyone ever underestimates you, he just laughs and lets you at them.

Tells everyone that you’re the strongest person he’s ever met—and means it.

Makes you eat lots of food—aside from what he steals from you, ofc—and rest a bunch to keep your strength.

[littlelovelunette]

i'm obsessing over ur page rn because i LOVE our wifes vi & sevika 🫶🫶 was wondering if you could do (if u haven't already) nsfw headcanons for one of them? like ... what are their turn-ons, their turn-offs, what they like in a woman ... maybe even kinks ... im curious and i can't ask chatgpt these things 🤧.

I gotchu and thank you so much it means a lot when I hear praises about my writings it makes me feel really supported and loved thank you so so much and ig i already did do nsfw headcanons for sevika but ima do a new one for you because you made me day just now and i will include BOTH OF THEM

HEADCANONS (TURN ONS, TURN OFFS, KINKS) ft. Sevika and Vi

Sevika

turn ons

a woman shorter than her or in general smaller than her which is pretty much all women because cmon sevika is tall and buff as fuck

thick thighs are a huge turn on for her

being bitten harshly, not the wussy type of bites, the type that would draw blood and ache for days

obedient girlies who spread their legs whenever asked to do it but that doesn't mean she'll turn down a brat just cause she likes obedience, she will spank you raw if you're bratty

women with high sex drive

sevika gets super wet when someone takes charge when she's tired from work and would lay back and let you do the work, strong women who take charge and are mentally sluts are attractive to her

big ass

anything related to mild danger really

turn offs

being on the receiving end of degradation (baby is insecure deep down but doesn't let it show) but you can call her slut, whore, bitch; just don't insult her arm or anything about her not caring about grooming herself, age, looks and that stuff

you taking advantage of drunk sevika would disappoint her and turn her off, she wont let you touch her for days

publicly she holds all dominance and if you try to make her act submissive to you in public she'll instantly lose her sexual appetite

hard to turn her off in general because she has a high sex drive

kinks

knife play, gun play enthusiast

anal, she likes giving more than receiving because receiving it... well, sevika squirts a lot when she receives anal and she feels embarrassed about it but if you dominate her successfully and are close enough she'll ache for anal pleasure

power play, seeing how strong she is compared to her gets her off easily

breeding kink hardcore, oh she wishes she could pump you full of semen because even if she says she prefers not being with children, settling down has been a lifelong dream

bondage, should've seen the way she looked at jinx when she was tied up

mild sadism during sex because cmon, the girl grew up around guns and fights

double penetration because why not?

Violet

turn ons

seeing your mouth around anything whether its even a popsicle or you licking off the seasoning of chips off your fingers

you in a skirt for some reason turns her on maybe it's just the view of your beautiful legs

you being assertive as fuck with her, she loves it when you take control for a change and it makes her fantasize about how you could make her moan and make her feel so good

you in her shirts or hoodies makes her bend you over and fuck you in that very clothing

seeing you without a bra makes her grab your boobs in a tight grasp and bite them because they just look so delicious

loves having you on her lap and it gets her wet seeing you all pretty on her lap

soft gentle sex

turn offs

dishonesty during intercourse

idea of someone else owning you or having it with you makes her blood boil

overly fragile or needy behaviour from you turns her off because she wants you to know she'll always be there to do anything and everything for you, protect you and nurture you

disrespecting her family turns her off hardcore

sadism during sex turns her off and she won't be cruel to you during sex at all, maybe a little due to simple teasing but she won't deprive you of anything if you're a masochist

kinks

spanking, she loves you bend over her lap and crying as she slaps your ass firmly for teasing her in public

nipple clamps and she will pull on them deliberately to make you whine and cry

69 because she loves burying her face in your pussy while you do the same for her trying to keep her in place because she wriggles out of sensitivity so much

leaving hickeys all over your chest and inner thighs too so she can claim you in every way possible she just loves you so much

having you blindfolded, tied up, gagged so all you can do is take her

she loves fingering you to no end she would do it every day and all the time if she could

she likes stretching your pussy out and watching the arousal dripping down

[4barbatos]

❝ good girl syndrome ❞

✦ pairing: albedo x fem!reader

✦ rating: explicit [18+]

✦ word count: 1.8k .ᐟ

✦ summary:

he breaks you down piece by piece, wrapping control in tenderness. you don’t know where pain ends and his love begins — only that resisting him makes him want you more.

✦ content warning:

dubcon, manipulative dynamics, reader is mentally ill, reader is in a foggy/dazed state, soft coercion, gaslighting, medication tampering (implication of non-consensual drug use), emotional dependency, psychological control, power imbalance, praise kink (“good girl”), possessiveness, nonverbal hesitation, consent confusion, somno-adjacent behavior (not explicitly asleep but mentally checked out), fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, aftercare with ulterior motives, albedo is not safe™

✦ author’s note:

wrote this for my wife @vvallent1ne :3

this is my very first smut (and honestly kinda my first fic ever). i’ve always been more of a reader than a writer, but after years of devouring other people’s work (lol), i wanted to try writing something myself 🥹

constructive criticism is super welcome — just please be nice, i’m fragile 😭💗

you wake up drenched, sheets clinging to your hips — twisted, damp, uncomfortably warm. sweat cools slow at the nape of your neck, sticky and thick, mixing with the haze of dreams you can’t quite hold onto. everything aches — like your body’s been moving without you, like your mind got left behind. your head feels foggy. heavy. like it’s been held underwater too long.

you try to move but the stiffness in your muscles reminds you how little sleep you really got.

this isn’t new. the nights have been like this lately — hazy, broken, your thoughts slipping away just as you reach for them. you never know if you took your meds before bed, or if you just forgot entirely. sometimes it’s hard to keep track of the days, the hours, yourself.

albedo has been there, always hovering somewhere near the edges of your fractured mornings. not just a friend, not quite something else, but something you don’t fully understand — someone who knows the parts of you that you try to hide even from yourself.

he’s not what you’d call gentle — more like pressure that never lets up. but he’s always there. steady hands, steady voice, steady ruin.

this morning is no different.

“morning” he says, his voice low, almost soft, but there’s an edge beneath it — a quiet warning hidden behind the tenderness.

his eyes catch the empty pill bottle on the bedside table without needing to ask, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

he slides onto the bed beside you, his fingers threading through your damp hair, tugging your face toward him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. his breath is warm on your skin, and his gaze burns with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“you’re restless again” he murmurs, voice smooth like silk. “you don’t have to fight it. i’ll keep you steady.”

his hand slides down your ribs, settling possessively on your hip. you want to pull away—but your body won’t let you.

you don’t want to.

the haze clouds your mind — confusion folding into something darker, something sharper and far more dangerous.

he leans down, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ear, whispering, “i’m the only one who knows what you need.”

his fingers tighten slightly, claiming you like a secret.

you taste the salt of your own fear, mingled with something electric that leaves you trembling.

because you don’t remember the last time you said no.

his hand slips beneath the waistband of your clothes, fingers ghosting over the heated skin beneath. your breath catches — shallow, quick — your body responding before your mind can catch up, every nerve alive despite the fog clouding your thoughts. the pill bottle lies forgotten now — empty, just like everything else he’s taken from you.

he leans down, lips trailing along your jaw, a whisper against your skin. “you don’t have to hide from me.”

your body trembles, the haze swirling around your thoughts as his fingers press lower, tracing the delicate curve of your hip, sliding beneath the fabric. your breath hitches, a knot of want and hesitation tightening in your stomach.

you try to pull away, the last flickers of resistance burning like flames. but his touch is steady, insistent.

before you can find the words, his fingers part you gently, exploring with slow, deliberate pressure.

his fingers don’t stop. one slips inside you, slow and probing, and despite the fog curling in your brain, your body tightens around him — a reflex you don’t control. you try to pull away, a soft whimper escaping your lips. “albedo… please…”

his fingers don’t stop.

one pushes deeper, slow and careful, dragging along your walls in a way that makes your thighs twitch and your breath stutter. the resistance in your voice melts into something breathy, pleading — but not for him to stop.

“albedo… i don’t…” you try again, weak, words tangled in your throat.

he kisses the corner of your mouth, hand still working between your legs, fingers moving in a rhythm that makes it impossible to think straight. “you’re doing so well” he whispers. “your body always knows what it needs, even if your mind tries to resist it.”

he curls his fingers just right and your hips jerk before you can stop yourself. shame floods your chest.

“you don’t have to be scared” he murmurs, voice sweet and cruel all at once. “i’ll be gentle. i always am, aren’t i?”

you barely have the strength to nod.

the moment you do, he withdraws his hand — wet with you, glistening in the low light — and licks his fingers clean like he’s tasting something he made himself. like he’s savoring it. savoring you.

you blink up at him, dazed, and he’s already pushing your legs apart again, slow and reverent.

“good” he murmurs, unbuckling his belt, voice turning velvet. “let me give you more. let me make you feel full.”

you whimper, legs instinctively trying to close, but his hands hold you open with quiet, terrifying patience.

“you can take it” he says, lining himself up, cock brushing hot and heavy against your slick entrance. “you always do.”

before you can form a protest, he pushes in — slow, steady, relentless.

you gasp — he’s thick, stretching you open inch by inch, your walls fluttering helplessly around him. your body betrays you, slick and ready in ways your mind hasn’t caught up with.

albedo moans softly at the feeling, burying himself deeper. “so tight” he breathes, like it’s a gift. “so perfect like this… molded to me.”

he bottoms out with a final roll of his hips, stealing the air from your lungs. you shake beneath him, too full, too sensitive, too overwhelmed to move.

his lips brush your temple. “that’s it. just like that. don’t fight it.”

and you don’t.

you can’t.

you press your palms weakly against his chest, barely a push, the last thread of protest in your body.

“albedo, stop…” you breathe, voice strained, watery, caught somewhere between fear and guilt. “this isn’t… it doesn’t feel right.”

he freezes for just a heartbeat. his expression barely shifts, but something flickers in his eyes — not guilt. not remorse.

control.

his hands slide to your waist, stroking softly, grounding you as he stays buried deep inside. he leans in close, forehead pressing to yours like a lover, lips ghosting over your skin with a tenderness that twists your chest into aching knots.

“you’re confused” he whispers, soothing, like he’s rocking you through a nightmare. “it’s just the meds, the exhaustion… you always get like this when you forget how much you need me.”

you shake your head, barely. “but i didn’t — i didn’t say yes—”

he hushes you, thumb brushing your cheek. “you didn’t say no, either. and your body… sweetheart, look at how you’re clinging to me.”

shame blooms hot and heavy in your chest. your walls flutter around him with every tiny shift, holding him in like you don’t want to let go. your thighs tremble, slick and open. even now, even through the panic, part of you aches for more.

he smiles — a soft, cruel curl of lips.

“there you are” he breathes, rocking his hips once, gentle but firm, and you gasp, back arching as he grinds against that sweet spot inside you. “you’re okay. i’m here. i’m the only one who’s ever taken care of you like this, remember?”

“good girl” he murmurs low, lips brushing your skin, voice thick with something possessive and proud. “you’re doing so well for me.”

you want to argue, scream, claw your way out — but his hands are warm, his voice soft, and your mind is a fogged-up mirror where your own thoughts can’t find their reflection.

“you don’t have to think anymore” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “i’ll do that for you.”

he starts moving again — slow and deep — like he’s sinking his name into you, like he’s making sure you never forget who you belong to.

and all you can do is cry his name.

his pace never falters. he fucks you like it’s a ritual, like every thrust rewires something inside you, slow enough to draw out the torment, deep enough to touch where you can’t reach. your nails drag across his back — not in pleasure, not quite in protest — just a helpless twitch, the last echo of whatever will you had left.

your climax hits like a betrayal. it takes you by surprise, your body clenching around him with a broken sob, muscles locking and trembling. he shushes you through it, praises you. tells you how proud he is. how sweet you feel when you give in.

he follows just after, burying himself as deep as he can, groaning low in your ear as he fills you, thick and warm and overwhelming. it’s too much — spilling out of you, seeping into the sheets, into the part of you that still remembers shame.

you don’t remember how long it lasts — how long he holds you down, whispering soft praises between thrusts, how long your body trembles beneath him until the air tastes like salt and heat and nothing else.

when it’s over, your limbs feel like lead. too heavy to move. your eyes sting. your throat is sore from whatever half-formed protests you made before your voice gave out.

he kisses your cheek, your temple, your jaw — treating you like something sacred he just finished breaking.

you’re still full of him when he pulls out, slow and careful, holding your hips still as your body twitches from oversensitivity. his cock slips free with a quiet wet sound, and you flinch.

he hushes you like a lullaby.

“shhh. it’s alright now” albedo murmurs, already reaching for a cloth to wipe between your legs, movements disturbingly gentle. “i know it was a little too much. you always get overwhelmed when you don’t take the right dosage.”

you blink at the ceiling, dazed. “i didn’t forget” you whisper, paper-thin.

he pauses — just a second too long — then smiles. “mm. must’ve mixed the bottles again. it’s okay. that’s why i keep track for you, remember?”

he moves your hair out of your face, fingers slow and careful, like he’s tidying up something he owns. “you’re so good for me. you did so well. you let me help you.”

his words are warm, loving even, but they feel like cotton stuffed in your mouth — suffocating in their softness.

you try to sit up, but your muscles give out. he presses you back down gently.

“don’t strain yourself” he says, adjusting the blanket over your bare skin. “you need rest.”

your hands tremble. “i didn’t want that.”

he stills.

for a moment, the air turns colder. sharper.

then he smiles again — softer this time — like he’s sorry for you, not for what he did.

“i know” he says, brushing his fingers down your cheek. “that’s why i had to do it. you weren’t thinking clearly. i had to help.”

you want to scream.

but you’re so tired.

so fucking tired.

he kisses your forehead like a reward.

and when he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your half-numb body close, you let him.

because your mind can’t fight.

and your heart’s already forgotten what safety feels like.

“sleep” he murmurs, holding you close. “i’ll be here when you wake up. i always am.”

and he is.

every time.

[violent-viscera]

THEORY OF ENDING OF ARCANE

ok, so i should preface that while i guessed singed was orianna’s father p much right away after i read orianna’s lore (which im super proud of), im terrible w theories. but i just want to ramble a bit.

i feel like jinx is going to die at the end of the show (which i hope not bc she’s my favourite character and she’s suffered so much.)

but considering how much arcane loves parallels and tragedies, it makes sense to me.

i feel like the whole foundation of jinx/powder as a person is that she seeks to belong, family, love, and to feel useful.

this whole unending tragedy is bc of piltover’s oppression of zaun and the power struggle/imbalance there, of course. but that’s how a little girl—who is predisposed to mental health issues and deep laden insecurities—ends up accidentally blowing up her entire found family.

her deep sense of emotionality and compassion becomes her worst enemy; it’s the guilt and trauma left behind by her actions that propels her character into chaos and deviancy. she believes everything she does is bound to be cursed and she can never do anything good. or right. and it doesn’t help that her second father figure is cursed w the similar insecurities of inferiority, projects his trauma onto her to make it tenfold, and manipulates her so he doesn’t lose her.

so instead of facing her pain head on and accepting those parts of her, she leans into it and adopts the persona of jinx.

it’s less painful than being weak, fragile, sensitive powder who can’t do anything.

so, in season two, with all the scenes of jinx slowly finding morsels of powder still lingering in the depths as she adopts isha and reunited w vi (however fragile and tenuous it may be) and just seeing how that former little girl who just wanted family and be loved and to love…i feel like she will die.

except she will die this time as someone who didn’t fuck shit up and died for her cause (maybe she protects vi as we see she does when faced w feral warwick). she will be reunited w her family (her parents, silco, vander, and isha) in death and she’s been saying she’s been wanting to die anyway.

not only that but it could be the way to bring closure to the sisters in a way that is stereotypical of arcane where they reaffirm their love but also still is considered tragic. maybe as jinx is dying and the shimmer leaves her system, she dies w powder’s blue eyes.

it also would parallel silco’s death at the end of season 1 and we can see even through montages this season that their journey into darkness begun from just wanting to help.

and as i mentioned earlier, she also stepped in front of vi, shielding her from warwick whilst demonstrating her hope that vander was still intact inside (powder’s optimism and hope still alive) and vi acknowledging jinx doesn’t need her anymore as she’s a force on her own…feels like maybe jinx will protect vi instead of vi being the protector.

i could be so dead wrong and i would like to be bc i love jinx and her story, but right now so much feels so set up to jinx’s death.

like the amount of redemption arc they’re aiming for and how much powder is still left inside her (her capacity to love still is alive and well), it feels like informs me that she will die.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello!

I've always wanted to do a stealth game/campaign, but all my attempts to hack it into DnD have failed. Do you have any suggestions for a stealthy system? Not something as abstract as Knives in the Dark (tbh, I just have never been able to get into it) but something that hits the Assassin's Creed feeling of watching the target, making a plan, and then sneaking through the base taking out guards and hiding their bodies and such. Preferably on a grid map or similar, s we're terrible at theatre of the mind.

Thanks!

THEME: Stealthy Games.

Hello there, so I did some digging and I found plenty of stealth games, although none of them seem to really require a map in order to play. That being said, I don’t think that should stop you from providing maps to your players, even if they’re abstract! Some of these games might ask you to sketch out a rough map of the town or building that you’re in, which may help you provide your players with some visual references as they sneak around, trying not to get caught. When it comes to stealth, I think of three things: horror, heists, and spies.

Delta Green, by Arc Dream Publishing.

Born of the U.S. government’s 1928 raid on the degenerate coastal town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts, the covert agency known as Delta Green opposes the forces of darkness with honor but without glory. Delta Green agents fight to save humanity from unnatural horrors—often at a shattering personal cost.

Delta Green comes highly recommended as a great way to play an X-Files type rpg, mixed in with the Cthulhu mythos. It uses a d100 system and is based in the modern day, casting your characters as former members of government agencies, recruited into a super-secret bureau that investigates supernatural things - and keeps those things hidden from the common public. The stealth of this game is mostly about covering up the eldritch and unnatural, even if it means framing someone else or condemning a beloved building.

Your characters in this game have some familiar pieces to them, such as six stats with the same titles as you’ll see in games like D&D. However, you’ll also have pieces like Bonds, which represent relationships that keep your character grounded, and a Sanity system that I’m personally not crazy about (I do not recommend this game for a group that doesn’t like trite mechanization of mental health disorders), but that gives you a way to incur penalties that aren’t just physical damage.

This looks to be the closest to a traditional rpg on this list, and with all the elements to keep track of, I can see how a physical map would be helpful. However, keep in mind that there isn’t a pace or speed stat attached to these characters, so things like line of sight or distance probably won’t be super granular - if you are shooting things you may have broad range bands to determine how difficult something is, but the final decision will be a GM decision, not something necessarily determined in the rulebook. Because the setting is a modern one, I think finding visual references for locations in this game would be very very easy.

If you want a taste of the game before you put your money down, you can check out the Free Starter Rulebook!

Minutes to Midnight, by Oliver S.

Minutes to Midnight is a game powered by Blades in the Dark about a crew of spies, trying to disrupt the balance of power in a modern cold war. They will have to stand strong in the face of their vicious opposition and handle a fragile web of untrustworthy informants, devious intrigues and deadly lies.

We play to find out if our agents can thrive in the cutthroat world of espionage. While the public may never know about their impact, their actions shape the political landscape and outcome of conflict. Will the players prevent the outbreak of a global disaster and use their influence to create a better future? Will they attempt to send the opposing bloc into a turmoil and establish a lasting hegemony? Or will their actions lead the world down a path of war and nuclear destruction?

The Forged in the Dark system uses a cycle in between missions and downtime, sinking your characters into the heart of the action as they pursue clandestine missions in locations built by the group in a session 0. Since the game takes place in the real world, using maps of real cities might be a great way to keep they players visually engaged, and using a city that the group has been to or is familiar with might also make it easier for the group to visualize the kinds of buildings and streets where their spies may be sneaking, scheming, and sleuthing.

Madstones, by xiombarg.

Those who know magic exists at all are the rich and teams of breakers like yourself that go into the jartowns for the Archons. Jartowns are created by burning folk alive in a wicker man, in a ritual known only to the oldest jet-setting Archons.

A jartown is an isolated area of spacetime that was cut out of our reality. Most jartowns consist of a small amount of space (enough for a suburb or town) and a loop of several years. Jartowns become more magickal and horrific with each loop, creating madstones. 

Madstones are small things, from actual stones to human organs, infused with concentrated, distilled magic. They're secretly coveted by the wealthy.

In this tiny 24XX-based tabletop RPG, players are breakers, desperate folk from the occult underground who find a way into the jartowns, hothouses for magick, to perform errands for the ultrarich Archons.

Play as a variety of roles, from sawbones to sinner to spook, and choose to hail from one of four origins, including jartown native.

24XX games are another toolbox that you can pick up and play around with to help you get started with creating your own experiences. Your character consists of a few skills and gear packaged together in a character class. In Madstones, these classes are various specialists, trained to deal with different elements that might pop up when you go delving into eldritch pockets of reality. There is both a stealth and a combat specialist in this game, but there’s also classes for things like a getaway driver, a hacker, and an occult specialist.

24XX games also exist because of their OSR predecessors, meaning that combat is risky, and often deadly - and therefore finding other ways to solve the problem is implicitly encouraged. However, the openness of the system means that your players don’t necessarily need to resort to stealth - they might prepare an elaborate ritual, create a unique piece of technology, or just decide to run away as fast as they can. In regards to maps, I think you could probably use a typical dungeon framework: leading the characters through various rooms or sections of the pocket dimension, and throwing horrors and weird environments their way.

Night’s Black Agents, by Pelgrane Press.

The Cold War is over. Bush’s War is winding down. You were a shadowy soldier in those fights, trained to move through the secret world: deniable and deadly.

Then you got out, or you got shut out, or you got burned out. You didn’t come in from the cold. Instead, you found your own entrances into Europe’s clandestine networks of power and crime. You did a few ops, and you asked even fewer questions. Who gave you that job in Prague? Who paid for your silence in that Swiss account? You told yourself it didn’t matter. It turned out to matter a lot. Because it turned out you were working for vampires.

Vampires exist. What can they do? Who do they own? Where is safe? You don’t know those answers yet. So you’d better start asking questions. You have to trace the bloodsuckers’ operations, penetrate their networks, follow their trail, and target their weak points. Because if you don’t hunt them, they will hunt you. And they will kill you.

A combination of modern spy fiction and vampire intrigue, Night’s Black Agents uses the GUMSHOE system, which is an investigative roleplaying system that provides your characters with resources they can spend to get into secret locations, compete against vampiric agents, and pick up information to help you put together the details of a conspiracy. In Night’s Black Agents, finding clues isn’t left up to chance - you will always get information as long as you tell the GM that you’re using a relevant skill. The obstacles in this game are more likely going to involve getting in and out of sticky situations - and if your opponents are vampires, well, stealth is likely going to be a more appealing than trying to slit their throats.

GUMSHOE games don’t need grid maps either, but a rough map of the city or country is probably very helpful, and it might be fun to draw the floor plans of various buildings that your players investigate in order to help them determine what areas may be the most interesting places to search for clues.

The Breathing, by Fistful of Crits.

You reside in The Archive, an unending and depthless structure spiralling deep into the dark and misty depths, devoid of life and presided over by a being known only to you as The Archivist.

The Archive is made up of windowless rooms and halls that vary greatly in their height, size and danger. All these spaces house numerous shelves containing the collected knowledge of the world outside of The Archive; a place you have been told you must earn your access to. The price of your freedom comes from the discovery of new or forgotten knowledge that can be found in the deepest parts of the structure. 

You, and a few others, are known as The Breathing, in a place full of creatures who were once like you but ultimately failed in their bid for freedom; now known as The Breathless. 

The Breathing is just an example of a broader style of game, using a system called Breathless. Breathless games use a series of polyhedral dice that deteriorate as you use them, with different dice attached to different skills. Throughout the game you pause to “take a breath”, and re-set your skills, bringing your dice back to their threshold. However, pausing to take a breath also gives the GM a chance to introduce a new trouble or complication, creating a cycle of mission, rest, mission, rest, etc.

As a game system, Breathless is pretty light and is fairly easy to hack. But the lightness of the rules also allows for creativity and add-ons, which could include rules for movement or placement. Since the game rewards finding ways to solve problems without having to resort to direct conflict, I can see games like this encouraging characters to think carefully about when to use their resources and when to just… sneak around the problem. If you want to include maps and a grid, you could provide a blueprint of a room inside The Archive and watch the players try to navigate it using their limited resources, with designated “rest areas” that they would have to get to in order to take a Breath.

This certainly isn’t a solution in a box, but it might provide some interesting tools to help you build the experience you’re looking for.

Night Reign, by Sinister Beard Games.

Night Reign is a roleplaying game of stealth, guile, violence and devilry for a GM and one or more players, set in a quasi-Edwardian metropolis perched on an inhospitable peninsula beset by toxic black rain and ruled by a corrupt cabal of Noble Houses.

You take the role of members of The Red Right Hand, a conspiracy loyal to the recently deposed royal family, using your talents in assassination, infiltration and dark sorcery to strike out at your oppressors.

A game all about the things you do in the shadows, Night Reign uses cards to resolve conflict, rather than dice. It also uses a token system to help you overcome obstacles without having to resort to violence - loud, messy, dangerous violence. The Ruled by Night system (which has an SRD that you can download for free) is about balancing the suspicion you’ve already raised against an increasing cost to being stealthy. You spend Shadow tokens in order to be able to attempt to do something, and try to get a hand as close as possible to 21, or at least higher than whatever the GM draws. Your characters will also have powers that can be very effective, but are likely to draw a lot of attention, so using them is risky.

Because of how this game runs, things like movement and speed are not likely to be tracked. However, I don’t think mapping out a location so that the players can understand where things are or what kind of space they’re in is going to hurt the experience. The SRD describes something called City Conditions, which appear to be elements of the fiction that might result from the characters’ choices, or provide obstacles to the players. If you have a map of the city in front of you, you could draw symbols on the map to indicate what’s happening as the story progresses, and even cross out places that have been destroyed.

Heist, by Hark Forsooth Games.

HEIST: Get the Crew Together is a cooperative RPG where you and a group of suave, savvy and slick fellow crooks plan and execute capers, grabbing the fanciest loot from the world's wealthy elite.

Heist is great for fans of shows like Leverage or movies like Ocean’s 11: you’re going to steal something shiny from someone who certainly doesn’t deserve it, and you’re going to do it with style. While combat is an option, your characters will also have to deal with suspicious marks, security systems, laser grids and bank vaults. The characters are composed of special talents and personal flaws, and the GM has the task of designing something the game calls Murphy’s Gun - a major twist that will reveal itself midway through the heist.

It can be tricky to determine what to prep for a game like this, but one thing that you can for sure prep is the location. Design the building, draw the floor plan, and come up with obstacles for the different areas - there’s not really movement tracking in this game but having the layout will certainly help your players come up with ideas about how to get in, get out, and get rich.

Another thing to consider…

Mothership doesn’t have any stealth skills, but what it does have is the incentive to be sneaky. If an alien horror is moving through the ship, you’re more likely to try and stay out of it’s way - and having no stealth skills means that the players have to describe what they’re doing to stay hidden; climb into vents, squeeze yourself into cupboards, and try to wriggle into the space suit. However, this doesn’t mean that you’re not rolling - you might roll to clamber over something or to fit yourself into something, or you might roll to scope out a location to find an exit or suitable hiding place. It’s also excellent in terms of maps - plenty of adventures will provide at least a blueprint of the space station or ship that you’re exploring, which you can use to spook your players with fresh horrors.

[chimcess]

→ Chapter Twelve: All in Blue 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: 21.2k+ 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: frenemies dynamic, PTSD, nightmares, guilt, shame, Bridd isn't doing very well mentally, bickering, I loved Lily, Lily is such a stupid jerk and I love her for it, near death experience, flashbacks, minor character deaths, violence, blood, strong language, everyone at this point needs a hug, homesickness, illness, major character injured, trauma bonding, they definitely have a big-sis-little-sis dynamic going on, sarcasm, everyone in the fic has my sense of humor and I'm sorry I'm not funnier, fire magic, this is one of the more "boring" chapters depending on who you ask, mostly traveling and small arguments, until something changes, I just really like their dynamic and wanted to showcase it a lot, psychosis, learning more about Lustra's history, dumb bird jokes because why not?, I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: I'm super ahead for TTW right now, and because of the long hiatus I thought posting an extra chapter before the year was over was a great present to those who love this story as much as I do.

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The days blurred together as we trudged through the forest. I couldn't tell when one ended and the next began—just this constant rhythm of exhaustion as we pushed on toward the mountains. The trees stretched high above us, thick and ancient, their branches weaving into a dark canopy that barely let in any light. Everything below was muted in mossy green, an eerie half-light that felt alive.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the path twisting in ways that kept us on edge, making every mile harder to bear. The silence between Lily and me only made it worse. It was a silence filled with tension, our brief moments of peace fragile enough to break—and sometimes they did. We’d snap at each other, sharp and heated, until there was nothing left but the hollow feeling that came after a fight. Then we’d go back to walking, simmering with everything we hadn’t said, unable to let it go.

Lily was a hurricane. Fierce, chin high, baby blue eyes blazing—she threw words like knives when she was mad enough. Never below the belt, but always enough to sting. And I was no better. I met her glare for glare, word for word, each exchange becoming a contest we both needed to win. It was like striking a flint, both of us desperate to spark something—just to feel anything besides the numbness that the blurred days brought us. But when the arguments faded, I’d catch a glimpse of something softer in her.

If I had a cough, she’d make me tea from whatever plants and herbs she could find. When I was tired, she’d insist we stop and rest. If I got stuck, eyes glazed over, flames and screams dancing across my vision like I was back home, she’d ask me what color the sky was, and we’d play I-Spy for a few hours.

It wasn’t all bad, but I could say with almost complete certainty that we were two hotheads trying our best to bite our tongues before we started another round of bickering.

The forest only made the tension worse. Shadows seemed to shift around us, almost as if they were laughing at our arguments, at our hopeless journey. I’d wondered a few times if it was the fae and their games. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for them, and very few were able to come out of the Hollow Below without first being summoned. The thought of them laughing at us only made me angrier, and my irritation would rise.

Unfortunately for me, Lily was far better at quick-witted insults, and I’d end up stewing alone, back to the campfire, pretending to sleep.

Each night, we’d set up camp with an invisible line drawn between us, both unwilling to cross it. The fire would flicker in the gap between us—warm, but never enough to thaw the wall we’d built. Yet, in those rare moments, when she looked at me without the bite in her eyes, it felt different. Softer. Like maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I’d never asked her how old she was, but the few strands of silver in her black hair, the smile lines, and crow's feet told me she might be around Yoona or Thelma’s age. All of us lived long lives, witches the longest of the three, but I’d heard hybrids and shapeshifters had similar lifespans. Hybrids lived slightly longer since shifting took so much energy and strength.

I hoped that made Jimin and me evenly matched. I couldn’t imagine living a single second longer than him, and I was certain if I went first, he’d follow me soon after. Wolves couldn’t live without their mates. The thought of Jimin dying made me far more upset than I already was, so I pushed that thought to the back of my mind.

Finally, after days of endless trees and winding trails, the Ozryn Mountains appeared, jagged and dark against the horizon—so close, but still so far. Progress.

I looked over at Lily and found her already smiling back at me. Her smile softened her face, making her look so much younger. Her dimples shone prettily in the light, the diamond studs a soft baby pink. Her gold teeth hit the sun, and my eyes immediately locked on the two ruby gems on the other side of her mouth. Lily said she got them done as repayment for helping a jeweler’s family get their supplies back from a couple of thieves in Whopping. Reds and pinks were her favorite colors, and I thought they looked nice. She was a beautiful woman despite her scarring and less-than-appealing attitude.

“We won’t have much cover going through the desert,” she told me, her voice raspy. “We’ll need to stay vigilant. Keld’s Landing will be the next forest before we’re in the tundra.”

I nodded. “We’ll make it.”

Lily hummed and continued walking.

One afternoon, we came to a fork in the road, the trail splitting into two narrow paths. Lily glanced down one and nodded, her voice crisp and unwavering. “We take the left,” she said, pointing toward the path that disappeared into a curve. Her tone was clipped, like it wasn’t up for debate.

“No,” I said, feeling the familiar frustration build. I pulled out the map, unfolding it with more force than necessary. “The right leads straight to the mountains.” The paper crinkled loudly as I jabbed a finger at the marked trail.

The sun was beaming down, scorching the back of my neck. The desert wasn’t like the ones I’d heard of in Idris—not blisteringly hot, but with tall rocky cliffs, massive hills we had to climb through and around, and most of the paths covered in thick layers of red dirt and sand. We’d found the current path using the map in my hands, and it made Lily’s stubbornness even more frustrating. The map was obviously useful.

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “I’ve been this way before,” she said, her voice cold, dismissive. “The left is safer. Trust me.”

“And I’ve got the map,” I shot back, shaking it slightly for emphasis. We stood there, a silent standoff brewing between us, neither of us willing to back down.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “The right is quicker. We’ll save time.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe, but it’s a mess of dead ends and loose rocks. Do you want to make this harder? Don’t be naive, Y/N.”

My heart pounded, and my breathing grew shallow. I was going to explode if she kept this up. I wasn’t stupid.

“You were fine with the map before,” I argued.

“Because we weren’t sure where we were. I am now. The right trail is slightly faster, but there are rock warnings posted everywhere, and we’ll end up having to cut through even more dangerous areas trying to avoid the cliffs.”

I looked down at the map, doubt gnawing at the edges of my resolve. The lines blurred, exhaustion clouding my vision, and I glanced back at her, at her determined expression, her jaw set as if daring me to challenge her. Reluctantly, I felt my resolve waver.

“Fine,” I muttered, tucking the map away with a sigh. “We’ll go left. But if we get lost, it’s on you.”

A hint of satisfaction flickered in her eyes, and her tone softened. “We won’t get lost.”

The path was steep, lined with large, dead trees that closed in tighter as we moved. The silence still hung between us, but I could tell Lily was trying to soften me. She’d offer a hand when the trail got rough, and her voice lost a bit of its bite when she passed me a piece of bread. It didn’t help soften my resolve.

Call it pride or stubbornness, but I didn’t like being talked down to.

One night, we stopped to camp under a sky full of stars, the fire casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The cavern was still, the quiet wrapping around us, but for once, it didn’t feel heavy. We sat across from each other, tired and sore, but the silence didn’t press down on us the way it usually did.

The firelight danced in Lily’s eyes, and for a brief moment, there was no hardness, no anger—just the two of us, two people stuck together on a journey neither of us could make alone. It was strange, almost surreal, like some part of me had been waiting for this moment, for the quiet to settle between us without all the tension.

Lily’s voice broke the silence, softer than I was used to. “I can’t believe I’m doing this all over again,” she muttered, her hands busy stacking more firewood. There was something weary in her tone, a softness that hadn’t been there before.

I leaned back, feeling the ache of the day’s travel settle into my bones. “You’re better at it than I am,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

She shot me a look, her eyes narrowing, but there was a glimmer of humor there. “Flattery won’t get you out of it next time,” she said, tossing a log onto the fire. The flames crackled, sending warmth into the cold night air.

I sighed, settling onto my bedroll as the warmth of the fire seeped into me. The sounds of the forest surrounded us—leaves rustling, faint calls in the distance, and bugs chirping. It felt almost peaceful.

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep the ire from my voice. That always meant she was going to say something that pissed me off. And she knew it. It was why she always tried to pretend it was in the name of honesty.

Really, it was her catch-all phrase for saying whatever she felt like and then acting all high and mighty when I got angry.

“Why ask?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice, no matter how hard I tried. “It’s never stopped you before.”

Lily’s voice came again, hesitant, in a way that caught me off guard. “Look, I don’t like arguing with you any more than you do,” she said, her gaze fixed on the flames. “We’re stuck together, whether we like it or not. So... I’ll try to cool it. But I need you to work with me.”

I scoffed, the words coming out before I could stop them. “You act like I’m the one who always starts it,” I snapped, irritation flaring up again. “Or should I remind you about how you caused this entire attitude issue you’re so mad about?”

Lily raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as her face hardened. “Oh, really?” she said, her tone thick with disbelief. “Care to explain that one?”

I felt the sting of her words, sharper than I wanted to admit. “You called me stupid,” I threw back, the memory still fresh and bitter. “I was trying to help, and you just... dismissed me. Didn’t even bother to apologize.”

She rolled her eyes, her voice sliding into that condescending edge that always got under my skin. “I did not call you stupid. I called you naive. There’s a difference. You’re out of your depth, and you’re too stubborn to admit it. If you’d just listen to me—”

“Naive, stupid—what’s the difference?” I shot back, getting to my feet, anger bubbling up. “You act like I don’t know anything, like I haven’t seen things, lived through things. You’ve known me for what, two weeks? You don’t know anything about me.”

For a split second, something shifted in her expression. The firelight flickered across her face, and her eyes softened, the harshness slipping away. “Then tell me,” she said quietly. “I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Her words lingered, raw and open, hovering between us. And for a second, I almost told her. Almost let it all spill out—the fears, the doubts, the parts of me I kept locked away. But the words tangled in my throat, too heavy, too real. I looked away, feeling the anger drain out of me, leaving only a dull ache behind.

“I need some air,” I muttered, turning before she could stop me, before she could ask me anything else.

“Wait,” she called after me, but I was already slipping into the darkness beyond the firelight, letting the shadows of the cliffs close around me.

A few minutes later, I was flying.

The days that followed were rough, each one feeling heavier than the last. Every step through that desert felt harder than the one before. We barely spoke, and when we did, the words were clipped, bordering on shouting each time we opened our mouths. Silence was easier than trying to find the right words—easier than pretending we were more than just two people stuck together out of necessity. It felt like a chasm had opened between us, growing wider each day.

But even in the silence, there were still those small moments that showed we still cared, even if we refused to say it. When the path got rough and I stumbled, her hand would still reach out, steadying me before I fell. When a fallen branch blocked our way, I’d offer my hand to help her over it. These moments were rare, but they were good reminders that we were still in this together. Whether we liked it or not.

The desert slowly began to give way, sand turning to dirt and mud, dying grass making way for glimpses of the Ozryn Mountains in the distance. They loomed closer, their dark, jagged peaks stark against the sky. We were getting closer, and I could already begin to smell the pine in the distance. We’d reach Keld’s Landing first, and then we’d finally be in the danger zone.

I was just as terrified as I was relieved.

Of course, the peace couldn’t last long. As we walked through the ever-thickening forest, I was thrown by the twists and turns the paths took—paths my map couldn’t always account for. I knew they were old, but how old didn’t really hit me until I found myself relying more on Lily’s judgment than the piece of parchment in my hands.

Then, we finally found a path that did line up with my map, and I was more than happy to jump at the chance to be useful. I stopped walking, looking up from the map. The path split into two directions, winding off into thicker areas of forest. We were still just barely on the outskirts, the aspens few and far between, many of them missing their pines. Lily stopped, studying the paths, her eyes narrowed.

I had a feeling we were about to have another argument and prepared myself to be willing to back off. Lily had been the bigger person during our last real spat, and I needed to learn to calm things down, too.

“Right,” she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for debate.

I took out the map, already feeling the tension coil between us. “This says left.”

She crossed her arms, her tone challenging. “I’ve been here before. The right path is safer.”

It only took a second for the argument to erupt, our voices bouncing off the trees, sharp and heated. But as we argued, something else crept in, a realization that was harder to ignore. We were fighting over nothing. I knew this map wasn’t the most reliable, and truthfully, Lily wasn’t saying anything to warrant my bad attitude. She was just trying to guide us—the only reason we were even traveling together. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to hold back the worst of my temper, even though I wanted nothing more than to tell her how right I was and how wrong she was.

Not to mention, we’d just had this fight a week ago.

“Fine,” I said, forcing the word out, each syllable heavy. “We’ll go right.”

She looked at me, surprise flickering across her face. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

We kept moving, the path winding through the ever-thickening forest. The grass was becoming greener, the trees fuller and more closely packed together. We were still a few miles out of Keld’s Landing, but I had a feeling we would get through it soon enough. If we were lucky, we could stay inside the forest long into the mountains, as it crossed throughout the southern regions of Ozryn. We’d have to cut across and start heading southeast eventually, but the trees would help protect us from the harshest winds the mountains had to offer.

That night, we made camp as stars began to prick through the deepening dusk. The silence between us wasn’t tense or uncomfortable; it was just... quiet. The fight from earlier was forgotten, and honestly, I didn’t have the energy or the desire to rehash it. We were adults—we needed to start acting like it. Liking each other was secondary to our mission. The fire cast warm light over us, softening Lily’s face. She looked more tired than I remembered, and a pang of guilt settled in my chest for the way I’d acted sometimes. Especially when it really didn’t matter who was right or wrong.

We were both going to the same place, and she was right—I was being naive and stupid if I thought I knew everything about surviving out here.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, each word carrying more weight than I intended.

“What for?”

I turned to look at her, her eyes staring into the flames. I wondered what she saw in them. I knew what they did to me. Some nights, I’d have to sleep as far away from the smoke as I could or else I couldn’t sleep. Cordelia would visit me in those moments, her eyes far away, that awful look on her face. Then I’d start to smell blood, and I’d need to get as far away from camp as I could without worrying Lily. I hoped nothing as horrible as that haunted her.

With the way she spoke about Duke, though, I wasn’t so sure.

“For putting up with me,” I sighed. “I’ve always been difficult and hard-headed. I’m just sorry you’re the one who has to deal with it.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes warm, a soft smile spreading across her face. “You don’t have to thank me. Let’s just get through this. Together.”

I nodded, and in that moment, something shifted inside me—a tiny ember of hope, barely there but undeniably real. It wasn’t much, but right now, it was enough.

“No need to apologize either,” she rasped, turning her gaze back to the fire. “I’m responsible for my own behavior, and I know I’m not the most accommodating. We’ll learn to get used to each other.”

“Don’t think we really have a choice.”

We both laughed softly.

The fire burned low, casting long shadows, and the forest around us was quiet, a peace settling over it that matched the calm between us. As Lily drifted off to sleep, I stayed by the fire, watching the embers glow in the darkness.

I thought of home, the wet grass and how it tickled my feet in the spring. The first time I met Yoongi. He was so small and tiny back then. A late bloomer, Aldara had called him. I couldn’t have been more than six at the time, and Yoongi was eight or nine. He’s only two years younger than Wendy and Jin, but at the time you’d have sworn we were the same age.

His hair was long, almost to his mid-back, puffing up in frizzy waves that floated everywhere. He was always shyer than me, but I remember the moment we locked eyes and how quickly I knew he’d be in my life forever. I chuckled to myself.

I had liked him when we were younger, but between Wendy and Nixie, I knew I didn’t want to push the boundaries of our friendship. The older I got, the more I saw him as a brother—the same way I saw Jin. Jimin’s reappearance in my life helped too. It was impossible to be in love with anyone else when those eyes locked on mine for the first time since that Yule night.

Yoongi knew, of course. Yoongi always knew everything. We talked about my crush and both came to the same conclusions. It was easy to fall in love with someone when you didn’t have any other options. That’s when he first told me about him and Delta. I never would’ve guessed Yoongi liked boys, but I also never would’ve thought he’d sneak around with Wendy’s sister behind her back.

God, the entire circle was so messed up. I hoped everyone was alright. I always kept them in check, and without that balance, I worried about how Jin would handle things.

Staring at the sky, I rolled my eyes. That boy…

He was like my little brother despite being four years older. We met when Hyolin came to the house to introduce herself to me. Jin always treated me like a pest back then, but that changed after I brought Wendy around a few years later. Things started with him using me to get closer to Wendy, but our friendship became more genuine than any other relationship he had. He had a bullying streak with Yoongi at the best of times due to his jealousy, and he was known to be selfish and immature even when he swore he wasn’t.

Wendy brought out the worst in him.

She always said it’s why she couldn’t stand being his girlfriend for more than a few weeks. He was suffocating and so hyper-fixated on the past that he couldn’t see what they had. When we were younger, in our teens, I laughed in her face and told her there wasn’t a past if she was still in love with Yoongi. Now, I felt for her more than I ever thought I could. They were both insanely selfish and put Yoongi in the middle of everything, but Wendy had always been clear and firm when it came to Seokjin. He just didn’t know when to quit, and she went out with him because it was easier than breaking his heart.

Love always had its way of complicating even the strongest of friend groups, and ours was no exception. It was a shame, really. We were always so good with one another back then...

When I left, it seemed like things were better between them this time around, but I knew things neither of them did. Things that would tear everything apart if they even heard the slightest whisper of it.

I didn’t know if Wendy could forgive Yoongi and me for keeping it from her, and I knew Jin would pick her side if it meant keeping her around. Nixie’s marriage could be at risk since many humans still held to the tradition of a woman being a virgin when wed, and Delta would be in a tight spot if word got out about him being gay. If it got back to his father, he’d risk losing his home.

Syrena was one of the least progressive parts of the magical world next to Foxglove. Even Viridi Gramine had more progress, and wolves were known for being as misogynistic and homophobic as they come. I hoped Yoongi was staying safe.

And Jimin, and Taehyung, and Callisto, and Mi-Jeong, and Hoseok, and Hyuna; and Yoona, and Enver, and Thelma; and...

I sighed, turning on my side. I needed to stretch my wings. My head was too crowded right now.

As the sky deepened into purples and golds, I got to my feet, drifting away from the fire until the shadows of the forest swallowed me up. I glanced back once, just to be sure—Lily was already asleep, her breathing steady, her shoulders rising and falling in a calm rhythm that was, oddly, comforting. A small smile tugged at my lips—part relief, part guilt. It was better this way, safer for her not to see this part of me.

It wasn’t that I thought she’d run off into the forest screaming, but I knew if she saw what I could do, she’d figure out what I was immediately. I was supposed to be dead, if the whispers from our time in those small human towns throughout Clarcton were anything to go by, and I wasn’t sure what an enemy would be able to get out of her if we were separated. I wasn’t ready to risk that. She didn’t need to know yet.

Maybe later, when things were calmer and we were closer to the mountains, I’d let her know. Out here, I was too afraid of who or what might see us together. Even if I didn’t particularly care for her, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her either. Secrets were safer. I think she’d understand. I was sure she had a few of her own.

With the moon high in the sky, I walked further and further away from camp. My heart felt heavy, and I didn’t really feel like doing much of anything, but I hoped feeling the breeze against my feathers would help soothe my growing headache. Finally, when I looked back and found that I could no longer see Lily, I relaxed and closed my eyes.

The transformation started slowly, like a ripple through my bones, a tingling that spread over my skin, a strange sensation that felt both sharp and ticklish. My bones felt like they were hollowing out, my skin prickling as feathers began to push through, soft and light, spreading across my arms as they stretched out into wings. My senses sharpened—the night seemed to grow brighter, the scent of the forest more vivid, the air more alive around me. The world grew bigger as I felt myself shrinking.

It felt so gentle and soft compared to the torturous process it used to be. It felt freeing.

Then, in an instant, I shifted—wings stretched wide, reaching into the night, ready to lift me. With one strong push, I took flight. The wind rushed past me, cool and crisp, and I kawed loudly into the silent night sky. So far, we hadn’t seen many birds in this area, and I wasn’t in the mood for socializing.

The first few flaps were exhilarating, my wings catching the air as I ascended higher, the forest below shrinking until the trees looked like tiny clusters of dark green. I let out a long whistle of joy, the sound escaping me unbidden, a sound so colorful and filled with so many different calls and notes that I wasn’t sure any passing bird could understand what was happening. The moon hung above me, round and silver, lighting my path, and I felt weightless, the cool night air rushing over my feathers as I twisted and turned. The stars above seemed close enough to touch, like a blanket of glittering diamonds spread across the sky, and I reveled in the vastness of it all.

I swooped low, skimming the treetops, the tips of my wings brushing the highest branches, sending a few leaves fluttering to the ground below. I darted upward again, spiraling in a lazy circle, my wings catching the wind and carrying me higher, spinning until the world blurred beneath me in shades of green and silver. There was a wildness in my heart that matched the thrill of the wind beneath my wings, a giddy kind of joy that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I raced the wind, diving down, then soaring up again. I glided over a small clearing, the grass glowing faintly under the moonlight. The air was cool, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth, and I breathed it in deeply, filling my lungs, feeling the cold in my hollow bones.

It didn’t bother me. This body could handle the chill better than my human one. I whistled again and dove down.

I darted between the trees, my wings folding close as I twisted through narrow gaps. There was nothing like this—nothing like the rush of the air against me, the world opening up beneath me, limitless and wide. I spun and twirled, playing with the wind, my heart soaring with every beat of my wings. For this moment, nothing else mattered. I was alive, and the world was mine.

Then, without warning, I glanced back up at the moon and thought of silver hair, and all that joy began to ebb.

My thoughts began to drift, unbidden, to Jimin. I could almost see his face in my mind—his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, that soft smile that always seemed to hold so much warmth. I thought of the way he’d hold me, his arms strong and comforting, his voice low as he whispered dreams of a future that now felt so far away.

The ache was sharp and hollow, and as the wind carried me higher, it seemed to grow, pressing into my chest until it was all I could feel. I missed him—missed him so much it hurt. I missed the quiet moments, the simple comfort of just being by his side. I let out a cry, sharp and raspy, swallowed by the wind as I banked, gliding above the treetops. I wished, with every part of me, that I could turn back to him, fly straight into his arms, tell him I loved him one more time.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Not while there was still so much to be done. I thought of the others—of my family and friends who I had left behind without much thought on that night. They had trusted me to take this path, to do what needed to be done, and I could only hope they understood—that they didn’t see my absence as abandonment. I was sure Yoongi and Wendy would understand. The elders as well. It was Jin and Taehyung I worried most about. They were both too sensitive and took most things to heart—even when they didn’t need to.

Jin would grow angry and revert back to that childish and angry boy I knew when I was fifteen. Taehyung… it was difficult to say. I knew him well enough, but I didn’t think anyone would allow him to wallow and cry for very long. It was unbecoming for their new Chief, and I had to imagine how frustrated and alone he would feel.

His mate went behind his back. His friend left him without much of a goodbye. The only reason people wanted him to come back was to make Sol happy. There was much on his plate, and I worried no one was there to hold him up. At least, no one he would really want to be there for him right now.

I hoped, at the very least, he and Namjoon were able to make up.

My wings beat steadily, carrying me over the dark expanse of the forest, the grass stretching endlessly below. I flew on, my heart heavy, the weight of longing pressing down on me. And yet, even in the sadness, there was something else—fierce determination. I would find my way back. One day, I would fly not just for the joy of it, but to return home, to the people who meant everything to me.

That one day came closer with each step we took towards those mountains.

With a sigh, I turned, folding my wings and gliding back toward our camp. The ground rose up to meet me, and I landed softly, feeling the transformation reverse itself—feathers vanishing, bones solidifying, skin reforming. I took a deep breath, letting it settle. But as I straightened up, I froze.

Lily was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring at me, her eyes wide. For a second, neither of us moved, the forest around us holding its breath. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name.

“You’re... a Bridd?” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur, filled with a mix of disbelief and wonder.

I swallowed, panic clawing at my throat, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes,” I said quietly, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered back, her eyes still wide. Her hair was down now, her hood tossed aside, exposing her ears. Looking at them now, it felt silly to keep this part of my life away from her. Even if she was captured—the elves would be more excited about her death than mine. I was a threat because of my magic. Lily was an abomination of nature according to their laws. Guilt ate away at me like a rabid dog. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? This is…”

She trailed off, not finishing her sentence.

“It’s... not something I share easily. Or ever. Everyone I’ve ever known was aware. It didn’t feel all that important,” Then, because I knew I was partially lying, I threw in the real reason. “And I was nervous about one of us being captured. Didn’t think it would be good for you to see me.”

There was a silence, thick and heavy. My heart was lodged somewhere in my throat as I waited, bracing for whatever reaction might come. I couldn’t help but notice the way Lily’s black fox ears twitched, peeking out from beneath her hair, her big, fluffy burnt orange tail slowly unfurling behind her as she processed what I had said. Her eyes, wide with a mix of awe and curiosity, never left mine.

Her expression softened, awe giving way to something else—something almost... respectful. She took a step closer, her tail swishing slightly, her gaze unwavering.

“That’s... incredible,” she said, her voice filled with genuine wonder. Her ears perked up, her usual guarded demeanor slipping away, replaced by something far more open and intrigued. She moved a little closer, her curiosity evident.

“How does it work?” she asked, her tone brightening with interest. “Can you just... shift whenever you want?”

I exhaled, letting go of some of the tension that had built up inside me. Her ears twitched as she waited for my answer, her tail swaying in slow, steady arcs. “Yes,” I replied. “It wasn’t always like that, but... yeah, I can shift whenever.”

Lily nodded, her ears tilting slightly as she took in my words. She seemed thoughtful, her eyes still wide with wonder. “But…How? When?” She shook her head, stepping closer to me, her tail wagging. “How?”

“It’s a long story,” I scratched the back of my neck, moving towards the fire. It was cold out here, and I no longer had feathers to insulate my body. “But the shortened version is I died and came back to life.”

“I can’t imagine…,” she murmured, her gaze softening. Her fox tail brushed against her leg, the fur catching the moonlight as she shifted her weight. “You had to be desperate. Are you alright now?”

I looked away, feeling a tightness in my chest as the words slipped out before I could stop them. “It’s been hard,” I admitted, my voice quieter. “I can admit I don’t know much about being normal, but I’m trying. I apologize for being a bad partner. It’s hard to trust someone who isn’t being honest.”

Lily was quiet for a moment, her ears flicking slightly, her gaze fixed on the ground. Then she looked up, her eyes meeting mine, steady and sincere. “I get it,” she said softly. “I don’t know if I’d have reacted well before. I-” She paused, her voice growing even softer, almost gentle. “Thanks for trusting me now.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, small but genuine. “Thanks for not freaking out,” I said, my voice carrying a note of humor.

She laughed quietly, her fox ears flattening slightly with amusement, her tail giving a small flick. The sound was a soothing balm to my frayed nerves, easing the tension I hadn’t even realized I was still holding. “Freaking out’s usually my first instinct,” she admitted, a hint of laughter in her eyes. “But... I think I’m getting better at this whole ‘not panicking�� thing.”

Her honesty made me laugh too, the sound light and freeing. Just like that, the tension that had hung between us for so long seemed to ease. It wasn’t gone—not completely—but it felt like we’d crossed a line, moved a little closer to something like understanding.

“Still haven’t quite gotten the hang of the bitch part, right?” I joked back.

“No,” she chuckled. “Don’t think I ever will. Unless you fix it first.”

I laughed, stretching my legs, bending down to touch my toes. Shifting always made me so stiff. I looked at the hybrid through the space between my legs.

Lily’s ears perked up again, her blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. She took another step closer, her tail swishing behind her, and I could see the genuine fascination in her gaze. “Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked. “Being able to shift, I mean. Or is it just... always like magic?”

I considered her question for a moment, my body snapping back upright. “It’s both, I think,” I said eventually. “Sometimes it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Other times, I hate being reminded about all of the responsibilities it gives me. Who I have to be because of it. But when I’m up there, when I’m flying...” I trailed off, a small smile touching my lips. “It’s worth it. It always feels like magic then.”

Lily nodded, her gaze softening. “I think I get that,” she said quietly. Her ears twitched, and she gave me a small smile. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fly. I had a friend who shifted before, and she could fly. I used to envy her. Always wished she could pick me up and take me with her.”

“Well, I’m a raven,” I said with a wry grin. “So unless you want to shrink down to about a tenth of your size, I’m afraid you’re a bit too heavy for me to carry around.”

She laughed, her ears tilting back slightly as her tail swished. “Yeah, I figured. Besides, I don’t think I’d trust you to fly straight if you had me dangling from your talons.”

I laughed too, the image ridiculous enough to make the tension in my chest ease a little more. “Fair enough. But maybe one of the dragons could give you a ride one day,” I added, my tone playful. “You know, if Khione ever decides she likes us enough not to drop you halfway through the sky.”

Lily snorted, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Khione?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "The ice dragon who'd probably freeze my tail just for looking at her the wrong way? Yeah, I'll pass."

"Come on," I teased, nudging her arm lightly. "She can't be that bad. She's just... selectively friendly."

Lily shook her head, her ears twitching with laughter. "Right. Selectively friendly. I'm sure she'd love to have a hybrid hitching a ride on her back. I'll stick to the ground for now, thanks."

We both laughed, the sound echoing softly in the night air, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. It was rare that we were so open and honest with one another since that first day together. But in that moment, it finally felt like we were in this together as friends. Her black fox ears flicked again, catching the light from the moon above us, and her gaze met mine, her eyes softening with a warmth that made my chest tighten, but in a good way this time.

"You know," she said after a moment, her voice quieter, almost as if she wasn't sure she should say it, "I'm glad you told me. It's like... I feel like I understand you a little better now."

"Yeah?" I asked, my own voice coming out softer. It wasn't easy for either of us to admit these kinds of things.

She nodded, her fox tail swishing slowly behind her, the big fluffy thing moving in gentle arcs. "Yeah. I mean, we're all carrying something, right? Secrets, fears... it's just part of who we are. And I guess it's nice to know I'm not the only one."

I smiled. "You're definitely not the only one," I said. "And I'm glad I told you too. Even if I thought you might freak out."

Lily rolled her eyes, her ears flattening in mock annoyance. "Oh please, I'm not that bad. Just because my first instinct is to act like a complete and utter diva doesn't mean I would have gone all psychobitch. I bite, but not that hard, jeez.”

I laughed, shaking my head. "Right, right. Totally calm and collected, that's you."

"Hey, I've gotten better," she shot back, a grin tugging at her lips. "Besides, you're the one who kept this big secret. Who knows, maybe I'm the one who should be freaking out that my supposed partner is actually a shapeshifting bird woman—who, by the way, is also one of the most sacred beings in the country. If not the world. Just a normal Tuesday."

"Not just any shapeshifting bird woman," I corrected, pointing a finger at her, unable to keep the smile off my face. "A Raven."

"Right, a raven," she teased, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I've seen ravens steal shiny things, you know. Might have to keep an eye on my stuff."

I snorted, shaking my head. "I can promise you, your belt buckles are safe from me."

Lily gave a mock sigh of relief, her tail swishing again. "Good to know. I'd hate to have to fend off a raven attack just to protect my piercings, crow brain."

The banter between us felt natural, easy, and the tension that had been there for so long seemed to fade into the background. There were still things we hadn't worked through, but in that moment, it felt like we were a little bit closer to being real friends.

Later, as we sat by the fire, the flames crackling and casting flickering shadows across the clearing, a more solemn mood seemed to settle between us. The warmth of the fire wrapped around us, and I could feel the chill of the night slowly being pushed back. Lily stared into the flames, her ears twitching slightly as she seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, her voice came, softer than usual, almost hesitant.

"I'm sorry," she said, her gaze fixed on the flames. "For everything I said before. I judged you without really knowing you. And I guess... I was scared, too. I didn't know if I could trust you."

I sighed, feeling affection for her growing in my chest. It wasn't easy for Lily to apologize—I knew that. She was stubborn and proud, and hearing her admit her mistakes made me feel like maybe we really were making progress. "I was being difficult too," I admitted, my eyes following the dance of the fire. "I’m sorry, and... I forgive you."

She glanced at me then, her ears perking up, and a real smile lit up her face, one that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Then I guess I forgive you, too," she said, her voice lighter, more like her usual self.

"Wow, forgiveness all around," I said, unable to resist the urge to tease. "Who knew we could be so mature?"

Lily snorted, her tail flicking behind her. "Don't get used to it. I'll go back to being a bitch tomorrow."

"Good to know," I said with a grin. "Wouldn't want things to get too friendly around here."

She gave me a playful shove, her smile widening. "Shut up. You're lucky I don't bite."

"Oh, I'm terrified," I replied, my voice dripping with mock fear. "Please, spare me, oh mighty fox warrior."

Lily rolled her eyes, but her laughter came easily, and it was a sound that made me feel lighter. The fire crackled between us, filling the silence that followed with warmth and a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a long time. There was a long road ahead, filled with challenges and dangers waiting for us both, but for the first time, I felt like we had a real shot. We could face it together—not as reluctant allies, but as something closer to friends.

The night stretched on, the stars twinkling above us, and the fire slowly burned down to embers. We sat there, the silence comfortable, the teasing smiles lingering on our faces. And as I looked at Lily, her fox ears twitching slightly as she listened to the sounds of the night, her tail curled around her, I felt something inside me settle. There was still so much left to do, so many obstacles to overcome, but at least now, I knew I didn't have to face it all alone.

"You know," I said after a while, my voice softer, almost thoughtful, "if we ever do find Khione and she doesn't try to freeze us, I think you should ask her for that ride. I'd love to see her face when you ask."

Lily snickered, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh yeah? And what makes you think she wouldn't drop me from the sky the first chance she gets?"

"She might," I admitted, unable to hide my grin. "But think of the look on her face. It'd be worth it."

"You're so bad," Lily said, shaking her head, though there was laughter in her voice. "But maybe I'll do it. Just to see if you're right."

"I'll be cheering you on from a safe distance," I replied, and she laughed again, her ears flicking with amusement.

We settled back into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the fire and the glow of the embers surrounding us. The challenges ahead seemed a little less daunting, the road a little less lonely. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like we really could make it.

After that night, something between Lily and me softened. It wasn't sudden—no big moment, no dramatic shift. But it was there, a quiet sort of peace that settled over us. An unspoken truce.

We still argued, of course—there was no miracle fix for our tempers. But the fights felt different. Less about tearing each other down, and far fewer insults being hurled on either side. We were just stubborn and headstrong about our beliefs, and had a hard time looking past that. We were both making efforts, however, to see the value in our differences, learning how to exist side by side, and shutting up when we didn’t have anything nice to say. That was probably the best improvement we made thus far.

One day, we were navigating a particularly tough stretch of the trail. It was treacherous, the rocks slick with dew, the path steep and full of traps. Lily was ahead of me, her jaw tight with focus, when her foot slipped, her boot skidding over loose stones. Instinctively, I reached out to steady her, but she jerked her arm away, a fierce look in her eyes.

"I can do it myself," she snapped, frustration evident in her voice.

I let my hand fall, but I didn't look away. I had to try very hard not to yell back, but I knew underneath her attitude and anger was something gentle and sweet. I had to get better at being understanding. I took a short, quick gasp of air and hoped I softened my voice enough to not give away how irritated I felt inside my chest.

"Lily, you don't have to do everything alone. That’s why we’re doing this thing together—convenience."

She froze, her gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, I thought she'd snap again. My stomach coiled with anticipation. A part of me wanted her to. I had more than enough steam to blow off from the stress of everything. But then she sighed, the tension in her face melting as she reached out, slipping her hand into mine. I helped her up, her fingers holding tightly onto mine.

When we reached the top, I smirked a little, trying to lighten the mood. "See? Teamwork," I said, teasing but gentle.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a real smile there. "Maybe you're not entirely useless," she replied, her tone softened, almost playful.

That was just one thing that told me we were on the same side now. When the path turned steep or the rocks were too slick, one of us would offer a hand without a word. Lily didn’t even blink an eye at the contact anymore. At night by the fire, the silence wasn't stifling anymore; it was comfortable. We had even started sharing stories, things I hadn't expected to tell her. Things I would have never thought she’d tell me. It was a strange twist of fate—the only person I had ever admitted to not liking had become my favorite person I had ever (save Jimin and Yoongi) talked to within a week’s time.

Lily’s stories were so fascinating and out of the realm of anything I had ever heard before. Most of my friends and family had never known a life outside of Bangtan, Moland, or the southernmost parts of Clarcton. Never had much interaction with humans, and if they did, they rarely had good things to say. Lily, however, had seen almost every nook and cranny of Lustra outside of Alcona Island. Dragons didn’t like non-dragons, so it wasn’t really a possibility for her to get there unless she wanted to be burnt to a crisp.

From the ports of Whopping, to the monasteries in Idris, outfoxing goblins in Bangtan, fighting with Bunyips in Moland, and all the way to the smallest farming towns from Leeside and the capital of Northorn—Lily’s feet had touched the soil there. She earned her gold teeth when she was a teenager and still living with Duke. She’d left that life behind after meeting Dina, but had a few moments since her death. Money was valuable outside of the forests, and barding only stretched the coins so far. Her normal way of money-making lately had been through bounty hunting, but with the elves back, that well had run dry. No one had any money and were too afraid of risking being seen with someone who so obviously stood out from the humans. The tattoos and piercings were a dead giveaway that she was from the east and would draw suspicion from the elves.

Lily was barely surviving when we met. She had just completed a hit on a man who had stolen away a young girl from her father’s home. She was originally meant to be sold off for money and a goat, but the man hadn’t made good on his promise. The wedding never happened, but the girl had gone missing just two days later. When I asked her why she kept calling the bride a ‘girl,’ Lily turned to me and said.

“The peasants in Northorn sell their children so they can get by. The girl was 14 and the man who wanted her was rich enough to give her a large home and a small farm with a goat.”

“But why would anyone do that?” I nearly shouted, the thought of anyone so young being married off foreign. “It would hurt her. She’s so vulnerable to death giving birth to a child. What were they thinking?”

Lily’s look had turned to pity. That moment reminded me that she was right—I was naive and clueless. Nothing about this world made sense, and no one around me was informed enough to know anything different. If they were, they never told us.

“The only people who can afford to eat in Northorn are the nobles and monarchs,” her tone had taken on a softer tone, like she was explaining this to a small child. “Been like that ever since King Edward came into power. He and his queen enjoy the finer things in life, spoiled their children rotten, and stopped taxing their court money. Those who were already struggling turned to less… savory means of staying alive. I know a few boys who were sold to the church and… castrated so they can sing higher. They don’t allow girls into the theater there.”

I never asked about the children in Northorn again.

We weren't perfect. We still stumbled, still clashed. But there was a difference now—we realized we liked each other when we were fighting all of the damn time. And as we pushed onward, the peaks of Ozryn drawing closer each day, I felt the hopelessness I carried with me when I was flying to Clarcton fading away. We had come so far, and Lily seemed confident about our odds. I allowed myself to believe her.

I can’t remember what Yoongi said—if he even said anything—but I remember his voice. Or at least, something pretending to be his voice. I couldn’t remember anymore. It was wrong. Stretched, warped, shredded into something that didn’t fit. It filled the air, filled me, with a kind of terror I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him.

I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. The ground seemed to grab at me, holding me back, as if it knew I wasn’t supposed to get there. And he was there, but not there. His face was empty, his eyes hollow—erased. His body jerked unnaturally, like a puppet on strings, and when I reached for him, it was like trying to grab smoke. He slipped right through my fingers, no matter how hard I tried to hold on.

There was screaming—his, mine, I don’t know—but the sound ripped through me, splintered into pieces that never made sense. I think he shouted my name, begged me for something, but all I can remember is the way it sounded: broken. His voice cracked and splintered, sharp and desperate, and I wanted to say something back. I wanted to tell him I was there, that it was okay, but my voice was gone, frozen inside me, useless.

His hands. God, his hands weren’t his anymore. They were claws, tearing at his face, his skin, his eyes. "I can’t see!" he screamed, but it wasn’t even a scream. It was… other. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t. My hands wouldn’t move. My legs wouldn’t move. I was stuck there, paralyzed, watching him disappear into a million little, bloody pieces.

Everything spun after that. The world tilted, and I couldn’t keep up. I kept trying to reach him, to grab hold of anything, but there was nothing. Just the thick, black smoke swallowing him whole. I don’t know if I screamed, if I begged him to stay, but I felt like I did. The ache in my chest, the burn in my throat—it had to mean something came out of me, right? But I can’t remember.

Then it all shifted, blurred into something worse. Smoke burned my lungs, stung my eyes. My feet stumbled over something I couldn’t see, and my name was being called—soft, urgent, but so far away. And that’s when I saw her.

Cordelia.

Her face is the only thing I can see clearly now. Gray and lifeless, her eyes staring at nothing. Dead. She was pinned under something heavy, and I—I tried to pull her free. My hands shook, clawed at the rubble, but it was useless. My strength was gone, and the weight of her stillness crushed me. I screamed her name, but it caught in my throat, tangled with the smoke and the tears. I knew she was gone even before I stopped trying. She was cold, heavy, already slipping away.

Hands grabbed me—pulled me back—but I fought them. Kicked, thrashed, anything to stay with her. I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t. But they were stronger, and my body was too weak. And then I was holding her, somehow. I don’t remember how, but she was in my arms, and she wasn’t there. She was just… gone.

I don’t know what happened next. The shadows swallowed everything, and I was falling, slipping, screaming inside myself because I couldn’t do anything else. And then there were arms around me, warm and steady, holding me together when I was sure I’d shatter. I didn’t know who it was. I didn’t care. I just clung to them, because they were the only thing keeping me from falling completely into the dark.

"Y/N.”

My head snapped up. Without a word, Lily moved closer, her shoulder brushing against mine.

I am Y/N. The elves are gone. Foxglove is safe. Everyone is safe.

Not Cordelia. She was dead. My best friend’s mother was dead and I wasn’t there for her. I left. I let her die. I killed Cordelia. If I had been there, I could have stopped it. If I had spoken sooner. I am a guardian. I failed. I deserve to—

"Did you know that Bangtan used to be called something else?"

I blinked, snapped from my thoughts.

"No," I replied, robotically, eyes still staring at the dancing yellow and orange flames.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should have been me.

It should hav—

"Before humans were here and the land was filled with elementals, they all lived in harmony within their homeland. They didn’t believe in borders the way that humans do. They just used words to describe places."

I made a non-committal sound. I couldn’t manage much more. Lily continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all.

"Virdi Gramine was Lysander, and many of the water elementals lived there. Ozryn had always been home to Khione. Conláed named it. He was the only thing Khione ever respected more than Naida. He died during the war.

"Whopping is named after the human who conquered the east. Liam Whopping," Lily scoffed, her disdain for the man coloring every syllable of his name as she spoke it. "Conláed named it after his wife, Agni. She was a water nymph who lived in the northeast before the fae were sent to Hollow Below. She died of an illness, and he never left her grave. At least, not until the war. The elves enslaved him and the rest of the dragons, but Conláed was too powerful to be kept alive. They beheaded him and paraded it through the streets like some kind of trophy for the others to see. Disgusting."

Lily grew quiet. I could feel the anger rising in her, simmering just beneath the surface. She must've known that getting heated wouldn’t help when I was already feeling this way. She wasn’t exactly wrong either, so I kept my mouth shut. We sat like that for a long time—just the two of us, the fire crackling, the cool night air wrapping around us like a heavy blanket.

“Agni and Lysander,” I muttered, my voice weak, barely more than a whisper. “Is that it?”

“No,” she whispered back. “Ancola was Ryuu. That’s where the dragons originally came from. Conláed was the first and the most curious, so that’s why he ended up in so many stories. Northorn was the quietus kingdom of Betsalel. Briar Glen Beach was called something else before, but I don’t remember what. It’s a memorial site for King Omar Briar Glen. King Edward's great-great-uncle. Keld lives there.”

“Keld? Like Keld’s Landing?”

“Same guy—well, dragon. The humans enslaved the dragons to ride them, and Keld was given to King Omar. They grew close, and when Omar learned that the dragons could turn into people… he couldn’t let the torture go on. He helped start the dragon revolution with Keld and a few others. That’s the only reason Lustra won—when the dragons got out. Omar died. Keld didn’t want to leave him, so he’s estranged from the other dragons. No one goes there anymore. It’s a death sentence.”

“What about Bangtan?”

“Moland and Bangtan were fae territory, so less is known about them since the Hallow Rift, but I believe Witrial is what Hydra called it.”

“Who’s Hydra?” I asked, laying down and curling into a ball. Sitting up was taking too much effort. Lily watched me, her eyes squinted, reading my mood. She knew I was upset but chose not to call attention to it. I appreciated the effort.

“She’s Lindon’s guard. She’s the only person who can let people in and out. I’ve known her for a few years now.”

“Does she do ice magic?” I asked.

“No. Only the royal guard knows how to do that. She’s a water wielder.”

“Will she like me?”

“You’re impossible to dislike.”

I thought of Ji-Hyun and frowned. “That’s not true.”

“Well, whoever doesn’t has a few screws loose.”

Finally, I smiled.

“Thanks, Lily.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

As the stars spun slowly overhead and the fire crackled down to embers, I felt a strange, tentative peace creep in. The visions were getting worse, and I knew Lily was losing sleep because of my nightmares, but we’d never really talked about them before. I could feel myself slipping away each time, and every time I’d close my eyes, I’d wait for everything to stop. When my soul felt like it was five feet away from my body, watching everything from up above—that was the only time the thoughts stopped anymore.

Flying didn’t help.

Ignoring it didn’t help.

Food didn’t help.

Jokes didn’t help.

Nothing did.

It should have been me.

I hoped the nightmares would stay away tonight. I knew they wouldn’t.

We settled down in a small clearing that night, a patch of ground just large enough for the two of us and the small fire Lily had built. The trees rose up around us like silent witnesses, their branches catching the moonlight and splaying shadows over the mossy floor. It smelled like damp earth and pine sap, and every now and then you could hear a distant owl calling out, or something small scurrying through the brush. For a moment, I tried to focus on those sounds instead of the noise in my head. I tried to notice how the flames sent tiny sparks upward, how they danced into the darkness and disappeared. I thought if I could just pay attention to these details, maybe I wouldn’t get pulled back under—pulled back to that place where I heard the screams and felt the ground crumble under my feet.

Lily was by my side, close enough that the tips of our boots almost touched. She’d been watching me quietly for a while, giving me the kind of space you give a wild animal when you’re not sure if it’s going to bolt or lash out. After what felt like forever, she finally spoke.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice soft but steady. She curled a bit closer, arms around her knees, as if to show me she was no threat. “I always wonder where you go when you get so quiet.”

My heart twisted painfully. I knew she deserved more than a brush-off. This was Lily, after all—the person who’d pulled me out of the rubble more than once, who’d kept watch on nights I couldn’t sleep, who’d patched me up and told me that I’d make it through somehow. But I didn’t know how to put words to the ugly tangle in my head. The grief and guilt felt impossible to explain, like every time I tried, I’d end up showing her something so awful that she’d never see me the same way again.

“Just… how far we’ve come,” I said. The lie tasted bitter. I knew Lily could hear it in my voice, see it in how I stared into the fire instead of at her. I tried to swallow, to force the lump in my throat back down where it belonged. The night pressed in around us, too quiet, like it was holding its breath.

Lily shifted closer, her eyes never leaving my face. “You’re lying,” she said gently. There was no anger or disappointment, just this calm certainty. “Didn’t we agree not to lie to each other anymore?”

I closed my eyes for a second, remembering when we’d made that promise. We’d been tired and sore, leaning against a fallen log under a red sunset, swearing that if we trusted no one else in this world, we’d trust each other. If I broke that promise now, after all we’d been through, what kind of person did that make me? But telling her the truth felt like cutting open a wound that hadn’t healed right in the first place.

My voice came out small and shaky. “I have a past… things I’m not proud of.” I could feel the weight of the words pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

She didn’t flinch or roll her eyes or tell me to stop being dramatic. She just looked at me, those brown eyes like steady lanterns in the dark. “You don’t have to hide,” she said, her voice sure and quiet. “I’ve done terrible things, remember? I told you all about them. I’m not going to judge you.”

I pressed my hand against my thigh, grounding myself. She was making it sound simple, when I knew it wasn’t. “I—” My throat closed up again. I had to force the words out, bit by bit. “I made mistakes that got people killed. People who trusted me. People who…” I swallowed hard. “People who should still be here right now.”

The fire crackled in front of us, sparks whirling upward, and for a second I could almost see their faces in those sparks: Cordelia’s tired smile, Jimin’s kind eyes. I remembered the day I promised Thelma that I wouldn’t let anything happen, how certain I’d been. And then I remembered how it all fell apart.

Lily’s voice was steady, warm with understanding. “Keep going,” she said, touching my hand lightly. She didn’t push hard; she just let me know she was there.

I stared at my boots, because if I looked at her face I’d cry. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing. I really did,” I said. “I thought if I made this one decision, if I stood my ground at this one crucial moment, I could save everyone. I pictured this perfect outcome, where I’d come out a hero, where everyone survived, and we’d laugh about how tense it got. But that’s not what happened. Instead, I ended up watching everything crumble. They… they died, Lily. A lot of them.”

My voice cracked on the word “died.” The silence after that felt heavy, like a rock pressing against my chest. I rubbed the heel of my hand against my eye, trying to keep the tears in. It felt selfish to cry about it now, when they were the ones who’d lost their lives. What right did I have to weep when I was the one still breathing?

Lily reached out again, this time wrapping her fingers around mine, and I let her. Her hand was warm and a little rough, the hand of someone who’d wielded knives and swords, who’d known violence intimately. There was comfort in that, oddly. She wasn’t some gentle innocent who couldn’t understand darkness. She’d lived through her own nights of regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “That must weigh so heavily on you. I know what it’s like to carry that blame around. It changes the way you see yourself.”

I nodded, feeling something tighten in my chest. “Jimin and I fought a few days after everything settled,” I said quietly. “He didn’t want me to come here. He said I had lied to him and everyone else and was trying to play hero again.  He never said he hated me, but I could see something different in his eyes. Like he was just… empty when he looked at me. Or disappointed. I can’t forgive myself, and I’m pretty sure he can’t either.”

The memory of Jimin’s face stung. The way his shoulders slumped, the way he turned away from me. There had been this terrible silence, broken only by the wind, as if he was afraid that if he said a single word, he would break completely. And then I left. He never followed. I’d never known if he placed the blame on me or if I simply placed it on myself. But either way, I’d never shaken off the feeling that I deserved his anger.

Lily squeezed my hand, not letting go. “Forgiveness can take a long time,” she said. “Sometimes it never comes. But you’re doing what you can now, aren’t you? You didn’t run away. Even after all of that you’re here trying to save that village. That means something.”

I swallowed hard. She was trying to give me something to hold onto—some piece of grace I couldn’t give myself. “They’re still gone,” I managed, voice barely more than a whisper. “Sometimes I think I’d give anything to go back and change what I did. But I can’t. And at night… at night I can’t sleep. I see it all happening again. I see Cordelia’s eyes, empty as the life drained out of her. I see the others, crushed under debris or struck down by those monsters, and I keep thinking, ‘If only I had listened, if only I’d moved sooner, if only I’d been stronger.’ I keep thinking it should have been me down there, not them.”

I felt my shoulders shake. Saying it out loud made it ache more, but also felt like I was lancing a wound, letting the poison out. Lily moved closer, until our knees touched. There was no pity in her eyes, just a steady sympathy that made me feel anchored. “You tried,” she said gently. “You thought you were doing what was right. No one can ask for more than that. The world threw something terrible at you. The blame doesn’t all land on your shoulders.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t find the words. All these months, I had run the scenario in my mind. If I’d just drawn a different line in the dirt, if I’d told them I knew something was coming, if I’d allowed the others to carry the burden with me for a little while, maybe the outcome would have changed. Maybe not. But I would never know, and that not knowing haunted me.

“It doesn’t make it hurt less,” I said finally, voice thick. “But it… I don’t know. It helps to say it out loud, I guess. To know I’m not talking to a wall. To know someone else can see me as more than just… a killer.”

At that, Lily’s mouth tightened, and her eyes glinted in the firelight. “You’re not a killer,” she said firmly. “We’ve both done things that will haunt us. But here you are, heartbroken and torn up, wishing you could have saved them. Doesn’t that tell you something about who you really are?”

I forced myself to meet her eyes—really meet them, bracing for a flicker of disgust or something worse. But there was none of that. Just Lily, looking worn and earnest and so completely herself, as if she’d never considered seeing me as anything but a human being who tried her best. She let her hands rest on my shoulders, her grip gentle but steady, like she needed me to understand this. All of it.

“You didn’t kill anyone,” she said softly, and I could feel her words more than hear them—warm little sparks in the dark. “Aladia and her troops did that. Gawen set the men on Foxglove. And one day, when it happens again, it’ll be General Khiloas carrying out her orders, and Aladia controlling her. This was always going to be awful, no matter what you did. Once those women reach the shorelines, there’ll be blood. Thousands, maybe. Even Etelin’s most loyal don’t really get what’s coming.”

The wind chose that moment to sigh through the branches, sending a scattering of sparks into the night. I watched one drift upward, glowing for just a second longer than seemed possible, before winking out. Somehow, I still felt like the same knot of nerves and regrets I’d always been—but I could also feel something else blooming underneath. Gratitude that Lily hadn’t looked away. Relief that maybe I didn’t have to wear every bad choice around my neck like a chain.

I leaned a fraction closer to her, letting the warmth of her palm ground me. “Thank you,” I whispered. It was all I could manage, but it felt real and big enough, right now.

Lily just nodded, letting the silence spread out between us. Not the tense, suffocating quiet I was used to, but something gentler. Something that said we’d both been hurt, both done things we’d carry around forever—yet here we were, still breathing, still trying. The fire’s glow brushed my face, and Lily’s presence felt like a reminder that while I might still be lost in my own guilt, I didn’t have to be alone in it.

That was enough, at least for tonight.

In the days that followed, I tried to convince myself that I could breathe again. The night Lily and I had sat by the fire, my voice raw from finally letting all my secrets out—well, I’d been certain I’d never say those things to anyone, ever. But I did. I told Lily everything, and she didn’t spit at my feet or turn away. She stayed. She told me it wasn’t all on me, that I wasn’t carrying the world’s sins alone. For the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like I was drowning in guilt.

But “lighter” was such a small thing. It was like going from a hundred-pound weight in my chest to ninety-nine. The burden was still there. Every quiet moment, every sudden rustle of wind, let the memories slip back in, dragging their claws along my spine. I’d breathe in, and the ghosts of those who died would breathe out, lingering right behind my shoulder. I could almost feel their eyes on me.

I kept hearing their voices in my head—tired, helpless whispers from the past. Over and over: Why didn’t you save us? You could’ve done something different. And I’d agree, my stomach twisting into knots, my brain screaming that I should have died instead. At night, I’d press my face into the crook of my arm and try not to shake too loudly, afraid Lily would hear and feel obligated to fix me when I knew no one could.

We went deeper into the forest anyway, step by cautious step. The trees grew taller and closer together until it felt like they were eavesdropping on us, branches stooping down to listen to my pounding heart. Everything was damp and quiet, the sort of silence that makes you feel like you’re trespassing, like nature will punish you for being there. I wanted to shrink into myself, to go unnoticed—my existence felt like an offense.

I kept my head down, watching the patches of sunlight drip through the leaves. My heart was still heavy, even if Lily’s words had loosened a few knots. I’d learned something that night: there was no off-switch for this kind of guilt. All I could do was try not to let it swallow me whole. But that was already harder than I’d imagined. My mind would catch on a memory—Cordelia’s eyes, the way they’d gone empty when I failed her—and I’d start unraveling again, feeling the panic bubble under my ribs. Was I shaking right now? Was Lily seeing it?

The forest got quieter the further we went. That was the first sign. The birds stopped fussing. The breeze barely breathed. I felt it before I saw it—some terrible tension like a string pulled too tight. Lily slowed, her hand drifting to her dagger, and I stiffened, every muscle screaming that something was wrong. My stomach flipped. Whoever was out there, they were watching us, and I was already picturing them dead at my feet, because that’s what always happened, right? Everyone who got close to me ended up twisted and broken. It was a sickening thought, hot tears threatening to blur the trees around me, but I swallowed them down, forcing myself to stay steady. Lily needed me steady.

When the five figures stepped out of the shadows, I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood. They spread out, circling us, their eyes cold and hungry. One man stepped forward, scar slashed across his cheek, holding a blade that looked old and mean. He sneered at us like we were nothing more than a sack of potatoes he planned to haul away.

“Two little travelers,” he said. His voice was thick with mockery. “Far from home, I’d wager.” My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. I remembered the last time I’d faced men like this and how people who mattered had ended up dead. My fault, my fault, my fault. My knees threatened to buckle. I had to be strong, or Lily would pay the price. But what if I messed up again? What if I hesitated or said the wrong thing and the forest ended up soaked in blood?

I risked a glance at Lily. She was tense but focused, her shoulders back, her jaw set. She looked strong. I wanted to be that strong. But the roar of memory was deafening inside me—voices telling me I’d fail again. I felt sweat trickle down the back of my neck. Another death, another regret. Could I survive adding more ghosts to the legion already haunting me?

“Hand over your packs,” the leader said. “Or you can join the wolves’ dinner menu, your choice.”

Behind me, Lily’s breath caught, and I wondered: Should I just give them everything? Would that save Lily this time? I was already imagining how wrong it could go. I was remembering someone else’s blood on my hands, and my chest tightened so hard it hurt. I was seeing Cordelia again, the way her head lolled, how I’d knelt beside her and begged her not to die—but she did anyway, leaving me behind like an unwanted afterthought.

“Please,” I managed, my voice cracking. My throat felt like I’d swallowed briars. “We don’t want trouble.” I hated how pathetic I sounded, how easily I showed my fear. But maybe showing it would help? Maybe they’d see how pathetic I was and decide I wasn’t worth killing. Or maybe it would just make them laugh. My nails dug into my palms, and I pressed my lips together to keep from crying. Don’t cry. Not now. Not when Lily needs you.

They closed in, slow and deliberate. I could smell their sweat and old leather. The leader flicked his blade, and the scrape of metal turned my bones to ice. In that moment, I was sure I’d fail again. That people would die on my watch—maybe Lily, maybe me—and it would all be my fault. The realization made me dizzy. The forest spun. I couldn’t seem to catch a full breath.

Lily looked at me, and in her eyes, I saw that she still believed in me. She must’ve seen something in my face, in the way I trembled, because she shifted closer, her elbow just brushing mine. It was a tiny point of contact, but it grounded me, reminded me that not everyone was gone. Not yet.

But I could feel my grip on reality loosening, like I was holding onto the edge of a cliff with just my fingertips. My whole body wanted to fold in on itself and disappear. The leader barked something I didn’t quite catch, and the men laughed—harsh and hollow. Lily’s knuckles went white around her dagger’s hilt, and I tried to do the same with my own weapon, but my hand was shaking too much. I could almost hear Lily’s voice in my head, telling me I could do this, that I wasn’t alone, that I’d done what I could before. But I couldn’t tell which of us was lying.

The world shrank to this circle of strangers, this moment. No one coming to save us, no mercy in their eyes. I realized, with a sick kind of certainty, that this forest was about to rewrite everything I’d tried to believe since Lily and I left that last clearing. I’d thought I could carry on, thought maybe I was worth something after all. But right now, I couldn’t see how any of this ended without more blood on my hands.

“Listen,” I said, voice trembling, “can we—can we just talk about this?” My own words sounded thin and desperate. The leader smirked, as if this was exactly what he’d wanted. More prey cowering and begging. Maybe he collected pleas the way other people collected coins.

Lily tensed, and I knew it wouldn’t be words that got us out of this. It’d be action, and I’d have to take it. If I failed… if I messed up again… the thought made me nauseous.

In that breath of silence, I could feel my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I tried to remember the warmth of Lily’s hand on mine the other night, tried to believe it still mattered. Maybe I could fight for that feeling. Maybe I could get us both out of here alive, and if I did, maybe that would mean I wasn’t a monster. Maybe.

It was all I had. And it would have to be enough.

“Now!” the leader barked, his voice slicing through the dark like a razor, and I moved.

At first, it wasn’t even me moving—it was something else, something buried deep inside my chest, something coiled and waiting. My heart slammed against my ribs, pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear anything else. Heat flared beneath my skin, and I felt sparks hiss at the ends of my fingertips, bright and wild, like they’d been waiting for this moment of pure panic.

I blinked, and suddenly they were everywhere—these men blocking our path, their eyes hungry and hollow. I knew they weren’t elves, not really, but my mind wouldn’t listen to reason. I saw pointed ears where there were none. I saw cruel, pale faces with that smug sneer I could never forget. Elves had taken everything from me—my home, my friend, my life. They’d stolen my future and left me holding the wreckage. And now, facing these strangers in the dark, my mind insisted they were the same. The same as the ones who made me watch Cordelia die. The same as the ones I failed to save anyone from.

It should’ve been me who died. It should’ve been me pinned underneath that debris, crushed and silent, not Cordelia. The weight of that thought pressed against my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I was supposed to protect everyone—and I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’d watched them fall, and I’d watched the light go out of Cordelia’s eyes, and now that memory clawed at me, shoving itself right into the present. Every scream I’d heard that night echoed in my skull. Every time I blinked, I saw her face.

I swore I’d never hesitate again. I swore I’d never let anyone hurt me or the people I cared about without burning the whole damn world down first.

So I let the fire loose.

It roared out of me, lighting up the forest, painting our attackers in harsh, flickering gold. For a second, I thought I saw Cordelia’s face reflected in the flames, and my throat tightened. Guilt and fury tangled in my chest, and I threw my hands forward, sending a bloom of fire rushing straight into the leader’s path. He screamed—a raw, ragged sound that I felt in my teeth. The smell was awful, searing my nose and making my stomach lurch, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know how to stop anymore. This violence felt like the only way to keep my head above water, the only way to make sure I never failed again. They would never take anyone from me again. Never.

I barely registered the blow that slammed into my side, only that suddenly the ground tilted and my vision blurred. My ribs ached, and I sucked in a jagged breath, coughing on smoke and sparks. Through the haze, I saw Lily—her dagger flashing, her hair whipping around her face as she fought. She looked like some kind of fierce angel, her eyes narrowed in determination. She was fighting for me, for us, even when I was half out of my mind.

I tried to focus on her, tried to ground myself in the curve of her shoulder, the set of her jaw—but then another attacker loomed over me, swinging a fist that landed hard against my cheek. Pain burst behind my eyes, bright spots dancing in my vision. My mind started to drift, sliding into that place where the past and present tangled up. Was this the night Cordelia died? Was I back there, helpless and screaming and begging the elves to show mercy? I’d never found a way to rewrite that story. It always ended with everyone dead but me. I always ended up alone.

My hands shook as I tried to gather the sparks again. I tasted blood in my mouth. It was metallic and hot, and it fueled the fire inside me. Another man charged, and I lashed out with flame, watching him vanish into a screaming silhouette of light and heat. This time, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t allow myself to feel sorry. They were all elves to me now—all monsters who wanted me broken, wanted Lily dead, wanted to rip apart everything I still cared about. If I stopped, if I softened, if I hesitated, I’d fail Lily the way I failed Cordelia. I’d lose someone else. And I couldn’t survive that. Not again.

I could feel myself unraveling. Every scream sounded like Cordelia’s. Every face twisted in pain reminded me of my own failure. I wanted them gone. I wanted them all gone. Better them than me. Better them than Lily. Better them than anyone I might still be able to save.

The flames danced higher, brighter, and I let them feed on my fear and rage until the men were just ashes on the forest floor. The fight ended as abruptly as it began, leaving the night stained with smoke and something darker—something I couldn’t quite name but felt staining my lungs.

My knees buckled, and I sank down, gripping the dirt with trembling fingers. My side throbbed, my chest heaved, and the smell of burnt flesh clung to my clothes. I’d done it again. I’d survived. I’d kept Lily safe. But at what cost? Was I any better than them? What was the difference between my violence and theirs?

My thoughts were spiraling, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The trees swayed overhead, the stars winking in and out, and I felt like the world was tilting on its axis, about to throw me off. I pressed a hand to my side, feeling something wet and warm. Blood. My blood. Pain shimmered behind my eyes, and I tried to focus on that sensation—at least it was real. At least it meant I was alive.

“Hey,” Lily’s voice reached me through the smoke and fear. She knelt beside me, her expression unexpectedly soft. She pressed her hands against my wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. I hissed, pain slicing through me, but I was grateful for it in a weird way. Pain was honest. Pain didn’t lie, didn’t trick me into thinking I could’ve saved Cordelia if I’d just tried harder.

Lily’s eyes met mine. Gone was the warrior who’d been dancing through blades and fire. Now she looked worried, human, her brows pinched together. She said something like, “Stay with me,” and I tried to latch onto her words, to let them anchor me here and now, and not in that horrible memory I kept reliving.

But my head felt heavy and full of static. My vision blurred at the edges, and I could hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears. You failed them, it whispered. You always fail. Cordelia’s eyes were everywhere, accusing me, asking why I survived when she did not.

“I’m sorry,” Lily said, and her voice cracked just a little. I wondered what she was sorry for. Maybe she could see that I was disappearing inside myself, slipping into the old fear and shame. Maybe she knew I was too far gone to claw my way back. She pressed harder on the wound, her touch firm but careful, and I tried to focus on that, on her voice and her hands and the fact that she was still here, that we were still here.

I closed my eyes. The world faded to the sound of Lily’s breathing and the throb of pain in my side. I was drifting, lost between past and present, guilt and survival. My mind screamed that I should’ve died back then, that I should’ve traded my life for Cordelia’s. My heart thudded, reminding me I was still alive anyway, still sucking in smoke-filled air.

I thought I felt Lily’s hand in my hair, gentle and strange. For a moment, it felt safe, like a lullaby humming at the edge of a nightmare. I tried to hold onto that feeling, tried to believe that maybe not everyone I touched was doomed. Maybe Lily would be okay. Maybe I hadn’t destroyed everything yet.

I tried to speak, but I couldn’t form words. My body was too tired, my mind too battered. I let the darkness take over, sinking into it with the taste of blood and ash on my tongue, Lily’s voice echoing in my memory. And as I drifted, I could still see Cordelia’s face, just beyond the flames, whispering something I couldn’t make out. Something that might’ve been forgiveness—or maybe just the wind in the trees.

When I opened my eyes, the night had settled into something deeper and quieter. The sky was a dark, velvety blue—so rich it almost looked soft—dotted with stars that felt hand-stitched into the fabric of the universe. The campfire flickered at my side, its glow tugging at the edges of the shadows, and I blinked, trying to coax my eyes to focus in the dim light.

Lily was pacing near the fire, arms folded across her chest, her boots scuffing at the ground. She tossed another log on, muttering under her breath, “Can’t believe I’m stuck doing this again.” She sounded annoyed, but it was a different brand of annoyance than before—less feral, more… familiar. Almost like an inside joke, if we’d ever bothered to share one.

I managed a dry cough that was supposed to be a laugh. “You’re better at it than me,” I croaked. My throat felt like it had been sanded down, but I was smiling. Actually smiling.

She turned to face me, one eyebrow arched, her mouth curving into something that didn’t quite reach the level of a grin but was way friendlier than a scowl. “Don’t get too pleased with yourself just because you survived a stabbing,” she said. There was a teasing lilt in her voice, like maybe she wanted to be mad but couldn’t quite commit to the part. “Think you’re hilarious, don’t you?”

“Hilarious is my middle name,” I said, wincing as I tried an actual laugh. It hurt—everything hurt—but it was still better than silence. Funny how pain could feel like progress after the last few days. At least now I was here, alive, making dumb jokes instead of drowning in old ghosts.

Lily moved closer, settling down next to me. She kept one eye on the tree line, but the other eye—a warm brown, crinkled a bit at the corner—lingered on me. “You’re tougher than you look,” she said, nudging my arm lightly, as if that could be considered a kind of compliment.

I looked at the fire, felt its warmth creep up my cheeks. “Maybe I had a decent teacher,” I said, and I hoped she heard the gratitude in my voice, even if I didn’t say thank you outright. Somehow, “thanks for saving my life and also maybe my sanity a little bit” felt too big to say out loud right now.

A hush settled between us, not the sharp kind of silence we used to wade through, thick with all the words we weren’t saying. This was different—easier, like we’d earned it. We just listened to the night: the pop of the fire, the gentle sway of branches, distant whispers of something wild and green.

“You know,” Lily said at last, eyes still on the flames, “you did well today. Didn’t back down. Even when it got ugly.”

I swallowed, remembering sparks, screams, and the way my chest tightened at the memory of Cordelia and all the what-ifs. My heart felt heavy, but I tried to breathe past it. “I had to,” I said softly, meaning a thousand things. I had to save Lily. I had to prove I could still stand my ground. I had to not crumble into pieces again.

She nodded like she understood—maybe not everything, but enough. “We do what we must,” she said, and her voice sounded gentler than I’d ever heard it. It made me brave enough to glance at her, to meet her gaze. For a split second, something passed between us: understanding, respect, the kind of quiet warmth that comes from surviving something horrible together.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice low and genuinely concerned. It caught me off guard—the directness, the compassion. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing on my bandaged side. “How’s the wound?”

I tried to shift, but pain flared. My body complained about every single movement. “It hurts,” I admitted, feeling strangely proud of myself for the honesty. “But I’ll live. Today was… a mess.”

That made her snort softly. “Understatement of the year,” she said, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “We made it, though.”

When she looked at me like that, all the lines of her face softened, and I realized how relieved she must have been that I was awake, talking, breathing. She reached for the canteen and held it out, her touch careful as she checked the cloth bound around my torso. Her fussing felt different now—like it was allowed, like maybe we were on the same side of something intangible.

“You’re the bird everyone’s been talking about,” she said quietly, her voice dipping lower than the rustle of the leaves. “The one who… who died without an heir, right? The one the elves celebrated killing?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to add anything else. It was still strange hearing it put so plainly, my whole story condensed to a few ugly facts.

Lily studied me, her expression complicated. Then she offered a small, crooked smile. “Well,” she said, “dead or alive, you’re stuck with me.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “I guess I can live with that,” I said, and for the first time, the words didn’t feel like another wall going up. They felt like a small door opening, letting in a bit of light.

She went quiet, staring off into the trees. The fire sent shadows dancing over her face, making her look both younger and older at the same time. I couldn’t figure her out, but maybe I didn’t have to, not tonight. Tonight, it was enough that she was here, that we were both breathing and bruised and not running away.

I eased back, my body protesting, and let the hush surround us again. The stars overhead were brighter than I remembered, scattered like crumbs of light. The forest hummed softly around us, like it approved of this fragile peace we’d built. Lily glanced up at the sky, and for a moment, she looked almost content. Almost hopeful.

And me? I felt that tiny ember of hope I’d guarded so carefully flicker warmer, brighter. Maybe we didn’t have all the answers, and maybe tomorrow would be hard and strange and violent again. But in this moment, sharing a quiet fire and the barest hints of trust, it felt like the world could be kind for a while.

I closed my eyes, letting the ache in my bones remind me I was alive and not alone. We were friends, or something close enough to count. And that, right now, was everything.

I woke up feeling worse than before, which I hadn’t thought was possible. Everything felt heavy and out of place—my body, the night air, even the quiet forest around us. The trees, usually a comfort, seemed distant and unimpressed. My skin prickled with fever, and my clothes clung uncomfortably to my sweat-dampened skin. I tried to swallow and found my throat scratchy, dry as old paper.

The fire was low, just a faint orange glow, and Lily was sitting on the other side of it, arms crossed, staring off into the trees. She must’ve heard me shift because she turned right away, her eyes narrowing in concern. She looked tired—like she’d been waiting for me to wake up and hadn’t gotten any sleep herself. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks smudged with dirt, and something about seeing her this unguarded made my chest tighten.

“Hey,” she said quietly, getting up and coming over before I even tried to speak. She crouched next to me, her hand hovering over my forehead, like she was worried she’d hurt me just by touching. “How are you feeling?”

It took me a second to find my voice, and even then, it came out cracked and too quiet. “I’m fine,” I said, because that’s what you’re supposed to say. But we both knew I wasn’t. I could see it in the way her mouth tightened. My stomach twisted with guilt for lying, even though I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You feel like a furnace,” she said, pressing her palm to my forehead anyway. Her hand was calloused and cool against my skin. I wanted to lean into that coolness, let it chase away the fever burning behind my eyes. “You’ve been out for a while.”

“Sorry,” I managed, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. Maybe for making her worry, maybe for needing her help.

She shook her head, then grabbed the canteen from where it lay near the fire, unscrewing the cap. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, but there was no bite to it. She slipped an arm under my shoulders and helped me sit up just enough to drink. The water tasted slightly metallic, probably from the canteen, but it was cool and wet, and I almost sighed out loud with relief.

“Better?” she asked, her face close enough that I could see the lines of exhaustion around her eyes. The night smelled like damp earth and woodsmoke, and now that I was upright, I noticed my entire body ached, like I’d run ten miles or fought off a bear or something equally ridiculous.

I nodded, though my head felt floaty. “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. She was being gentle, careful. This was Lily, who so often spoke in clipped words and sideways glances, who’d killed men without flinching. Now she was tucking a blanket around my shoulders, like I was something fragile.

She settled back on her heels, assessing me. “You’ve got a fever,” she said plainly. “You need to rest.”

“I have been resting,” I pointed out weakly. It came out sounding like an attempt at humor, and her mouth lifted at one corner. A smile, almost.

“Yeah, well, do it more,” she said. She looked over her shoulder at the forest, scanning for threats, I guess. When she turned back, there was something careful in her expression. “I’ll keep watch.”

It hit me then that she was worried about more than just my fever—she was worried about us being vulnerable, about someone stumbling upon our little camp and finding me half-dead. That protective edge in her eyes, it settled something in my chest, made me feel less alone. Less like a burden.

I tried to relax, but my muscles felt tense, my side hurt, and my mind kept drifting, half-awake, to jumbled images I couldn’t quite piece together. I kept seeing faces—people I’d lost—blinking in and out of my memory like fireflies. It made my heart ache. I pressed a hand to my chest, tried to focus on something real, something solid.

Lily noticed. She leaned in and took my hand—not in a dramatic way, just kind of scooped it up as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t go all strange on me,” she said softly, and I thought I heard a hint of teasing in her voice. “You’re allowed to be sick. You’re allowed to feel bad. No one’s judging you here.”

I exhaled, the sound shaky. “I don’t want to drag you down,” I admitted. It felt silly as soon as I said it, but it was true. I hated feeling useless. She’d done so much—fought, protected, fussed over me like some cranky nursemaid—and I was just lying here, sweating and shaking.

Her eyes softened, the fire’s light catching flecks of gold in them. “You’re not dragging me anywhere,” she said, giving my hand a squeeze. “This is what people do. They help each other. Besides, you’d do it for me.”

I thought about that. Would I? Yeah, I would. Even before we’d trusted each other, something about Lily made me want to step up, to be braver. She had that effect—pushing me toward the kind of person I wanted to be. I swallowed, tried to muster a real smile. “I would,” I said.

She nodded, like we were settling an argument I didn’t realize we’d been having. Then, as if deciding I looked stable enough not to keel over, she released my hand and reached for a piece of cloth. She dipped it in water and pressed it to my forehead. The coolness was heaven, and I closed my eyes, letting it soothe the heat pulsing beneath my skin.

In the quiet that followed, I felt the night envelop us. The distant chirps of insects, the gentle rustle of leaves, the slow crackle of dying embers—it all threaded together into something calm and steady. And Lily was right here, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her arm when she leaned forward to adjust the cloth, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of sweat and travel and fire smoke that clung to us both.

“I owe you,” I managed after a few minutes of silence, my voice a rasp against the hush of the woods.

“No, you don’t,” she said. Not snappy or sarcastic—just kind. Like maybe this was what she’d needed too, to know she could be here for someone, and they’d actually let her in.

It was quiet for a long time after that. Not tense quiet, not that uneasy hush where you’re both looking for an exit. More like a kind of gentleness neither of us wanted to ruin. The fire popped softly, and a stray ember danced up into the night. I could hear my own breathing, and Lily’s too, and it felt like we were sharing something personal without needing to say it out loud.

After a while, I swallowed and said, “Tell me more about your daughter.” My voice sounded small, but not timid—more like I was stepping carefully, out of respect.

Lily’s expression changed the moment I mentioned her daughter, like I’d just turned on a light in a dark room. Her face softened, and the set of her shoulders relaxed. “She’s seventeen now,” she said, running a hand through her tangled hair. “Seventeen and convinced she knows everything, and maybe she does. She’s... unstoppable. She was trying to climb trees before she could walk, you know?” She shook her head, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Stubborn as hell, thinks the world exists for her to explore. She reminds me a lot of myself, and that’s both wonderful and terrifying.”

I tried to picture it—this stubborn, fearless kid. “She sounds… intense,” I said softly, hoping that came across as admiration and not judgment.

Lily snorted softly. “Oh, she is. She never stops moving. Always pushing back if you try to hold her down.” Her voice had that warm, proud note that parents get when they talk about their kids doing something that both annoys and impresses them.

I let the silence settle for a beat before asking, “Where is she now?” I didn’t want to pry, but I also felt like we were onto something real here, something I wanted to know more about.

Lily’s gaze drifted away, and the brightness in her face dimmed. “Up north, with some friends. Good people who know how to keep her safe and grounded.” She licked her lips, as if choosing her words carefully. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t give her that stability. Not with the way I live. I wanted to, but I just…” She shrugged, her voice catching. “She deserves better than what I could offer.”

I nodded, my chest feeling heavier. I knew that kind of regret, the way it tastes bitter on your tongue. “You did what you thought was right,” I said quietly. “That’s all anyone can do.”

When she looked back at me, I saw something in her eyes—something vulnerable and honest. She gave a small nod, and though she tried to smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Still, it was real. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “I hope so.”

We let the night hold us for a while, the fire shrinking down to glowing coals. In that silence, I felt like we understood each other more than we did a few minutes ago. Not in some big, dramatic way. Just... better.

I cleared my throat softly, almost reluctant to break the quiet. “What about you?” I asked, my voice gentle. “You’ve been all over. What’s that like?”

Lily’s gaze moved up, past the trees, like she was searching the stars for her memories. “It’s been a lot of things,” she said, voice going distant. “Exciting, lonely, dangerous. I’ve seen places so beautiful they made my chest ache, and I’ve seen things I wish I could erase from my mind. I’ve met people who changed me, people I still miss, and people I’m glad I never saw again.” She let out a short laugh. “It’s not always glamorous, being rootless. It can wear you down.”

I tried to imagine that life—never staying still, never letting anyone in too close. It must’ve felt like carrying a heavy pack you could never put down. “Any fun stories?” I asked, hoping to give her a moment of pride, something that didn’t hurt.

A real smile flickered across her face. “There was this village up north. They were dealing with these bandits—nothing but bullies, really—and I decided I’d had enough of them pushing decent people around.” She shrugged, trying to play it off, but I saw the spark in her eyes. “I cornered their leaders, made them see reason.” She paused, then snorted. “They ran off so fast I’m surprised their pants didn’t catch fire.”

Despite everything, I grinned. “You’re kind of a badass, you know.”

Lily rolled her eyes, but I could tell the compliment landed somewhere good. “I just do what needs to be done,” she said. But there was a gentleness in how she said it this time.

The fire cracked softly, and I could feel something hanging between us, something heavier. I took a breath and asked the question that had been on my mind. “You mentioned someone once—your first love. What happened?”

Her whole body went a little still, and I almost regretted asking. Almost. But then she started to speak, voice quieter now, like she was talking around a lump in her throat. “We were kids, basically. We had all these plans... We thought nothing could touch us.” She looked into the coals, as if the answers were there. “But life took a turn. She died. Just like that. And I was left wondering how I was supposed to keep breathing when half of me was gone.”

My own throat tightened at that. It was such a simple, brutal truth. I reached out, placing my hand over hers. She didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” I said, because what else could I say?

Lily nodded, staring at the fire, her eyes wet but not spilling over. “I never really got over it,” she confessed quietly. “I told myself it was safer not to let anyone in. That maybe I wouldn’t hurt so bad if I kept everyone at a distance.” She swallowed hard. “But sometimes, especially when it’s quiet, I wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe I could have found happiness again, if I just… tried.”

The pain in her voice was so human, so recognizable. I’d carried a different kind of loneliness, but I knew the shape of it. “It’s never too late,” I said softly, hoping she could feel how much I meant it.

She turned, meeting my eyes. I could see the battle going on inside her—the old habits telling her to slam the door shut, the new hope telling her to leave it open. Then she let out a breath and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Maybe,” she said, and I believed her.

I asked about Tinka’s father, not to pry, but because it seemed like something else she needed to say. She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Just a fling. I found out I was pregnant after he was gone. I raised her the best I could, alone. Told myself we didn’t need him. And we managed. But…” She sighed, looking at her boots. “Sometimes I wonder if I robbed her of something. If I should’ve tried to find him.”

My heart ached for her, for the weight of all these what-ifs. “From what you’ve said, Tinka’s strong and fearless. She’s going to be okay. And she knows you love her, right?”

Lily looked at me then, and something in her eyes eased. “Yeah,” she said, voice just above a whisper. “I think she does.”

We walked on for a while, not needing to fill the silence. The sun had started its slow descent, turning the fields and trees a softer shade of gold. A warm breeze brushed over us, carrying the smell of wildflowers and hay, as if the world was trying to tell us it wasn’t all bad. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there were quiet moments of kindness, even when everything else felt impossible.

I kept sneaking glances at Lily, noticing how her posture eased as we settled into the quiet, her shoulders not quite as tense. Without the fire or the night sky, without the urgent need to survive hanging right over our heads, I could see her more clearly now. She wasn’t just scars and stories or that wary look in her eye. She was a person who’d been hurt—and who’d kept going anyway. It made me feel protective and in awe, all at once.

She caught me looking once, and I half expected her to roll her eyes or make some snarky comment. But instead, her lips curved into something that might’ve been a smile, just shy of it, like she didn’t know if she was allowed to feel okay. I smiled back, just a small tilt of my mouth, letting her know I wasn’t judging, just glad to be there.

Eventually, the questions I’d been dancing around couldn’t stay quiet anymore. I took a breath and asked about the scars—softly, carefully. I didn’t want to poke at old wounds, but I wanted to understand. I wanted to know the things that shaped her, the memories that echoed when she was quiet.

Her answer came slowly, like it hurt to push the words out. A wolf shapeshifter, a fight in the woods, someone named Dina who she tried to save and couldn’t. Her voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it, and each syllable felt like it carried a weight of its own. She didn’t look at me while she talked, and I understood why. This wasn’t just a story, it was something lodged inside her, something raw and personal.

I listened, not moving, not daring to break the moment with some empty reassurance. The way her voice trembled on Dina’s name said more than I could ever fix with words. I knew what it was like to carry that kind of regret, to hold someone’s memory too close.

When she finished, I found myself speaking just as softly. “I’m sorry.” It felt like the only thing worth saying, because it was true. Hearing about Dina—and about the scars and what they stood for—made my chest tighten. I thought of Aldara, and how I’d never really healed from losing her, either. The loss just learned to sit quietly inside me, like a passenger I’d stopped trying to kick out.

Lily turned to me, her eyes meeting mine this time, and I saw something there that hadn’t been before. Maybe recognition, or understanding. Maybe just relief that she wasn’t the only one who knew what it felt like to fail someone you loved. We didn’t talk about it much, but in that look, we said everything: I know it hurts. I know you’re still carrying it. Me too.

After that, the heaviness between us changed shape. It wasn’t gone, but it was shared now. We walked a bit farther in silence, letting the quiet settle. The birds kept singing, and the sun kept dipping lower, and the world didn’t stop because of our grief. Somehow, that made it easier to keep moving forward.

At some point, I tried for a smile, something small and hopeful. “If we ever run into trouble again,” I said lightly, “I’ll do my best. I may not be the best fighter, but I’m stubborn enough to slow something down, at least.”

That coaxed a snort of amusement out of her, and I realized how much I liked the sound. “You’d better,” she said, her tone almost playful. “I’m counting on you to distract whatever’s out there while I do the hard work.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. The banter felt good, like stretching a sore muscle that was finally starting to heal. We kept walking, side by side, our shadows growing long across the dirt road. The fields swayed gently, the forest rustled softly, and somewhere in the distance, the sky was folding itself into dusk.

We didn’t have all the answers. We didn’t know what tomorrow would look like. But right now, we were here, walking together. And that felt human in all the best ways—imperfect and hopeful, painful and comforting, all at once. It made me think that maybe, against all odds, we were going to be okay.

We kept walking, the sky turning all those colors I used to love back home—pale oranges, warm pinks, the kind of colors that make you feel like everything might be okay, just for a minute. I don’t know what made me speak up then—maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was the way Lily felt like someone who could actually hear me. But suddenly I was talking, my voice soft under that wide-open sky.

“I miss my friends back home,” I said, surprising myself with how raw it sounded. The words came out quieter than I intended, like I was testing them in the air. Lily glanced over, and I could feel her attention land on me, steady and kind. She didn’t push, didn’t rush me. Just waited, the way a good friend does.

So I told her about them—about Yoongi, who was like the world’s most reliable anchor, keeping me steady when everything else felt like it was slipping. About Jin, who could find the funny in anything, who could make us laugh even when we were scared or tired or heartbroken. And Wendy—bright, restless Wendy with her wild ideas and big plans, always dragging us off on some adventure. I could almost see them as I spoke, like they were walking beside me again, their laughter drifting on the breeze.

Lily nodded at all the right times, and when she smiled, it didn’t feel forced. “They sound like a pretty unforgettable group,” she said softly, and just hearing that was enough to loosen some knot in my chest.

I tried to paint the picture for her: the bonfires on the beach near Syrena, the nights we stayed up way too late teasing each other and making grand plans. There’d been complications, too—Wendy’s unreturned crush on Yoongi, her eventual relationship with Jin—but somehow, we always found a way through. I told Lily about how our families and covens intertwined, how the celebrations felt like home in a way words couldn’t really describe.

My voice caught a little when I admitted how much I missed them. “Do you think they remember me?” I asked, my gaze dropping to the gravel road under our boots. It was a silly question, maybe, but I couldn’t help it. The world felt so different now, and the idea that maybe I’d faded in their memories hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Lily nudged me, her shoulder against mine. “They haven’t forgotten,” she said simply. “People don’t just forget someone they love. One day you’ll see them again, and it’ll feel like you never left.”

I looked at her, and there was something about the way she said it—so matter-of-fact and sincere—that made it easier to breathe. I smiled, small but real. “You think so?”

She grinned, a soft twinkle in her eye. “I know so. Besides, you’re kind of hard to forget.” She winked, and I laughed, feeling lighter.

It was like, for a second, I could let myself imagine that future—coming home, stepping back into my old life, picking berries in my garden, laughing with Wendy, teasing Yoongi, rolling my eyes at Jin’s jokes. It didn’t feel so impossible when Lily said it out loud.

Then I told her about Taehyung, how he hid at my cottage for a summer after his pack rejected him. How he’d become like family to me, full of jokes and life, shrugging off pain like it was nothing. And Jimin—just saying his name made my throat tighten. I whispered how much I missed him, how I hoped we could be together again someday, even though I was scared I might not live long enough to see that day come.

Lily’s hand found my arm, a gentle, human touch. “You’ve made it this far,” she said quietly, “you can keep going. And I’m right here.”

That did something to me—put a crack in the walls I’d built to keep the fear in. I nodded, my eyes stinging a little. Her belief felt like a gift I didn’t know I needed.

I let myself talk about Cadoc, the air elemental who’d helped me escape when things got bad. How he was distant and weird and not really what I’d call a friend at first, but when it counted, he showed up. It made me ache in a good way, remembering all these people, all these pieces of home.

“God, I’m homesick,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my chest like I could hold the feeling in place. The fields and forests around us were beautiful, sure, but they weren’t mine. They weren’t my cottage, my garden, my friends. They weren’t the place where I felt safe and seen.

Lily understood—at least, as much as anyone could. She nodded, her expression softening. “I get it,” she said. “But you’re not alone right now. You’ve got me, and I’m sticking around.”

I smiled at her, gratitude swelling inside me. It felt strange and comforting at the same time, to find a friend here and now, on this dusty road far from home.

So I told her more. I described my cottage in the woods, the tiny garden where I grew strawberries and herbs, the little bird named Patto who sang at my window every morning, and the doe, Delinah, who sneaked in to nibble at my plants. I tried to show Lily that part of me—the quiet mornings, the light filtering through the branches, the feeling that maybe the world wasn’t such a hard place after all.

She listened like it mattered, like these details helped her understand me. “It sounds perfect,” she said softly, and I could tell she meant it.

“I just want to go back,” I admitted, my voice catching. “I want to feel that peace again, sit in my garden, and just… be home.”

Lily’s hand on my shoulder again, a small squeeze. “We’ll get you there,” she said, her voice steady. “I promise.”

I looked at her, tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. “You should come with me,” I said impulsively, imagining how she’d fit into that picture—Lily talking to Wendy, bantering with Jin, rolling her eyes at Yoongi’s calm demeanor. “You belong there, too. Or at least… I’d like you there.”

She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I think I’d like that. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?”

I laughed, and it came out easy. For once, I didn’t feel like I had to carry every burden alone. The sun dipped lower, its light softer now, painting the world in gentle hues. We kept walking, our pace unhurried, the road stretching ahead. And as the day gave way to twilight, I realized something: I wasn’t just hoping for home anymore—I was starting to believe I might actually find it. And when I did, I wouldn’t be alone.

We walked in a kind of hush that wasn’t uncomfortable at all—just quiet, like the world around us was catching its breath. The trees arched overhead, the sky softened into evening, and somewhere a bird was singing a last, sweet note before settling in for the night. When Lily spoke, it was almost surprising, but not unwelcome. It felt like we were in a safe place now—somewhere we could let the past peek through the cracks.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful, “I had a place like that once. Not quite a cottage, but… it was an old cabin by a pond. More like a shack, really. Dina and I used to hide out there, away from her mother. We’d fish in the mornings, sit by the fire at night, and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like ours.”

I glanced over at her, half expecting the usual guarded look, but what I found was something gentler. Her gaze was distant, aimed somewhere past the horizon. “That sounds amazing,” I said softly, meaning it. I could almost picture it: the quiet water reflecting the sky, the hush of two friends passing time without any hurry. “Do you ever think about going back?”

Lily’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not the same without her.” Her voice had that quiet tremor people get when they talk about someone they lost long ago but still miss every day. “I just keep the memories now. They’re easier to carry than trying to hold onto the place itself.”

My hand reached out almost on its own, my fingers brushing her arm. The contact felt real and kind of important, but also so normal. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, not wanting to stir up old pain. “I didn’t mean—”

She shook her head, a sad but understanding smile on her lips. “It’s okay. It’s been a long time. And places like that—they never really leave you, you know? They get inside you. Like your cottage is inside you, shaping who you are.”

I nodded, something tight in my chest easing a little. “I think so, too. Those places become part of us. They give us strength when everything else is falling apart.”

She looked at me then, really looked at me, her eyes less distant now and more… present. “And maybe when this is over, we can find new places. Make new memories. Together.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of that word—together—spread through me like a gentle flame. “I’d like that,” I whispered, almost too quietly, but I knew she heard.

We kept walking. The road stretched out and out, but it didn’t feel endless in a bad way anymore. More like a promise than a threat. I thought about my old home, and about Lily’s cabin, and about all the strange, in-between times that had led us here. Maybe somewhere ahead there was a new home waiting for both of us—one that smelled like fresh earth and summer flowers, where laughter and conversation felt effortless. Maybe Tinka would be there, too. Maybe it’d be bright and warm, the birds singing in the trees, and maybe it’d be summer so we could celebrate Litha together, the way old friends and new friends do.

The sky was sliding into night, one star after another winking into place. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flash across the darkness, quick and bright.

“Look,” Lily said, pointing up. “A shooting star.”

I tilted my head back just in time to catch the tail end of it. I closed my eyes and made a wish—several wishes, actually. For home, for peace, for the life I longed to return to, and for a future where Lily and Tinka could settle into my old cottage while I moved into Jimin’s place nearby. Where the hybrids would live close enough to visit for dinner, and the birds would sing every morning. Where the first Litha we spent together tasted of smreka and hope. I held those wishes close, like seeds I wanted to plant in my heart.

When I opened my eyes, Lily was watching me with a half-smile. “Did you make a wish?”

I nodded, a small grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” she said, turning her gaze to the sky, her voice lighter now. “I made one too. I have a feeling they’ll come true.”

And just like that, the world felt a bit kinder. We walked on, guided by starlight and the quiet certainty that we weren’t walking alone anymore. The future still felt big and uncertain, but I had hope like a steady pulse in my chest. I had Lily’s hand close enough to reach for if I stumbled. I had the memory of my old home inside me, and I had the promise that maybe we’d find something just as special in the days to come.

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Comparative Analysis of Ozpin and Ruby Rose in RWBY

The Chains of Commanding

Both Ozpin and Ruby bear the heavy burden of leadership. Ozpin, as the headmaster of Beacon Academy and leader of a secret group opposing Salem, admits to Ruby that he’s made “more mistakes than any man, woman, or child” due to his millennia-long existence. His responsibility rarely shows outwardly, but it manifests in distant moods. Ruby, as the leader of Team RWBY, also struggles with the weight of leadership. Her belief that she must be perfect leads to her mental health deteriorating in the Atlas arc, culminating in a near-suicidal crisis in Volume 9, where she learns to accept herself as enough.

Child Prodigy

Ozpin and Ruby are both prodigies. Ozpin became one of the youngest headmasters due to his exceptional talent, though Raven claims he manipulated the system as the King of Vale to ensure loyalty. Ruby, admitted to Beacon two years early, showcases raw combat talent and weapon design skills, crafting Crescent Rose herself. Their prodigious abilities set them apart but also place immense expectations on them.

The Chosen One vs. The Unchosen One

Ozpin, as Ozma’s reincarnation, is the Chosen One tasked by the God of Light to redeem humanity. His mission is hampered by Salem’s immortality, leaving him burned out and Oscar untrained. Ruby, however, is the Unchosen One, stepping into leadership due to her silver eyes and innate spark to inspire others. Ozpin notes this quality, making her the de facto leader against Salem. Their roles contrast: Ozpin’s divine mandate versus Ruby’s self-driven heroism.

Deconstructed Character Archetypes

Ozpin deconstructs the Cool Teacher/Mentor archetype. His secrecy and enigmatic decisions, like allowing Team RWBY to investigate villains, endanger entire cities and alienate allies when the truth about Salem’s immortality surfaces. Ruby deconstructs the Paragon and Morality Pet archetypes. Her optimism inspires her team, but they rely on it to avoid their own issues, ignoring her growing strain until she lashes out in Volume 9. Both reconcile with their allies after learning from their mistakes, suggesting a reconstruction of their roles.

Determinator

Ozpin’s millennia-long fight against Salem showcases his relentless hope in humanity, despite constant failures and betrayals. Ruby mirrors this with her determination to become a Huntress and protect people, even when her actions lead to unintended consequences. Their unyielding resolve drives the narrative but also contributes to their personal struggles.

Super-Speed

Both characters possess super-speed abilities. Ozpin’s combat speed allows rapid strikes and dodges, leaving green afterimages. Ruby’s Semblance, Petal Burst, transforms her into a red torpedo of massless particles, creating rose petals and powerful winds. Their speed reflects their dynamic, action-oriented roles.

Shell-Shocked Veteran

Ozpin’s thousands of years fighting Salem leave him psychologically fragile, especially after betrayals and the exposure of his secrets in Volume 6, causing him to retreat into Oscar’s mind. Ruby, in Volume 9, suffers severe PTSD from losses like Penny’s death and the fall of Atlas, refusing to wield Crescent Rose and nearly succumbing to suicide. Both characters’ trauma highlights the toll of their heroic burdens.

Poor Communication Kills

Ozpin’s secrecy about Salem’s immortality stems from past betrayals, but it backfires when allies like Ironwood and Team RWBY turn against him. Ruby repeats this mistake by withholding the truth from Ironwood, exacerbating Atlas’ fall. In Volume 9, her uncommunicated trauma leads to a fallout with her team. Both learn the importance of trust and openness by reconciling with their allies.

Heroic Fatigue and Failure Hero

Ozpin and Ruby suffer heroic fatigue from their relentless battles. Ozpin hides in Oscar’s mind after Volume 6, overwhelmed by his endless war. Ruby’s fatigue peaks in Volume 9, driven to suicide by her perceived failures. Both are discussed as Failure Heroes: Ozpin’s vague exposition and inaction during his tenure (Deconstructed in RWBY with Professor Ozpin. His approach to villains and/or terrorists threatening to upend 80 years of general peace is to essentially wait on the matter and occasionally dump his immediately life-threatening burdens onto Huntsman students (i.e. kids). This culminates in the Fall of Beacon which leads to the loss of the Kingdom of Vale and the Kingdoms riling up to go to war with each other. When he returns to the heroes and is informed of the updated situation, he decides to, again, wait on the matter, leading to the villains having set the table for the fall of another Academy that they would have succeeded at were it not for some villains being too greedy in their ambitions. Eventually, his insistence on keeping everything hush-hush catches up to him when his omission of a powerful Relic's ability to attract the Grimm becomes the last straw for the group and they force the truth out of him before he eventually retreats.), and Ruby’s unintended consequences While Ruby tries to be a hero throughout the series, her actions end up having major consequences. Many of her actions include not being able to save her friends Penny and Pyrrha from death, inadvertently causing a Grimm attack after her fight with Cordovin causes negative emotions in Argus, her falling out with General Ironwood and the Atlas Military due to not fully trusting him, and inadvertently destroying the Kingdom of Atlas by using the Relic of Creation to evacuate it's citizens which allows Cinder and Salem to take both the Relics of Knowledge and Creation in the process). Their struggles humanize their heroism.

The Paragon

Ozpin and Ruby inspire others with their optimism. Ozpin’s hope in humanity persists despite millennia of setbacks, while Ruby’s purity rekindles Blake’s faith and motivates Jaune. However, Ozpin warns that this inspirational role is a “terrible burden.” Ruby’s breakdown in Volume 9 proves this, as her team’s reliance on her optimism ignores her pain. Both recover by embracing their authentic selves.

Color Motifs

Ozpin’s green tones (emerald power, green suit) contrast with Ruby’s red tones (cape, rose petals, Crescent Rose). Green symbolizes wisdom and endurance, fitting Ozpin’s ancient role. Red reflects Ruby’s passion and vitality, aligning with her youthful heroism.

Emotional Vulnerabilities

Ozpin’s devastation comes from betrayals, like Qrow’s condemnation in Volume 6, and the loss of his daughters with Salem. Ruby’s breakdowns occur at Penny’s death, Salem’s taunt about her mother, and the Atlas crisis, culminating in her suicidal crisis in Volume 9. Both find resilience through reconciliation and self-acceptance.

Leadership Dynamics

Ozpin leads a secret group with charisma and wisdom but retreats after betrayals, forcing Ruby to take over. Ruby leads Team RWBY with optimism but struggles with perfectionism. Their ties to the God of Light (Ozpin’s mission, Ruby’s silver eyes) underscore their leadership roles. Ozpin transitions to a Spirit Advisor, empowering Ruby to remain the primary leader.

Conclusion

Ozpin and Ruby share remarkable similarities as prodigies, leaders, and inspirational figures, yet their differences—Ozpin’s ancient burden versus Ruby’s youthful idealism—create a compelling dynamic. Their shared struggles with failure, trauma, and the pressure to inspire highlight their humanity, while their resilience and eventual reconciliation with allies underscore their growth. Together, they embody the series’ themes of hope, trust, and perseverance against overwhelming odds.

[beastszai]

✦ Dazai and Chuuya childhood headcanons (1/2) ✦

part 2

♫ Tell Me What To Swallow - Crystal Castles

✧ warnings : mentions of s*icide, death, depression, mental health struggles, etc.・loss of loved one・mommy and/or daddy issues・ooc (???)

✧ a/n : 15 dazai, tdipud dazai and dark era dazai are all my personal Roman Empire it hurts… its hurts so much hes just a kid </3

w/c : 431

!!! these are just personal headcanons and are not accurate to the canon story !!!

✦ Dazai :

He was an only child. As a semi-only child, I can tell. Trust me.

And like the real Dazai Osamu, he was raised in a highly respected and powerful household—though I headcanon Dazai to have been born in a noble family

BIG mama’s boy. Was very clingy to his mom

One of the reasons he grew super clingy to his mom was because of his father being mostly absent (again, like the real Dazai Osamu)

He was in Dazai’s life, but he was rather…grayish, transparent in his life; not in the picture, busy with work blahblahblah

Dazai did try to create some sort of father-son bond with his father—but he just gave up after a while, noticing that his dad didn’t show interest in putting effort into building a bond with him the way Dazai did

Dazai would/did try to make conversation about his interests in false hopes of his father making time for him

But his dad would just brush him off with comments like “that’s nice, but I’m a bit busy right now. Why don’t you go and tell your mom the rest?”

After a while Dazai even grew to hate his dad… no specific reason given. Perhaps how he never wanted to be a true father to him—his own son.

So, yeah. Big mama’s boy. Would give his mom random hugs, come back from their garden with some of the prettiest flowers picked and in his hand for his mom (along with his clothes covered in mf dirt)

And again, like the real Dazai Osamu, his mother was ill.

I personally like to think that his mom wasn’t the best mentally. Maybe because of her relationship with her husband and depression…

But she was always full of love for Dazai, pampered him, spoiled him and treated him with so much care that you’d think of Dazai as someone fragile and easily breakable.

Always defended Dazai with her life, seriously

He was a golden child and I will die on this hill

Dazai was perfect in everything he did, but he only did things he or his mother liked.

Couldn't care less about others or whether he would hurt their feelings (unless it would upset his mom and his mom only obviously)

And the reason he could no longer see the point in life or living at such a young age (+his ‘obsession’ with s*icide and death)

Was because of his own mother taking her life and Dazai having to witness it… The only person he held so dear…

…these are my headcanons, at least </3…

[darwinquark]

why do you think rafe came to be this way? obviously he has the idea of what it means to be a man from his dad. he cares about family and maintaining his family’s wealth. kie, despite being a kook, chose her friends. it is very interesting reading rafe acting this way because of a girl… a pogue. especially when his life with sofia is what he thinks he wants. what affirms the dominant man of the house image.

but he’s just so feral and has submissive tendencies with kie.

yeah, for sure! I think there are a lot of different takes on Rafe but when I watch obx, I see someone who's feral from a submissive place all the time. like he's kind of a sub to his own obsessions or fixations, which doesn't mean he isn't violent or 'proactive' or doesn't exhibit other 'dominant' seeming traits in his pursuit of them, he's just kind of a slave to them. like he's not this cold, calculated person with an inherent craving for power that no one could talk him out of, you know? he's owned by his emotions, and his emotions are heavily influenced by (and become easily unregulated by) people or concepts he wants the approval of. his dad seems like a super big contributor to this (and is a good example bc he'd still yell and blow up at and threaten his dad, but it was always from this volatile place of wanting his approval so desperately that any kind of rejection would set him off). I'd have to guess this came from a childhood of being ignored, abandonment issues from his mom, and always feeling like he came in third to his other siblings in terms of his dad's love/approval, plus given his degree of volatility/bpd-like traits maybe some other, darker stuff that he wasn't protected from by them (and honestly maybe some of it is genetic, who knows what his mom's mental health was like). so I guess I don't see his determination to keep the Cameron name/wealth intact coming from an inherently greedy or power-hungry place, but rather that's another thing he thinks his dad wanted that he's zealously swallowed and made his whole life objective in his wake. and I think Sofia fits in nicely to that because she lets him play that big man of the house role but also rehabs his image more into the kind of 'good guy' Ward was perceived as.

in terms of what's going on with Kie, I basically just thought it'd be fun to play out a scenario where with Ward gone, Rafe accidentally fixates on someone else. I think we've all picked up on him being weirdly softer with Kie than the other Pogues (and I think I'm in the minority where I don't want it to be from romantic history from her Kook year), so I wanted to use that singled out softness as part of his motivation for fixating - here's this girl who's this bleeding heart environmentalist, who loves every living thing and preaches against hatred and violence, and yet he goes out of his way to show her kindness and open up to her and she leaves him for dead in Barbados. I think that's where the seed of the fixation planted, and then seeing her being so feral over the turtle made it worse bc where was any of that empathy for him, and then some mommy issues came into play with the whole mother Pogue thing in his head, and then it turns into this psychosis of WHY can't I get this person to see me as good? it must mean that they're actually full of shit and weak and hypocritical so I'm going to prove that they talk a big game but their morals completely crumble when they're facing a real threat. and then he tries to prove it and she doubles down in her righteous condemnation of him and does it ferociously, and from them on it's just implanted in his head that this is someone who's approval and attention he's violently and begrudgingly seeking out. I think it also fucks him up that he's given up everything in his desperate pursuit of preserving his Kookdom whereas Kie threw it away happily. he responds to strength and even though Kie's fragile in her own ways in this fic, she's a force to him.

[leohtttbriar]

i mean, setting aside the fact that tuvok definitely asked for his consent and he definitely gave it and tuvok didn't just descend on his private mental space like truth coming out the well to shame mankind no questions asked, i think this is still interesting. bc it's clear that who was harmed the most from the mind-meld was tuvok himself--to the point that janeway basically sets up a regulatory barrier at the end of the episode between tuvok's mind and everyone else's. as if this is the natural conclusion for tuvok's empathy-in-praxis, by sharing his mind with a murderer he is becoming the murderer, not just observing him. and the violence of the mind-meld is not just the act of "penetration" (like, okay) but the "joining," in which a non-violent person must share in the first-person violence of another. so the question of whether tuvok's duty requires him to understand why suder did what he did, including exposing his innermost self in a super vulnerable way, is an implied premise of the episode's question of what to do when you've got an unapologetic murderer on your ship in the middle-of-nowhere.

the idea that there is violence inherent in sharing mental space with someone is definitely a thought. the other more famous example of a meld in star trek is spock reading the mind of the horta and the way that scene plays out is that spock is, in a sense, directly experiencing the horta's pain and distress. and then there's the episode where kes looks so deeply into the matter of her plants that she excites the molecules and burns all the plants from the inside out. the idea that consciousness has to be protected from and protected against because it's to do with one's perception and way of being in the world and is therefore powerful and fragile from every direction--it's an interesting understanding of autonomy. and the mind.

[nekoart753]

What 2 months of simping for Andy Biersack taught me (parasocial delulu, escapism, then finding empowerment in myself)

I grew up with emo bands like MCR, and honestly, that music was a huge part of processing my feelings. But in hindsight, a lot of it also shaped my mindset—me against the world, intense victim mentality, emotional instability... I used to throw tantrums over even the smallest conflicts. (Not saying emo music is bad—just that anything, when consumed in excess without reflection, can spiral you instead of healing you.)

Then I discovered Black Veil Brides. Unlike others, BVB hit a different spot. The music still had that same "stand up for yourself" spirit, but it felt more grounded. It wasn't about blind rage—it was about rising above the noise, even if the world didn’t understand you. There was strength in it.

Naturally, I spiraled into my Andy Biersack phase.

His struggles felt relatable. His growth and maturity were inspiring. At one point, I used to imagine how nice it’d be to meet him, maybe thank him for getting me through some of the roughest nights. I genuinely thought of him as someone I’d love to give a hug to and just say, “Thank you for existing.”

But the more I deep-dived into his content... the more icks I found.

Like his weird dynamic with Lonny in The Andy Show like a popular kid "befriending" a nerd as his sidekick/target of a joke, or that one time he complained about someone mixing up both for each other (it gave off self-centered vibes). Then there’s the whole overpriced Cameo and Patreon thing—started feeling less like “I want to connect with fans” and more like “I am hot, I talk deep, give me money.”

Even his mental health messages started to feel... off. Sometimes genuine, sometimes too conveniently timed with promotions. And the final nail? That comment he left about not including bandmates in photos. It felt super defensive, and lowkey screamed fragile ego.

I’m not saying Andy is a bad person. But the kind of defensiveness, the ego, the “main character” syndrome—I’ve seen it before. I grew up with narcissistic people. People who always had to be right, who made everything about them, who trampled over my feelings like they didn’t exist. So when I saw shades of that in Andy, it hit different.

At some point, I stopped feeling the attachment. I’d see his photos or hear his voice, and it felt like... an empty shell. He’s no longer him to me. And I realized: he was never really the one I was looking for.

He was a mirror.

He reflected the power, strength, and resilience that was in me all along.

Letting go of him felt... liberating. And at the same time, bittersweet.

There was a day I just sat there looping “Goodbye Agony” over and over again. Crying.

Especially at the lines:

“Lived and learned from every fable written by your mind....You were all I had become, I’m letting go of what I once believed.”

Funny, isn’t it? A song he wrote... perfectly describing how I let go of him.

I don’t chase after his content anymore. I don’t crave the parasocial connection.

And yet, the essence of what he represented still makes me cry.

It’s not him I miss.

It’s what he meant to me at the time.

It’s the version of myself that needed someone like him.

.

.

.

.

This shift didn’t just happen with Andy.

I’m also finishing my internship soon, and that experience has been... eye-opening.

Growing up, my parents were perfectionists. They’d scold or mock even the smallest mistakes. Everything became a lecture. A competition. I was constantly told I was being dramatic, not trying hard enough, being difficult—especially because of my social anxiety and ADHD.

It wrecked my self-confidence.

They always warned me how “the real world” would be worse. That if I didn’t follow their way, I’d fail.

But surprise—the real world was actually kinder than they were.

At work, people still pointed out my mistakes—but they did it with respect. Without the belittling. Without the judgment.

I even had a breakdown once (fever + PMS + family stress) and thought I was done for... but instead, they listened. They understood. They still saw me as capable.

It felt like for the first time, I could breathe.

This place, this internship—it was more than just learning technical stuff. It was proof that the world wasn’t as scary as my upbringing made it seem.

Lately I’ve been overwhelmed, because I’m letting go of two places that once felt like home:

Andy (or rather, the symbol of him in my head), and my internship.

They were my comfort zones. My “safe spaces” when everything else felt too much.

Now, I’ve outgrown them. And that hurts.

But I’m proud, too.

Because if I can voluntarily take someone I used to idolize—used as a crutch—and say “I don’t need you anymore”, then people who were never on my side in the first place? They don’t get to hold power over me either.

Note that I don’t hate Andy. But I don’t consider myself a fan anymore either.

I may criticize him in some parts but more than anything he had changed my life in the unecpected, yet best ways possible.

If by some miracle I ever get to speak to him, I’d definitely thank him. But at the same time I'm no longer using him as an emotional crutch, I don't need to depend on him to carry on with my own strength anymore because it had always been with me all the time. He was a catalyst that awakened it.

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 33 - Warmth

Discoveries are made.

Word Count: ~3k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

Warm light bathed you as you stepped out onto deck, the tropical like weather of the summer island you'd just left still lingering in the air. It was a pleasant change after a series of winter and autumn islands. It'd been nine weeks since the marine base, putting you just past the halfway mark of your pregnancy, your belly now visibly rounded at five months along. Despite taking back your power from Thompson in a metaphorical way, the whole incident had left you rattled and brought up a lot of not great memories and feelings. You'd needed time to recover, mentally and physically, and properly adjust to the idea of being pregnant. It was for that reason that despite how active you'd been before the incident, only Killer had been allowed to touch you since then. You were feeling vulnerable and fragile, and you only wanted to be in the safe, strong arms of your boyfriend, the father of your future child.

Not that you'd been super interested in sex at all for several weeks though, which was fine, Killer was able to alleviate his needs with Kid until you were up to it. He hadn't fucked you hard again when you did give him the go ahead to go the whole way, only giving you all of his affection as he made love to you. You often found yourself just laying quietly together, one arm around your waist and one hand on your swollen belly. It was just as well you'd been a little emotionally clocked out because you were also feeling like shit. Your tits ached, you were hungry all the fucking time, and you kept getting headaches and heartburn. Killer was doing his best to look after you, as was Heat. If one wasn't near you, the other was. Kid tried, but he had no real idea how to help you, so the best you got was him putting extra food on your plate, which to be fair was pretty generous by his standards, and the occasional random care package of medication and bubble bath. It was the thought that counts, and you appreciated his quiet support anyway.

Heat had long since been your best friend on the ship, you'd always been able to go to him for anything, but ever since the Quincy-dent he'd been… different. It was like he needed to be physically tethered to you at times if Killer wasn't already wrapped around you. Even then, he'd find a way. It was small things, his shoulder against yours, his hand brushing against your hand, sometimes a linked pinky, his knee pressed against your leg at the dinner table. You often caught him watching you as well, a forlorn expression on his face. You chalked it up to him trying to finish what you'd started before the Quincy-dent, but you didn't mind it. You'd always felt safe with Heat, and he never tried to pressure you into anything. It was harmless, and he was still there for you emotionally whenever you needed him. He often stayed with you when Killer was on night watch, just keeping you company and keeping you warm, but he never took it further.

You started feeling like you wanted him to though. The sly glances you'd catch him stealing were starting to make you feel something, probably just arousal, maybe it was time to let him get what he was angling for. You'd certainly feel less guilty about it that way, not that it was your only driving force. You wanted him, more each day, the little touches sending electric sparks through your skin. You'd talk to Killer about it later, definitely, for now you were preoccupied with the fluttering in your abdomen. A few days ago you'd started to feel it, and when you checked on baby you'd come to realise that the fluttering matched with their movements. You could feel them kicking inside you, alive and well and healthy, waiting to join the world in four short months. Today was the exact day you hit twenty weeks, if you worked under the assumption that you'd gotten pregnant from the first time you slept with Killer. It was all quite miraculous really, Mohawk said you must have only ovulated once after joining the crew, and it must have just happened to have lined up with the island. It felt a little bit fated when he put it like that.

You found Killer working on breakfast, nuzzling your head against him. You weren't wearing your mask all the time at the moment, with the frequent headaches it was an extra pressure you often couldn't bare. The crew knew at this point to not be too loud around you if you weren't wearing it. Killer felt the lack of mask and sighed as he put down his cooking tool and turned to wrap his arms around you, putting a warm soothing hand on your forehead.

“Again, princess?” He said sadly.

“Yeah, it's not too bad today though,” you replied, pressing your face into his hand, “I just took meds, I'll probably be okay soon”

“Okay sweetheart,” he stroked your face, “but let me know if there's anything I can do okay?”

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about actually,” you hummed, turning yourself so you could rest your back against his torso and he could put his hands over your round belly. “You're on night watch tonight right?”

“Yeah, why's that?” He asked, “You thinking about going further with Heat?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure you were still okay with it,” you put your hands over his and stroked the back of them with your thumbs.

“As long as you feel ready, I'm not gonna stop you,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, “he has been a little clingy huh?”

“I don't mind it though,” you hummed, “it's nice to know he still wants me even when I'm half whale”

Killer snorted and rubbed your belly lovingly. “I happen to think you look incredibly sexy right now, not to mention how much bigger your tits are”

“Do NOT touch them,” you warned, “I feel like someone is using them as punching bags in my sleep.” Killer huffed out a laugh and let you go to return to the breakfast prep.

“I pinky promise I won't grab your wonderful lovely tits, even though I very much want to,” he smiled under his mask and you could hear the smile in his voice. You smacked his chest playfully and stole a strip of bacon before heading out to take a seat for breakfast. Kid tried to steal your bacon as you sat and you very nearly bit his hand off, you'd become somewhat territorial of food the last few weeks. Snapping your teeth at him was enough for him to get the warning, more than one person had bite marks from you right now.

You leaned back in your chair and finished your bacon, flipping your bracelet to take a little peek at baby. You let out a little gasp and quickly turned your bracelet back, flushing a little as Kid raised a non existent brow at you.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

“Uh, no, perfectly healthy,” you stuttered, “just uh… saw something”

“The hell did you see to make you react like that?” Kid said curiously, glancing at your belly.

“Um.. a penis,” you replied.

“No fucking way!” He laughed, “Does Kil know?”

“Considering that was the first time I've seen it, no, he definitely does not,” you grabbed his ear and tugged on it, “and you're not gonna be the one to tell him, you hear me?”

You let go and he rubbed his sore ear. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, “you're fucking mean while you're knocked up”

“Say that again and I'll make sure to be meaner,” you huffed. He made a motion to show he was zipping his mouth shut.

“You know, I always thought Kil would have a girl,” Kid hummed.

“Me too, actually,” you replied, “I'm kinda surprised. Not that I'm upset about it. Just surprised.”

“Guess we can both cross psychic off our list of future potential careers,” he smiled. You snorted.

“Like you'd be any good at that,” you laughed, “you'd smash the crystal ball the second it didn't show what you wanted”

“You're not wrong,” he huffed as the others started to file in. Much to your shock, Kid was able to keep his mouth shut about the baby for the entirety of breakfast, though he did give Killer a proud smack on the back as he got up to leave which confused Killer immensely since all he'd done was cook a standard breakfast.

“What was that about?” Wire asked.

“No fucking idea,” Killer replied.

“I might have an idea,” you smiled awkwardly. There was no way you were holding in this secret any longer, if you did Kid would no doubt spill it anyway. The others looked at you expectantly. “I may or may not have seen something when I was taking a peek at baby”

“Are they okay?” Killer asked, concerned.

“Yeah, he's doing great,” you grinned. The others took a second to catch on.

“HE?” Wire finally yelled. The penny dropped and Killer stood suddenly.

“It's a boy?!” He exclaimed, he was clearly visibly excited, despite not being able to see his face.

“Sure is,” you laughed. The boys whooped and gave Killer playful shoves, and you took advantage of the situation to steal as much bacon from their plates as you could. Losers weepers buddies, mama needs that meat.

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when a knock came at the door. The rest of the day had passed without much note, other than being ambushed by the crew when they all found out you were having a boy. You could take a guess who was on the other side of the door, since Killer had left maybe ten minutes ago for the night watch. You opened the door for the resident fire breather and he gave you a warm smile. He wore only slippers and sweatpants, ready for bed. “Want company tonight?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” you took his hand and pulled him inside, “thanks for always staying when Kil is busy, I appreciate it Heat, I really do.”

“Anything to make you feel safer,” he replied with a shrug, kicking off his slippers and climbing into bed on Killer’s side. You took your prenatal meds with the glass in the bathroom and slipped into bed beside him, already in your pyjamas. You couldn’t fit any of your satin slips these days, so you usually just wore panties and one of Killer’s old shirts.

You cuddled into his arms immediately, tucking your head under his while his arms wrapped around you. You pulled one of his thighs to trap it between yours, stealing as much of his warmth as possible. It was something you'd craved the last few weeks, you couldn't get enough of his warmth. Killer was warm too but Heat was warm. His temperature always felt like it could melt away your aches and pains.

“You know I care about you, right Heat?” You mumbled against his chest.

“Of course,” he replied, “did something happen?”

“I just feel like I've been neglecting you is all,” you huffed, your hot breath making warm puffs against his bare chest. You sat back a little and ran your hand up the center of his muscular chest. “I haven't been taking good care of you,” you purred, “I wanna look after you, you've always taken such good care of me”

Heat made a small whimper as your hand ran back down, breezing over the waistband of his pants and over the tent in his pants. You palmed him through the soft fabric while your other hand found his cheek, urging him to bring his face closer so you could kiss him. You felt a spark of something intangible and he was on you like a predator, kissing you hard and running his hands up your sides, your back pushed against the mattress and his clothed cock rutting against your panties. His tongue pressed hard against yours, small strings of saliva connecting your mouths whenever he pulled away only to dive back in at a new angle.

One hand fisting his hair, your other pushed down the waistband of his pants till his cock was free, immediately going to work on stroking it the way he'd taught you. He grunted as you took hold of him, and you used the momentary distraction to push him back flat, climbing on top of him and straddling his thighs. You leaned down and sucked on his neck as you stroked him, kissing your way down his center and making marks on his muscles with nips and sucks till you were nosing at his blue pubes, making kitten licks on his pierced cock that drove him wild.

He let out a low whine when you finally took him in your mouth, god he'd missed your hot wet mouth. You took him as far as you could, getting a little lower with every bob of your head as your throat relaxed and you breathed through your nose, till finally you took all of him and he pulled hard on your hair, groaning and bucking up into you. You moaned in encouragement and he ran both hands through your hair to hold you firmly while he thrusted up into you, his head thrown back as he used you before pulling you off and bending to meet you, his tongue diving into your mouth with a groan. He kept you held firmly while he kissed along your jaw and neck, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes as he took a breast in his mouth. You whined, they were so sensitive and sore but you wanted him to enjoy himself. His eyes went wide all of a sudden and he pulled away, licking his lips.

“I… you… there's milk,” he said, it felt like a question. He squeezed the other breast gently and a small dribble of white collected at the tip and ran down his hand, and he licked it up with fascination.

“The baby books said this could happen any time but I guess I never noticed,” you hummed. There was barely any milk to be had, no more than what would fit on a penny, but he sucked on both breasts till he was sure he'd collected every small drop, and it made strange waves of euphoria rush through you. You'd read about that too, nature's way of encouraging breastfeeding by making it pleasurable. Heat was clearly enjoying himself too, his eyes practically rolled back in his head while his hand worked its way under your panties and played with your slick center. If you didn't know any better you'd think the man had a breastfeeding kink. By the time he was done suckling on you, you were practically fucking yourself on his fingers, and you whined as he curled them and ripped a orgasm from you.

He pulled his fingers from you and licked the slick from them, then he laid you on your back, lavishing your body with kisses as he removed all of your clothing, followed by his pants. Naked and bare to each other he kissed you with a fire you'd never felt from him, his tip prodding your entrance while he made soft moans in your mouth. You shuddered as he finally slid inside you, your arms and legs wrapping around him as he started a languid pace, his mouth still connected to yours, swallowing every little sound you fed him. He was breathing heavily as he pulled away, though you wouldn't let him go far, intent on staring into his dark eyes as he fucked you. His heavy cock dragging against your walls made you whine with every thrust, and he took one of your hands and held it next to your head. Something felt different about this time, it felt more like making love than two friends fooling around, and everything started to click into place as you looked into his eyes and saw just how much adoration was there. How had you missed it? The touches, the way he watched you, the way he needed to be with you whenever he could. Oh god, Heat loved you. But even knowing that, you couldn't find it in yourself to stop him, even though it felt like betraying Killer. Somewhere under the girlish butterflies he gave you, you felt like maybe you loved him too. This felt nothing like when he was just a friend teaching you how to feel good, he felt like a lover, and you squeezed his hand tight as the realisation shook through you and you came around his cock calling his name. His name on your sweet tongue was all he needed to fall past his edge, and he cried out for you as he painted your walls, his hand firmly in yours while he panted against your shoulder and filled you with his seed.

He didn't want to pull out, for fear he'd never feel what it was like to be inside you ever again. He knew you'd figure him out at some point, and you'd push him away, because how could you ever love him back? You were too sweet to drag him along like that, he knew once you realised he loved you that you'd stop letting him touch you, you wouldn't betray Killer, it was different if love was involved. He didn't know, or expect, that you would love him too. For now he took solace in what he could get, pulling you with him as he laid on his side, his softening cock still buried inside you, your thigh draped over him and your arms tight around his shoulders.

For now he could pretend, trick himself into thinking that you were his woman and it was his baby inside you, that you loved him the way he loved you. Watching the pain on your face when your heart stopped after the Quincy-dent was a turning point, the spark that made him realise he couldn't survive without you, that he wanted to be more to you that just a confidant and fuck buddy. He wanted all of you, even if that meant sharing, but Killer had been clear in his intentions. As long as you came home to Killer he didn't care who you fucked, which meant you could never come home to Heat. He tried not to cry at the thought that he'd never have you like that, he'd take what scraps he could get for now until you realised the extent of his feelings and rejected him, it was all he could do.

A/N: Thanks for the patience uploading the tumblr version of this, the app was really killing me and then it ate my draft and posted the chapter with half the fic missing :P Hope yall enjoyed the fluff the last few chapters cos next chapter is right back to the angst fuckery :)

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[ongreenergrasses]

Question, why is it generally accepted in the fandom that Annie isn’t a mentor, doesn’t visit the capitol etc. we know that katniss isn’t familiar with her (but context that was also the year post her fathers death and we know she was struggling to provide and survive so obv the games year probably didn’t stick out + she’s only been a victor for a year so probably not caught up on all the lore). It’s just so interesting that everyone is pretty much convinced that snow kept her out of sight out of mind when it’s not mentioned anywhere, and I don’t really think snow would negotiate with finnick to let her live away in 4 peacefully bc when has he shown that he’d do that be so fr. I wonder if it’s some icky mix of albelism (inherently assuming that since she suffers from some sort of ptsd she’s unable to mentor/visit, is icky. If that is the case, thats OK, and fully reasonable. I just don’t like the line of reasoning…oh she is outwardly shows symptoms so she’s “more damaged” BRO all the mentors have some sort of ptsd and hayMitch is literally out here publicly coping with alcohol so gtfo her back) + some weird mix of damsel in distress where finnick is bailing her out. Again I love the sentiment, chivalry is not dead, but I just don’t think snow would let someone negotiate with him tf? Im all for reading in between the lines but its just odd that the fandom is generally set on this hc when the lines don’t even be there. Plus i just hope odesta got as much time as they possibly could together #finnickgonetoosoon and weren’t separated/had these super disjointed lives. Also huge middle finger to anyone who says Annie would be a terrible mentor bc she wouldn’t advocate for winning/surviving. I’m pretty sure mags and haymitch probably feel the same way about winning, but seeing these kids with a will and resilience to win (finnick/katniss/peeta) and understanding the importance of life inspires a certain level of emotional attachment which probably supercedes everything, and no one’s to say how Annie would be too. idk id love to hear your thoughts!

so I would like to think the reason why people think that she never went back to the Capitol is there is a shred of evidence, spoken by Peeta when they’re in the Quell arena:

“I don’t remember ever seeing [Annie] at the Games again.” (cf, 348)

however, to be honest I think it’s most likely the mix of ableism + damsel in distress that you mention. all the victors are dealing with significant levels of trauma and resulting PTSD. Annie just has symptoms that, quite frankly, freak people out more and make them think of her as fragile, and I see what you’re saying about that line of reasoning going uncomfortable places.

If we think about it, the first thing that Katniss notices when she meets Annie is that she’s lovely, and as gross as it is, visible mental illness that leads to perceived vulnerability can absolutely be fetishized. I don’t think Annie escaped going to the Capitol and being trafficked. I think she probably didn’t go often, but if she’s that pretty and Snow thinks that there’s a way she can be sedated or controlled enough, then yeah, she was probably trafficked.

The idea that Finnick was able to keep her out overestimates the amount of power he actually has in that situation. I think Snow would like him to believe that he has the power to keep Annie away from the Capitol, because that gives Snow more leverage over Finnick, and I think Finnick absolutely tried, but they’re not equals. there is no sway that Finnick realistically has over Snow. there is nothing he can offer that Snow does not already have control over. if the idea of keeping Annie out of the Capitol meant that Finnick was more cooperative, though, that’s a trade off I can see Snow making.

there’s probably a fair amount of victors from Four, and Annie won the 70th, so I think it could totally go either way if she ended up being a mentor or not. but the idea that Annie wouldn’t advocate for surviving is quite frankly ridiculous…she is a survivor through and through. I do think that Annie did have some degree of happiness in parts of her life after winning her Games, and it’s really complex because Four is a Career district and the propaganda there is very intense, she probably did continue to believe even after what happened to her that volunteering was a good and borderline honorable choice, it just didn’t work out for her. I can see her doing everything she could to help those kids win.

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

hello, suds :D

i come with six ships for the shipping bingo card (pick and choose which ones you want to do): c!dreamnoblade, c!dreamza, c!awesamdrunz, c!aswesamdream, c!awesampunz, c!drunz (for the first two you can also use the bingo card from here (https://www.tumblr.com/sunshine-in-a-bottle/764332055865835520)

I am frothing at the mouth. God you are being so nice to me right now and letting me be insane. I appreciate you so much.

DNB^. I did both because of course I did. I love your template I Needed To Use It.

DNB obviously got a lot more for the second bingo than the first because they are objectively the healthiest possible pairing you can get here. Look at them. Theyre perfect for each other. Theyre narrative foils, theyre parallels going in opposite directions but forever side by side in their path. It would have to be a very specific universe for them to even BEGIN to be able to make each other worse.

I know because of the way things worked it couldn't be called something canon, but in a world where the DSMP was made in a different medium, DNB would have been an excellent endgame for both of their characters. It maximizes their healing. They both get to be understood at a fundamental level, and seek comfort that they just wouldn't be able to get from other people.

Techno gets to take care of someone who really needs that care, someone who laughs at his jokes and finds him funny, someone who is rewarding to try and make laugh, because god knows Dream tries so hard to be insurmountable. Dream gets that personal attention he so desperately needs without being enabled or placated, or shut down for expressing clear boundaries. Literally my only gripe with the pairing is that its so healthy that I can't go batshit insane about problematic behavior like I like to do.

But honestly the yearning can be so intense that it makes up for anything else. My god can these two yearn, quietly but intently.

Dreamza^. By god this is the greatest crack rarepair to have ever existed in the history of ever.

Its so incredibly unlikely to happen just because of how canon went, but they have so much hidden potential as both a character study and for Shenanigans. They're both admins. They meet for the first time because Philza broke into Dream's server. Philza's son has made Dream's life miserable. Dream is like a younger version of Philza in all the confidence and control and burgeoning power that leaves Philza with both a sense of deja vu but also makes him feel like he's back in the old days, when things were a little less complicated. Dream is reckless and has no self preservation, but even if he has the skill to back it up, Philza still can't help but want to watch his back. Dream's trust is fragile and intense and hard-earned, and doesn't it feel good to earn it? To see this silly young man who endures the world feel safe to reach out a hand to Philza and let Philza take it?

Also the AU concept of Dream being an insane coder with no training VS Philza who actually knows what he's doing and is fascinated and horrified by how Dream runs the server is funny, okay?

Also Kristen can watch them fuck, no notes.

^Awesamdrunz. Listen. Listen. I experience mental illness. I'm going directly to super hell. There's so many things wrong with them, and with anyone else this would go terribly but somehow they make it work. This is somehow the healthiest relationship they could achieve. They can make each other so much worse in some ways (excusing each others crimes) but they could also make each other so much better in others (Dream heals, Sam is redeemed, Punz feels less alone.) I read 100 fics about them and they were all my own. I too want to be an evil necromancer who is consistently loafed on and gets self care.

I didn't mark "I wish more people would ship them" because honestly I'm pretty content with the amount of people who do ship them already. This ship is one part porn, one part crack, one part angst, and three parts kidnapping, I'm not expecting everyone in the fandom to turn around and go THERE IT IS. THE SHIP OF ALL TIME when its such a specific flavor of insanity and doesn't have a ton of canon merit. I like being able to bother my friends about it, and everyone who wants to sit with me on tumblr and ao3 and rotate it with me is nice and good. This feels comfortable.

^Awesamdream. I had to take a break from writing this and came back wondering "why didn't I put that they were perfect for each other." maybe it was for Torture in Prison reasons??? Maybe I was thinking about how they aren't a ship that is perfect in a healthy sort of way, theyre both so mentally ill about each other from prison after all, and Sam's control issues don't naturally blend with Dream's control issues.

But I kind of don't mind that they aren't perfect for each other? I don't think they need to fit like a glove, weaving in and out of each other and completely complimenting the other. Their hands don't fit perfectly- if its post prison, especially, since Dream's lacking a couple fingers- and Dream steps on Sam's feet when they dance. But it feels good to write them a little messy, a little fucked up, but still able to Be Good to each other, Sam towards Dream especially. Not healthy, but happy.

(admittedly, I had to write them like that myself for the most part when I first joined the fandom. Most of what Awesamdream was at the time was torture porn and angst, because YKnow, Prison, but I really wanted to explore them Being Happy and wasn't sure where to start. I'm really grateful for the dreblr discord server for giving me a place to write a lot of my early fics for them.)

^SamPunz. Do you understand how delightful these two are? Do you understand The Vibes that they give when they're together. Listen I'm rapidly running out of braincells but I love to imagine just. In the CKAU the way that Punz fundamentally changes Sam for the better by forcibly instilling boundaries that Dream can't instill on his own.

The way that Punz is so misanthropic, so distrusting of people and so angry at the world and at Sam for what he did. Punz isn't sure they want to believe Sam's capable of change, because in their mind it would be so much easier to kill him and be done with it.

But Dream wants and hopes that Sam can be better if they just try, so Punz is forced to Not Kill As A First Solution. Punz is forced to deal with the an absolute travesty of a creeper. Punz goes from "humanity can't be saved lets kill the server and everything on it and becomes gods" to "actually people might be able to change and become better. I don't like having feelings about this. I don't like having to reckon with my own humanity. Goddamn it Sam."

Listen I'm just rotating Punz pushing Sam against the wall, holding the Communication Knife to his throat, and threatening him. Sam is trying very hard not to find this extremely attractive. He is failing.

I need them to fuck.