#And I know I say this about... pretty much all my favorite characters but I MEAN IT this time
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hmmm this one’s hard because I’m like hardcore fixating on like 7 diffrent things and like it’s jumping really hard and fast between them (LMK,PMD, Danny phantom, Stardew valley, Streamer lore, Epiphet Erased, Epic the musical, Sonic the hedgehog, and stuff my friends and I made) I’ll put the other ones here and there in parentheses, but focusing on one main one.
📃: kid gets powers of ancient hero. MOOOONKIE KID. (The other one is getting isekaid into Pokemon not main focus but wanted to mention it)
📌: my friend showed me and i fell in love with a ship and got a bit too deep. Help. Help I’m drowning
✨: The mONKIES LOOK AT THEM GO! The tension! The drama! The complexity of the characters! TOXIC OLD MAN YAOI! FRIENDS TO ENEMIES, TO FORCED TO WORK TOGETHER TO FRIENDS AND TO LOVERS! slooow buuuurn. and the animation is cool! More tho I reeeaallly love some of the people I’ve met with this fandom
🎥: hmmmmmmmm I can’t say I have a favorite, it’s all really well done and I’ve been spoiled on a lot of the stuff
🎶: uhhhhh sadly enough haven’t gotten that far. And haven’t paid enough attention to the music (but for hollow knight, a tie between city of tears, crystal peak and fog canyon)
💕: macaque and Redson, yeah I know I know, they are really liked a lot. But sometimes villains are just really fun. Macaque I like him because he’s a broody villian as the shadow or dark opposite of another who’s desperate to not be seen as the opposite of the other, but at the same time obsessed with the other. He’s a villian as a victim of circumstance, turned ally. Don’t get me wrong he does some messed up stuff but some of my favorite characters are genuinely insane. You have to put a lot of work of keeping them balanced between crazy but not stupid and there are soooo many way to do these things. Plus he’s smart too and it’s just really fun and shadow abilities are so cool to me. As for Red, I just really like him too, I like to analyze him like a scientist picking apart something. It’s fun!
💔: mayor I guess? I haven’t been able to get myself to watch the entire show it’s a hard thing to commit to so I don’t know about him all that much. But like at the same time him and LBD are hard to hate because everyone loves when a villain is done well. And they are done well.
🏳🌈 MK is Bi, the monkeys are all fruity, my mind cannot be changed.
🍀 Not really? I mean I guess MK but that’s just cuz he’s really sweet. But also red, but like in a mean way, like I wanna throw him at a wall and put that man in a situation kind of way. (RICK SHADES. PLZ I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LISTEN TO EPITHET ERASED I LOVE THAT LOSER )
💎: apparently sworn brotherhoods was like the Chinese equivalent of history says they are besties! (Looking at you Achilles for prime example) also macaque monkeys apparently have the highest rate of being gay for monkeys totally weird huh?
💢: MISCHARACTERIZATIONS NEED TO STOP LEAVE THEM ALONE! QUIT BOILING THEM DOWN TO SOMETHING BARELY RECOGNIZABLE! MK ISNT A DUMB KID! MEI IS NOT JUST THE GIRL CHARACTER! WUKONG IS NOT EVIL HE MADE MISTAKES! MACAQUE ISNT INNOCENT PRETTY SURE THAT MAN COMMITED WAR CRIMES! STOP SAYING RED HAS A PERFECT FAMILY LIFE HES ACTUALLY A REALLY SMART DUDE NOT A LITTLE BAAABY
yeah it’s like
really annoying how many people say Wukong is evil for killing Macaque when it was self defense and protecting others. I can like them both like come on man
@enka-antix @axolkitkat @flicklikesstuff
media hyperfixation ask game!
this can also be applied to special interests! if you have multiple, put them in the tags so people who send asks can specify which hyperfixation/spin they’re asking about. 📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc? 📌 how did you find your hyperfixation? ✨ what draws you towards your hyperfixation? what is interesting about it? 🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation? 🎶 if your hyperfixation has songs/an ost, what is your favorite song from it? 💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them! 💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them. 🏳🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you? 🍀 do you have any kins or comfort characters from your hyperfixation? 💎 are there any fun facts or trivia that you would like to share? 💢 what do you NOT like about your hyperfixation? is there something you would want to change about it?
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If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.
Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)
“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.
“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?
now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..
(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)
Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.
You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.
Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.
And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.
#i hope this makes sense#english is not my first language so i apologize for any grammatic errors#anyway I'd love to hear your thoughts as well just be nice#inhun#squid game#squid game 2#457#player 456#player 001#frontman#hwang in ho#gihun x inho#in ho x gi hun
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@necrowyrm asked: happy new year!!! enjoy the last little bit of homestuck before act 6! Anonymous asked: You have NO IDEA how much I was looking forward to your reaction to this flash :D @teddy-bearer-of-bad-news asked: a very late congratulations from me for making it this far! i gotta say, saving CASCADE for new year's is probably the smartest thing i've heard all week. may your experience be nothing short of righteous, comrade Anonymous asked: Cascade … Even years latter knowing it almost by heart, every once in a while I will take a little quarter of an hour to rewatch it, Say what you want about Hussie but there is a good reason Homestuck became so iconic. @adeptarcanist asked: The leadup to Cascade was honestly my favorite sequence in Homestuck, and maybe one of my favorites in any media ever? The way the narrative splits apart into all of the different scenes swirling in towards the critical moment, both advancing main plots and finding time to spend a moment of melancholy with characters who’d been left behind (The Jaspers and Nepeta scene :( )… it’s such a strong narrative device, and the tone it generates is impeccable. @calamitascalliope asked: I literally watched the flash again, and it still gives me chills every single time. Welcome to your post-Cascade life. You won't be able to think about anything the same ever again @iris-in-the-dark-world asked: "she looks so cool… but she’s so tragic… but she looks so cool…" has become a brainworm for me. i too love the handmaid's design btw, cascade time has been i think the most anticipated non-personal event of the entire year for me. i'm so excited @publicuniversalworstie asked: I want you to know that I also opened Cascade and started watching with you right after I saw your "oh my god it has chapters" ask, and I finished just as you posted "I will never be the same" !! And I bet lots of other people did too <3 so it's like we all watched it together!!!! Happy New Year and thank you for liveblogging!!!! It's been a pleasure!(and will continue to be) @krixwell asked: I would like you to know that your "Right, we're good to go!" and "oh my god it has chapters" posts were posted right as I was outside watching midnight fireworks ring in 2025 for the Central European timezone. Happy new year! @captorations asked:
hey remember when rose just up and fucking said that. anyway congrats on reaching cascade! it absolutely wrecked me back in the day, i think i stared at those flaming curtains for a solid ten minutes as my brain permanently reconfigured. the first few notes of the track alone still give shivers. getting your reaction to cascade was a wonderful birthday present. (speaking of getting older: aradia 🤝 dulcinea also got that "distressingly short lifespan only to die early anyway" story thread going on. the parallels are paralleling.) anyway happy new year and congrats you are… slightly less than halfway done with homestuck. have fun!
Hey, guys. Cascade was so fucking good.
Like, there's really no competition; this is the best Flash page in the comic thus far. Peak music, peak animation, and absolutely a peak narrative. It tied up mountains of plot threads, providing complete answer to questions we're been asking for literally thousands of pages. It completed over a dozen arcs, both big and small. It made me gasp three times in fourteen minutes. It let Jade become a furry.
11/10, and I'm glad people had as much fun here as I did on New Year's Eve. Happy 2025, and happy Act 6!
@morganwick asked: Sally, predicting Cascade: "I have approximate knowledge of many things." @morganwick asked: "You literally have the whole world in the palm of your hands." -Sally to Jadesprite, December 16, 2024 (You might also want to reread post/770701212350857216 in light of recent developments.)
Hah!
I mean, based on her powerset, it made sense that Jadesprite would do something like this eventually, but it's pretty funny that she did it more or less immediately.
And in the end, CD really was a tricky little bastard. We'll definitely need to keep a closer eye on him, next time around.
Anonymous asked: Take a moment to consider that if anyone were to use the Homestuck website as it stands now instead of the Collection program, Cascade would have been presented in the YouTube player in Standard Definition, artifacted to hell, with a clear boundary showing the dimensions of the video from the very start. Preservation is so important.
Jeez, you're not kidding. The 1080p is fine, I guess, but it certainly doesn't hit like the Flash version does, especially with its lack of moving panels.
I know something had to change when Flash kicked the bucket, but surely there was a better way to preserve the video's soul.
Anonymous asked: to give you some of an idea of what homestuck fandom looked like during this time period, im cribbing from a very popular homestuck post: “first, this upd8 was something that we had been waiting for for WEEKS. A literally unprecedented wait period at the time. We were used to suckling at the teat of daily updates, a constant stream of conversation and plot twists and buildup, and as EOA5, we were finally going to figure out what all these countdowns and plot threads and disconnected elements were building up for. And when the progress bar reached 100%, and when the page FINALLY loaded on 10/25/11, it was chaos. This was 2011, a primetime peak point and growth period of Homestuck fan density.” (…) “MSPA crashed, as it had started to during the last few big [S] updates. Hussie had already bought new servers in advance, but even when allegedly thousands of dollars were spent it couldn't handle the accidental DDOS attack of Homestuck fans. People were up all night waiting for this upd8, the curiosity was killing me. I know at some point he was receiving at least 1 million unique visitors per day to his site [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, upwards of 2 million during this time], and even though Hussie had foreseen such traffic and thusly hosted [S] Cascade on Newgrounds, a dedicated video streaming site, Newgrounds was similarly unprepared for the sheer amount of people frantically mashing the play and refresh buttons, and also crashed. Immediately. MSPA and Newgrounds crashed definitively for at least two nights in a row” (…) “Andrew Hussie has gone on record to say this was one of the few times he thought Homestuck wasn’t worth it, because the sheer unbelievable cost (was it $10,000?) [correction: according to Hussie’s tumblr, it looked like it was going to cost $100,000 to keep [S] Cascade up for several days] of servers and the chaos of no one able to see the upd8 and crashing nearly every site after. He was tweeting during the whole debacle, stating he was reluctant to put it up on Youtube because of all the moving elements of the flash, and style, and how youtube degraded the quality of the file size, and how he tried to scratch out buffer time and pauses by putting periods of silence between each section of the 14 minute upd8, the longest upd8 yet” “So after Newgrounds patooted, he didn’t put it on youtube and instead put up the entire flash file on Megaupload, where it could be downloaded in it’s entirety to be watched. UNFORTUNATELY, Megaupload also crashed very quickly, which Hussie felt much headache over. But before that happened I managed to get the file, since I happened to be up very early that night! Next it was on dropbox, which didn’t crash but had “link unavailable” on and off. ”Spoilers were flying everywhere, people didn’t understand everything that had happened, and by the time the timeline of events in and out of [S] Cascade was all straightened out, people became even MORE hype. Like this whole thing lasted at least four days, and on top of that, the upd8 was good. Fandom exploded.” it is impossible to quantify the experience. The fact hussie was going to have to fork over A HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS to host it is crazy. I am never going to be over it.
Cascade's complete obliteration of the Flash-hosting internet says a lot about huge Homestuck truly was - but I think an even bigger indicator of the comic's success is the fact that Hussie dropped literally thousands of dollars on server upgrades to host the thing. That's not an investment you make unless you're expecting some serious returns.
#homestuck liveblog#full liveblog#act 5.2#asks#also happy belated birthday @captorations. what a birthdate to have fr fr
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How I think the jjk characters would comfort you after a break up !!
Includes: Satoru, Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi.
(Hurt/comfort, mentions of break ups (obviously) murder and vandalism (jokingly), might be ooc, written with fem! reader in mind but anyone can read!! Please ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes, I accidentally posted this twice...!..!.!!! So fixing it was a little difficult so ignore it if any paragraphs are merged......)
Satoru Gojo:
You've been isolating yourself in your dorm for about three days now.
The guy you've been dating just dumped you and you've been devastated since.
Of course, Satoru, Shoko, Nanami, even Yaga have reached out and tried to comfort you, but you brushed it off with a muttered “I'm fine.”, being sure to shut the door in each of their faces before they could say anything more.
But you weren't fine. Of course you weren't.
You were so in love with your ex. He was your entire world and he just left like you were nothing.
You've spent the last three days crying, sleeping, and rereading old texts.
You probably looked like shit, but you couldn't care less. What was the point in trying to look or act decent now that he was gone?
You're forced to pull yourself out of your thoughts once you get a knock at your door.
You groan, you really, really don't wanna talk to anyone, but you force yourself to get up.
You open the door and before you can even get out a full “What do you want?”, Satoru shoves past you into your room with a shit-ton of snacks.
“Did you really think I was gonna let my favorite person stay isolated and wallow in their sadness forever?” He asks, giving you a teasing grin.
You can't help the chuckle that escapes your lips.
“What's all that for?” You ask, pointing to the snacks that were now covering the entirety of your bed.
“Movie night!! We're gonna watch a bunch of movies and eat a bunch of snacks and stay up all night until you stop being all mopey!” He exclaims, and you feel an excitement replicating his bubbling up in your stomach.
“If your big ass doesn't eat all the snacks...” You mutter back with a sly grin as you get into your bed, sitting beside him.
He immediately puts his hand over his heart and squeezes his shirt with a look of faux offence.
“What!? And to think I went out of my way to be all nice to you after your dick-head boyfriend dumped you!” He whines, crossing his arms to look more angry.
This only pulls laughter out of you. His face immediately softens, it feels much better to see your pretty smile than your depressed frown.
He pulls you into an unexpected hug, and once you process it, you hug him back.
“I can hollow purple him if you want.” He says, muttering the words softly against your hair in order to keep the moment quiet.
“That's not happening and you know it.” You whisper back. Suddenly, this break up isn't seeming so bad.
Maybe you just need Satoru and your other friends, and you'll be better in now time.
Nobara Kugisaki:
Ever since you found out that your boyfriend was cheating on you, you've been visibly down in the dumps.
Right now, Nobara is the only one who knows since she helped you catch him.
“I just can't believe him. All that time together and he fucking cheats.” You groan before looking up at Nobara, who's currently going through your closet to help you pick what you need to throw out and what you need to keep since you've got way too much clothes.
“Yeah, he's a total moron. Keep or no?” She asks before lifting up one of your shirts.
“You can throw that out. And with my best friend too? No offense to you, of course, but seriously? He could've slept with anyone, and he chose one of the girls I trusted most in the world.” You shake your head and your heart clenches at the thought.
“Well, at least one good thing came out of this.” She says, tossing your shirt into the ‘keep’ pile.
“What?” You ask with major confusion. What the hell is that supposed to mean? She thinks it's good that you got cheated on?
“Now I get to be your best friend!” She smiles and laughs, and that causes you to laugh as well.
“Yeah, and I guess if he had cheating in his mind, I don't want him anyways.” You then get up off of your bed and sit next to Nobara, leaning your head on her shoulder.
She puts the pair of pants she was holding down and wraps her arm around you.
You both just sit like that. Neither of you says a word, but you feel a sense of peace washing over you for the first time since the break up.
“So do you wanna beat up his car now?” Nobara says, breaking the silence, and all you can do is smile and laugh.
Yuji Itadori:
“He did WHAT??” Yuji practically screams and you immediately slap your hand over his mouth.
About thirty minutes ago, you found your boyfriend (well, now ex-boyfriend) kissing another girl.
Your first reaction was to run to Yuji's room despite it being midnight and pray to God that he was still awake.
When he answered the door, you could hear Human Earthworm playing in the background, basically telling you that you hadn't woken him up or anything.
Yuji stares at you with wide eyes and says something from under your hand, buts it's muffled.
“Yuji, you have to shut up! It's midnight and I'm not supposed to be in here! We'll both get our asses kicked if we wake anyone up!” You whisper-scream to him and he begins frantically nodding his head.
You remove your hand from his mouth and wipe it on your shirt since he got a little bit of his spit on it.
“Ew...” You whisper softly.
“I can't believe him! You're supposed to be his Jenifer Lawrence, guys aren't supposed to cheat on their Jenifer Lawrence's!!” He whispers back, somewhat aggressively.
You can't help but chuckle at his dumb reference.
“Tell me his address!! I gotta square up with this guy!!” He whispers again and you laugh again.
You don't know it, but he's acting stupid on purpose. He's not super skilled at comforting people, but he's great at making people laugh.
“‘Square up’??? Yuji, what is this? A 2000's drama comedy?” You whisper through hushed giggles, your hand now over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing too hard.
“I'm serious, no one cheats on my best friend without catching these hands!!” He whisper-yells back, which only causes you to laugh harder.
He continues making dumb statements until you both forget the time and are now laughing hard, not even whispering anymore.
Suddenly, there's a knock at the door that snaps you two out of your laughter.
Yuji quickly throws a blanket over you to ‘hide’ you in case it's a teacher then gets up to see who's there.
When he opens the door, he's met with an extremely annoyed and tired Megumi.
“Listen, I don't know what the hell you two are doing up at 1:30 in the morning but if you could shut up and go to sleep so that I can sleep, that'd be great.” He groans, glaring at Yuji then you.
“Do you think hiding under a blanket is actually gonna work?” He asks and you get out from under the blanket, your face is slightly flushed from embarrassment.
“That was Yuji's fault.” You say while pointing your finger at Yuji who them gasps.
“What!! I was trying to keep you out of trouble, how dare you push the blame onto me!!” He jokes back, and Megumi groans loudly.
“Just shut up.” He says before storming off back to his room.
Yuji shuts the door then walks back to his bed and sits beside you.
“We should have a sleepover!” He suggests with a big smile.
You tap your chin with your index finger, pretending to think.
“I dunno... You kick a lot in your sleep.” You tease him.
“I do not!” He retorts in offence.
“Fine. But if you kick me even one time then you have to do all my homework for the next month!” You say before laying down in his bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
He smiles and lays beside you.
“Deal.”
Megumi Fushiguro:
You hate this.
You can handle a lot of things, curses, training, homework, fighting...
But break ups?
You would rather take on a hundred special-grade curses all at once.
Megumi knows that about you. Which is why he's decided to let go of his nonchalant ‘I don't care about anything or anyone’ act for just today for you.
He knocks on your door and you answer.
“Oh, hey Megs. What're you doin' here?” You ask, your gaze shifting from his gaze to the blankets and snacks in his hands.
“Don't play dumb. You know I'm here to comfort you.” He rolls his eyes, walking into your room and setting everything down.
“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” You smile.
One of your favorite things to do is tease Megumi.
He knows that about you.
Come to think about it, Megumi probably knows everything about you. He's definitely your best friend. You'd probably choose him over anything and anyone. He knows your favorite songs, snacks, meals, movies, drinks, your biggest fears, your type, your pet peeves, everything.
So of course he came with every single snack you've ever said “Hey, this is really good” or “You know what you really need to try -!!” about.
Of course he came with his laptop to watch your favorite movies.
Of course he came with blankets and pillows to build a fort to watch said movies in.
Because contrary to popular belief, Megumi Fushiguro was the most thoughtful person you've ever known.
That's why he's your best friend.
“Oh, by the way, if you get a very detailed and remorseful apology from your ex, don't respond.” He randomly blurts out while building the fort for you two.
It's basically muscle memory for him after how many times he's done this for you.
“Megumi, please tell me you didn't threaten my ex into an apology...” You wince at the thought.
“I didn't threaten him.” He smirks as he puts the final blanket on the fort before crawling in.
You barely catch the smirk because it's gone within the same second it appears.
“Uh huh.” You reply sarcastically before crawling into the fort with him.
“So what do you wanna watch first?” He asks as he lists off all your favorite movies.
If you told anyone that the cold-as-stone Megumi Fushiguro was here in your dorm, building a fort for you and watching your favorite movies with you and cuddling with you when you both fall asleep, they'd laugh in your face.
But that didn't matter to you, since all you cared about was that you got to see that side of Megumi, and you wouldn't trade moments like this for the world.
---
A/n: this is basically just because I have evermore stuck in my head rn and it made me think ab Satoru helping reader after a break up!? Also, guess which one of them is my favorite 😋😋 I think it's obvious but idk..
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#nobara kugisaki#jjk nobara#jujutsu kaisen nobara#jujutsu nobara#nobara x reader#yuji jjk#jjk yuji#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#jjk megumi#megumi x reader#jujutsu megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi
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Throwing this in, though I know you have a post saying you're taking a break: I quite like Tetro. The story is exciting, and incredible. You've done an amazing job piecing everything together, and it has lead to me pretty seriously looking into following the footsteps of this project with a story also told in this audio format, since you demonstrated so clearly not only how this was possible, but how this could be done so well for a Killing Game specifically. The latest events, the latest death, as made me incredibly sad, and I feel a lot of emotional turmoil over losing both victims. But despite that, I have enjoyed the loving, losing, and worrying for the future. That's amazing. All of it is amazing. I have my theories and conclusions about who may be guilty and who isn't, but based on the posts I read, I mainly wanted to express an amount of thankfulness that the series exists at all. It's even lead to me writing fanpieces for some character interactions, and I imagine I have a few more in me from all that's gone on. Not only that, but the hard topics of this series have meant a lot to me. Yanagi and Tsuno have especially felt really close to home. The stories they talk about and the things they deal with matter in my own life. And the series as a whole has made me cry over stuff that mattered to me much more than any other media has done in the last year or so, maybe longer, in even broader strokes. All the characters don't just feel like people one could meet, but people I have met. People I have known. And some of those conversations feel just like ones I've had in my own life. You've done something incredible, and the writing has connected to me deeply. And though I can only speak for me, I doubt I'm alone in this. Thank you for this project, and thank you for sharing it so broadly, freely, and completely. Thanks for writing it, and writing daringly, maturely, and earnestly. At least, such are the ways I would describe it.
I hope I can cross paths with you sometime in the future over a creative endeavor. But in the meanwhile, I'll be tuned in to whatever you do for this, and for whatever comes next. As these things are called asks, if you do decide to respond: Who on Tetro is your favorite? Is it the same from when you were initially writing it? And what lead you to choose an audio drama as the medium in question? Thanks, and see ya at the trial.
thank you very very much, im extremely glad that youve been able to connect with my writing on that level and i hope that others have as well! i really enjoyed the writing process for tetro so its always really cool for me when others can enjoy my story as well
also, my favourite is hama! that changed a lot during production, but ive settled on hama as my goat forever i think. sorry to all the other favs i abandoned along the way
i chose the audio drama format because ive always really liked being able to picture things. when i was a kid, i used to fall asleep to audio books every night, and i really liked being able to picture the characters and stories as they were happening. i would always be so disappointed when id go to watch a movie adaptation of a book i liked only to see that everything looked different from in my head lmao.
i also think audio is a really fun format for this type of story! it was a fun challenge to get my points across without having visuals to back my writing. i didnt have very much faith in my ability to do this at first. tetro was originally planned to have a narrator because i didnt think id be able to tell a story without one. when i realized my writing could stand on its own, i took out the narrator and just let myself carry it as best i could. i think it made for some really fun opportunities where the impact of a scene just wouldnt have been nearly as strong if there had been visuals or narration.
i think [Ice Fairy] is a highlight of tetro in terms of audio storytelling - same with [Good Child]. having only audio forces you as the viewer to take a moment to figure out what's happening, which in turn gives you an "oh shit" realization moment that really helps the impact of a scene like [Ice Fairy] or [Good Child]. there are still some more really cool examples of tetro utilizing its format left to come - i hope you enjoy them when they do!
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sodapop patrick curtis thoughts on my desk by the end of the week or ur DONE /j
How I feel about this character
Uh like he’s perfect and should be my wife i think
Nah but fr Soda’s one of my favorite characters ever. He’s sweet and all, but he’s so much more than that. Pony says he’s movie-star handsome, that he can go from gentle one minute to “blazing with anger” the next, that he gets drunk just on living, and understands everybody. Soda’s a Kerouac-style “mad one”- “mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes Awww!”
He’s a guy who’s sensitive but strong, a “bawl baby” who’s tough, he’s probably got ADHD and dyslexia, the school system failed him. His folks died and left him holding his brothers together by a thread. He’s pretty but not pretty enough for Sandy to stay. He might end up dying in Vietnam, and thank God that isn’t canon, but it’s still there. He’s happy to live life simply, behind a white picket fence with a wife and kids- hell, he’s thrilled to. But that’s not gonna happen, at least not for a while, because Soda is a tragedy. But he loves his brothers and his friends so much that he becomes a beacon of hope despite it all.
I love Soda. Honestly, this barely scratches the surface of how I feel about him. I haven’t even touched on the adrenaline junkie stuff or the ways he’s sometimes so relatable to me that it hurts.
All the people I ship romantically with this character
Steve, and sometimes Evie.
I’ve found I’m a friends-to-lovers enjoyer, so Stevepop scratches that part of my brain lol. To have someone who’s got your back through thick and thin, aware of your flaws but in spite of them- well, ain’t that the dream? The angst of it being the 60s makes it interesting to me too, because there’s a lot of ways to handle that. Man, when I first read the book I didn’t get the hype for them at all, but idk. It clicked. I get it now.
And then Steviepop is my roman empire lol. It’s all I love about Stevepop, but Evie adds even more complexity. I like her a lot and I love writing her, and I love writing her with characters who I also love. There is absolutely no canon anything to back this ship up. But dammit that’s the point of fandom.
I will say though that I like exploring Soda’s dynamic with Sandy, but I don’t really ship them. I think the fact that Sandy left him (and I mean cheated on him, even if that can be read ambiguously) implies that there’s something about him that could be undesirable, romantically. I don’t mean cheating is good or that people deserve it, just that in this case, the idea that Soda’s an imperfect boyfriend adds layers to a character who is mostly just positives. We’ll never know Sandy’s POV on it, and I don’t think Soda will either. Sandypop to me will never have closure. That’s what makes it hurt so much. That’s what makes it relatable
My non-romantic OTP for this character
I mean honestly? Steve. I know this isn’t really fair, since I like Stevepop and all, but idk, there’s no one else who I think it could be.
Steve’s a character who’s cocky and troubled and prone to assholeish-ness, but even he loves Soda. He knows about Sandy and gets angry on Soda’s behalf at Pony for mentioning her, which means Soda can tell him- angry, tough Steve Randle- about sensitive stuff. And Soda, who I think is a little in love with everyone he meets and could have anyone he wants, sees this bastard and sticks with him. He sees the parts of Steve that Pony can’t. Parts that make him worthy of being his best buddy.
It’s been said before, but no matter how you look at it, romantic or platonic, they’re each other’s person. I don’t think I could put anyone else in this slot.
My unpopular opinion about this character
I have a few lol.
1- I see a lotta fics and takes where the whole “drunk on living” thing is a lie Soda feeds Ponyboy, and while I like that take, I do also think it’s totally possible and even plausible that Soda really doesn’t drink and Pony’s view of him (in that aspect) is right.
I dunno, I mean, I know firsthand what it’s like to just get drunk on adrenaline/excitement. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug, and the rush from it is better than any other high I’ve had. Thrill rides make me act as stupid as someone drinking- when I’m excited, I lose all ability to filter thoughts or fight impulses. I’ve done all sorts of dumb moves- climbing onto tables, singing loudly without knowing or caring if it bothers people, play-fighting my buddies so hard we both get genuinely injured, standing up in a convertible going down the freeway... (This is obviously anecdotal and not real evidence or anything, but like, duh. This is an opinion piece lol.)
I guess what I’m saying is that there’s a lot of interesting things that can still be done with a Soda who genuinely doesn’t drink. (Or at least not much.)
2- I love darker takes on Soda. I love when people dig into his addictive personality, his temper, his relationship with his looks/self image, all that stuff. I love his flaws, and I especially love when they co-exist with his earnest sweetness and genuine sensitivity. In a few of my fics, I’ve explored some slightly darker Sodas- Sodas who are impulsive, pent up, semi-narcissistic and occasionally manipulative. I haven’t delved deep into it or anything, and I usually keep his character wholesome, but I love it when other folks don’t.
3- I actually really like the Vietnam War storyline. I mean it hurts, but it seems plausible. I hate the idea of him dying there, but I like exploring the idea of him being drafted. Hell, maybe he even enlisted. The military is known for being a good way to earn enough money to pull one’s family out of poverty, and this paired with the flawed ideas of masculinity and strength of the time lead to a really interesting version of Soda’s future.
I’m real glad it isn’t canon though.
4- This isn’t technically unpopular but brown eyed Soda will always be canon to me. I like Rob Lowe’s Soda a lot but man….he coulda used brown contacts, yk? /hj lol
One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.
Well I still think it’s a crime his emotional monologue got cut outta the original version of the film. Thank God for the full novel version, but man, still.
Woulda also have been cool to see him mentioned in That Was Then This is Now, but I get that SE Hinton wasn’t trying to make an Outsiders sequel really.
Idk, Soda served his purpose, I think.
tl;dr- I love him
#sodapop curtis#the outsiders sodapop#soda curtis#the outsiders#the outsiders 1983#stevepop#rambling#ask game#ask#sodapop curtis my beloved#i actually initially wanted to dislike Soda when I first read the book cos his description annoyed me#(i was newly 15 and was jealous of all boys prettier than me which is /ridiculous/ to admit but whatever)#…but i couldn’t dislike him even when I tried. he’s just so…/good/. idk soda’s such a great character#maybe not the most plot-important but he makes the book so much better just by existing. it wouldn’t be as good without him.#ALSO sorry this took a minute to reply to anon! I love Soda and I had to do him justice yk?#long post
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hello. part two of me ranting about the fear of memory loss in isat. is it that obvious i have autism?
part one was about the kings fear of forgetting. Go read. *clicks my fingers like a cat* go.
disclaimer not a psychiatrist blahh blahhhh u get the idea :p king rant was long, this will be longer. maybe one singular person is as normal as i am about this game and will enjoy. otherwise at least its out of my system and into words
So yeah, the king is afraid of forgetting. Siffrin, however, is afraid of being forgotten.
Siffrin, is late 20s, and just like the king lost the majority of their memories to the island.The people they loved, all that jazz i don't need to write the cinematics again. They too end up in an unfamiliar place, however they end up a rouge. They travel from city to city, never staying anywhere solid, never making any real connections for years (at least as far as we know.) To him, he is just a guy* who lost everything that they knew, and that's that. No point if it'll just happen again. In fact im not even sure if they're aware they're from that island, since I'm pretty sure he learns it ingame. He just exists. Thats it. Their life doesn't matter, doesn't impact anyone. He is forgettable
But then, they meet Mira, Odile, and Isa. Then Bonnie, and when things couldn't get more confusing, he loses an eye for them. The party loves Siffrin, even if they never say it pregame. They appreciate him. And even if Frin doesn't think it directly, they definitely subconsciously believe it pregame. Otherwise, it wouldn't be such a shock when odile says they're colleagues at best. So how can Siffrin go back to his old life? A life on the go, with no connections, nothing but the millisecond bumps into strangers and polite conversations with the clerk at the hotel desk. Nobody to come home to, no one to ask how their day was.
Its like trying chocolate after eating coco beans all your life. Maybe you can tolerate going back to coco beans for a bit, but you'll never forget the chocolate. It'll be something you think about all the time, your thought before sleep takes you, as tiktok would say your 'roman empire'.
So Siffrin cannot let them go back home. He wishes to stay with them. and thus, the loops happen.But after a bit he, quote, 'understands the king more than he'd like to'
He refuses to be forgotten, to have to go back to that life. They've lived the span of their memories being so blindingly forgettable, now someone, some people see them and its so close in his grasp. Isabeau is so close to confessing to him. Mirabelle is so close to her full potential as a housemaiden. Odile is accepting she's more than her roots. And Bonnie, the kid he lost an eye for, disabling him permentantly, HUGGED them. a massive deal for a fella whos been living off small talk and avoiding eye contact for the last 10 years. Just one more loop, if they do it all right then just maybe..
Not here to talk abt the loops. moving on.
After all these people who love him, they don't wanna be forgotten. Trauma isn't just a factor in disorders. Trauma can, and often does create its own reactions. For a real world example, Children who grow up with absent parents often react with avoiding and distancing tendencies, where as children with emotionally unstable parents tend to grow to be anxiously attached to those they love. These aren't disorders, but they are a reaction to the trauma faced and ingraned. Frin's fear of being forgotten is just as much a trauma response as it is a result of the way he lives. Who knows how many people Siffrin forgot in the island. What's stopping him from being like them? What's stopping him from being so forgettable.
Side note, act 5 is next to the Sunny vs Basil fight as my favorite two scenes in games, especially when it comes to imagining/reading about them in other characters povs other than the mains. And bigfrin is my absolute joy in the world. not sorry.
But after loops n loops of trying to prevent it, hearing off handed comments about how bonnie hates them, and how isa will say i love you to anyone except him, Sif's self worth is at an all-time low. They just don't have it in them anymore. They cant do it. we're looking at months of living the same two days over and over. Same lines. Same people. Same events. Years, if you're an insane person who does like 500+ loops. I think most people did like 70-150 though. Siffrin has been reliving this for so long he's begun to find comfort in it. It feels safe. Its boring, its insufferable, yes, but its SAFE. After suffering all those months, they're leaving anyway. They are going home. They will go home and forget Sif and it will all be for nothing. When Odile stops them from looping back, they strike. Either at themselves, or those they love. They would literally rather attack those they've gone through months of suffering just to spend more time with, or attack themselves time after time till it kills them. They'd rather it than risk them all leaving and forgetting him. I don't really have much more to say i guess i just ugh
i love act 5 i love bigfrin and if theres any writers reading this write some act 5 from other party members pov and you will get the juciest kiss.
if you read all this way, congrats!! i diagnose you with autism 💜
*guy is used as a unisex. i know the correct term for siffrin is fella. i went to gender school.
#isat#siffrin#isat siffrin#act 5 spoilers#act 5 isat#i'm normal im normal i swear#sorry for the third time abt ranting abt isat look i should probably make a seperate ranting account
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SPOILERS!!! SPOILERS!!!
Rant on Storytaco's bad writing of dark skinned characters. Specifically Sirius.
I wanna start this out with saying, I do not hate Sirius as a character. He's one of my favorites and I feel like he had wasted potential being in the hands of Storytaco. I don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying Sirius as a character either! I believe however that we can enjoy media, and look at it from a critical lense. There are good things about his character and I enjoy a lot of how he was written lore wise!!! Otherwise I wouldn't be so violently obsessed with him since the age of 15 lol. But again. There are a combination of things that I can't really see as a coincidence.
If you have anything to add, or disagree with any of my points, please do not be afraid to say so! I wanna have an actual discussion about this. please I do not bite. I stand pretty firm on my points at this very moment, but I'm entirely willing to listen and change.
Uh. Apologies if my points come across poorly or if my writing is incoherent. There's a reason why I did bad in school lol.
My criticisms are below here. Have fun
Anyways.
Fuck Storytaco?
Uh. This is 100% inspired by recent discussion on the fandoms treatment of Sirius. But I'd like to discuss why this treatment is actively perpetuated by the developers of Arcana Twilight. Which is much more disturbing to think about when you consider their games are often marketed towards minors.(There are other issues with storytaco marketing towards minors too. Uh, idk if those are relevant for this post though. Maybe later cuz it's high key disturbing!!! 😃)
Sirius was written very inconsiderately. Like I know he's a villainous/morally gray character. However I feel like there needs to be a lot more tact when your only dark skinned character is written to be not a good person. Especially in comparison to the light skinned characters. I feel like they just applied every negative trait on earth to him, then turned around and went "jk guys! He's not actually bad. Hes like this cuz he's an orphan." 😭 Like some of these traits would be fine in their own if balanced out with other things, but there's so many combined together that I can't help but feel suspicious of their intentions and bias.
He's the most provocative out of all the love interests. He's consistently initiating suggestive situations, is labeled the "sexyman", and is constantly making innuendos. The game has a lot of fan service in general (even though it's rated E), but Sirius is disproportionately portrayed this way and is just constantly going "hehe sex 😁" Which making him the provocative one is both an issue with him being queer coded and dark skinned..double whammy 😟
He's the dangerous, unpredictable and violent one. He SHOT!!! SHOT the mc within the first few floors. And like. There wasn't even a good reason behind why they decided to write that in other than to make us think he's violent/dangerous/untrustworthy. There are times when it's portrayed that he can't even be trusted alone in a room with the mc, even prior to the villain arc. 😐
He's a pretty much a domestic terrorist.... 😐
He was a wanted criminal for half of the story. Idk if I need to explain what's wrong with that either 😐
He's potentially the only one killed off at the ending depending on your interpretation.
In the clan equivalent of Americans (cough. Guns + eagles + the lazy unlikable rebellious group that just gets into trouble) which is just. Silly. 😭😒
Again he's the "untrustworthy one that nobody wants to be around." This is a point constantly driven in by the characters he's surrounded with. they drill that into the viewers head so so so much.
He's the "party animal" of the group??? Which isn't really portrayed beyond him drinking a lot but was definitely advertised as such.
He's 100% queer coded you cannot convince me otherwise. Which. Now we're falling into queer coded poc villain territory. Double whammy again! Disney is that you?
Going off the queer coded point, he's falling into "predatory gay man" territory. Hes shipped with basically every man in the game by storytaco for promotional and bait reasons. But it's always displayed as Sirius making the other party uncomfortable and getting in their personal space. Making unwanted advances. Like... Y'all don't got a do that
Ok this is possibly nitpicky but deadass why'd they make him a basketball player in the highschool au thingy. He's a theater kid. Nothing about him reads as liking sports. Please do not wear dangly earrings while playing sports??? It bothers me so much 💀
Okay so the sassy, violent, deranged, perverted terrorist... is the only romance-able dark skinned man in the game. ??? NONONO just think about that for a good moment
HE HAS OTHER THINGS IN HIS CHARACTER. THERE ARE GOOD PARTS ABOUT HIS CHARACTER!!! I LOVE SIRIUS SO MUCH. HES VERY COMPLEX AND INTERESTING.. but this is such a horrible combination of very specific negative tropes that it's hard to ignore. Especially when thinking about how this game is advertised to minors who, more often than not, are easily subjected to subconscious bias in media and are easily influenced due to our lack of ability to critically analyze media we're haphazardly consuming. (Sorry fellow minors. As a senior minor aka 17 yo it's the hard truth y'all gotta accept. we've all been there and we've been influenced by media whether we're aware of it or not. I'm not mad at y'all or belittling. Keep having ur funsies with ur silly star men I'm not stopping you lol? This is legitimate concern and criticism towards a company that is promoting weird stereotypes to us)
And I don't think Sirius is just a one off weirdly written dark skinned character from Storytaco. Thuban (WHO IS GREEEEEY. Big issue on its own 😰😭) is depicted as lazy and rude.???? Like he has a single redeeming moment but again. Just reads as "domineering rowdy black man." Especially when you look at the whole great hero trio .. he's supposed to fall within the fantasy "Fighter" archetype with his big ass mace. Compared to Polaris who is like a Cleric and the Wizard/Ranger Schedar.
Also shout out to storytacos other grey men.....???????? I was only able to find four dark skinned men (not just tanned a bit) including Sirius when I went thru Storytacos game catalogue. Two of them are grey. 😐
Anyways Sirius was a huge motivating factor in why I wanted to make Extraterrestrial... Fucked up potential of a character. There are 100% biases showing through how he was written. These were all conscious decisions made on the writers part and I don't think it can be kept behind "he's a morally gray character who's going thru it" because there were so many good ways to show that and his grief without going to every. single. extreme.
--
#arcana twilight#arcana twilight sirius#artw#arcana twilight nation#finally speaking out about this its been bothering me so much
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Should Earthspark been a sequel instead of a standalone? I don’t see anyone discussing this.
In ES, we got Optimus who is the same as in G1, Spike Witwicky exists (or he’s a nobody), we don’t know how they got to Earth or how the fight began on Earth, did they have selected allies, who died, what characters exist in this continuity, what happened during the war on Earth that could play a significant role in the post-war, what concepts exists?? A lot of the story is generalized. Nothing interesting, just ‘post-war inspired by G1; make it vague, fill the minor gaps, add some changes and let the imagination fill in the rest’. I could be wrong. But I love that they borrowed some IDW ideas.
New audiences are not going to understand what’s going on and not get into this story. Only fans can watch this with their existing knowledge from other continuities. Watching a standalone show as a fan kinda feels… unfulfilling, empty, I don’t how else to say it. I’m glad it’s a new idea but it’s less satisfying. We don’t know who or what the iconic characters (Autobots and Decepticons) are in this setting, they have smaller roles and don’t have much depth. Especially for new viewers.
IMO, ES should be separate from G1. Even if it was a sequel, it wouldn't save the show from writing quality issues which I'll get to later.
From what I've seen on other sites like tfw2005 and reddit, one of the only times ES gets brought up is when a person asks if it's a sequel to G1. It doesn't help how much G1 fan service ES has. While it's neat long time fans can have a "I understood that reference!" moment, there are also TF fans that are sick of the G1 pandering and want something new. ES was supposed to be that, but then it added the fan service like it knew some people would immediately reject the show because it strayed too much from the typical TF formula. It's pretty telling that ES S2 pretty much scrapped everything from S1 to the point that one of the staff made a tweet about it:
Budget and time constraints are most likely a factor for how how vague things are in ES. However, most of the vagueness feels intentional because the writing quality wasn't up the challenge of doing actual nuance. It'd be hard to really make the Cons and Megatron sympathetic if they were shown being utter bastards like most of them were in G1 and especially in IDW. The writing across all seasons of ES operates on the assumption/hope that the audience won't question anything.
And I know people are probably sick of me bringing this up, but the show's insistence with focusing on the Maltos as well as the way they're written is a huge reason why ES never realized its full potential. How are you supposed to look at the effects of war when the main humans behave like there wasn't a war most of the time? Wanna see more of the actual TF characters doing something? Too bad, this is the Robby and Mo Show. Sure, the TFs do get some time to shine, but they ultimately take a backseat to Robby and Mo. The Terrans were supposed to be a new subspecies of TF, but being a Malto is the most important thing.
So many people like to cite Nightshade as being THE reason ES failed when the reality is that the show's overall writing turned a lot of people away. It being a G1 sequel might've made more viewers stick around longer, but nostalgia can only get you so far.
If the writing was better in S1, I'm 100% certain that ES would've been one of my favorite TF series as well as one of my favorite cartoons in general.
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So, here's the tricky thing with Spite - I think what we see in the few cutscenes he has is actually a merging of two rather different character concepts, who each had a different attitude about Rook.
My theory is that most of Spite's scenes were written recently, after they finalized Spite as a Spirit of Determination. This final version doesn't have romantic or sexual feelings towards Rook, but they're still his favorite person since they're the boss that Gets Things Done™.
THAT SAID, there's one cutscene that I'm 100% convinced was written and recorded back when Spite was meant to be a spirit of Passion turned Obsession*, and originally lead to a Spite who wanted Rook in an unhealthy, possessive, narcissistic, and (possibly) carnal way.
You know the one - when Lucanis first arrived at the Lighthouse, brooding by the fireplace and talking to the mages about the demon. Spite is pretty charasmatically sassy, especially with female/NB Rooks**, but the sassiness goes away once Lucanis refuses to let him talk to Rook (very specifically Rook, and not the other companions). At that point, the demon completely flips out and throws hands at his human host, almost breaking his nose.
Pretty much nothing in this scene is followed up on: from that point onward, Spite becomes a plot device for Lucanis's PTSD recovery, singularly focused on him fulfilling the deal on "freeing them from their prison" (clarified in Inner Demons about being free from the mind prison) and getting revenge on those who put them there. Whatever Spite's feelings for Rook were, they transform into respect for a favorite boss.
And thus, many fans who are disappointed on the lack of spice from Spite flock to Tumblr and AO3, making up for whatever Bioware couldn't or wouldn't do with him in Veilguard.
*= the onetime plan for Spite to be a spirit of Passion turned Obsession is confirmed through datamined character descriptions, go look it up!
** = I don't know if anyone's made a proper comparison video, but for female/NB Rooks, Spite's 👍 and 🎭 reactions are basically "Aw, Rook is so sweet, she won't hurt you" and "Oh, Rook's funny, I like Rook! :3", while male Rook gets reactions that are sharply rewritten to all dunk on Lucanis, like "Oh, Rook doesn't want to hurt you, but everyone else does" and "Rook's funny, not like you, you're never funny". Basically erasing any OwO-ness that come with female/NB Rooks. And all this is exclusively to the benefit of the player - Lucanis is firmly not listening to anything Spite is saying, and Rook canonically never finds out about any of this.
Sooo... Do we think Spite is in love with Rook too?
I'm honestly so curious about what everyone thinks about this... Seriously.
I'd really love to see what everyone thinks about this. I'm even thinking to do a second poll to reflect more on the winning option, we'll see how this one goes.
#spite dragon age#spite da#demon of obsession would have been better#spite better return in da5#veilguard had so many good ideas#i mourn the cut content for veilguard#spite#rook x spite
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Little Zuzu for an incoming project 🔥
#atla#avatar the last airbender#zuko#atla zuko#zutara#avatar#prince zuko#zuko fanart#atla fanart#atla art#zuko art#I'm... kinda new here so I don't know the tags#Anyways you guessed it (it's a comic)#You may blame our only true God Hozier for making me do this#I never asked for the perfect Zuko song and yet I still received Arsonist's Lullaby#Amazing#Anyways he's literally the love of my life#Best. Character. Ever.#And I know I say this about... pretty much all my favorite characters but I MEAN IT this time#Also look at the pretty fire 🔥#I've got a page that's literally just Dragon Fire so... I guess this was practice for Ran and Shaw?????#Gotta draw Zuzu here firebending in colors
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it's so crazy how few historical fiction novels are like sharon kay penman's. the way that they're built out of the skeleton of the historical record seems so obvious, but there's so few people who are actually willing to commit to it in the way that she did. it seems like so often that's just a starting point which gets reformed to fit a coherent narrative, but she makes no real attempt to do that. there's themes and foils and patterns, but first and foremost it is a reconstruction. you can't really know what someone who lived that long ago was like, only what they did, and you can feel how she takes these isolated, dramatic events and builds a whole life around them. the books are nothing more than an answer to the question 'what might someone have been like, what could the history between these people have been, to possibly explain something like this?' the ability to string together a handful of facts and events from medieval chronicles to create people that feel so real, and psychology and relationships that develop so naturally that these distant, seemingly impenetrable choices suddenly feel so immediate and clear is just beyond belief. you know this probably wasn't actually how things happened, but it doesn't matter because it was something like this. the particulars are less important the crushing awareness that at one point all of this made sense. there was a time when all of this was right now. the world is unrecognizable and exactly the same. that's something which sounds very simple but is incredibly difficult to accomplish.
you come to know these people so well, their loves and hatreds and ambitions and failures, and those things are rarely resolved in the end. you know them from the time that they're children, you watch each one of them die, and none of it means anything in particular except that they were a human being. things which seem like they must be building to some tragic fallout end in anticlimax. things which seem utterly inconsequential in the moment manifest again decades later in cataclysmic disaster. and then you see it all play out again from the beginning with their children, and their children's children. all these uncanny echoes, this endlessly unfolding palimpsest of lives, each laid over the triumphs and mistakes of those who came before. i've never read anything so epic with so much mastery over the micro and macro levels of history. it's the minute, seemingly inconsequential everyday details, which build into a lifetime, which builds into generation of lives, which builds into the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires. it's the merciless endlessly turning wheel of fortune that replays the same songs in different keys again and again for all time. a person is both an individual with free will, and the prisoner of their blood and circumstances. somehow everything has infinite weight, is tied to everything that has come before and will come after, is the culmination of someone's entire existence—their pains and joys and fears and hopes—and yet is simultaneously completely meaningless, just one more victim of fate in an endless procession of lives and choices. the whole impotent tragedy of humanity is laid out in front of you and it's so repulsive and beautiful. it's deep love and unfathomable, senseless horror briefly and miraculously reverberating in a vacuum, an absurd aberration fading into silence.
if it's not obvious these books have made me cry like 10 different times
#sharon kay penman#here be dragons#historical fiction#that's my ted talk#i just can't express how much i love these books#and it's a real tragedy that they don't get the same recognition as some more popular literary historical fiction#which truthfully i think is mostly because they're not traditionally narrative enough to make into a commercially successful adaption#their scope is simultaneously way too big and much too small#so i am taking it upon myself dkalsj#it doesn't matter if you like historical fiction it doesn't matter if you care about medieval history#literally everyone should read them#they're some of the best books i've ever read#i think probably my second favorites of all time only behind villette#the prose is certainly good though not standout but the characters and narrative mastery is absolutely unmatched#like this is true craftsmanship this is the paradigm you know#i know i haven't really been active enough in a while for people to trust my opinion#but i will say to my credit that i have pretty absurdly high standards for what i call great literature#and i think that these books are objective excellent and deserve to be recognized as such#and that's what i have to say 😔
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Look at this: https://x.com/chuckecheesez/status/1852077124057759864
Best DC crossover in the history of the internet! (2nd half here)
Also this is the best part for me
😆😆😆
OOOOH it's a crossover between the first generation characters (is that what i should be calling them now? yeesh) and the DC4 cast! that's so fun! i really like the limited motion of this video, it really sells that old timey/kinda hokey feeling. plus Thriller is always a banger.
i agree that that part was probably my favorite part in the video. the detail of Drew holding up the paper that says "BRAINS" is so funny to me. my guy, nobody else in this video is talking. you could've gotten away with it. but the artist paid attention to the details. that's quality craftsmanship right there.
more tweet asks below the cut!
I am about to cry... BABY DREW!!! 😭💛
aww, this is so cute! and very in-keeping with the style of the show, too. i love his little star hat, it makes him look like the protagonist of a bedtime story adventure :)
also, this art inspired me to look up whether people with selective mutism would make any sound when they cry or not. apparently the answer for many of them is no! i know that the noise isn't the only reason why people give babies pacifiers-- obviously you want them to not be upset as well, and i think there might be something beneficial about the sucking action-- but it's still an interesting difference to consider, imo.
Just found this Dan appreciation/analysis/rant post when I opened up Twitter, in case you or any of the "Dan Stans" might be interested. The thread does open some interesting perspectives in terms of the show's favoritism and the creators' writing abilities/choices. So you can check it out if you want.
speaking of interesting differences to consider, thank you for sharing this! i always enjoy hearing other people's perspectives on media, even if i don't agree with them, as long as they're 1) generally informed and 2) not overly hostile, which i don't think this person was. they were definitely angry, but it came from a place of passion, and they at least didn't insult anything personal about who Jared and Robert are... for the most part.
anyways, a good analysis! i know you said you have no interest in Danganronpa, but as a fellow elimination game, i can definitely draw parallels between that franchise and this. specifically, in behaviors i've noticed in fans.
these are probably over-generalizations, but i feel like you could roughly break down DC/DR fans into three broad categories. first, there are the people who like heroic characters that last for a long time-- in DC's case, your Miriams, your Aidens, or your Connors. they seem to pick their favorite characters based on who they think would be the coolest to hang out with irl, or who they would aspire to be like.
opposite them, there are the people who like the villainous characters that last for a long time, more like Alec, Fiore, or Riya. they seem to pick their favorite characters based on who they think provided the most intrigue for the story, whether in terms of driving the central conflict or promoting the story's themes.
those groups have obvious tension between each other, with the hero enjoyers often not understanding how their compatriots could "condone" such vile actions by stanning villains and the villain enjoyers often seeing any character without a penchant for mischief as "lacking depth."
and then, in their own little corner, there's the third group, who enjoys the characters who left the game early-- i would imagine, because they find it fun to fill in the gaps that canon left with their projections and headcanons.
as someone whose favorites are typically long-lasting villains (with long-lasting heroes as a close second), it's really interesting for me to hear the thought process of someone of the third category! to me, if i like a work of fiction, it seems natural to me to have a general preference for the characters that last longer, because they make up a greater percentage of that thing that i like. but i really like this analysis of Dan's character as it shows how much importance he had even as a relatively early, non-returnee boot, and how he had layers without the tragic backstory typical of DC characters.
however, i also understand where Jared and Robert were coming from in not bringing him back. in theory, if you like Disventure Camp, it's because you like all of the over-the-top drama and plot twists the show throws your way. i (mildly) disagree with the OP's point that bringing Dan back would have been good as a way of differentiating their plot lines, because while that may have been true, it also sort of goes against the fundamentals of what DC has become. if that's not the kind of story that Jared and Robert wanted to tell, then they shouldn't be forced to write it.
not to mention, i could see why they would pass up on Dan for All Stars if they considered DC Season 1, as opposed to Adventure Camp, their second shot at Dan already. it's not a perfect solution, given that plenty of major characters from Adventure Camp continued to be major characters in DC1 and/or DCAS. however, if what this person wanted was "Dan transforms from a minor character into a more important role," that did already happen for him. he could have then become even more important in DCAS, but that loops back into "let Jared and Robert write the story they want to tell." flawed as it may be, at least they're (presumably) having fun if they're writing what they want as opposed to what the fans want.
and, on that note, i also personally perceived the "who's Dan?" comments and the idea of bringing him back to boot him first as more of a meme than anything else. but, i haven't read many of Jared's tweets nor am i in the DC discord, so i could be missing important context there. plus, i'm sure it'd sting to hear that about your favorite underrepresented character, even if it wasn't meant as a joke.
ramble over! at the very least, we can all agree that Genesis did a fantastic job voicing Dan :D i hope he gets cast in more roles in the future, whether in DC or otherwise.
#disventure camp#disventure camp spoilers#drew disventure camp#dan disventure camp#i do like dan btw. if that wasn't clear#like i said i generally favor characters who last longer but dan surprised me with how likeable he was in dc1#so like he's not my favorite or anything but if i were doing a tierlist i'd definitely put him in B tier at least#i'm sure watching all these greetings about him and such has also boosted my opinion :)#and also. just saying again for the people. there's nuance beyond these three broad categories#for instance i know that you really like Alec despite seeming to dislike pretty much every other villain#so people definitely have preferences beyond just “good guy” “bad guy” and “untapped potential.” i just think there are also trends as well#and i really like attempting to categorize things :) it's enrichment
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you grabbed me by the hair and dragged me through the mud and then cut my heart out with this one. what the hell. i knew it was gonna hurt but damn. YOU DONT GET TO JUST TREAT ME LIKE THIS. NO MF AFTERCAREOR NOTHING JUST HURT. and also, the whimsy? yeonjun and reader literally just wanting each other but the world is just so fucking cruel? i loved their dynamic and the BANTER it was good enough to eat. i crown u banter queen. he’s so witty, this yeonjun is literally just FOXFOXFOX to me, more than usually even. god.
“The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars.” this is so mfk pretty,, i literally FEEL this. and the archer practicing under the starts… i love this fic.
It was her hair. Pink. call me delusional and say i’m doing too much but i think that the color pink could literally be a character in this fic. it’s there in little glimpses and wisps, but for some reason, each time it felt monumental. that’s actually so incredibly beautiful. it’s not secret that this fic is pink coded, but lowkey i think it goes further than that. i literally cannot explain to you how this makes me feel.
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” SIR YES SIR
jk i’m not leaving actually. you’d have to peel me off of this yeonjun.
“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.” fucking hell im choked up. just a little. baby let yourself be loved 💔
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. IM ABT TO BUST WTF how did you know that this is my favorite thing. butterflies >.<;
Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” mmmmmm.
“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” just fell down to my knees in abject horror and agony. oh my god.
"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." fucking cries Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist.
i can not and will not be addressing kai and kora’s fates. the ability to make me so disgustingly attached to them in 24k words when some 100k novels can’t even manage that for me is beyond beautiful, and i did cry and now my chest aches and so i will NOT be going into that. for my own good. the letter to his family. you are a sick individual.
She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” this is so very much summative of them. they both have these massive names to them, a legacy that precedes them, and yet really they have nothing more than each other. especially after being stripped of the very last things that they could call their own, the only interpersonal connections that they ever really got. in the end, all they had was each other and a future. i’m making myself choked up just writing this but UGH there is something about having nothing beyond hope.
hope is i think is a constant theme in this fic. the two of them start with absolutely zero, with any semblance of it stomped into the dirt. that was, until they met in that forest, and then they let themselves hope despite it all. despite how dangerous it was, and despite how they both knew that it’d give them hell. and it did. but in the end, at the very least, they still have that hope, yk? it was such a beautiful transformation to read. i love you for writing this and i am going to mystified and in agony over this until further notice.
A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj
》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.
One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....
》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…
pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader
𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »
warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"
« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »
word count « 24K »
The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock. “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words.
“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you.
“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.”
You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father.
She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”
Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.”
Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.”
Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.
You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips.
You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out.
The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.
The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it.
The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were.
The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.
He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful.
He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before.
He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.
“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip.
Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?”
You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough.
You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out.
He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess.
His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you.
“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was.
His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.”
Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.”
For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you.
His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?”
He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.”
“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight.
“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal.
You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all.
“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak.
“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole.
“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.”
That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he?
Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties.
“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.”
You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot.
You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow.
“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders.
“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?”
The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.”
“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical.
You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.”
He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.”
You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.”
For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?”
“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.”
“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words.
“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable.
You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.”
“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”
You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter.
You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you.
The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul.
For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.
Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.
By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again.
The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you.
You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip.
You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient.
He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.”
The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done.
“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.”
You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here.
Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean.
You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.”
Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists.
“Do you understand?” your father demands.
“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head.
Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless.
Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right.
Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart.
Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again.
The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.
The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.
“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.
“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head.
“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin.
Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”
Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”
“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.
Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint.
Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right?
He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”
Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”
Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”
Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.”
“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”
“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.
Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—”
“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.”
“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money.
“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter.
Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods.
Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again.
Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.
The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her.
A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.
With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs.
“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun.
“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.”
Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.”
“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour.
Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes.
Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly.
Kai’s face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—”
“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”
Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”
“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.
The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold.
The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by.
Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.”
Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”
Yeonjun froze.
The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.
It was her hair.
Pink.
His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own.
Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool.
The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?
Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was.
As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black.
He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her.
“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.”
“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger.
“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—”
“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”
“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family.
Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute.
“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.”
She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way.
“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it.
“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?”
He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye.
“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened.
“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists.
“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.
“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.”
Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered.
And you’re reckless,” he shot back.
She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?”
“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question.
The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit.
“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”
“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart.
“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars.
The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Yeonjun.
His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth.
“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again.
There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.”
He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?”
“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do.
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.”
“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you.
Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.”
“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation.
He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin.
The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside.
The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly.
You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally.
“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—”
“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.”
“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.”
“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair.
“I’m not scared,” he shot back.
“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.”
He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me.
“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.”
“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him.
“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go.
“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.”
You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again.
His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.”
“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.”
Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.”
“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.
“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.”
You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you.
“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.”
Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him.
“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence.
He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.”
“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”
His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?”
“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.”
His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.”
You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.”
Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time.
“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.”
He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.”
“Maybe I do,” you said quietly.
He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.”
“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it.
He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.”
“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?”
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest.
“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”
He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer.
Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips.
“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you.
It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it.
You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire.
“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.
“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.”
His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.
Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low.
“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly.
“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out.
“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent.
He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again.
This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you.
When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.”
His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.
“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy.
“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff.
“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.”
“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss.
“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair.
“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment.
“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.”
His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses.
“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back.
“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons.
“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures.
“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable.
“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away.
You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-”
“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly.
Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.”
“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile.
“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing.
You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured.
“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy.
You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?”
You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that.
“Use your words sweetheart.”
“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch.
His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape.
His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath.
“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..”
“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you.
“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance.
“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding.
“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes”
Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you.
“My god.” You whispered.
“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand.
“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips.
“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips.
“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless.
“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze.
“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight.
He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.”
You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you.
He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine.
Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving.
“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.”
“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain.
“No. Please move.”
Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out.
He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely.
“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.”
“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.”
A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you.
“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub.
“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face.
“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train.
Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge.
“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling.
The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption.
Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you.
“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment.
“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.”
Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.”
The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening.
You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed. “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.”
“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief.
The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.”
Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?”
“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.”
Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?”
“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.”
The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.”
You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.
“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.”
You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it.
The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real?
Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door.
There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?”
“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.”
“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.
“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—”
Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.”
Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”
Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—”
“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm.
Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.”
“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.”
Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.
Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him.
“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.
“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.”
He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?”
“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”
She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.”
Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?”
The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?”
“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers.
The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.”
You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained.
Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.
“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.”
“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin.
You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.
“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell.
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”
Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”
“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.”
You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest.
You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game.
You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only.
The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.
Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words.
“Princess,
I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.
Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty.
Yeonjun.”
You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back.
“Yeonjun,
Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.
There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.
Yours Always”
You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.
The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.
You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun.
His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened.
“Princess,
Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.
I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.
Yeonjun”
His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him.
“Yeonjun,
Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.
I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.
Yours always.”
The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.
Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure.
Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again.
The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax."
Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied.
He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this."
"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again.
The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill.
One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.
"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.
"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised.
"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it.
It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession.
He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai.
Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?"
"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it.
The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—"
"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it."
Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered.
"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want."
Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise."
“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.”
The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.
You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary.
The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was.
Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks.
His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face.
"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want."
Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"
"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.
"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free."
Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will."
You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of."
"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think."
His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away.
"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it.
His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours.
His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters.
His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.
"I don’t want to," you whispered.
His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."
And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance.
The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could.
"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm.
You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."
Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up.
"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.
Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips.
"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."
Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother.
You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known."
Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you.
"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking.
She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."
You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise."
The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother.
"I love you," you whispered.
"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know."
You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her.
The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."
Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist.
Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all."
Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"
"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried."
Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been.
Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"
"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how."
Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully.
Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them.
Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."
Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."
"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.
"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.
Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately.
His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world."
Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.”
Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart.
"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."
Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"
Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."
“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.”
“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."
Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them."
Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else."
Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."
"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."
Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted."
Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest.
The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else.
He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.
He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest.
“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.”
His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear.
Her marriage announcement.
The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one.
"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin.
Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears.
"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it.
But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was.
The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table . Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him.
“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation.
"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude.
“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner.
"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.
The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her.
Kang Taehyun.
The one she was supposed to marry.
Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil.
This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her?
When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.
The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now."
Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.
Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him.
Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough.
"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—"
"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him."
You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast.
"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world."
His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide."
"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of.
"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do."
"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me."
His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you.
"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone."
The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright.
When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope.
“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together."
“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure.
“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.
“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake.
“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed.
Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all.
A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning.
Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.
"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.
Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked.
"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control.
“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?”
Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.”
Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.
The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.
A bloodstained arrow.
The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him.
"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.”
Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai.
“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy.
“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold.
"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon.
“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.
Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?
Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him.
A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward.
Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined.
The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor.
The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent.
The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.”
“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.”
“But-”
“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob.
The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”
Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest.
The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.
The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.”
“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”
The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.”
“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.”
“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.
Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was.
Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses.
But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor.
“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered.
His breath caught. It was her.
“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.
She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look.
“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists.
She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.”
Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”
The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.”
The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.”
He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”
“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn.
As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—”
“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion.
“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness.
The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried.
Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.
“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.”
The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.”
They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.”
The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.”
Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief.
Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.
“To the family of HueningKai,
I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.
I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.
Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days.
Yeonjun.”
He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.”
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.”
With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.”
She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.”
They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.
taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar
#(🪔) ─── 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑓#﹙ 🪶 ﹚ ༉‧₊ ashlynn#literally made a reccs tag just for this#i love txt and fantasy#so beautiful and i think that my personal audience would love this :3
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Cyberpunk 2077 is my favorite anti-capitalist game that I spent 70 dollars to play
#like is it worth 70 dollars#I Guess?#I know it took years and so many people to actually put this game together#and the basegame and dlc for seventy dollars total is such a steal in comparison to say#a certain life simulator game I play#but the actual game Cyberpunk in itself is so inaccessible already#like my gaming laptop can run the sims with all dlc and custom content on ultra graphics EASY#buy trying to run cyberpunk even on the lowest graphics is like#ROUGH#and like paying 70 dollars for the LOWEST graphics setting is pretty mid#like yeah they got Keanu Reeves as the cool brain parasite#but that only speaks to me on a personal level because I have a mental health issue that causes me to have Keanu Reeves as a brain parasite#in my actual real life#the story is so great but there’s so many side quests that no matter how many hours I play the game for I’ll never actually COMPLETE it#cyberpunk is my FAVORITE game and I do NOT regret buying it bc the story is there the world is there the characters are there#but it feels so superficial knowing I spent a quarter of my paycheck to spend 30 hours being like#‘that’s right Johnny Silverhand we should fuck em up’#i think it’s more that cyberpunk feels like a story the world really needs right now#but it’s only accessible to such a niche group of people#especially since the game got so much hate on launch#and yeah there is the anime now but the anime doesn’t even TOUCH a VAST MAJORITY of night city#the anime doesn’t have the same depth and wonder that the game has because the game is about a city and the show is about 1 group of people#cyberpunk 2077 really resonated with me in such a unique way and I love it so much I can’t even begin to describe my hyperfixation#but the graphics and first person camera give me motion sickness#and my wallet cried for three days when I bought the game#and so much of the actual political ideology is lost on me Because of the price point#I’m gonna play it anyway tho bc I’ve never seen my own brain parasites represented as video game characters before#twink speaks#Twink plays cyberpunk 2077#not cc
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I am going to need that rewrite on my desk by tomorrow, 12 point font, times new roman, double spaced
noOOOOOO IT'S TOO MUCH WORK!!! I DON'T HAVE TIME AND I DON'T CARE ENOUGH........ girl help!
my rewrite where uhhhhhhhhhh. everything is the same except the writers actually care about female characters. a lot of decisions were made because of actresses no longer being available so plotlines like fish's are more or less the same but like, Ivy either gets to grow up normally or is never a child at the beginning to start with (you can go the weird plant body route if you have to keep her relatively younger since this is a prequel ig), and I don't... even know what to make of KK or Isabella, and Sofia should just be fucking. dont tell me there isn't a single female italian bodybuilder who can act, I don't believe you. let her be buff. let her take up space. let her be huge and wear vintage fashion.
also Oswald is fat and trans
#the problem is that largely i think gotham should suck ass#the only thing that really drives me up the fucking wall is the like. obvious sexism#every fully disposable female character makes me evil#i dont know what they were on about the riddler fangirl and i've chosen not to examine it bc i suspect you had to be there#in order to understand what whoever wrote that was mad about specifically. i can't stand that shit#'we have to openly mock some actually harmless aspect of our fanbase' ok but can you do it without being weird and sexist '🧍♂️'#but generally? the Stupid plotlines the Really dumb crap#whatever the fuck gordon is doing from episode to episode#...it builds character. i wasn't paying attention to most of it anyway#hey real quick look me in the eyes#there was something there. i hate the galavan arc so much but there was something there.#a sympathy. a kinship between tabitha and silver. tabitha was groomed for a role the same way silver is being groomed and she recognizes#the childish desire to please authority figures in their stupid bullshit organization even though silver can't see it because she's still l#living in it#did you guys see that? because i saw it#and it's in the middle of like. one of the worst arcs in the show#(the arc is fine the actor who plays theo is just so like. he has no charisma at all and something is Off about the whole thing bc of it)#oh wait no yeah actually. the stuff with silver is kind of hard to watch bc it would be interesting if they wanted to examine it#but it's a stupid drama series so it's just a love triangle even though she's a pretty sad character even within the writing in this show#and silver never comes back. and she doesn't need to bc they wouldnt know how to treat her#but did you guys see that too?#I like tabitha#anyway that arc is bad but i do think sometimes about silver saying 'my favorite animal is a dolphin bc they're magic'#and for a second bruce forgets the situation and looks like he's going to snap#exclusively because she said something factually incorrect about an animal#what was i talking about again
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