#i try my best to explain things clearly but it's hard when there's missing context sometimes

[pekoeboo]

purification is a painful, painful process.

rough sketch based on a scene in the Ravenwood RP. Antony is confronted with a situation in which he has to utilize his divine power in order to save Melvin - who had been terribly poisoned. the only one strong enough to clear the poison from his system is Antony, but the boy's abilities come with the caveat that his physical body still isn't entirely capable of handling prolonged and intense bouts of purification for any extended length of time; even despite having been reborn as a demigod.

so that power breaks him from the inside out - just as it did back in Atria. he does manage to save Melvin, but at the cost of his own life... though no one is aware that he still retains the ability to come back from the dead by that point. ends up being quite a shock for everyone when he turns back up a few days later, naturally. ><;;

tbh, some pretty awful repeat trauma for Antony. poor kid doesn't deserve it, but the angst is just too good to pass up imo :0

please do not remove caption or repost. also on deviantart

[alynnl]

My (Unnecessary) Feelings about Miles Edgeworth: The Saga

Presented without context as I play the Ace Attorney trilogy for the first time. Spoilers ahead!

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney

Case 1-2: Miles Edgeworth makes his debut as a prosecutor with a winning record.  He’s arrogant and smug. I’m not sure if I like him when he’s clearly trying to get Maya and later Phoenix put in jail.  What do you mean, updated autopsy report?!  He’s corrupt as the summer days are long.  I don’t understand all the fanart featuring him.

Case1-3: I’m laughing.  His witnesses are giving him a hard time and I’m laughing.  Edgeworth takes major Ls in this case but he still puts up as much of a legal fight as possible.  He actually helps Nick this time around towards the end of the case, which was a surprise!  Maybe he’s not so bad after all. (And all the fan artists and fic writers have a point.)

Case 1-4: I immediately want to defend him.  Edgeworth is a lot of things but I didn’t want to believe he was a murderer. Knowing how cold hearted Manfred von Karma is, made me even more protective of him.  And what’s worse, Edgeworth wants to try and convict himself for his own living nightmare!  I was so relieved when he was found Not Guilty, both for the Gourd Lake case and DL-6. His smile group picture, his awkward but genuine thanks and his brief moment of cheering for the new year before hanging his head endeared him to me so much.  I cried tears of joy experiencing this scene.  He’s definitely my favorite without a shadow of a doubt!  I fully understand all the WrightWorth fanart, as well as the individual Miles Edgeworth art. He’s a fandom favorite for a reason!

Case 1-5 (first and second attempts): Despair, anguish, hopelessness. I cried sad tears, twice.  I want to defend him but I can’t. Politics are getting the better of him (and me too.)  I know actions aren’t free of consequences but the narrative seems to go out of its way to doom Edgeworth even though he’d just been saved.  He’s in his worst mood and outlook in this case.  Him taking the L is no longer a joke.

Case 1-5 (reprise, finale): A hope spot with a whole lot of angst.  The hope comes in that even though he’s put in a tight spot, Edgeworth still finds small ways to help Phoenix look for the truth, in and out of court.  He’s trying his best in a very grim situation!  He’s truly resilient.  But he’s not able to accept others reaching out to him (yet?)  He’s not able to grow (yet??)  Even though this case was added later and game 1 was supposed to end with case 1-4, it sure paints a clear picture as to what will happen in the second game when he goes missing.  It’s a rather sad picture.

Ace Attorney: Justice for All

Case 2-2: The first hint that he’s disappeared/he’s gone.  It’s Franziska von Karma we face off with in court (and if I remember right), Phoenix’s inner monologue makes it seem like Edgeworth died.  I refused to believe it because there is no evidence, of course!

Case 2-3, Investigation Day 1: Second hint that Edgeworth has disappeared/is gone.  Gumshoe confirms it.  He’s incredibly cagey about it, which is unlike our normally talkative detective.  The way it’s framed also implies character death, but there is still no evidence.  I have background knowledge that Edgeworth has not one, but two spin off games, more appearances in the first trilogy and a presence in the later trilogy as an NPC, so I know on a meta level he survived.  But from an early story perspective, I still have yet to figure out how he survived.  He has some major explaining to do!

More notes to be added, as I make more progress.

[radellama]

1 and 13 for all our ends will shine like stars

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

To be blunt, Star Trek and Chrono Trigger lol.

Maybe it's more the feeling of star trek and chrono trigger, especially when I'm remembering how much the characters and story lines impacted me- but I wanted everyone to feel real within this world so that their developments over the chapters not only feel fluid, but plausible. I've really tried to think hard about how each character would react and respond to each other within the context of each chapter as I'm writing- I even have my own reference notes for each of the main characters speech patterns because it's important to me that in this fic they all sound distinctly like themselves.

Another thing that's really important to me while I'm writing this fic is the rythmn of it. It's a little hard to explain clearly, and I do this with most of my writing anyway, but the rythmn and flow is soooo important to me. Sometimes having 'correct' grammar is less important to me than it is to have the impact of a sentence or dialogue hit harder. The rythmn and flow for this fic in particular is a much more cinematic one, for lack of a better term. I really wanted this first chapter to feel like it was a pilot episode, where things are established well enough to get a grasp on the main trio (Magus Glenn and Marle) but still starting to get familiar with the others (Lucca Ayla and Robo) while setting up their common points and how their journey is going to continue. I want each of the chapters to feel kinda like the best episodes and movies of star trek, along with the best main and side quests in chrono trigger. I know that the impact, the tiny details in the characters and the rythmn of my writing are such that readers might completely miss that THAT'S where I've placed most my effort, but that's what's important to me, so I'll continue to write that way!

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Oh man... Usually I have playlists made to get into a certain headspace or what have you, but when I write st au? It's either the engineering warp core 12 hour loop or this warp core white noise. The rythmic pulsing not only helps me stay on track to write with minimal distraction, but that's how it sounds on the ship!! Obviously it'll sound the loudest in engineering, but because their ship is quite small, I imagine that wherever you are, if you listen for it you can hear the warp core pulsing. Try reading with one of these, or whatever your favourite space ship ambience is >:)

Send me some asks about my fics~

- you can read For All Our Ends Will Shine Like Stars here -

[sagaiv]

Black Adam Thoughts

I have been working non-stop so I don’t have the energy to write a full review, so I’ve decided to just make a bullet point list of my thoughts on Black Adam.

Doctor Fate was my favorite part of the movie. Pierce Brosnan does great in the role and easily steals the scenes he’s in even if he’s just eating a mint while the others are fighting. 

Doctor fate is a character I have always thought was criminally underutilized in DC’s properties. He has really interesting powers, drawbacks, and a backstory that makes him a fascinating character. I really liked getting to finally see him on the big screen. 

Lorne Balfe’s score is phenomenal. It got me excited every time I heard it playing.

The film didn’t really sell me on Black Adam being a threat that had to be taken out. It didn’t seem to want to commit too hard one way or the other, hero or villain, which made his arc fall flat to me. 

You could really feel Black Adam’s power. There was no point in the movie where I felt he wasn’t the unstoppable force everyone kept saying he was. DC has had trouble consistently selling the power of its heroes on the big screen in the past (when they were still trying to copy/play catch-up with marvel mostly) but that isn’t a problem here.

There’s the implication that Adrianna and Amon are direct descendants of Black Adam with the necklace that has been passed down in their family being seen on Teth Adam’s wife in the flashbacks, but this is never brought up verbally and is a detail that could be easily missed. This is something that could go a long way when it comes to explaining Black Adam’s desire to protect them and sell me on why he acts so differently from the villain everyone tries to portray him as. It could have been a redemption in his mind. He failed to save his family in the past and he doesn’t want to fail in the same way again.

I called the twist during the first scene of the movie. I knew which character Black Adam was immediately. If they really wanted this to be a surprise it should have played out a bit differently, but I wasn’t bothered by it.

I liked the visuals of the movie. I appreciate that DC lets its directors and cinematographers be creative. They all have their own distinctive visual flair.

The action was really fun. I liked the battles in the first and second acts and thought they did a fine job of bringing the spectacle I wanted when I entered the theater. The third act battle falls short for me though and it can feel like it's a copy and paste of most superhero third act battles that only really separated itself visually in the one v one between Doctor Fate and Ishmael.

I actually liked that we got to see the human side of things within the film. Too often the human are completely ignored to focus on the “gods among us”. It works in the context of the story and I appreciate that they called out the Justice Society for thinking they know better than the people they are saving about what is best for them. 

One of the biggest problems with Black Adam is the fact that it asks so many questions that it just doesn’t answer.  The biggest example of this is how it criticizes black and white views on morality but it never looks deeper than the surface level. It’s not a particularly deep film.

This doesn’t have to do with the movie itself but I really like the passion that Dwayne Johnson clearly has for the role in all the promotions he’s done for it. 

Atom Smasher and Cyclone are really unneeded. I liked the visuals for Cyclone’s powers and thought Atom Smasher was funny but they don’t have arcs to undergo and remain unchanged and underdeveloped by the end of the film. 

The villain was really forgettable. I had to look up his name to write this.

The mid-credits scene was really cool. I would love to see Superman and Black Adam duke it out. (again wasn’t sold on Black Adam being an irredeemable threat that had to be eliminated but I would still love to see that fight)

[hertwood]

dts s2 e4-6

e4: -sorry seb's "says who?" at the start of episode (in response to ferrari telling him what to do) GAGGED sets the tone for the episode PERFECTLY -mattia talks about monza the way indy drivers talk abt the 500 lmao -the whole "there is no #1 driver" bit makes me think hey r there parallels to be drawn between sebchal here and alonso/hamilton in 2007? just thinkin about it -before i get to far i want to share some thoughts: when i first watched this episode with NO prior knowledge it was rly hard to follow. after i heard about the specifics of the ferrari engine controversy (cheating), for the second watch i remember this episode suddenly clicking for me! this episode would've benefitted so much from a will buxton monologue explaining the juicy details for a newish viewer. i understand that there might have been pressure from ferrari to not include those details but it is such a shame, to have such a core piece of information missing and viewers have to try to piece together the narrative without it :/ -HI LAURA WINTER -very much get the impression that seb is like the family member who notices the generational trauma and going hey maybe we should change things to stop that and gets exiled from the family instead :) those sure are the vibes -HI CHARLOTTE -im sorry the back to back "seb has a lack of confidence with the car. and charles' car is not performing" like theyre the same car but you're gonna frame it like its seb's fault but not charles's? mattia choke -at the part where they're explaining the engine controversy--i still stand by wishing they explained it better and EARLIER because i think its much needed context for the first half of the episode too -at the end of the day all i need to know is that seb clearly thought that what ferrari did was wrong, and thats all i need to know if he says so then i believe it!! -the way netflix is trying to tease like ~oh imagine all the different teams he could go to! who wouldnt want him~ is so cheeky but also i NEED to know what this was like live when yall didnt know where he was going i'm JEALOUS i wish i got to be there for it all to unfold -double ferrari dnf at monza must've been crazy to watch live too lmao -seb zigzagging through all the photographers on his bicycle. love him -seb announcing his new seat the same weekend as ferrari's 1000th is crazy ex girlfriend levels of unhinged (pos). like posting ultrasound pics the same day as your ex's wedding type of shit. no one does it like him -sorry im incapable of watching ferrari episodes without writing an essay. hope you enjoyed

ep5: -the great daniel/cyril divorce -i cant remember who said it or where i saw it but when i first got into f1 properly someone talked about how Different things might've been if there hadn't been covid--since the season was delayed, the contract was signed before reneault could have any races with daniel that year--so daniel could only make that decision based off 2019 races -the jump clearly did not work out for him but alpine also went to shit too. but if cyril hadn't left who knows. i think all of daniel's choices make sense honestly!!!! he just got very unlucky -anyway their dynamic is insane and they deserve soooo many more fic than they have!! -"it's probably a bit like being dumped by a girlfriend, but she hasn't moved out of the house yet." christian did eat with this one. unfortunately -i love cyril but him being the one to actually complain about the pink mercedes feels very..... my wife is divorcing me so i'm gonna sue my neighbors over the property line -"i hate those fucking pink cars" oh i need to gif that. i'll be watching and i'll just KNOW like yeah that needs to be in the next gifset -i cant believe i havent mentioned it yet renault colors are the BEST daniel has ever looked i miss having yellow n black on the grid. maybe thats why alpine went to shit they gave up the best color combo they could have

e7: -pierre redemption episode!!! i think this is one of the best episodes ever tbh. very cathartic movie plotline really ticks all the boxes -HI PATRICK -ok but the fact that dts NEVER covered alex's podiums w red bull after milking the shit out of his missed podiums is a hate crime to me personally -onboards going through eau rouge are scary af. -filled with rage at how christian horner chews up new drivers and spits them up (even though its all so predictable at this point. no one will ever live up to the golden boy) -i remember seeing people complain that the williams family leaving wasn't given focus in dts, if anyone has any fun video essays about that i'd love to watch! -i do take issue with will buxton saying "red bull can't admit they made a mistake (with alex)" i think red bull made a mistake with promoting ANYONE too early and expecting too much from them, but not in a pierre v alex way. neither of them were given enough time or support by red bull to flourish. and they lowkey admitted that recently lmao -but it /is/ cathartic to know that red bull have tried to get alex back since then and he doesn't need his toxic ex in his life anymore no thanks ✌️ -i just know i'll LOVE watching this race in full -they set up the suspense so well for the end of the race -and it really is. if carlos had won this race with mclaren, his first win, how different would the trajectory of his career been -ANYWAY theres something that just always gets me about men holding all their emotions in right until they cross the finish line and they finally allow themselves to feel the emotions. (recent example that made me SOB was theo when he won f2) i also love how much it clearly meant to the alphatauri guys in the garage. last time that happened was with seb for torro rosso yeah? so its clearly so so special

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

So I have a silly request, can I request the demon Bros who has an MC who just randomly puts up a good noodle board. Like there is no purpose to any of the stars on board and it's just a social experiment between MC and Solomon to see how the demons will react. I keep thinking of how funny it would be if MC went about a week just adding stars at random for no reason and one day taking two away from Lucifer with no explanation. Which makes them realize that they can now lose Stars. The bros get told that it's a social experiment after about a month of dealing with the good noodle board.

The Good Noodle Board (Demon Brother Headcanons)

“Hey, remember that one episode of spongebob? You know… the one?” Solomon asked over study break, and honestly… this man… this fucking man. If he wasn’t asking about Lucifer and how to get close to the demon he was asking shit like this. It didn’t make any sense, and it was so vague, it drove you nuts… but you were bored, so you decided to humor him.

“Ahhh, yes… I remember that one episode, out of 248… I remember the exact one that you’re talking about with no context or description. I know that one.” Was the sass necessary? Nope, absolutely not, but you couldn’t really be that way with the demon brothers because they knew how to sass you back twice as much, and you couldn’t possibly be that way with the angels because they wouldn’t understand it and their feelings were fragile. Solomon on the other hand was a little shit and his sass wasn’t even good so you could take it if he tried.

“Ha… funny. I mean the one with the noodle board, the Good Noodle Board.” Now it was ringing a bell, but it still made no sense why he was bringing it up, so you nodded to encourage him to keep going. There had to be some reason he was bringing this up. “Social experiment… see how the brothers would react to a Noodle Board. You gotta try it, a month tops, and tell me how it goes.” It wasn’t a bad idea, and it might be fun for everyone… or it could go horribly wrong… You’ll never know if you don’t try though.

You hung the Good Noodle Board right in the living room in the middle of the night, no explanation. They’ll just wake up to the noodle board, and that’s where the fun begins!

Lucifer

He is highly suspicious of the board. But right now he sees that everyone has the same amount of stars, so he doesn’t get it, but everything seems even, so it isn’t really a problem. Not yet at least. Things really started to get confusing when he came out of his office later in the day and saw two new stars next to his name. It was a good feeling because that meant he was ahead of everyone else… but why? How did he get those stars? What did he do? He said good morning to you this morning, and he remembered to eat something with his coffee, were those the reasons for the stars? This was more confusing than Lord Diavolos' out of order paperwork. “Oh! Y/N I caught you… the uh, Good Noodle Board… what is it? How does it work?” There was no fun in explaining it already, it wasn’t even day two at this point and he had racked up a bunch of stars. You didn’t know why he was worrying about it now, the real fun part hasn’t even come yet. You shrugged, smiling sheepishly at him before walking towards the stairs, waiting for him to go back into his office before running back out and sticking one more star next to his name. After two weeks came the fun part, taking away the stars. He yelled at Mammon for no apparent reason and made him sad… he got two stars taken away. He fell asleep at his desk overworking himself? One star is taken away, and after the experiment is over you’ll talk to him about that because it isn’t good. Every morning you wake up and see him fretting over this board, counting and recounting the stars just to make sure he’s not just seeing things and that his stars are going missing. “Y/N… The uhm… My stars seem to be going missing. Is there a reason for that? Do you think Mammon is stealing the stars? Hmm… Never mind. I’m not even worried about it. I have a meeting with Diavolo today. Goodbye.” Another star was taken away for accusing Mammon of things he didn’t do. To see Lucifer get so worked up over the board, you were sure Solomon would want to be there to experience it too. By the end of the month, Lucifer is frazzled and confused and thinking way too hard about all of it. You were kind of sad to end it, but seeing his face when you explained it to him made ending it all worth it.

“I-... Study break is for studying. Use it wisely, and stop letting Solomon put ideas in your head. If I may ask though… Why did I lose the stars?”

Mammon

The Good Noodle Board is awesome. He’s got so many stars right now, and he already knows you did it. You think he doesn’t get suspicious of why you’re not in your room and sneaks down to see what you’re doing? Not in a weird way, he’s just making sure you’re okay. But yeah, he totally watched you put up the board and everything. He tried to stay on his best behavior because, well… things like this usually meant there was incentive, and that could mean money at the end. You were onto that too though, and you were trying to keep things fair, which was already out the window when you found out that he already knew what the board was. “Ya know… I’ve been real good lately and… I don’t think the stars are showin’ how good I’ve been. Don’tcha think I should have more?” He pouted at you, and you could only laugh as you shook your head at him before walking away. He was going to ruin the experiment if he kept questioning you, so maybe you should just add a couple more to get him to shush, or at least to keep him from telling his brothers about it. It took a couple hours for him to get busy enough to not worry about the noodle board for a few minutes, just long enough for you to run back down to the living room and stick a couple more stickers next to his name. It was hard for him to stay good the whole time though. The experiment lasted a month, and it was amazing that he was able to be on his best behavior for even one whole week. By the second week he was back to his typical self. One by one you pulled stars off, and each time he’d come to you whining about how it wasn’t fair. “Ya all just wanna see me upset! That’s why yer takin’ my stars away! I don’t need the stupid Good Noodle Board anyway… I know I’m a good noodle!” He stormed out of the room, making sure to stomp loudly just to show how upset he is. So the social experiment went well, and when you finally told him what it was… He was torn between thinking it was funny or being upset because it was done at his expense, plus it meant that you hung out with Solomon which he didn’t like at all.

“Next time ya wanna do somethin’ like that come ta me instead! I don’t want ya hangin’ with Solomon anymore.”

Leviathan

The Good Noodle Board didn’t seem like it would be a problem, he stays in his room all the time anyway, it shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s banking on his stars staying consistent, there’s no way he could earn stars because he doesn’t leave his room, and he doesn’t like being in competition with his brothers, so it’s better if he just stays up in his room anyway. The board can’t affect him if he doesn’t think about it. The thing is, he was getting stars randomly… It didn’t make sense to him. He’d find a new star stuck next to his name when he came down for breakfast and dinner, and on the days that he didn’t skip RAD classes he’d have five more. The system was strange, it was like whoever was running the board, although he did assume it was you, they spotted his good behavior even when he wasn’t trying to be good. “Hey Y/N…” He stopped you after dinner, leading you into the living room to point at the board. “What’s uh… What’s up with this… Do you know anything about it?” It would have been easy to tell him, but there’s no fun in that. You shook your head, walking away and leaving Levi to stare at the board, questioning his newly placed stars. Taking the stars away was even more entertaining than putting them on. If he stayed up all night and raged and kept the rest of the house awake, he’d wake up to stars gone. If he skipped his RAD classes, his stars would be gone when he came back home. There wasn’t really anything else to take his stars away for, but once he noticed the stars were gone he started to panic. “Wh-Why are my stars disappearing? What’s going on? What did I do? H-How does Mammon have more stars than I do?!” That didn’t seem right to him, not at all. Mammon couldn’t possibly be doing better than him. He was going to sulk about it until his star count was at least above Mammon’s. Waking up at the end of the month and seeing you take the board down was probably the happiest he’s felt all month. He wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore, but also, now he knows 100% that it was you, and he’s got a lot of questions.

“S-So it was you… Why was Mammon doing better than me? How did you come up with it? Why is it called being a Good Noodle? Why did I lose stars? Please don’t do it ever again…”

Satan

He had walked right past it the day that it got put up, he didn’t even notice it at first. Lucifer was known to hang weird decorations in the living room, and most of the things that hung on the wall didn’t interest him, so clearly this new wall piece wouldn’t be a big deal to him either. His curiosity got the best of him though when he saw you looking at it. Now he was invested in the star board, checking it every single time he walked through the living room just to make sure he was ahead of Lucifer. That was the only thing that mattered to him now. Being ahead of Lucifer on the Noodle Board meant that he was essentially better than Lucifer, and that would mean he was winning. “You see that, Y/N… Lucifer is below me… It feels good. Whoever is running this board knows who the best brother is.” He was going to lose stars for that as soon as you started taking them away, but for now he was still receiving stars for helping you study and reading to you at night. Once the stars were taken away though, he had a lot of reasons for getting them taken. He didn’t straighten up his books and you constantly tripped over them whenever you visited him in his room. He was sassy as hell most of the time, and his constant berating of Lucifer was kind of irritating, especially since it was pretty well known that he hated the guy, he just felt the need to constantly say something about it. Stars were disappearing left and right from beside his name, and he couldn’t understand why, it was stressing him out way more than it should. “Lucifer is doing this! It’s because I was above him and he couldn’t handle it! Look how many stars I’ve lost! He’s jealous. He’s so jealous. That’s fine. I know I’m better than him.” This whole thing cracked you up. It was hysterical how mad he got. Finally explaining to him that you were the one who ran the board and that it was yours and Solomon's idea, he didn’t know if it was a relief or if it irritated him more.

“So this was… your idea… and Solomon’s…? Did you write a book report on our reactions? Did you have fun? Sure seems like you did. Glad you enjoyed it. Never again.”

Asmodeus

So when he first saw the Good Noodle Board, he initially thought that it meant… well… he thought that Noodle meant… dick, so it was really shocking that all of the brothers, including himself, had the same amount of stars, especially since he knew damn well that his noodle was the best. It wasn’t until he started getting stars after not doing anything sexual that he realized that the board wasn’t pertaining to having a good noodle, but being a good noodle, and that he as a whole is the noodle. It still wasn’t going to be hard for him though, he’s a good demon, he’s a sweetheart, he knows it. He didn’t have to do much to get stars either, he was just a happy guy who loved himself and everyone else. How could he not be raking in the stars with a personality like that? “Look at all those stars, Y/N! It’s not easy being a star, but whoever is running this board really understands that I’m the brightest star there is. They’re very smart.” He had no idea that stars could be taken away, apparently he assumed that stars were permanent once they went on the board. He couldn’t have been more wrong. He changed his outfit about 3 times a day, which meant that weekly laundry was way more than it should be and laundry detergent was going faster than food in the fridge when Beel was home. And some days… he’d wear certain lip glosses that stained every single glass that he drank out of, which wouldn’t really be a problem if you weren’t the one doing dishes and trying like hell to scrub those lip marks off. He didn’t lose a lot of stars for the last one, but every time you had to deal with it, he’d lose one star for the hours you scrubbed away at those glasses. “I think a couple of my stars fell off… which is weird because none of the other ones did. Do you think… do you think someone is taking my stars away? How could they do that? Hmph… And I thought they were smart. I guess not.” Finally telling him was like a weight off of his shoulders, he finally understood what the whole meaning of the board was and who was doing it. He became way more interested in it when he found out it was Solomon’s idea as well.

“So this whole thing was just an… experiment? And Solomon was in on it? I didn’t know you and Solomon hung out like that. Well, next time you do, tell me. I want to be in on your next idea.”

Beelzebub

He also, like Asmo, thought the Good Noodle Board meant something else, although his thought wasn’t anywhere near what Asmo thought. He just thought it meant how many good noodles the brothers had made, which is why he was unsure of why Belphie and… well… any of the other brothers had so many stars. Their noodle making skills were not very good. You didn’t want him to be in the dark, so without giving away too much information, you explained the meaning of the board. Earning stars was really easy for him, and you actually worried that he didn’t have enough space next to his name for all the stars that he got. He was just… a sweetheart, and he was always being good to everyone and he never got into trouble or did anything bad. You were running out of stars, but he was so happy to see how many stars he’d have at the end of the day, it was really sweet. “Look Y/N. Noodles are really good, and I guess I’m really good too. Cool, I’m like a really good noodle. Goodnight.” Taking away stars was almost as upsetting for you to do as it was for him to see. You knew he didn’t mean to be a bad noodle, but… He was eating the lunches that you packed for yourself and you were constantly running late to your classes because you’d have to repack your lunch and… Well he had to lose a star for that. He also kept leaving his gym bag in the middle of the main hallway when he came home and you’ve tripped over it several times. When he saw that his stars were able to be taken away he looked really upset, which kind of upset you. “Am I not a really good noodle? I wonder what I did… Y/N, do you know what I did? No… I’ll figure it out. I have to be a good noodle.” You were really relieved when it was finally over, for his sake. It was fun with all the others, but he was thinking too hard about it and you didn’t want him to have to worry about it anymore.

“Oh, so I’m still a good noodle? I did have more stars than anyone else… Do I ever get to know why I got the stars taken away though, because I still don’t want to be a bad noodle… Even if the board is gone.”

Belphegor

He didn’t come out of his room often enough to even notice the board was up. Beel actually had to tell him about it, and that was the only time he came downstairs wrapped in a blanket to look at the board. All he did was shrug though, he legitimately did not care about it at first. It was hard to give him stars because… he was never around? Can you give people stars for sleeping? You’d have to use the same system that you used for Levi. He came out of his room to eat meals with the rest of the house… he’d get a star. He actually showed up at his classes instead of “accidentally” sleeping through them? He’d get a couple more stars. When he’d come home he’d see the extra stars next to his name and shake his head, but you could tell he was confused as to why he was getting them. “I get stars for participating in things I don’t want to do? I don’t know if I actually want the stars… but somehow Mammon has a lot which is stupid, so I guess I’ll just keep doing whatever so I can be ahead of him… And Lucifer. Stupid Lucifer.” Taking away stars was a lot easier than you thought it would be. Sometimes when you’d try to wake him up in the morning to get to class he’d throw pillows at you until you went away, and he’d lose stars for that. Other times he’d willingly go to sleep in the middle of classes, or meal times even though you knew for a fact that he had a full night's sleep, he was just trying to be rude. He got stars taken away for those things… and many others. When he saw that most of the stars next to his name had been taken he was kind of pissed off. “So according to the Noodle Board… I’m worse than Mammon, and Lucifer. I call bullshit, this whole board is bullshit and I’m taking a nap.” He was very sassy and he generally avoided the board. He couldn’t have been happier when he saw that it was finally gone at the end of the month, and when you told him that it was yours and Solomon’s idea, he just laughed, so you didn’t really know what that meant.

“I knew it was you the whole time. Only you and Solomon could come up with an idea that would throw all of us off like that. I’d have enjoyed it if I wasn’t involved and I got to watch Lucifer suffer. But now I can finally sleep whenever and wherever I want, so, I’m glad it’s gone. Night.”

[coweye]

Guys My Age - PT.1

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Miller!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After four years away, you return home to realise that maybe everything you’ve been looking for was right in front of you all along.

Warnings: Mention of depression, Slow burn - no smut yet but it will eventually be horrifically filthy 18+ only pls gang, LEGAL Age Gap. 

Note: This bad bois been worming its way to the surface for a while now, hope you enjoy! 💕 I apologise in advance for the slow burn.

⇢MASTERLIST

Life was strange sometimes.

Here you were, back in the hometown you’d sworn never to return to after four years away, flanked by your older brother Benny. 

Two thirds of the Miller gang back together, reunited or at least you had been.

“I’ma get us a table, you order the drinks.” Ben muttered distractedly whilst scouting out potential tables.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be destitute, the least you could do is get the first round in.” The sad thing is, you’re only half joking. He rolled his eyes at your expense, before handing you his credit card and continued on his journey to get a table, presumably with a great view of the blonde woman he’d spotted upon entry to the bar. Benny was predictable if nothing else, it was part of his charm. 

So, you pushed your way forward through the throng of warm bodies, Friday night at Flanagans was a nightmare but you had agreed to be sociable as Santiago was in town, so you’d made the sacrifice and took a night off from your crushing depression to don a nice t-shirt and apply makeup for the first time in the two weeks since moving into Will’s back room.

You smiled what you hoped was a somewhat friendly lift of your lips at the bartender and ordered two beers, as you were waiting you heard the familiar call of Santiago Garcia - the man who you’d spent your teen years obsessed with. 

He was gorgeous inside and out, though your crush had morphed into something a lot more wholesome and you had a genuine platonic love for the man, as an extension of your brothers.

“How have you been, guapa? God, long time no see!” He all but cried, clearly already a couple of beers in as wrapped you in a strong hug, pulling you onto your tiptoes. He wasn’t lying, you hadn’t seen Santiago in two maybe three years ago now. 

Time had gotten away from you and your visits had become less and less frequent, especially with the boys being deployed, you couldn’t say you were happy to be back, but it was certainly nice to see them all again.

“I know, damn, you got old!” You chuckle as his face straightens out in feigned hurt. “Like fine wine, Santi, Fine wine!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop flirting, you two.” Will grumbles as he slides through the crowd to lean on the bar beside you, lifting three fingers up to the bartender who had already placed the pints of beer before you. 

“Where have you been?” You question raising an eyebrow “I’ve been back at least two weeks.”

“I’ve been in Australia for a little while, it's nothing serious but-”

“Pope’s got a girlfriend now, Squirt.” The low voice is a new one, but only one person used to call you that awful nickname. 

You turn to see Francisco Morales behind you, his eyes are older than the rest of him but still irrevocably kind and he has an easy smile painted on his lips. You can’t quite remember him being this handsome as your eyes drink him in, perhaps you’d been blinded by the effortless beauty of Santiago as a teen but my god, Catfish had almost floored you. 

“Frankie!” You smile - all teeth, trying somewhat successfully for an air of normalcy despite your brain processing the change that five years has had on your taste in men and pulling him in for his own hug. 

You tried to stop yourself, you honestly did but as you breathed in, the smell of him overtook you, the spicy scent of cinnamon and sweet vanilla; the man somehow smelled like a goddamn cupcake and you had the biggest sweet tooth. 

Locking your inner sex offender deep down inside a box so as to not assault the man you’d held in a hug for what was becoming longer than appropriate, you pulled away. 

“A girlfriend?” You question, your brain scrambling for something to talk about other than those brown eyes. You can’t help the smirk that sneaks its way across your lips as you tease the man before you. “Santiago Garcia, have you gone soft on me in your old age?”

He huffs as he grabs his beer. “Fuck off, baby Miller.” 

The three of you chortle in response to his defeated tone as he walks towards the table Ben has secured. Will grabs at his wallet, hand coming out to stop you in confusion when you hold out a card to pay. 

You shake your head and shrug. “Ben’s treat.” 

That kills any argument on his tongue as he picks up his drink and follows Santi’s lead. You can’t help but chuckle at your brothers, you had missed them both so much. 

You’re very quickly aware of Frankie lingering to your left, waiting for you to finish paying, ever the gentleman. 

You turn to him as the machine processes the transaction. 

“Your-”

“How-” You both chuckle, the two of you have always been the quiet ones of the group, more observant with witty one liners thrown in than the loud mouths currently chatting at your table. 

It seems years apart haven’t helped either of your awkwardness.

“You go…” You dismiss with a quick laugh when he waits for you to speak.

“I was just gonna say, it's nice to have you back!” He shrugged before gesturing to side of him “After you,” 

Frankie creates a barrier with his body for your fellow thirsty patrons who want your spot at the bar. You pick up yours and Bens drinks and turn to find the guys. 

Frankie’s hand finds your lower back as he guides you through, its innocuous enough, hell if you hadn’t been drooling over the man minutes before you wouldn’t have given it so much as a second thought, but that palm guarding you from the brunt of the crowd was like molten lava slowly burning your flesh. 

“W-Well, it’s good to be back! I’m not going anywhere in a hurry!” You pretty much shout over the deafening ambient chatter around you. His low voice is in your ear when he replies, you force yourself not to close the distance and push your spine into his chest, Frankie isn’t like that; Hell, he has a girlfriend and baby at home.

He’s just being friendly - he’s known you since you were seventeen. 

“You miss your friends back home?”

“They’re not my friends. None of those assholes let me sleep on their goddamn sofas.” Trying to break the tension only you seemed to be feeling with a joke, it seems to work as he chortles.

“Well you’re more than welcome to my sofa if Will ever gets too much, Squirt.” You couldn’t explain the things that this man saying the word squirt to you was doing. No matter the context, even if it was because you squirted slurpee from your nose when laughing too hard when you were a teenager. 

“I may hold you to that - he bit my head off the other day because I didn’t wash a glass the second I used it, I swear-” You’re cut off when you find the booth rather quickly, the raucous laughter from the rangers acting as a siren call.  You slide in beside Ben and turn to your other brother “-I was just telling Frankie, how much of a control freak you are.”

And because God hates you, Francisco slides in beside you. 

…

You were a grown woman and you had a ridiculous infatuation.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying either, after sitting in that bar you had made an effort to block out the sensation of his thigh against your own or when he leaned back against the plush fabric and wrapped his arm around the back of the booth.

But so help you god you were only human, you couldn’t help but laugh a little harder at his jokes than the others or the warmth that flooded your belly when you’d meet his eyes as you told a story and find his chocolate orbs transfixed on you as if you were telling a great tale - rather than an anecdote about how you dislocated your tailbone last year when you were drunk on some stairs.

It wasn’t even as if it was just his looks - though you were big enough to admit that initially that had been a large part of it.  It was the ease you felt around him, the kindness you could see clear as day painted on his face. 

Though you knew, deep down in your toxic heart of hearts, buried beneath your daddy issues and depression, this deep desire was because he wasn’t all that interested. 

It wasn’t as if he ignored you, no. He was friendly, but he had no interest in you besides just that, being a friend. 

He had a baby and a girlfriend and you weren’t a home wrecker.

He was your brother's best friend, an extension of your family. 

These were all things you reminded yourself about as you lay in bed alone staring up at the ceiling the morning after.

You could just be his friend, right?

⇢ Next Part

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

---------------------------

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

---------------------------

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte’s 4th Birthday Story Event: Before the Clock Strikes Midnight

REEEEEEEE Ik it was a long time ago but life has been a [redacted], so I figured better late than never HAHA

So without further ado, anybody who’s curious feel free to click for more--I’ll put it under a cut for spoilers as per usual~

So in this story it’s the usual, a few days before his birthday, and they’re discussing a bump in the road. Essentially, it appears a friend of Comte’s is going to be celebrating a wedding, and as such he’s going into the suburbs/affluent part of the region to be able to attend. It’s only a few hours away from the mansion, but he will be gone for a few days with the arrangements made for his stay. 

While this wouldn’t typically be an issue, MC has some things to take care of and opts out of attending with him (preparing for his bday probably LMAO) and Comte is immediately big sad. My favorite dramatic fool is already pouting, though he fully accepts and respects her decision. Besides which, he fully intends to be back in time to celebrate his birthday as well. He notes that he’s always admired how driven and independent she is, and has no intention of getting in the way of that. He’s just going to miss her, is all.

He says as much, figuring there’s no point in hiding it: “I really wanted to bring you with me to attend…but I suppose it simply can’t be helped” … “That’s not it…I guess I’m just wondering if you’ll miss me as much as I’ll miss you while I’m away.” 

And MC’s just like “Aw, it’s okay it’ll only be a few days.” While Comte’s response is a very mature, high-pitched whining sound at a frequency only King (Theo’s dog) and Theo himself can hear. When MC tries to reassure him once more, his Hamlet impression continues: “Even the prospect of a few days away from you feels unbearable.” 

Naturally, as any man do that loves his wife, he draws her close and proceeds to bang the living daylights out of her. I would offer details, but I have no deets to give beyond: [Well MC, it appears I won’t be letting you get much sleep tonight.] 

Brief intermission for the vague sounds of fangirl cardiac arrest. 

The scene opens again to him doing his walk of shame (the slut) down the walkway and into the carriage that will take him to his friend’s house. His thoughts carry the regret of burdening her with his desire, though MC is pretty much on cloud nine and unable to stop thinking about the heady night they shared in a good way. Bruh and the sly look when he figures out why she looks like that--I’m boutta call the police, he is going to make women and men alike act up. 

MC scrambles to cool his already returning desire by insisting he will be late if he indulges any further, and he laughs and agrees easily–albeit with the slightest hint of reluctance. My favorite part in this exchange is that he kisses her forehead, adding that it’s because she’s the most adorable person in the world to him (a moment of silence for our uwus). 

Fast forward to Comte trying to get home after the festivities are over. Problem is, it’s been raining like a mOTHERBLEEPER, and as such carriages have no safe way to traverse the roads at the moment. He waited out the first day as patiently as possible, but after the second–and no sign of stopping–his Leeroy Jenkins instincts kick in. He notes to the coachman that he’s aware he’s asking a lot, but they fully intend to take the long way which invites the least risk–and the rain is ebbing, even if the progress is slow. 

It’s interesting because there’s another echo of his main story in this moment. He essentially showcases a desperation to return before the day ends, though without context it’ll probably seem a little strange, so I’ll do my best to explain. Basically, in his main story, MC notes that she doesn’t really care how different they are. Different time, different species, different experiences, so on and so forth. She hammers home that what matters is that the present is something that they actively share. It’s theirs. And no amount of divisions he desperately tries to draw will change that fundamental reality. 

And it’s a little moving to see how deeply he takes it to heart? I think it’s one of those wonderful phenomena, personally–the way a person can influence how you think and act with their sentiments. Sometimes someone says precisely what it is we need to hear, and it changes us–while it can be for the worse, it can also be for the better. He notes that he spent so many birthdays; among the people serving his house when he was little, raising hell with his friends in his younger days, so on and so forth. Not unlike Leonardo, he says that after so many “special” days the faces become a blur, the festivities lose their luster. It’s just another day, at this point. 

Note, one interesting thing here that stands out to me is that I feel like this is a reflection of both of their larger struggles. Where Comte can’t stand the relentless flow of time rendering him the only constant (and something of a ghost, never fully present), Leonardo can’t bear birthdays because it means remembering people who still mean the world to him, but are long gone. People he can never see again, never laugh with again, never share his life with again. And I think that’s a very profound pain, an anguish that just keeps on settling its weight. (Oh, Sisyphus…)

Comte’s is similar, but different. He actively works to keep his distance-- unlike Leonardo, he approaches immortality in the pragmatic way. He knows getting close will hurt, so he opts out of that–keeps a step behind, an easy smile on his face. Betrays only fragments to anyone, always has his guard up. But the downside of being so guarded means you eventually feel hollowed out and alone; nobody truly knows or understands you. There is a distinct loneliness in that approach, where memories only become reminders of how nothing ever improves and how bereft you are of warmth. 

Leonardo, at least, gets to have the joy of being known from time to time. But loss and estrangement from those people means double the pain in the long run, because he loved them fully. Comte chooses to live in the cold to protect himself, but ends up in a kind of catch-22; the cost of forgoing loss means a constant deadening of his own feelings. It means living in a kind of fog, where there is a distinct discomfort in the silent obscurity of your own heart. 

There’s something I’ve come to believe in my short course of living, so I guess I still need time to determine how true it is. But…I feel like, when people live this way, where who they are is a lie or it’s at the very least carefully concealed, we in part start to become that lie. I think it’s fascinating because Comte seems to have so much personality to him. He’s dramatic, he’s thoughtful, he has a sense of mischief about him, he has strong ideals, and he has an even more ironclad moral grounding. And yet, when he talks about himself, he always uses descriptions that hinge on emptiness. Like he’s worth so little, worth nothing. And that’s what I mean–he’s been trying so hard to glide on the surface that he has come to believe he really is equivalent to something that ephemeral. Like there’s nothing more inside him, or if there is, that it will never be worthy of much. I think it really speaks to the ways behavior impacts the psyche, even though the opposite tends to be considered the only possible cause and effect relationship. 

He’s so determined to live for and in the future while he’s in the present, that he forgets to enjoy himself and really live. And while that approach is certainly understandable, I do think he loses parts of himself along the way. Only to be rediscovered and placed back into his hands by MC: [Today–this moment–our now, I don’t want to miss it for anything.] And that's not even touching on how quick she is to make them a we; she's not letting him keep that distance. It’s not “you have the ability to share this day with me” it’s “we’re here and in this together.”

I feel like what I love about this is that it’s not only about how sweet he is on MC, but also about how much he’s truly living again for the first time. His defenses are slowly inching their way down, he’s letting himself hope and want things and look forward to things again. The thing about being a responsible person is that–while responsibility is all well and good–sometimes you become so mired in doing the right thing and planning the most optimal outcomes that you just aren’t thinking of yourself anymore. That is, if you ever were to begin with. He went from the careful cultivation of a life as an aristocrat, to a life that spoke of more freedom and fun beyond those iron wrought gates, before he returned to the structure of what he knew. Freedom speaks to him I’m sure–we all need it in some measure to survive. But I do think a good portion of that was unfulfilling for him after a point. It was only feeding the void that was beginning to form inside him. He was instinctively retreating into himself to avoid pain, and in doing that the only result was feeling like a coward and a fake. He wasn’t happy, he wasn’t able to be himself, and nothing was fulfilling–every single day just another forward march. 

I think it comes as no surprise he took up Vlad’s initial invitation so willingly. 

But then I digress, back to the story. There’s another timeskip and it finds him racing down the hall of the mansion. He’s hoping to make it in time but knows he’s racing against the clock, and fully expects MC to be asleep by this point in the night. Midway along his path he thinks he spots MC and falters in his step, blinking. He decides to hang back, watching the figure enter his room with a great deal of curiosity and resists every urge to burst in after her. He hears MC speak into his pillow, her voice muffled but clearly despondent: “I miss you, Comte. I hope you get back home soon…” 

Comte pretty much dies right there. I literally have no better explanation for it. He freezes, his heart sputters and stops. He’s just completely taken aback. 

And then, naturally, he goes about feral with desire as is his modus operandi: “Oho, I heard something incredibly cute just now. Were you also having a hard time spending so long apart?”

MC: “…!”

[Startled, she turns around and her eyes widen and widen.]

MC: “Comte, how...”

Comte: “Took a detour in areas with less rain.”

MC: “?? Wouldn’t that still be hard in weather like this?”

Comte: “I told the coachman I wanted to see you as soon as possible. Even if it was only for a second, I wanted to spend today with you…”

[Everything I was thinking while in the carriage spills out of me long before I can help it. I am reminded again of just how utterly irreplaceable an existence MC is in my life.]

Comte: “Even so, it seems interesting that I would find you in my bed”

MC: “...! A--Ah, I’m so sorry for entering without permission!”

[I quickly grab hold of her before she can scramble out of my bed, coaxing her to sink back into the sheets.]

In between a lot of intense making out and [redacted], the larger overtone is that her reciprocated ardor just destroys him inside:

MC: “It was...because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about wanting to see you…”

Comte: “!”

[You know just how to drive me mad with desire.]

Comte: “I’m the same...the first thing I did was look for you. Even though it was only a few days, your voice, your body, everything...I missed you”

[Because today, our ‘now’--I never want to lose a single moment with you as long as you’re by my side...]

Comte: “I’m so happy to be able to be with you, right here and right now.”

It gets funny too because Comte is trying to take it slow, but when she tells him “Happy birthday” and goes on to say she was so glad to greet the day he was brought into the world by his side, he just loses all control LMFAO. It ends with them getting more heated and [redacted], to the point where he doesn’t even hear the clock strike midnight. 

And if him being the cutest and sexiest romantic wasn’t obvious enough, he spends the next morning just sighing blissfully with her in his arms:

[The next morning, when I wake up, MC is still fast asleep. I mean, given she only fell asleep a few hours ago. I’m still reveling in the afterglow of a sweet night filled with her cries, the way she looked at me and held me. MC...]

[I relax to the sound of her breathing steady with sleep, stroking gently at her hair as I hug her from behind.]

Comte: “I’ve had countless birthdays. In an endless life, I was convinced it was just a day that would come and go every time.”

Comte: “It was only after meeting you that I could understand there was no such thing as an overlapping or identical moment. I don’t want to miss a single second by your side...that’s what I think now.”

[I admit the truth of my heart, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Over and over and over again, showering her in my affection--]

But dun dun dun!!! MC was awake the whole time, so when she fidgets a little at how ticklish his kisses are, he 👁

[Oh, I see. Well then, two can play at that game...]

Comte: “Your punishment is to stay in my arms just as we are...how’s that?”

He gets his mischievous (and hilarious) revenge for being revealed (HORNY TIME), though it’s so suffused with love it’s hard to call it revenge hahaha. She reminds him to go easy on her because they have his birthday party to attend later, and he agrees~

Honestly after such killer hurt/comfort spice fluff, I can only tremble at the thought of what his 5th year bday story will be

It’s either going to be Some Angst^TM or even more killer fluff, and either way that means my days are numbered

[etheriadearie]

“Promise”

Why can't you just… Promise ?

Today's goal is an in-depth look at one of the most beautiful and breathtaking episodes of She-ra: "Promise"

Storywise, it's incredibly important to the series, and focuses entirely on Catradora. It's the first time since Adora left Catra behind to seek out the sword that the girls really have an opportunity to talk, and things are not going well. Both of them are royally pissed off at the other, with good reason.

For Adora, we're gonna deflate that proud hair poof of hers a bit, as we'll take an honest look at her as a person at this point in her life. And Catra... she's really guarding her feelings closely, as she's already deeply angry with Adora. But we will use the combination of Catra's younger self in the memories they see, plus looking at other times in the series that relate to this episode, where she was less guarded, in order to understand her as a person at this time. Also: warning: tl;dr, best enjoyed while cozy with a drink..

To get started, we skip to when they end up stuck together…

After Adora takes drastic measures to ward off the security spiders by collapsing the tunnel, the girls are now stuck together, and so… they talk...

We immediately see how incredibly irritated they are with each other as Adora chides Catra for being in the Crystal Castle, since the monsters will continue to attack them as long as she's protecting Catra… only to have Catra retort that she didn't ask for protection. Some snippy bickering back and forth happens, then...

Adora asks: "Does Shadow Weaver know you're here?" Very deadpan assertion from Adora. She knows Catra must be disobeying orders, she just doesn't know why.

"I'd say Shadow Weaver has bigger problems right now". Catra is already starting her move against SW back at the Horde. With SW abusively blocking her every move within the Horde, and now that Catra knows that SW was going to mind wipe Adora, Catra has decided she must deal with her abuser.

Adora puts on her telltale sideways grin, and Catra chafes at Adora's flirtation, saying "I told you it's not because I like you” downplaying Adora’s suggestion that this was the reason she let her go. Catra freely admits here that she does like Adora, but it's not the real reason she did it. Still, Catra doesn't explain further, and we see later that Catra often lets Adora explain away her actions this way... but that Adora constantly misses the deeper truths.

"Where are your new best friends? I thought you did everything together". She's very snarky and dismissive of Adora and her flirting. She's mad about Adora leaving her for her new life.

"The ones you let SW imprison and curse?" Adora is angry at Catra for what she did, which was a sudden escalation of things by Catra.

"Yeah obviously, what other friends would I be talking about?" An obvious dig at Adora for leaving her, everything behind. She deadpans this, staring back plainly. Catra is obviously really angry at Adora... while Adora is legitimately mad at Catra for doing something so nasty to Bow and Glimmer...

::Let's take a moment to talk about Catra's feelings about Adora's new friends: Catra feels horribly betrayed by this. Adora completely tossed her aside, and replaced her with Bow and Glimmer. What comes to mind is at the end of Sea Gate, Catra is thrown in the water and then looks up at Adora, who is celebrating and cuddling with Bow and Glimmer. Catra is emotionally forlorn watching this, as Scorpia comes to drag her off to safety, Adora doesn't even look back towards her.

She's forgotten, Adora showed no love towards her at all in that scene (and then hardly any at Princess Prom, either). Adora ignored her plea for her to return, she didn't reach out to Catra at all. And now she watches her cuddle with her new friends: everything Catra thought she had with Adora meant nothing, and she's been replaced with these feel goodie goods who are fawning all over Adora.

Suffice to say, Catra couldn't do this, she's got way too many issues with emotional intimacy and touch aversion. So she watches Adora, seeing that what she offered her wasn't good enough, knowing because of it she's forgotten. Catra was trying really hard to be a close friend to Adora in spite of her issues, but as we will see, Adora wasn't trying to understand what was going on with Catra. And because of this, Catra was too afraid to express her affection openly, and yet here's Adora... accepting all of Bow and Glimmer’s love, for which Adora really did nothing to earn. Adora took Catra’s friendship for granted while ignoring her deeper needs, as will be explained, then completely abandons her, not even seeming to miss her. Catra is deeply hurt by the unfairness of this.

>Catra stares back at Adora, frustrated when she doesn't even acknowledge their lost friendship.

"Well, we don't need to go together. You do your weird little magic quest thing I'll find my own way out". Catra looks resentfully at the sword on Adora's back as she says this. Catra is laying down boundaries, except it's useless since they are trapped together. But, boundaries are important to Catra and as the episode progresses, Adora shows that she doesn't really understand Catra's.

>As they walk along, both girls' shadows loom equally tall. The symbolism is that in this story, both are equally important... it's also a shockingly beautiful sequence. (pic above)

After entering the room of infinite darkness, Catra tries to separate from Adora but the door is gone, they are stuck together. Weird things start happening. As the Fright Zone appears, both of them are confused. Adora decides to suspect Catra, after all, she attacked her friends. But as Adora grabs Catra, Catra is surprised and confused... Catra doesn't like being touched unexpectedly, Adora knows this but is ignoring that and attacking her. She gets treated as an enemy when she clearly hasn't done anything wrong, and it sets the tone for the two of them: Adora has constantly treated Catra as an enemy since the very moment she defected, not even trying to understand Catra's point of view. And so Catra increasingly emotionally distances herself from Adora. Catra angrily casts Adora's arm aside, not liking being vilified by her, and Adora doesn't understand why Catra is so upset. Catra slips away to explore, needing space from her.

The way Adora immediately suspects and then attacks Catra is symbolic to the whole episode: by defecting to the Rebellion, Adora chose to start treating Catra, and her entire unit, as enemies, backing it up with hostility. But Catra doesn't really agree that the horde is evil... in her experience, it's just how life is.

>The two girls, now separated, call out to each other. Adora hears Catra's call, then another: young Catra is behind her, looking lost and insecure. Catra joins Adora as their first memory has just begun…

~DISCLAIMER TIME~ A lot of information in She-ra is inferred by emotional context, so if this seems a bit head-canon-y, I assure you, I have data! Please ask questions and seek clarifications, I promise to answer back! ~EtheriaDearie

>A worried and hurt young Catra runs to young Adora's side. She is emotional and needs support. Adora checks her out then gets the real deal: Catra was in a fight with an adult. It hints that Catra always had to deal with people messing with her, even before SW began her abuse. This is a guess, but it's probable: this is likely a happy memory of the two of them right before the hurting began. Along with the "promise" memory and the moments immediately preceding their entering the Black Garnet chamber, these scenes set the baseline for what their friendship was like before Catra suffered SW’s abuse. Also, this memory is a happy one, and how Adora remembers their friendship: it was likely triggered by her memories. The next ones are not, as I believe they are triggered by Catra, who is trying to explain to Adora what was so painful about their childhood...

>Catra doesn't know what to expect when she shows Octavia to Adora. She probably expects Adora to try to apologize on her behalf, or to give her a hard time about what she did. Instead, Adora sticks with her friend and yells “Hey Octavia, you're a dumbface." This brings young Catra much joy, Adora is sticking with her, not passing judgement. The two young girls run together hand in hand, experiencing childhood bliss, but it doesn't last. The present versions of themselves return, holding hands...

They share a brief moment of connection before Catra pulls her hand away in anger. Adora is surprised at the strength of Catra’s reaction. They are not on intimate terms any more, in fact, I suspect they had been struggling for a while before Adora's defection. Adora doesn't want the moment to stop, but Catra does. It hints that the gulf between them is already wide.

"How can you deal with all this magic stuff?" Catra has a deep distrust of magic, as it was used in her abuse. She resents it, and throughout the series whenever anything magic happens that she doesn't see coming she gets creeped out.

"I'm only dealing with it because I need to figure out how to heal Glimmer after someone got her cursed." It's a valid criticism, but Catra deflects it.

"What do you want? An apology? You're not getting one." We don't get the full story on this moment until season 5 when a young Catra tells Adora she'll "never say sorry to anybody, ever." Adora doesn't like Catra just refusing to explain, and as Catra pushes her away, Catra is full of reproach at Adora's judgement.

::As an abused child, Catra was continuously vilified and abused by everyone but Adora. And when Adora would suggest she apologize throughout their lives, she can't understand why Catra won't. It comes down to literally everyone in the world judging Catra and being cruel. Not once did any of them apologize to her, even though she didn't do anything to deserve the abuse. Except Adora... but that has issues, too. In fact, SW literally tells her "I won't apologize" regarding her abuse of Catra. Can you imagine the hurt at that?

[pic caption: Catra refuses to apologize, Catra often shows her deeper emotions while blinking, in this case: the incredible pain she experienced from SW’s abuse.]

So no, Catra won't apologize, she had a thing she was trying to do by kidnapping Bow and Glimmer and taking her sword, and it ended badly. But she felt she had a good reason to do it: she wanted to force Adora to see her, to make her acknowledge how big of a part of Adora’s life Catra used to be. And it's not like anyone has been helping Catra, she's had to make every single decision on her own her entire life and live with the consequences.

Also, mistakes for Catra have an entirely different meaning than they do for Adora. Whenever Adora made a mistake, she was given an opportunity to fix it. This is a theme of their relationship: Adora expects Catra to let her fix her mistakes. But for Catra, she learned that any mistake she made was dangerous, as when she did make a mistake, SW would torture her for it. And if other people saw it too, they'd use it to perpetuate the notion that she's some kind of no good fuck up. So Catra is extremely careful to not make mistakes, and if she does, she tries to cover it up, distance herself from it. (note: this isn't the same as Catra's intentional rebellions against this system where she was unfairly targeted for abuse-). This is why Catra simply cannot forgive Adora easily for breaking her promise: in Catra's world, she had to be perfect, or she could have been dead by SW's hand. She wasn't allowed to make mistakes like Adora is, she is what is clinically known as 'hyper vigilant' and always preparing for the worst. And so she applies this standard to be perfect all the time to Adora, and therefore she won't give Adora the same license to make mistakes with their friendship. Catra thinks Adora should know better, and see the consequences of her actions.

>Adora lets it go: when Catra seems to shut down, Adora does her best to try to accept her. Adora tries a different track. She asks Catra why she let her and Glimmer go when SW had them imprisoned, when it could have resulted in Catra getting in trouble. Catra walks ahead, trying to distance herself from having to answer. But the magic of the Crystal Castle intervenes: as Adora slips and begins to fall, Catra saves her. It's a symbolic moment: Catra has always tried to protect Adora, to save her from pain. It's why she changed course to give the sword back to her, partly.

"Did you really think I'd just let SW erase your memory like that?"

"I don't know. Probably." Adora shows such little understanding of their friendship. It shows Adora really is thinking of Catra as an enemy, not as the complicated person stuck between protecting her friend, and the cruel necessities of her life.

Catra looks at Adora with disappointment. "Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me." Adora tries to understand Catra's emotions, fails.

"Huh, can you blame me?" Ouch. Adora smiles at Catra, trying to show love for her roguish quirks. But it just shows how little Adora understands: she is repeating a negative stereotype of Catra that everyone in their old life believes and perpetuates. And Adora should know better, instead of just assuming the worst about her. That persona is one which Catra uses to protect herself, partly from her own emotional feelings, but also as a necessity to protect herself from SW. She had to act like she doesn't care, doesn't try, so SW wouldn't see her power.

"Psh, not really." As Catra turns away, again she deadpans this but you can see pain and disappointment leaking past her indifference.

As she walks away she trails her tail across Adora's hand, flirting and drawing Adora's attention to her butt. It's a cute little moment of telling a truth to counter the lie: 'Adora, you should know me better, and also, I like you.' Still, it's only a half truth: Catra couldn't let SW win because SW is Catra's true enemy. But, Adora takes the flirtatious hint, as always. She accepts it and doesn't dig deeper.

Catra asks Adora about their childhood, trying to understand how Adora could just throw it all away. Adora gives a very direct and impassioned speech, she looks Catra in the eyes, trying to convince her and make her understand why leaving was the right thing to do. Catra hides her emotions, weighing Adora's answer. She doesn't agree with her sentiment, in Catra's experience good and evil are relative and exist as such everywhere. Also, she's right: we meet many people in the Horde who aren't evil. And Adora's finding the sword is one giant sinister manipulation by Light Hope. Moral grayness is a constant theme in this show. Still, this isn't really why Catra chooses to stay with the Horde.

Adora sees her explanation failing to convince Catra, so she tries reminding Catra of their deeper friendship, telling her she misses her too. Catra is temporarily taken aback at being called out before remembering to deny it. She tells Adora to get over herself, and Adora tells her she won't stop until Catra says she likes her. They flirtatiously rough house, and Catra smiles during it: yeah, she does. But she denies it anyways.

::Adora often tries to be respectful of Catra's personal space but is making an exception here: she's telling her that she finds her desirable, and if Catra wanted it, they could be together. Adora can't understand why Catra feels the need to resist this, but she knows doing it helps her friend feel wanted. Still, this shows how casually Adora views their attraction.

Yes, they should be together. And actually, they had an unspoken agreement that they would be. But Catra's not going to open herself up to that just to serve her desire. She wants more from Adora, for Adora to show her that she really does see her, and cares about her. If she did, maybe Catra could open up about some of her pain. Being intimate without doing that would be impossible, and so far Catra's life still isn't safe enough to risk her feelings. Adora's promotion could have meant the beginning of something new between them, where they worked together to build a more secure future together where Catra didn't have to be fearful all the time. But instead, Adora left her.

So begins the second memory. The two girls, now teenagers, compete against each other in sparring. It's clear they are flirting, and neither is fighting all out. When Catra taunts Adora by putting her finger to her forehead, she shows how much better she is at fighting. She full heartedly laughs, Adora enjoys this and then throws a purposefully weak strike to restart the fight. When Adora seemingly turns the tables through brute force, Catra plays hurt to exploit Adora's naiveness. As Adora tries to show concern, Catra turns the tables back. She wants to teach Adora a lesson: that not everyone will play fair, as Catra knows all too well from SW's abuse. But Lonnie interrupts her. Catra doesn't appreciate this and makes quick work of Lonnie, showing just how good she is. Adora attacks, getting the predetermined win. Catra doesn't enjoy the beat down but accepts Adora's help up. She heads to Lonnie as Adora receives compliments from their commander.

As Catra confronts Lonnie, she tells Catra "you were playing dirty, I was just leveling the field". Catra will hear these words again when she leaves Adora behind in frustration near the end of the episode. They are significant: these are stereotypical views forced on Catra, and those views ignore that Catra was just doing something she felt was important: teaching Adora about the harsh realities that exist in the world. Real enemies don't play by the rules, and will be unpredictable.

As Catra’s anger rises at this, Adora puts her hand on Catra's shoulder to calm her down, then compliments Catra on her fighting skills. Catra ever so casually tosses the comforting hand aside. She's saying 'I can handle my emotions without your help, but thanks for asking.' As she tells Adora she let her win, Adora tries to tell if Catra really is ok.

Thus starts one of cutest exchanges between the two of them: as Catra tries to explain why she lets Adora win, Adora puts on her sideways 'you like me' grin while she playfully denies that Catra let her win. Catra gives a very animated and obviously made up explanation about not wanting to have people expect things from her. Adora grins along, and halfway through her lie Catra leans in, staring at Adora's lips before looking up into her eyes. Once again, Catra is undoing a lie by telling a truth: she let her win because she likes (loves) her. But it's only a half truth, once again...

Adora accepts the explanation, keeping her sideways grin: 'it's so cute how you like me'. Catra's explanation done, Adora moves on, wanting to catch up with their unit. Catra lets her do so while excusing herself. As Adora leaves, a huge amount of meaningful information passes across Catra's face…

First, Catra feels bad about having to lie to Adora, and it shows. Then, as Adora leaves to socialize, disappointment and rejection shows: Catra had hoped Adora might look deeper, and try to see the deeper truth. As Adora turns away and leaves we see a look of total love and adoration on Catra's face. She really, really loves Adora. She's the light of her life, a real idiot no doubt but Catra will always love her for exactly who she is.

The girls remain their younger selves as the rest of the memory plays out, Adora staying to accept praise while Catra separates to deal with her internal feelings which Adora always fails to see: the hurt and aloneness she feels.

>A frustrated young Catra cries, expressing her repressed emotions. It would be easiest to assume she cries because she's sad about losing, but we have to look ahead to the next memory to find the real truth.

Catra is sad because she never had a choice. SW took that choice from her, and while Catra is happy to let Adora win because of the love she feels for her, it hurts that she never really got to decide. And Adora doesn't see that, doesn't see the pain Catra is bearing, hiding. And so she cries for that, too. The one person who should love her doesn't really see her. As she looks up in the mirror to see herself, since no one else in her life seems to see her pain, she sees her present tearful self looking back. The pain of the past is real in the present, and while she's older now and won't let herself give in to tears, she feels the pain as she did back then. (pic 1, below) She sees the tears and it snaps her back to her present self, totally unnerved by the simulation as the security detects her and attacks. A fearful Catra screams, wanting help, wanting Adora.

>Adora snaps back to herself, having been participating in the replay of the memory post Catra excusing herself. She tries to run to help Catra, full of worry. She sees a terrified Catra trapped by the spider. As the spider begins to drag her away the two girls lock arms, trying to free Catra. But it's too strong, and as we see their grip start to slip, Catra looks to Adora wanting, pleading for help. As Catra is pulled away, Adora feels helpless, knowing she couldn't help her friend. She thumps her head in frustration that she wasn't there for Catra.

The scene speaks to an obvious truth: Adora has never quite been there enough for Catra. She's always less present, less aware of Catra's reality than she could have been. But since Catra was experiencing a painful memory when this happened, her reaction shows her vulnerable emotional state, and so she called out for help: Catra just wants to feel safe, for Adora to be there to help her. But she wasn't.

>As Catra is dragged away, she feels helpless, and calls out mournfully for Adora. But she's long gone; Catra is alone and scared, as usual. She screams out her frustration, the realization that she’s never gotten the help she needed, she always ends up alone. She cries tears for the suffering and anguish she feels from that. (pic 2, below) It’s a moment that shows us the real inner Catra: She feels deeply, whether it be her desire to be seen, loved by Adora, or the fear she feels in this moment and others. She tries her best to act confident in herself, but it's a lie: she needs support, yet is left behind by everyone, including Adora. She was willing to bear her pain for Adora's love, but she has become increasingly aware of how tenuous that really was growing up.

>Catra digs deep, like she's always done. She will handle this, won't take the abuse lying down. She shifts her mentality to being the survivor, the person who has survived years of abuse. She frees herself and gets to her feet, accessing her foe, determined to defeat it. She attacks, using her anger to deal damaging blows, seeking to destroy her enemy, to make sure she survives. She stands back, confident she's won, proud of herself for it. She doesn't quit, she always perseveres against those who want to destroy her. (pic 3)

Adora shows up, finishing the monster. Catra doesn't drop her mentality, this person who has lived a separate life from Adora and survived on her own, doing the hard things like winning fights and resisting Shadow Weaver's abuse.

Adora walks forward, seeing Catra's anger, determination. She looks blankly, trying not to upset Catra. She's trying to get a read on Catra but not having any luck, so she's being cautious. She asks if Catra is ok, casually pulling webbing off Catra's shoulder, trying to exist in her physical space without upsetting Catra further. "I had it" says Catra, not dropping her fighter stance, mentality at all. Catra is very much feeling the aloneness of her life from everyone, including Adora.

Adora tries to casually put aside Catra's assertion that she had it, she smiles diplomatically. She tries again to touch Catra, to break down her animosity and get her to calm down. It doesn't work. "We need to make sure we stick together from now on." As Adora touches Catra, she tenses, uncomfortable. Catra has strong touch aversion, and Adora knows this but she also knows doing it sometimes helps Catra shift her mentality, so she's trying to get Catra to connect emotionally, to get her to accept care.

"Will you stop telling me what to do?" An exasperated Catra says. We see a look of total dismay cross Adora's face. She's not understanding why Catra has so much animosity in this moment. (pic below)

As Adora looks at Catra, she hunches her body, looking misunderstood and isolated. Adora has consistently failed to see Catra's emotional states and so Catra is feeling more and more apart; that the mentality of the survivor she's feeling now is the right one. Adora didn't really help her at all growing up, and she doesn't see her for who she really is, either. Adora always took the easy explanation, like saying that Catra did things for her because she liked her. Never looking deeper, trying to see her struggle. And so Catra doesn't drop her combative pose, she stays in it because she feels in control, less vulnerable.

As for the words "stop telling me what to do", that's an essay in itself but consider: just now Adora became frustrated when she lost Catra, and now tells her they need to stay together. But they didn't, they never did, and even when they are together Adora is no real help to Catra. So she reacts in anger to Adora trying to direct her. After all, in the next scene we will see that Adora leads Catra into danger, and then doesn't really help her as she gets abused. Adora is no great leader, not according to Catra's experience.

::Adora is having a total loss, here, as she tries to understand Catra, why she's angry at her: It's because she has never really known this 'survivor' side of Catra. Adora wants to comfort her and calm her down, but Catra isn't having it. I think this is when we first see Adora begin to realize that there is something is very wrong with her friend that she has completely failed to see, and she's deeply worried by it. (pic 2)

[pic cation: Adora can't read Catra's emotions, Adora realizes Catra is deeply angry. Outside SW’s chamber, Adora wants to take Catra’s hand.]

Adora loves Catra, but can't seem to get through to her: Catra is holding herself apart from Adora. Again, Catra pushes Adora's hand aside, frustrated. She expresses her exasperation at the situation, saying she's sick of what's going on. Adora follows along, confused. As Catra seemingly purposefully leaves her behind, Adora demands to know what Catra's problem is, saying that she was trying to save her. Catra looks down at her confrontationally, frustrated with Adora's lack of vision. "For the last time, I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own. No thanks to you." Uh oh.

The words "no thanks to you" are especially cutting. Adora has totally failed to see the struggles Catra had all her life, she didn't understand the hurt and abuse Catra was fighting against. And so Catra did it all on her own, protecting herself and trying to remain strong. Her love of Adora might have helped her have hope, but fundamentally Catra overcame the abuse by not giving up on herself, believing she had worth, and not letting others tear her down.

Adora runs to Catra's side, taking her arm in one hand. Feeling her friend becoming increasingly distant from her, Adora tries authentically telling Catra her feelings, hoping to make her friend see her desire to help and understand her. Adora explains that she's sorry for leaving and that she did it because she couldn't stand the war the Horde has pursued. Her next words are telling: "but I never wanted to leave you". 'Want' is an important word in this series, and it comes up again in season 5 when Catra asks Adora "what do you want, Adora?”. By choosing to leave the Horde, Catra feels that Adora wanted that more than she wanted what they had together. Also, promises are not something you're supposed to break over a 'want'. And Adora so casually breaking their promises makes Catra think she doesn't matter to Adora. It's not the truth, but this belief still determines her reaction in this moment. Even though Adora dearly loves Catra, including at this point in the story, she hasn't shown it in a way that Catra can see as meaningful. As Adora finishes saying this, Catra looks back, feeling alone and unwanted, seemingly thinking 'but you did leave me, Adora.'

Adora tries to appeal to Catra to join the rebellion with her. Then she says "I know you're not a bad person, Catra. You don't belong with the Horde." Catra must be thinking 'Ok so at what point did you become the authority on whether someone is good or bad, Adora?' Adora has shown no interest in understanding Catra's position, she treated her as an enemy without fail since she left her, literally in every single case including at Princess Prom when Catra was trying so hard to romance her. And Catra doesn't accept Adora's naive black and white view of the world. Think about it: when Adora defects she begins treating all Horde with hostility, including her dearest friend, she judges them all and doesn’t even try to see them as the complicated people that they are. So when she suggests Catra doesn't belong with the Horde, Catra looks back at her, feeling totally isolated from Adora. Even though Adora's plea is earnest, Catra declines it.

>As the next memory begins, we see Adora now has both hands on Catra's arm, she's desperately trying to hold on to her bond with Catra and show her desire to fix things between them. Catra doesn't drop her wary demeanor at all, and Adora looks lost and anxious over this as a young Catra runs by.

The memory starts out full of childhood innocence as the two of them play together. When the girls see that the Black Garnet chamber is open, young Adora remarks "we're definitely not allowed in there." Young Catra looks at Adora, seemingly asking if she wants to go in, trusting her. Young Adora runs off, and Catra follows her in. Yes, Catra participates in the decision, but she's not the one who runs towards the chamber, and that's important to what happens next.

A worried (adult) Adora looks to her friend who seems so distant, stoic. Anxiously, Adora tells Catra "You don't have to go in there." Adora knows what happens next is very bad, that this is a hurtful memory for Catra. As an unwavering Catra begins to walk towards the chamber, Adora looks down at Catra's hand. [pic above] She wants desperately to reach out and take it, to hold Catra back from this terrible moment, to tell her she's sorry for messing up. Adora knows now that she screwed up, that she's let Catra down, somehow more than she ever realized. She doesn't know what to do about it… she follows Catra inside.

The young girls explore, Catra touches the black garnet and gets shocked. Adora has second thoughts, she realizes they're trespassing.. but of course, SW returns, so they try to hide. As SW takes off the mask, Adora cries out, taken aback... young Catra looks at her in dismay. She's about to pay for Adora's mistake with a lifetime of suffering. Offended, SW tells them to "Get out!" but rethinks. She puts the mask back on, and decides to use this moment to instead abuse the girls and use the crime of their trespass against them. As SW tells Catra to stay, Adora turns around, seeing that Catra is caught, and she's scared for her friend. She really did make a poor decision, and as a highly empathetic person, what happens to Catra scars Adora, too.

Held powerless by magic, Catra tries to explain that they were just playing. SW's words to her set the stage for a lifetime of physical and psychological abuse: SW leans over her menacingly, telling her "Insolent child, I've come to expect such disgraceful behavior from you, but I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well." Again, it's not Catra who decided to go in, so it's really not her fault. SW disparages her and heaps blame upon her for Adora's bad choice, ignoring the truth.

Adora weakly tries to protect Catra, saying "SW, it wasn't her fault. It was my idea too." It's an understandable response, as they're just little kids. Still, Adora could have taken the blame for their trespass, since she led Catra inside. But it's about to get a lot more hurtful for Catra...

SW's voice echoes through Catra's head as she trembles in terror: "You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me. I've kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. Do you understand ?" Catra trembles in fear, her eyes unfocused, the room empty but for SW menacing her. She's in a dissociative state, terrified and helpless. I think some people probably feel like this must have been a idle threat, but it isn't: SW abuses Catra many times after this for her mistakes. And the depiction of the dissociative state helps us understand just how damaging it was. While Adora seemingly goes on to not realize the importance of this memory, for Catra it is formative to her entire life.

Again, Adora tries weakly to stop what's happening, putting herself between them. She tells SW "please, stop" then looks over at Catra, full of concern. Running over to SW, she tells her "she didn't mean to". This is so hurtful, as young Catra is very smart. Catra knows Adora has blown it again, after all, what is it that she "didn't mean to" do when it was Adora's idea to trespass? Adora isn't getting the magnitude of the situation, and Catra is very much left to fend for herself.

SW then does a very insidious thing to Adora, a very directed abuse that's meant to work against her personality and empathetic reactions to others pain. She tells her "Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. Do not let something like this happen again..." SW follows this up with years of manipulation to make Adora even more susceptible to abuse. But in this moment, SW again heaps the blame for Adora's mistake onto Catra, who did nothing wrong. For Catra, she comes to believe that what she did doesn't even matter, nobody cares what the truth was. Even Adora. But for Adora, the hurt goes deep as well. She made a bad decision, her friend gets hurt for it, and she never comes clean... instead, she's told she has to do a better job of controlling her friend, and that she has to be perfect so that it doesn't happen again. It's a deep and hurtful moment for Adora, just like it is for Catra. But the hurt is much less direct, and more sneaky. Nonetheless, Adora struggles with this moment, this abuse of her, in the most intimate and painful ways all throughout the series.

Young Catra watches on as SW completes her manipulation of Adora. For Catra, she's left with the feeling that nothing she does matters, she was blamed for something she didn't even do. And Adora seemingly took the easy out, spreading the blame. But she doesn't realize this moment is so insidious for Adora, that it attacks and manipulates her at her emotional need to help others. From this moment on, Adora is afflicted with a desperate fear that she can't protect others, and must lead perfectly so they don't get hurt. This internal conflict erodes Adora's self worth, and causes her great emotional pain throughout the series. Catra, instead, believes she is being told she has no worth, and isn't even allowed to make her own decisions. It's hurtful, and it's part of why she tensed so badly at Adora for trying to tell her what to do earlier. We see this realization cross young Catra's face: she feels forgotten in this moment.

We see the young girls walking away from SW's chamber, Adora with her hand around Catra's shoulder. This comfort is not enough... Catra really needed Adora to stand up for her there, to come clean, and she didn't. Trying to comfort her now seems hollow. As they flash to their present selves, Catra knocks Adora's arm aside in frustration, accusing her of needing to play the hero.

Adora responds, saying she was only trying to protect her. Catra's next words tell the real truth of their childhood: "You never protected me! Not in any way that would put you on SW's bad side!" Adora at first chafes at this statement, feeling like she did try to protect her, then crosses over to confusion at the strength of Catra's assertion. Catra is telling Adora she was blind to her pain. She wasn't there for her, and this is very much at the core of Catra's disappointment with Adora: the fact that she never stayed, never tried to understand. Adora let SW control her, make her ambitious, and so Catra was put to the side of that, and over time Adora grew apart from her. Catra’s exact words here are important: she says that Adora ‘plays’ at being the hero, yet always seemingly protected her status as the favorite, never standing up to SW and risking harm onto herself in order to save Catra from pain.

And so, the fact that out of seemingly out of nowhere, Adora decides to risk everything and defect in order to fight for people she doesn't even know, insults Catra. Adora abandons and consequently fights against her own people, leaving Catra behind, unilaterally treating her as an enemy. Never, in their whole lives, did Adora ever fight for Catra, only offering affection afterwards to make up for the cruelties that happened to Catra. So no, Catra doesn't want Adora to save her, or her sympathy, when she seemingly cared so little about her pain. Adora was no hero to her.

Now an obvious question might be: if the manipulation is that Adora is supposed to protect and control Catra, then shouldn't she have had to see SW abuse Catra for it to work? The first part of the answer is that it was never really about that, once the idea was put in Adora’s head, SW used it to manipulate her further into a mentality where Adora would accept praise, promotion on her path to becoming a force captain.

The other is that when someone is being hurt like Catra was in that moment... if the one person in the world who is supposed to get it doesn't get it... then it becomes very hard to ever bring it up to them again. It's a specific type of hurt and abandonment: for Catra, she goes on to believe that this is her burden, that somehow she alone is supposed to learn these hard lessons. And so she doesn't tell Adora about the abuse. Also, keep in mind that they are small children, and Catra doesn't want Adora to hurt like she does... so she's actually protecting her, in her mind. But the fact that time goes by and Adora never seemed to care, to stop and see Catra's pain, was very hurtful to her. And Catra’s feelings of betrayal at Adora’s not seeing the hurt are justified: in episode 1, we see Adora watch SW menace Catra, then happily run off to accept her promotion, only remembering to check on Catra as an afterthought. Catra needed Adora's support, and never really got it.

[pic caption: (left to right) Adora’s apparent willful ignorance of the abuse.]

So Catra believes she learns these hard lessons so Adora won't have to, but is left alone in her pain. This also means that SW specifically abused Catra at times and in places so Adora wouldn't be aware, which again, tells us it was never really about making Adora responsible for Catra's decisions. No, the reasons were much darker, and Catra bore it all alone.

The girls flash to their younger selves, and Catra accuses Adora: "Admit it, you love being her favorite." Catra is telling Adora that she was disappointed and hurt that Adora kept accepting praise and privilege from SW, after that moment when she so clearly should have seen how SW abused her, and the maliciousness of the death threat. In Catra’s mind, Adora could have rejected SW. As painful as it is for a small child to be without any parents, it would have been the right thing to do, for Catra. SW was no good to Catra, and they could have shared the pain of being orphans who only had each other, but instead Catra ended up bearing all of the abuse while Adora was given privilege.

Adora denies this assertion, and yet she did accept the privilege SW offered her. Catra's next words show how ignorant Adora was to the realities of their lives as they flash back to their present selves: "Oh yeah? When you left, who do you think took the fall for you? Who was protecting me then ?" Catra bore all the abuse and punishment for Adora's leaving, and Adora wasn't there to see it. Catra did this bravely for Adora, in fact, up until before Princesse Prom, Catra did everything she could to cover for Adora, just like she asked, protecting her, hoping she'd come back to her. But Adora shows no understanding at all for what Catra went through, she didn't even think about what must have been happening to her. Adora has never taken the time to think about how her actions affect Catra's life.

Adora counters, suggesting that Catra could leave the Horde, and therefore get away from SW's abuse. Catra just glares back at her, disappointed. Catra knows running from the abuse won't solve anything.

::What this comes down to is a totally different understanding of the world. For Adora, she thinks she became a hero for leaving the Horde, and becoming She-ra. She doesn't realize she was lucky to fall into the situation she did, with Bow and Glimmer helping her gain acceptance and protecting her. She's totally unaware that the reality that her becoming She-ra is a manipulation born out of evil intent. For Catra, she's always known that the world is harsh, and that bad people exist who will try to destroy you. She's not afraid to fight, she's had no choice learning these harsh truths. It's a jaded view that negatively affects her perceptions of people, but it prepares her for the worst, and so she relies on it. So when Adora suggests she run from it, she rejects her as naive. They flash back to their younger selves after Adora suggests Catra can leave like she did, and Catra accusingly points out that she doesn't need to follow Adora around. That they're children is relevant to the previous memory where Adora led Catra into danger, and then didn't protect her. Catra isn't interested in following Adora blindly after she's put her in danger so badly in the past.

Flashing back present selves, Catra tells Adora she doesn't want to leave. As she says this her face conveys her anger at the world, her drive to face SW instead of flee. She says "I'm not afraid of SW anymore, and I'm a better force captain than you ever would have been." Let's take this in parts: Catra won't run from her abuser, she's already planning to take her down. Doing so is important to Catra, as it fixes her world in an important way. And that Adora can't see this just shows how far apart they are now. In Catra's mind, Adora was supposed to stay, and as they rose to power together, they would have supplanted SW, fixing Catra's world. The two of them would have been stronger in the end. But Adora did leave, so Catra impatiently tries to get Adora to see that she won't just run away. If Adora doesn't want to help Catra overcome this evil, then she'll do it on her own.

Her disappointment in Adora for abandoning this fight is apparent, what comes to mind is when Catra calls Adora weak in the Sea Gate episode. And now Catra knows she's got the power to do this, she's a force captain, and if she can just find a reason to depose SW she knows she has the station and fighting ability to take her down. She always knew she could lead, but was happy to let Adora have success because she really didn't want that responsibility. So she points out her superiority, not to show that she's better than Adora, but to tell Adora she was blind to Catra's worth, and to be hurtful to Adora for abandoning her.

They flash back to their child selves: Adora looks at Catra, hurt and confused "You always said you didn't care about things like that." Adora is feeling hurt by the idea that she was unknowingly taking advantage of Catra, because Catra has seemily just told her she was lying.

Now, this next part is important, and it's important that we are seeing Catra's reaction as her child self: Catra looks sad and lonely as Adora finishes her question, and she's crying. Something adult Catra would never let herself do. So we're seeing a much more authentic expression of Catra's hurt and emotions than if it were her present self. What you need to understand here is that those emotions don't really match her words... Catra tells her "Well I was lying, obviously!" But her face says she's angry and hurt at Adora for not seeing her pain.

As she delivers those words her face is full of accusation and insult, she's being dramatic, something we will see Catra do time and time again. She stares down Adora, eyes scrunched up, showing Adora how betrayed she felt by her insensitivity. Then we get sadness, disappointment. Finally, we get a lonely kind of furious sorrow: all that time feeling alone and Adora didn't bother to understand is written on her face.

The tears are still flowing, but as she turns away they shift back to their present selves. Adult Catra looks totally alone, heartbroken.

Ok but how we REALLY know Catra isn't telling the truth is this: almost word for word, this moment exists in episode 1. ANY time you see that happen in this show, you need to look back to find the meaning of it.

>We will need to look in totality of this scene in episode 1: An excited Catra pounces on Adora, asking her what SW said. She sees the badge and takes it. Here's a funny thing, because we see Catra jump on Adora you might think Catra is always like this, she just comes into Adora's space as she pleases. But once Catra has the badge, we see no anger or jealousy. Just total wonder. She shows nothing but exuberation and happiness for Adora's promotion (pic 1, lower left fyi).

Catra knew this could be the turning point she's been waiting for, that Adora was due for promotion. And so she's jumping all over Adora, full of joy. We only see her attitude change once Adora tells her SW isn't letting her go on missions. And so, we can infer a lot of information from this...

Catra expected this moment to change their lives for the better. That Adora's rising in rank means freedom, the beginning of something new. Some many new things, in Catra's case. But Catra definitively shows us in this scene that she doesn't desire the success for herself. She only shows happiness for Adora, for them together, and she's ecstatic. (pic 1, fyi)

This, in Catra's mind, probably means the start of their romantic lives. If Adora is the force captain that brings them to victory, SW won't be able to just trample all over their lives. Catra can begin letting down some walls, maybe even let Adora pursue her romantically. If they're together, and Adora is on her side because of that, she becomes safe from her abuser. It's a much better outcome than trying to fight SW, but that's not how the story goes. No, Adora leaves her instead. How's that for emotional whiplash? All of these truths are laid bare in s3ep5, when we see Catra's perfect reality, when she and Adora are together romantically. Catra only wants to be safe and to be loved, but when Adora leaves her she loses trust in the goodness of Adora, and in people in general.

> Adora tells Catra she shouldn't be surprised she's been cut of of the mission because she's so rude to SW, to which Catra responds by calling Adora a people pleaser, then storming off in anger...

::Note, as this is important: Adora is taking SW’s side, and not Catra’s, which is entirely opposite of their early childhood memory of Octavia. It shows how Adora had started listening to the negative judgements others placed on Catra...

>Adora goes after Catra, finding her sulking on the roof. Catra is angry, betrayed by the world, at the injustice that SW is in her life. Adora asks "I didn't even think you wanted to be a force captain?" Catra tossed the badge at her, saying she doesn't. Then she folds her body up, holding herself. Adora sees this, but doesn't touch her. She's being careful to respect Catra's boundaries. But the anger Catra feels here isn't about being denied the chance to be a force captain, it's at all the hurt that SW has dealt her and continues to do so. And Adora doesn't see that, which disappoints Catra. But, she's unable to verbalize it herself, she is too insecure in her emotional vulnerability, so she lets it slide.

What we have here is two different instances of the same question with two different answers, but in both cases Catra is telling the truth. In episode 1, it's the truth that she doesn't care about being a force captain because of her love for Adora, and the promise, in her mind, that they will eventually be together. In episode 11, Catra then says she lied, and this now is also true: Catra did think about what she was going through, all the pain and sacrifices she made for Adora, which were done in the name of love. But Adora doesn't love her the way that Catra loves Adora, instead leaving her behind. And so now that Adora didn't ever see how excellent a person Catra actually was, how dedicated to her she is, and the pain she was willing to bear for her sake, it does matter. Because that's shitty of her, and so now Catra will survive on her own by her own excellence, her strength that Adora never stopped to see. So Catra is guilting Adora, trying to make her see how blind and unfeeling she is.

>Back to ep11: Catra tries to walk away from Adora, who desperately chases her, trying to understand why Catra is becoming so distant, wanting her to tell her what's wrong. She reaches out for Catra's shoulder in one last attempt to get Catra to talk, she knows touching Catra could maybe get her to be more open. But the truth is Adora has been far too easy on Catra, she needs to be more forceful if she wants Catra to talk, which she later comes to understand... she's been coddling Catra, and so Catra is allowed to wallow in her unhealthy mental states.

Catra takes Adora's hand, forcefully holding it away from her and delivering a hurtful line: "Why do you think I gave the sword back to you in the fright zone? I didn't WANT you to come back, Adora!" This hits Adora like a load of bricks, her dismay is evident. And it's all true, which is the sad part. Catra was already preparing to cut ties with Adora, as even by that point she had come to a realization, a decision: if Adora doesn't want to be with her, then she'll do it herself. She will do the hard things on her own.

She turns away from Adora, looking hurt and betrayed. And Adora is at a complete loss, she doesn't know this side of Catra, this part of her that has survived hardship all these years... she lets her leave, not knowing what to do.

Adora is then attacked by the security, which takes up her time. As that happens, we see memories only shown to Catra. Catra runs, emotionally overwhelmed as all the unfair judgements, the abuse, and hollow apologies ring out around her. All the years of frustration and sadness weigh on her, she tries to keep it together, lashing out at the holograms. She falls to her knees, fighting back emotion and trying not to cry, her inner, vulnerable self is near the surface, and she's trying not to break down in tears over all of the hurt she's had to bear...

… and then she hears soft crying...

She turns to see her younger, tiny self, crying. Then, a tiny Adora joins the tiny Catra. Unlike the other memories, Catra never flashes into her younger self, she just watches...

The tiny Adora pulls the blanket down, Catra hisses at her... Adora sits down next to her tenderly. And we finally get the promise, the two parts that Adora has so tragically broke...

Adora tells her "It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you... nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other." The tiny Catra looks at Adora, wanting to trust her, to believe in her. As she says the question, present Catra echos it: "You promise ?" This was a sacred moment that gave Catra hope as a young orphan, that maybe she would be ok.

And so, the present Catra echoes it. Adora tells her she promises, as the skeptical present Catra looks on. Tiny Catra is still sad, insecure... she hugs Adora, needing this. Adora suggests they go back out to play... and we see tiny Catra look at her, still afraid, reluctant, wanting to stay. But she decides to trust Adora, and so they walk out, holding hands. Then something unique happens. Tiny Catra stops to look up at her present self: note, this is entirely a unique moment in the simulation, it never happened in reality... and yet Catra is given this moment...

The innocent child stares up Catra, making her see her. It's a look full of meaning, it doesn't carry any specific emotion... only innocence. Catra is having an inner child moment. That most deep and innocent part of her, her vulnerable self who feels love, is communicating with her. It's asking her to see it's vulnerability, and it's pain. Catra sees this, all of the pain Adora has caused her, the breaking of the promise, the promise that this innocent part of her was holding on to desperately with hope. She is forced to acknowledge Adora's disloyalty to her, her carelessness. Catra is reflecting on how she did her absolute best to keep that promise, even after Adora failed to look out for her in SW's chamber. Catra was so loyal and so good to Adora all of their lives; she made sure Adora had a good life, and she played by SW's rules so Adora could be the chosen one, wanting to protect her. All in the hope that they would be together, and that their love was real. But Adora couldn't even do that much, she left her. And Adora doesn't understand her, she doesn't even seem to miss her.

[pic 9: Broken Promises, Catra’s inner child, The Hero goes Her Own Way].

Present Catra watches her tiny self leave, coming to the tough realization: that she's never been able to trust Adora, not really. Her love isn't reciprocated, not by her standards.

…. which makes Adora a deeply unsafe person to Catra...

Catra survived SW's abuse, learning to believe in herself, protect herself because no one else would. All while keeping this hope of love in her heart, this vulnerable core of herself that has tenderness and loves Adora, and needs love back. But, her need for love goes to such a deep vulnerability that giving in to it and then again being rejected or forgotten by Adora would simply destroy her. SW held the threat of death over Catra’s head her entire life, and Catra resisted it, got through it by being tough and trusting in herself. So now she sees she can't trust Adora: everything that happened since she left her behind, the fact that Adora always treats her as an enemy, that she seems to show no lingering desire for her, and doesn't even seem to miss her while replacing her with new friends, seems to confirm her worst fears. Fears that have been building over the years, starting when Adora broke their promise in SW's chamber, and then as Adora pursued her success while accepting praise and privilege from SW, ignoring the abuse Catra bore because of it. She decides she can't trust Adora. Love is a lie, a weakness. A weakness that could destroy her last bit of individuality, and belief in the world.

And so, Catra, The Survivor, makes the decision... in her mind it's the brave one, just like way back when and she decided to bravely stand up to SW's abuse and not let it destroy her: she will stand up to the threat that is the weakness of her love for Adora. Adora is selfish, she doesn't deserve Catra's love. She was stupid to believe that love was even possible, for someone like her… who has always been ignored, and told she is unworthy of praise or even existence. There's only one thing left for her to do: she will be alone, strong on her own, for herself.

Her gaze hardens... that part of her that has made sure she survived SW's abuse, and made sure she won fights when she was threatened, is now the decider. It will protect her from her vulnerability, and reject Adora for her. I suppose you might be confused as to what I'm referring, or maybe not... If you haven't had to fight for your life, whether physically, mentally, or otherwise, you might not know this side of yourself well. But we all have it, it's The Survivor. And while I knew mine would protect me, I didn't accept it as my real self, I didn't accept its necessary but vicious deeds as my own. This is very much how Catra is, and as the series goes on she puts this survivor in charge of more and more decisions, we watch her deteriorate as this part of her gets out of control, protecting her from darkness with more darkness. All the while her vulnerable inner self suffers, watching the horrible deeds and becoming more and more alone, desperate for affection.

>Adora is outnumbered, eventually ending up hanging from the cliff's edge by spider webs. She hears Catra return, dealing with the spiders. Adora looks up, hopeful because Catra has returned...

Catra saunters in. Let me say a few things before we go through this part: Catra is about to say a lot of things that aren't really true. They are instead meant to be hurtful to Adora, Catra is being intentionally mean. We shouldn't take her exact words as her authentic beliefs, because they're not... no, Catra is doing what she believes she has to so she can be apart for Adora, and be safe from her. The truth is, Catra needs to be away from Adora. She's too scared of the vulnerability that is her love for Adora, because Adora hasn't shown her that she cares. And she can't do that by defecting, no, she must stay with the Horde. It's the only thing she feels there is left for her to do.

Now, let's go through this: and heads up: I'm getting at something very powerful that's going on here that you may not have realized. This speech is, in fact, a heroic moment. A heroic moment... for Catra. Not Adora, for Catra. And you just need to open your ears to hear it...

"Hey Adora."

🎶 is sad

"Catra! Help me, please!"

"This thing wouldn't work for me if I tried, would it? It only works for you... then again, you're special... that's what Shadow Weaver always said..."

🎶 is melancholy

"Catra, what are you doing??"

"Ah, ya know, it all makes sense now... you've always been the one holding me back... you wanted me to think I needed you, you wanted me to feel weak."

🎶 has even tone

"Every hero needs a sidekick, right?"

"Catra that's not how it was.."

🎶 rises, falls, sad (“Promise” begins playing)

*Catra chuckles* "The sad thing is I've spent all this time hoping you'd come back to the Horde... when really you leaving was the best thing that EVER happened to me..."

🎶 lowers, is dark, is dramatic. -Note: we see Catra seemingly become deranged as she says this line. This is Catra deceiving herself out of perceived necessity.

"I am so much stronger than anyone... ever... thought." *she cuts part of the web*

🎶 begins to rise, uplifting

"I wonder what I could have been if I'd gotten rid of you sooner." *she cuts the rest of the web, Adora falls, catching herself*

🎶 rises, is dramatic

"I'm sorry! I never meant to make you feel like you were second best. Please, don't do this."

🎶 is still rising, uplifting

*Catra stands proudly, nobly, looking at the sword. She looks down at Adora, then she casually tosses the sword past her...

🎶 is rising, hopeful, heroic.

"Bye Adora, I really am going to miss you..."

🎶 is heroic, violins now playing, adding depth

*Catra turns and walks away from Adora, proudly*

🎶 has risen to its height, crests, is heroic.

"Catra... Catra, no!!"

🎶 remains high, cresting, heroic

*Adora cries, sad, confused by Catra's leaving her...*

🎶 crests again, fades out...

Ok, so... let's talk about what just happened here. The undeniable conclusion is that this was meant to be a heroic moment, and a damn heroic moment... for Catra. The writers are telling us that Catra leaving is an important part of her hero’s journey, and that it was the right thing to do. You might be wondering, how can that be? The short answer is, Catra is on a hero’s journey unlike all the other hero’s journeys normally portrayed in fiction. All of it, even her darkest deeds, all her cruelty towards Adora, will be part of a very... important... and powerful... journey. One which will forge her into a hero in this series, in her own incredible right... how this is, what she is, is yet to be revealed... but make no mistake, she's a hero. Just not the one you expect…

We see Adora open her eyes, and see Light Hope. She tells Adora to let go. She means of her emotional attachments, as we find out. Adora cries for her lost Catra, that she couldn't bring her back to her. She lets go...

BIG ASSERTION TIME: Now, I know it's a common theory that these memories were all just an elaborate manipulation by Light Hope to divide the girls from each other, but I don't agree with that. No, I believe this was a memory journey guided by Catra, subconsciously, to help her tell Adora why she couldn't come with her, why she has to be apart.

Take for instance the memories and visions that Adora sees when she's on her way to the Heart of Etheria in season 5: this system exists apart from Light Hope, who dies at the end for season 4. This simulation comes from somewhere more primal: in my belief, it is the deep magic of Etheria being visualized through the First One's tech. We see the simulation show Catra the promise memory, something Adora isn't shown at all, and then allows her to see her inner child's hurt. Something deeper is going on here, and you should consider how strongly the magic of Etheria is resonating with Catra when it does. Because the magic of Etheria will again speak directly to Catra, this isn't the last time... In short, the magic helps the two of them to understand each other, because Catra is an important part of Adora's true She-ra journey.

I also believe that a theme of this series is that abusers, like L. Hope, are not perfect vindictive manipulators. They are flawed, and L. Hope in particular, I believe, is no genius: she fails time and time again. That L. Hope uses the moment to get Adora to let go is her using the moment to her advantage, she didn't play ultimate control over it. She just piggy backed on Catra's hurt to do it. So that last memory really was for Catra... Furthermore, I simply cannot believe L.Hope would understand the concept of the inner child… as she can't even understand sarcasm.

But now, because of this, Adora now knows of Catra's pain... and this is the beginning of Adora's long journey back to Catra, of her repairing their bond…

Let's address the obvious counterpoint: Adora now knows that Catra is hurt, but she doesn't yet understand why. And it's not really her fault, as Catra doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, among other things. But it's apparent that Adora doesn't remember these crucial memories as well as Catra does, even though they were critical in her development as well. Adora is a mess of emotions, just like Catra, and (if) she has ADHD, it might be one reason why she doesn't really get Catra. Especially if her parental figure has been manipulating it against her. Adora very much vibrates between stimuli anxiously, so SW might have made her forgetful by distraction over time. Also, the way in which Adora treats Catra as an enemy when she doesn't accept Adora’s (totally rushed, afterthought, and hollow) ultimatum that she defect with her, is a reflection of Adora's ingrained Horde war training… this is something she has to unlearn, as it is wrong. But Adora is a good person, she really, truely, is, because Adora never stops trying to make it better. And so, she slowly, but surely, comes to understand Catra’s trauma.

We get one last scene of Catra returning to the fright zone. We get to see Catra's truth here: She walks, as if she's not even there, she's deadened by the sorrow and the inevitability of what her life will now be: one of hard work, and zero joy. She will try her best to stand on her own, and put Adora out of her heart, slamming its doors shut against love. It doesn't work, but that's what she's trying to do, nonetheless. This is the beginning of a profound depression that builds over the next 3 seasons, and combined with new traumas, nearly takes her life.

But the tech Catra has brought back will end up giving her what she needs to face down and depose SW, just like she needed...

::Here is another complicated twist that's so essential to She-ra as a series: Catra, in fact, protects Adora by taking down SW. Catra may go on to command the Hordes forces so effectively that it pushes the Princess alliance harder than it's ever been pushed before, but her deposing SW is extremely important in the story. She both removes SW’s ability to attack Adora, and then denies her any sorcerous power by taking the Black Garnet from her, since SW needs an external source to draw power from in order to use her vampiric powers...

Ok so more theory time: it's a common belief that Catra stays with the Horde, and goes on to try to conquer the world out of some deep need to externally validate herself, and to prove she was the better child by beating Adora. I don't think any of these explanations are true. Catra may go on to play such a character on a surface level, but every time she professes to have any such ambitions, she is either in the presence of Adora, or under incredible stress. In the one case, she's saying those things to try to hurt Adora, and make her see how naive and foolish Adora always was, especially now that Adora thinks she can fight against her.

In the other case, it's actually her survivor mechanism trying to take over, to make her world safe. In every case where Catra says something about ambition, somewhere in that scene, Catra shows the distinct emotions of her true inner self: generally, these emotions are sorrow, fear, and loneliness. They don't exist on screen long, they are what is known as micro expressions. (See below for a short discussion of Catra’s micro expressions.)

To put it simply, the only reason Catra stays with the Horde is so she has somewhere she can be separate from her feelings and heartbreak over Adora, and then she climbs the ranks in order to find safety, first from SW, and then Hordak, once he threatens her life with his temper tantrums. That she fights against Adora is just a collateral consequence, she isn't out to get Adora, but nor does she care if Adora gets hurt, because she’s hurt her. Catra does fight against the princesses, though (including She-ra).

A core feature of Catra's character is indeed one of personal power. She's a person who is told to hurry up and die at an early age, but refused to do so. So her arc, her issue, isn't a cautionary tale about chasing validation, it's about her overcoming her fear of vulnerability and allowing herself to rely on others in a way that lets her be safe without needing to combat the darkness with more darkness. But vulnerability scares her because of the abuse she experienced.

As for validation, the only person she would want that from is Adora. This is because Catra believes in herself already: that she has a sacred right to exist, no matter what SW and others may tell her (note: Adora struggles with this, she's actually the one who seeks validation). But, she also needs love, and she is too fearful that Adora doesn't really love her and is afraid of being hurt by that. It's also why I think she's so chaotic towards Adora: her inner child tells her adult self to protect her from her love for Adora, which it tries to do, but that same child misses and needs Adora in so many ways. So she's trying to be mean to compensate for the incredible desire she feels towards Adora. I love it when Adora calls her a brat in season 5, it's such a well deserved line, mmhhmmm.

Actual discussions of how these particulars play out in the show are better left for another time, but there you have it.

Promise sidebar discussions: Catra’s micro expressions; Catra nearly dies at the Battle of Bright Moon

“White Out” microexpression discussion: [see pics below] This is the first time since the Battle of Bright Moon that Catra and Adora meet. So it's a good time to talk about Catra’s micro expressions. Picture 1: Adora says “Hey, Catra” out of the blue and Catra is completely blindsided, she figured she wouldn't be bothered out in the middle of nowhere. She's anxious and unhappy to be seeing Adora. Along with her suspicious absence the episode before in “Roll With It”, the answer is obvious: Catra has been avoiding Adora. She may have cut ties with her in “Promise”, nearly bested her at the Battle of BM, but she doesn't want to see her. She doesn't know what she feels about her.

Picture 2: Enraged monsters are decimating the base, and a battle breaks out over the corrupted disc. Catra is desperately trying to protect it, because she can control Adora if she has it... and she needs this chance to have her back. As Catra reaches to pick it up, she's facing away from everyone and so no one can see her desperation and sadness from missing Adora. (pic 2) Shortly after, we also see her clutch the disc desperately to her chest in a way that's very endearing, right before the monster attacks her and makes her drop it. Then, as she's about to die in its jaws because she doesn't want to give Adora up again, Scorpia breaks the disc and saves her life. We see in this episode as Catra completely loses track of her emotions, and now realizes she has to come to terms with the fact that she's so desperately sad from missing Adora, she was willing to die just for a chance to have her back.

Pic 3: Catra hates working for the Horde. She HATES it. She gets zero joy from the job, and she’s already figured out that Hordak will kill her if she screws up too badly. She didn't want this job, plain and simple, but now feels stuck with it. None of this is the life she wanted. Combining this knowledge against Catra’s declaration to Adora at the end of Promise, we know she's not happy that she had to go her own way...

Catra’s near death experience at the Battle of Bright Moon

At the Battle of Bright Moon, Catra leads Adora (She-ra) away. They battle, but then Catra retreats and instead starts listing out every single worst fear of failure she thinks Adora has. It's a dark moment, she's acting much like SW did to them as children, and we watch her manipulation take root in Adora. Finally, her words are too much, and as Catra looks down at Adora's (She-ra's) back, we see Adora become deranged, overcome with her fear of failing everyone... (pic1, above) she picks up a boulder and throws it directly at Catra. Catra is knocked flying, and only by the barest of margins does she keep from falling to her death. Adora nearly kills Catra. And so, as Adora drags Catra up from the cliff and slams her into the wall, we see a totally heartbroken and emotionally crushed Catra. In this moment, Catra believes all of her worst fears are confirmed: Adora only cares about being She-ra, so much so that Adora would kill her in the name of being that hero. Catra uses this moment, this belief, to justify her division from Adora. Sadly, she's wrong... she's ignoring the seriousness of the threat that the battle poses, and as Adora was facing away from her during that moment, she doesn't see the terror and desperation Adora experiences due to her cruel words…

Oh, and one more thing before we go: when Catra says “What, did you really think this was about you ?” SPOILER ALERT: It was. Because She-ra is one big Catradora story… and we love it.

As always, thanks for reading. <3

~EtheriaDearie

P.S. :: as I am new to tumblr, if you enjoyed reading this, please consider giving me a reblogg! Thanks!! 🙇💛

[retrievablememories]

somewhere only we know | doyoung (m)

title: somewhere only we know pairing: elf!doyoung x dryad!reader genre: fantasy, major angst, fluff, smut, royal!au, 1800s!au summary: as the Crown Prince faces increasing pressure to select a wife, he finally falls in love over the course of a summer—charmed by the sounds of nature and a mysterious tree nymph. word count: 32,000+ warnings: major character death, descriptions of death, familial conflict, discrimination/prejudice (both regarding familial lineage and species), classism, physical violence, descriptions of fire, voyeurism (but not in a kink context), strict gender roles/gender stereotypes, sexism/sexist language, some sexual jokes/vulgar language, outdoor sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex (don’t try at home) a/n: this felt like writing a movie, especially towards the end, and i am TIYADDD. i usually actively avoid writing this many characters/plot points because it gets hard to keep things organized, so this fic was a serious test of my abilities lol... there may or may not be an epilogue after this, but that depends on the audience’s (y’all) interest in one

as always, let’s keep in mind this is just fiction and not a judgment of or truly accurate representation of the personalities of any of the idols depicted in this story. 

@constipation08​ thank you for the request and fic idea, this has been a wild ass ride lmao 😭

“Why do we have to leave the kingdom?! I was doing just fine right here!”

“Because our parents say we have to,” Mark replies nonchalantly, already growing weary of hearing Donghyuck’s griping about the King and Queen’s decision. The younger male throws himself onto his bed beside Mark, sighing loudly the entire time.

Donghyuck turns over on his back to give Mark a look. “But why do we need to leave to take gentlemen’s lessons? None of us here need to learn how to be gentlemen, we already are. At least, I am.”

“Your behavior is saying otherwise,” Doyoung counters, watching the two younger men from the bedroom’s doorway. “Perhaps it won’t be that bad. You’ll get to get away from the kingdom for a few months. It’s almost like a vacation.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “No vacation I’ve ever heard of involves work.”

“I don’t know, I’m a bit interested,” Mark says. “Everyone says Eupheme has the best gentlemen’s tutors in the country, so maybe it’ll be—”

“Ugh, don’t say fun.” Donghyuck grabs a pillow from the head of the bed and smacks Mark across the face with it, causing the other man to yelp in surprise and topple over. They soon become embroiled in a battle of who can land the most hits with their respective pillows, which eventually evolves into them wrestling each other.

“See, this is why mother and father say you all need etiquette lessons. It’s like everything you learned as kids evaporated as soon as you hit puberty.” Doyoung shakes his head, but he also can’t help but laugh a little at their continual bickering. “You’ll spend a few months in the company of the other princes, too, so it’s not all bad. I really don’t know why you’re complaining.”

“Maybe because he won’t get to see Nayeon while he’s gone,” Mark says this while Donghyuck has him in a headlock, and the younger boy’s grip tightens around his neck.

“Shut up, Mark!”

Doyoung snorts. “Oh, how could I forget?” Nayeon was the daughter of a local lawmaker and someone who Donghyuck had obviously fancied for a while. Nayeon seemed to enjoy his company well enough, and she was undoubtedly within a proper social standing that everyone approved of, should marriage ever come into question. And, perhaps most importantly, she was also of elven blood. Nevertheless, there was talk that her heart had already been captured by another. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe she’ll realize she really is in love with you while you’re gone.”

“Or she’ll enjoy the sweet silence she gets without hearing Donghyuck chatting her ear off at every available moment.” This comment from Mark sends them into another bout of rolling around on the bed, trying to land hits on each other.

“I pity your future wife,” Donghyuck huffs as Mark tries to overtake him. “She’ll get the title of princess in exchange for what? A husband who will be too frightened to peel the sheets back on her first night!”

Doyoung rolls his eyes when he sees the fighting clearly isn’t coming to an end any time soon. Despite that, he certainly isn’t inclined to try to break them up; the last time he got in the middle of one of their scuffles, he ended up with an accidental black eye. The thought of trying to explain to the public what had happened was too embarrassing for words, and he was resigned to stay confined to the castle as it healed.

It would not surprise him if that incident were a part of the equation that finally convinced their parents to send them away for additional royal training. He, for one, isn’t complaining about it.

Doyoung waves his hand and decides to take his leave, quickly tiring of their theatrics. “You two have fun, then. Try not to kill each other; we’re expected to arrive in Eupheme all in one piece.”

They spend the next few days making the necessary preparations to leave for Eupheme—picking out luggage, selecting which outfits to bring, and deciding which guards will accompany them. Their parents have already arranged for them to stay with the King and Queen of Eupheme, who they are long-time friends of, and their three sons, Jeno, Jaemin, and Jisung. Once there, Jungwoo, Mark, Donghyuck, and Sicheng will receive gentlemen’s tutoring alongside the younger three men.

Though they have been to Eupheme and the King and Queen’s home in the past as adolescents, their destination this time is a little different, with a new royal castle only just coming to completion a few years back. The King of Eupheme, always one to pull out all the stops with luxury and extravagance, had seen it fit to build a bigger and more attractive castle in the very center of the kingdom. Their old mansion would go to the oldest son and Crown Prince, Jeno, whenever he married.

The King and Queen of Ceres decide to appoint Doyoung as a chaperone for the boys because of his seniority as Crown Prince—and also because he’s the only older brother they’ll even attempt to listen to. Yuta and Jaehyun stay behind to handle other royal affairs and ambassadorial duties in Doyoung’s place. Some members of the Royal Court are far from thrilled by Doyoung’s departure and Yuta’s taking over a portion of his responsibilities in his absence, but they also know better than to air their grievances out in the open where any of the family could hear.

Yuta is initially not too pleased about being left out of the trip, but he knows there are obligations to attend to in Ceres. He also won’t deny that he relishes being given this role to play, feeling like he has obtained some heightened level of importance within the family for the first time in a long time. He tries not to be so conspicuous about how often he thinks about the position of Crown Prince, and what it might be like if he were only a year older and born of the same mother as his brothers. Yuta tends to think of himself as a master actor in maintaining his unfazed façade concerning his lowered station within the family, with no one the wiser. Well, except for the one he can trust.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is not nearly so chagrined by having to stay as Yuta is. But of course, leaving would mean having to pause his budding romance with the daughter of the Marquess, so he’s more than willing to stay if tasked to do so.

The day of their departure comes fast. Soon, they’re all standing outside the castle as the servants load the men’s things into several of their stagecoaches. The five of them bid their farewells to their parents and two brothers, if a bit over-exaggeratedly.

“I hope you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” Donghyuck says, crowding up to Jaehyun and annoying him with kissy faces.

Jaehyun smiles and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Try not to torment our cousins too much.” Even with his joking, he gives the younger boy a hug and pets his hair before letting him go off to bother Yuta.

Doyoung is already there talking with Yuta, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Take care of things while I’m gone, yeah? If there’s anyone around here who can do it, it’s you.”

“Of course, brother. I always honor my duties.” Then Yuta smirks. “Don’t let Jaehyun hear you saying that, though.”

Sicheng isn’t happy about being separated from Yuta for a span of months, but he doesn’t complain in front of the others about it. He simply gives his brother a long hug, sighing into his shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” Yuta insists, trying to get Sicheng to wipe the pout off his face. “Look at the bright side of it. When you come back, you’ll finally have some proper manners.” Yuta gently pinches his ear and Sicheng makes a face at that, though his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“Maybe. For their sake, perhaps these lessons won’t go to complete waste.” Sicheng glances at his other brothers as he says this, and he gives Yuta another nod before walking to one of the stagecoaches.

“Do take care of your brothers,” the Queen says to Doyoung, fixing his collar and patting his shoulders like she often did when he was smaller. Then she sighs. “We have not been parted for such a long time in years. Hurry back, my son…and please remember to be patient with them…you know how they can be.”

Doyoung smiles as she pats his cheek, though he feels a little embarrassed at his mother’s fussing over him. “I promise everything will go well, mother. We’ll be back before you know it.”

Sicheng and Mark take one stagecoach while Doyoung, Donghyuck, and Jungwoo take the other; their guards and servants have another two to themselves. After everyone is loaded in, they wave goodbye to the King and Queen as they ride away from the castle and towards a summer ahead in Eupheme.

In the stagecoaches, it takes a journey of nearly three days to reach Eupheme. By then, everyone is more than ready to get some space away from each other. Their stagecoaches are more finely outfitted than the ones used for public travel by the common folk, but that still doesn’t make them pleasant to keep an extended stay in. There’s nothing quite like being stowed up in one small space with your siblings for days to realize the value of alone time.

 The castle, they find out as they ride along the path leading to it, sits not too far from a nearby village. Beyond that village, an expansive forest stretches out along the land. As to be expected, new property comes with new people and sights.

 The princes had not last visited Eupheme since before the new castle was completed; now, all this newness comes as a welcome surprise. Donghyuck and Jungwoo press their faces up against the stagecoach window to catch glimpses of the village through the trees as they drive past. It’s raining lightly outside, and the waterdrops slide against the windowpanes as they peer out, obscuring their vision slightly.

Doyoung can already see the rapt excitement in their eyes. “Remember we didn’t come here to play in the village all day,” Doyoung tells the others, sighing deeply as he already knows what their plans will be

“Doesn’t mean we won’t, brother,” Jungwoo chuckles, and Donghyuck voices his agreement.

In Sicheng and Mark’s stagecoach, they also look at the scenery with fascination.

“It’s quite different from their old home,” Sicheng remarks. “But prettier.”

Mark presses his palm against the stagecoach’s interior wall, beside the windowpane, and focuses his energy to create a small portal to the outside. He sticks his hand through it to feel the raindrops pattering against his fingers; the air outside is humid and sticky.

“Showboat. You could’ve just opened the window,” Sicheng points out, though he smirks in amusement.

Their cousins’ castle is a grand thing. It’s similar to their own in many ways, but one thing the Euphemian royals have always prided themselves on is their outstanding landscaping. Their front lawn, backyard, and the surrounding fields create a vast world of their own, filled with intricately-shaped hedges, rare flowers, unique stone statues, and even a winding maze of greenery leading to the castle’s front entrance. It was more than enough land for anyone to get lost in for days. One could spend a week just traversing their entire property alone—forget the village and forest.

As their entourage of stagecoaches makes its way through the path to the mansion, the men talk more excitedly with each other, planning the things they hope to do once they get settled in. The King and Queen of Eupheme and their three sons are already standing in front of the castle steps ready to greet them once they arrive.

“Doyoung!” Jeno calls out the prince’s name as soon as he sees his head pop out of the window, and Doyoung waves excitedly to the younger man as he and the others get out.

Once all five men exit the carriage, they bow to the King and Queen.

“It is so good to see you all again after such a long time,” the Queen says, clasping her hands together with a warm smile.

“Surely, you’ve all grown into fine young men.” The King is a big, intimidating man, even for someone of his rank, and the current smile he wears does little to take away from that fact, but the five men return the gesture all the same.

The men get reacquainted with their cousins as the servants unload their things from the stagecoaches.

“You’ve grown up so much. Let me look at you,” Doyoung says, fawning over Jeno as the other men look on and laugh.

“You act worse than a parent,” Jungwoo says, giggling at Jeno’s blushing face.

Sicheng nods his agreement, looking at the two with an embarrassed expression. “Quite obviously—why do you think they picked him to be our chaperone?”

“Come on, we’ll give you a tour around the castle,” Jisung says, excitedly pulling Mark and Donghyuck along with him as he heads for the castle steps.

“I think we’ll be walking around for an entire day.” Donghyuck snickers. “It’s huge.”

Jisung grins, a knowing glance in his eyes. “An entire day? Oh, cousin, that’s just the east wing.”

Unsurprisingly, the group of brothers aren’t immediately unleashed to go exploring in the village.

Their tutors have them settle into a couple weeks of lessons before adding unsupervised free time to their schedules for them to do whatever they please with. It’s not a lot at first—only 30 minutes at a time—but Doyoung knows that’s more than enough time for them to get into trouble, if they so wish.

The men were hardly impressed with being treated like reckless children and would take whatever chance they could to escape the tutors’ watchful eyes, which meant staying on their best behavior and trying to adhere to all their professors’ instructions until they were granted more leniency.

By that point, their instructors were almost being driven crazy by the men’s frequent and not-so-subtle side conversations about what they’d see in the village once they finally got there.

“Alright, here is your first free break of the day. Go on, make use of it. I say, I’ve never seen a bunch of royals so infatuated with what the commoners are doing,” their music tutor exclaims, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t you much rather stay in here where things are clean and predictable and safe—and most importantly, clean?”

“Hmm, no. Clean’s boring!” Donghyuck counters, and he’s the first one to take off and leave the room once he’s gathered all his things. The rest of the men soon trail out of the room after him, with Doyoung heading up the rear. By their parents’ request, he usually sits in on their lessons to make sure they follow their tutors’ orders, or to help them out with whatever questions they have if the teacher is preoccupied with someone else.

“Are you all going to accompany us?” Donghyuck asks Jeno after the older man catches up to him in the hallway.

Jeno gives him a suspicious look. “Accompany you where?”

Donghyuck lowers his voice to prevent Doyoung from overhearing their conversation. “We’re going to visit the village today, see the lay of the land. There’s no time to waste, so if you want to come…”

Jeno shakes his head, a slightly unimpressed look coloring his features. “You go on ahead. If you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it a thousand times before.”

Donghyuck looks at him skeptically, then claps a hand on his back. “Suit yourself!”

It doesn’t take long for Donghyuck to convince Sicheng, Jungwoo, and Mark to use their free time to go to the village with him, and they decide to take the horses to shorten the time it’ll take to get there. They bypass their rooms and head straight outside for the stable, leaving their books and writing utensils sitting in a heap in a corner to avoid wasting any precious time with putting their things away.

While they’re out in the stable, Donghyuck fawns endlessly over the horses. He’s particularly drawn to an all-black one with a shiny coat and an impossibly long mane. Her expressions are almost elven-like, her eyes showing a certain eerie understanding of the words he speaks to her. A large golden label on her stall reads Lily in black curly lettering.

“She’s amazing,” Donghyuck says, gently stroking her muzzle as she peers at him with her huge black eyes. Mark and Jungwoo come over to take a look at the mare, and Mark agrees to Donghyuck’s observation, grinning softly as he brushes his fingers along Lily’s soft coat. Their moment is suddenly disturbed, however, by a voice coming from the stable entrance. The three of them jump a little in surprise.

“Where are you all going?” It’s Doyoung, of course. Donghyuck scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to ignore his older brother as he keeps petting the horse.

“We’re going out,” Sicheng says, laughing from the other side of the stable as he leads one of the horses out of its stall.

“Obviously, but where?” Doyoung walks further into the stable with the other boys, though he screws up his face at the strong smell of horse and hay. Much like the others, riding horses is an activity he quite fancies, but he doesn’t enjoy the smell of it.

“Leave us for once, brother, please! If you come with us, it’s just going to spoil the mood. Between the tutors and the King and Queen, we have enough overbearing people breathing down our necks.” Mark shushes Donghyuck at that, as if he half expects the King and Queen themselves to come out from the shadows and reprimand them.

Doyoung crosses his arms. “I have no intentions of stopping you, but I’m also not going to let you return here with a herd of angry townspeople on your tail if you do something to set them off.”

“Yes, which means you’ll stop us from doing anything fun,” Sicheng retorts, nearly pouting. He’s used his sad eyes and natural charm on his older brothers to get his way in many situations in the past, but Doyoung isn’t budging this time.

“Doyoung is going to come regardless, can the rest of you just bear with it so we can leave?” Jungwoo says impatiently, leading one of the other horses out and fixing its saddle on. “We don’t have all day to argue.”

“Fine.” Sicheng and Donghyuck aren’t thrilled about the prospect of having their older brother tag along to thwart any mischievous plans they might’ve had. They don’t truly hate it, though; they rarely miss an opportunity to try to get on his nerves if they can, and now is no exception.

After they’ve all picked a steed, they mount their horses and take off to leave the castle.

On the horses, it takes only 5 or 6 minutes to reach the village rather than the 20 minutes they’d spend walking there. When they get there, they are greeted by a sign that reads Arthenia Village. It shows obvious signs of wear, but it looks to have been recently covered with a fresh coat of green paint.

From the first glance, it’s easy to tell that the small town mostly consists of supernatural beings—though they could figure that from the atmosphere alone. The air is thick with magic, and it dances across their skin like static. Fairies and orcs and the occasional elf like themselves walk, ride, or fly through the streets, plus many more beings beyond those. Even a small portion of humans live there, though they blend in almost seamlessly with the others—except for their lack of a magical aura.

Some townspeople stop to watch the men enter the village as they trot down the cobbled streets on their horses, all dressed up in their fineries. In the men’s own eyes, their outfits are quite average for a day of schooling, but the villagers rarely see such luxury in their daily lives.

The townspeople are not really used to interacting with royalty, due to the castle’s inhabitants mostly keeping to their own circles of nobility—and seeing everyone else as beneath them, even if they don’t immediately concede to it. Some villagers are in awe of their entrance, while others look on with expressions of contempt. Donghyuck doesn’t mind the glares, though, and waves excitedly to anyone who’ll wave back.

“I wonder about you sometimes,” Mark says to the younger man, and he narrowly avoids Donghyuck trying to reach out and swipe him off his horse.

They eventually dismount the horses and tie them up at a nearby stall so they can walk around the Market Square. There’s little danger of anyone trying to make off with one of the animals; their saddles decorated with the royal colors and insignia would immediately incriminate any person who’d attempt it. And in any case, a punishment of being sent to the guillotine is more than enough to keep potential thieves away.

Arthenia may be small, but it’s still filled with a distinct culture and a sense of hominess, with people selling their homemade wares and groups of little kids playing and weaving through the streets. A group of girls gathered at a small jewelry shop whisper animatedly among themselves as they watch the men walk by, and they freeze when Doyoung meets their eyes. He waves to them with a warm smile on his face, just as he was taught to do, and they wave back enthusiastically, their free hands covering their mouths to disguise their giggles.

Jungwoo quickly becomes entangled in a game of Horseshoes with a group of adolescents who bet he can’t beat them at their own game. And, despite Sicheng’s earlier complaints, he ends up trailing behind Doyoung for most of their trip, unsure how to interact with the villagers except for following his etiquette training and simply smiling politely at them. If he were in an “I told you so” kind of mood, Doyoung might’ve pointed out the irony of the situation, but he decides to let it be, knowing Sicheng is still trying to adjust.

At the very edge of the village, a small dirt pathway gives way to the same forest they saw on their way to the castle. The expanse of the forest is easier to see when outside of Arthenia itself; it spreads like a thick patch of dark green against the lighter green fields and hills. Up close and personal, though, the forest entrance is thick with foliage, making it hard to see through. The unknown nature of it beckons. Donghyuck catches Mark’s eyes lingering in that direction, and he comes up next to the older man, throwing his arm across his shoulders.

“Is that our next conquest?” he proposes, mischief written across his face. “Want to see what lies there?”

Mark looks back at him, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I’m willing if you are.”

A seller at a nearby stall—an elderly orc—overhears their conversation and shakes his head, chuckling as if he’s just heard something utterly ridiculous. “Young men...don’t go in there with bad intentions. The women will drive you out.”

Donghyuck and Mark turn to him with confusion written on their faces. “Women?”

“There are women who live in the trees,” the seller continues. “They protect the trees, protect the forest. Everything there is under their dominion. Before you step foot in there, make sure you’re thinking with your head up top,” he taps a finger against the side of his head, “and not the one between your legs.”

“U-um, that wasn’t—alright.” Mark is openly flustered at being called out, and Donghyuck only laughs, steering Mark away from the stall and back towards the heart of the village.

“Don’t get so discomfited about it, brother. Desires of the flesh are natural for men.” Donghyuck slaps Mark on the chest, and the other coughs a bit at the sudden hit.

“But do you think he said that just to deter us? Or is it true?”

“I’d say there’s only one way to find out.”

Sicheng turns a corner and nearly runs into them, and they both startle at his sudden appearance. “Whatever you’re so eager to find out, it’s not happening today. It’s time to go back already.” He’s no more happy about it than they are, though, rolling his eyes at the prospect of heading back to the mansion when there’s still much to see.

“Already?” Donghyuck questions Sicheng as he starts heading back to the Market Square where their horses are stationed. Sicheng unfolds his pocketwatch and shows him the time, nodding without a word before continuing on. “Ah, shit. We’ll see the forest next time, then. Don’t forget! We’ve got to make haste.”

“Remember what that old man said, though,” Mark says, calling back to Donghyuck as he follows Sicheng. “We aren’t using up all our break time to find lovers or concubines.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Who do you take me for? No one can find a lover in just 30 minutes, Mark, unless it’s you. Then you’d only need 5 minutes at most.” Then he takes off through the streets as Mark chases after him, threatening to kick his ass once he lays his hands on him.

It’s another week before they can make it out to the village—and therefore, the forest—again, but once the time rolls around, Donghyuck is once again the first out of the castle with Mark on his tail. Jungwoo and Sicheng decide to tag along too, along with Doyoung, which none of them are particularly surprised about.

The villagers’ responses are less awe-struck this time, though some of them still express some surprise at seeing the men come to their little town two weeks in a row. Many of them give friendly waves, though others look on with skepticism as they see the men heading for the woods. They pass by the same elderly orc from last week, who gives them a knowing look; Mark shoots him a nervous smile in return.

Entering the woods on horses requires them to duck their heads a bit to avoid the overhanging foliage threatening to poke them in the eyes or get tangled in their hair. A few of them gripe about this, but they quickly grow captivated with interest as they journey deeper into the terrain and survey the woods.

“This place is nice,” Jungwoo comments. His eyes dart to and fro, though, as if he expects one of the aforementioned women to come out of nowhere and sternly rebuke them for entering their forest abode.

“I can’t wait to see what kind of beautiful women live in this forest,” Donghyuck announces.

“Don’t be so eager, I’m positive none of them would be interested in a kid,” Sicheng scoffs. No sooner do the words leave Sicheng’s lips do a pair of pinecones come falling out of a tall pine tree just a ways above their heads. One only narrowly misses Sicheng, but the other catches Donghyuck on the shoulder.

“Ow! Did you see that?” He grabs his shoulder as if it’s injured and whips his head to look up at the pine’s towering trunk, but there’s no sign of anything other than a few unsuspecting birds.

Doyoung shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say anything else foolish if I were you, brother. Seems like the forest already has something against you.” He laughs to himself, steering his horse away from the others to explore more of the woods.

“It’s not the forest, it’s the women that stall vendor was talking about,” Donghyuck insists, looking over his shoulder for any more falling objects.

“Sure. Next, you will tell us you’re no longer an elf.” Sicheng is less convinced by the presence of the dryads than the other men, but he’s along for the ride anyway. He will at least get to see what all the fuss is about, and even if it’s not true, he’ll have some time away from the castle. Although the King and Queen are as dutifully welcoming as they should be, he can’t shake the feeling of the King’s judgment brewing just underneath the surface. It’s like his aura intentionally closes itself off to the younger man, too haughty and refined to be in the presence of a concubine’s son.

“Let’s just keep on and see what we come across,” Mark says, steering his horse around a fallen log as he traverses further ahead.

Doyoung catches sight of a large oak tree just a little ways off. It doesn’t look much different from the other trees around, save for a hollow hole in its front, but he’s intrigued by it and decides to look more closely. Once he gets over to it, he climbs off his horse and walks up to its large trunk, carefully maneuvering around the thick roots beneath his feet.

Cautiously peeking into the hollow, he sees a nest, but there are no current occupants. He presses one hand against the trunk and feels the grooves and ridges of its texture underneath his palm. It feels old and powerful, and he guesses it must’ve been here for a long time already.

Doyoung hears rustling a few feet above him from the branches, and a few leaves drift down, brushing his face. He expects to see some bird or squirrel when he looks up, maybe the owner of the nest come back to object to his snooping around, but he’s shocked at the sight of a woman.

Doyoung only catches a glimpse of you, for when you notice him looking at you, you gasp and dart further up into the tree’s branches, causing more leaves to fall on the way. Doyoung shields his eyes from them as they come cascading around him, but he fails to get another look. It’s like the tree has enveloped you entirely, hiding you from view.

“That was odd,” he says aloud. So the seller’s words were true after all. He lingers for a while longer, hoping to maybe stay long enough to see you again, but you’ve disappeared. He’s a bit reluctant to leave, but it’s apparent you’re not going to reappear while he’s still around, so he leads his horse away by its reins and looks for the others.

“I saw something,” he says as soon as he spots Donghyuck. “Or someone.”

“Seriously?” Donghyuck’s eyes light up. “What did she look like? Was she pretty? Did you get her name?”

“‘Was she pretty?’ Is that all you can think about?” Doyoung sighs. “I didn’t get anything. I barely saw her. She was among the tree branches one minute and gone the next.” Donghyuck slumps a bit at that, but he’s still determined to see one of the forest’s female inhabitants for himself.

“Hmmm…no matter. There’s many more chances where that came from. We can always return later and see who shows up.”

Their conversation is cut short by a nearby shout from Mark, who’s loudly complaining about his head. Apparently he’s been struck by something much messier than a pinecone—a robin’s egg. “Ugh. What have you fools gotten into?!” Donghyuck calls out, spurring on his horse.

Doyoung mounts his own horse and follows the younger man in search of their brothers. Just before they get out of sight of the oak tree, Doyoung throws a glance backwards, still burning with curiosity. He’s startled to see the same face from earlier staring back at him from the uppermost reaches of the tree, your eyes wide with an inquisitiveness he thinks must mirror his own.

When he blinks, you are gone again.

Even though the other men look at him a bit oddly for it, Doyoung decides to bring a gift the next time they go to the forest.

He doesn’t know much about tree nymphs. He does know, however, that there is a library full of books in the castle; many being history and reference books, no doubt. After visiting the library one day after his brothers’ lessons, he manages to scrape up a little information on tree nymphs—or dryads, as they’re also called—even though he isn’t entirely sure what he’s looking for.

His research tells him the tree nymphs are friends of the gods and goddesses, and history shows that the higher beings have always liked—even demanded for—gifts. So why wouldn’t the women of the forest be the same way? Maybe if he brings a gift, the women will warm up to their presence and realize they aren’t just a bunch of horny travelers. At the very least, maybe they wouldn’t have any more pinecones and eggs thrown at them.

When the brothers get a chance to go to the forest again, Doyoung carries a couple cinnamon scones and a small, bright clementine from their earlier breakfast in his saddlebag. The chef’s scones are the best he’s ever tasted, and he doesn’t think he could ever go back to eating the ones from their cook back home—not that he’d ever say that out loud, though.

Everyone likes food, right? He figures there’s no way to go wrong with this idea, and even if the girl in the oak tree doesn’t like it, maybe one of the other tree nymphs or woodland creatures can eat it.

You aren’t in sight when he stops by the oak tree again. Donghyuck, who’s accompanying Doyoung on his personal quest, watches as he leaves the food in the small tree hollow, keeping it carefully wrapped in its blue and white handkerchief.

“You think she’ll take it?” Donghyuck asks, keeping his voice low. He doesn’t really want you to hear him talking about you if you’re still around somewhere, which could possibly alert you to their presence and scare you off again. But unbeknownst to him, that’s unlikely to happen; dryads always know when someone enters their forest.

“I wouldn’t reject free food,” Doyoung says, laughing quietly. He steps back once he’s finished with his job and looks towards the branches, as if he expects you to appear right then and accept his offering. That won’t likely happen, but he wouldn’t mind seeing what you look like more closely.

“Well, come on then.” Donghyuck waves his hand. “There’s still more to see. We can double back and see if it worked later.”

They hear rustling among the trees as they guide their horses through one of the forest’s many paths, but they don’t see any signs of the dryads. There’s only the occasional forest creature, such as a racoon or squirrel. Mark, Sicheng, and Jungwoo are farther away in another part of the woods, though the two men can hear them talking faintly, their voices carrying on the wind. Sunlight from the midday sun filters through the leaves, turning the landscape into a speckled show of light and shadow.

When Donghyuck and Doyoung get far enough away from the oak tree, they eventually come across a lake that splits the forest in half. It’s not very wide, but if you tried to jump across it you’d almost certainly land in the water instead of on dry land.

There are signs that sprites have recently been near the lake, or quite possibly live within the forest. The ground is littered with half-eaten berries and chewed-on leaves, but that’s not the only clue; that could be the work of any forest animal. Sprites, however, leave a very distinct tinge of magic in places they’ve visited. It’s akin to walking through a spiderweb, or feeling the air change when you go from the hot outdoors to a cold room. Doyoung almost swears he can hear tiny tinkling laughter next to his ear, though it fades away as soon as he turns around.

Donghyuck is more interested in the lake, though, and guides his horse to walk along the edge of the grass where the water begins. “Do you figure we could go swimming in it?” he calls back to Doyoung.

Doyoung scoffs. “Now?”

“Of course not now! Maybe some other day, when we don’t have 20 other things to do.”

“Maybe. The water seems safe enough…” Doyoung peers into the running waters himself, watching a few twigs and stray leaves float past. There aren’t any apparent dangers or concerns, and the water’s shallow enough where you can see the bottom of the lake, but appearances aren’t always as they seem. It’s always essential to be wary in magically-charged places like this forest.

They ride through the woods for a while longer, listening to birds cry out from the trees and sing softer chirps that serve as background music. Despite the forest’s inherent mystery, it’s almost calming at this moment, with the steady hum of wildlife around. It’s like time has been suspended and they’ve been enveloped in a dimension separate from their own, even though they can see familiar signs of life prospering all around them. The contradiction of the forest’s calm and unsettling quality is both strange and wonderful to experience.

By the time their half-hour of exploration starts running out, they circle back to the grand oak tree to see what’s become of Doyoung’s offering. He’s actually a bit surprised to see it gone, handkerchief and all, and he gets off his horse to inspect the tree hollow.

“It worked!” Donghyuck exclaims this a little too loudly and a nearby bird takes off. He flinches reflexively, expecting another pinecone to come hurtling at him from the trees, though none do.

“It did,” Doyoung agrees, pressing his fingers against the wood as he looks into the tree hollow. He’s even more pleased than he expected to be, a small grin playing on his lips. “It did.”

Doyoung leaves more gifts over the next few weeks, which ends up in him actually buying things for your merriment. Many of them are cute and inexpensive little trinkets from the Market Square, like smooth blue moonstones and jagged sharp crystals that the vendors swear have been blessed with witches’ magic, though he often still leaves food.

Even with these regular visits, he’s still yet to catch more than a few glimpses at a time of you. Unbeknownst to him and Donghyuck, these sightings, no matter how sparse they are, are largely due to you throwing them a bone and allowing them to perceive you. At any other time, it would be all too easy to just disappear completely and wait for them to leave after depositing their offerings.

They don’t always see you when they come to the tree, but it happens enough to be worth noting.

Despite this inability to get you to stay, Donghyuck still tries his luck with calling out greetings to your retreating form. These words, no matter how friendly they are, are often swallowed up in the rustling of the leaves.

The same thing happens today. Donghyuck spots your feet peeking out from an uppermost branch, not quite concealed by the leaves, and he rushes out the first thing he can think of to say. “Hey, there—” At the sound of his voice, though, you quickly retreat. “Uh, nice tree-climbing skills? Oh, alright, okay…”

“I don’t think she wants to talk right now,” Doyoung remarks, a smirk on his face as he goes to leave his token for today. This time, it’s another food gift; a pair of peaches and a biscuit with jam.

“That’s fine!” Donghyuck tries not to seem embarrassed about his fruitless greetings. “I’ll just keep greeting her until she does feel like answering. It would be rude not to say hello otherwise! Unlike someone else here. Not very princely of you, huh, brother?”

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at his brother and spurs his horse to gallop off into the trees, feeling the air whip past his cheeks. In the back of his mind, he himself knows why he keeps calling out to you even if he won’t get an answer, though he doesn’t intend on letting Doyoung know why. Some things are better kept to oneself; he’s had to learn that lesson over time.

He eventually ends up on a small hill in the forest, which is surrounded by tall trees and covered in sparse patches of moss. He hears giggling above him from one of the trees, though when he turns his head to look, there’s nothing there.

Still chagrined from the time he got hit with a pinecone, he keeps his head turned skyward, trying to see if he can spot anything among the tree canopy. However, all he sees is green and more green. He’s about to give up and go about his way when an acorn comes zooming down and hits him square in the forehead.

“Hey!” he shouts, rubbing the sore spot on his head. His exclamation reverberates off the tree trunks and bounces back to him. The echo of it almost overtakes the small set of giggles from just in front of him, but his ear catches them. “Whoever you are, come out!”

Donghyuck’s horse whinnies softly but does nothing else to alert him to where the possible culprit might be hiding, and he sighs heavily. He decides to get off the horse to walk around the area, inspecting it more closely as the wind stirs his hair and tickles his ears. The forest is almost eerily silent the entire time; all Donghyuck can hear is the sound of his own breaths and his boots in the grass.

Suddenly, he yells when a mop of black hair falls on top of his head. The shock of it sends him falling to the ground, dirtying his pants. When he gets enough distance between himself and the strange black hair, he realizes it’s one of the tree nymphs. Not you from the oak tree, though, to his slight disappointment. This one hangs upside down from a thick branch as she looks at him, her eyes playful and bright.

“You’re a cute one, aren’t you?” Her voice sounds like windchimes tinkling in the breeze, light and airy. Donghyuck tries to respond, but he finds himself lost for words after finally facing one of the women who have been an enigma this entire time. When she sees he isn’t responding, she says, “Cat got your tongue?”

“Who...where…?” Donghyuck scrambles to his feet, and the girl rights herself on her tree branch, skittering along the length of it to hide partway behind the tree trunk. She doesn’t appear to actually be shy or apprehensive, though. Her grin tells him that this is all part of her game.

“Hmm. Well, when you figure out what you’d like to say, call for me.” The girl disappears completely behind the tree trunk, and Donghyuck darts behind it, expecting to see her still hiding there. However, there’s nothing but air.

“But I don’t know your name?” Donghyuck calls after her, but there’s only his own voice reflected back to him.

“Don’t know whose name?” Mark’s voice makes Donghyuck turn around in surprise, a blush coloring his cheeks. He hadn’t even heard the older man’s horse come trotting up.

“No one,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he walks back to his horse. “You must be hearing things.”

You and three other dryads sit in a circle in a small clearing one night, talking amongst yourselves, eating berries, and gazing at the moon as it shines directly upon your little spot. Cassia lays her head in your lap, her long black hair splaying across your legs. The other two, Peony and Daphne, cuddle close to each other, their legs entangling as they feed each other berries.

You all only come out like this when you’re sure the forest is free of any unwelcome visitors or sudden drop-ins, so you can enjoy each other’s company in peace and talk without prying ears or eyes. And speak of the devil—the subject soon turns to the men who’ve been gallivanting through the forest as of late.

“We can never have any peace,” Cassia says, though her tone is laced with laughter. “If it isn’t one group of thirsty and untouched men, it’s another.”

“That one man always comes around this area, the one with the long hair. Along with the rest of them…all on their horses, making so much noise and chaos,” Peony complains.

“It’s impossible not to notice their presence. I wish they’d just stay wherever they come from; they make far too much noise out here,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “They must scare away every woodland creature within a 20-foot radius.”

You’re quiet and thoughtful as you listen to the other girls’ complaints. Finally, you decide to chime in. “I don’t know. They do seem a bit mannerless at times, but they’re kind of interesting.”

Peony shrugs. “Not surprised you’d say that. The one with the long hair is always looking up your tree and leaving you gifts.”

“She just doesn’t want the stream of admiration to stop,” Cassia giggles.

You sigh. “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, but whatever you say.”

“Everyone in the world likes attention, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Cassia admits, “especially when it’s coming from someone who isn’t half-bad. This batch of men is by far the most attractive we’ve seen in a while.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” Peony says, and her and Daphne giggle to themselves like they’re in on a joke only the two of them know.

“He must think he’ll get in your good graces if he gives you enough presents,” Daphne adds in. “What say you?”

You tilt your head and think. “Get in my good graces? That depends on what he wants.”

“What he wants?” Peony separates herself from Daphne and crawls over to you, mischief shining in her eyes. “And what do you think he wants?” Her grin doesn’t diminish as she waits for your answer. Daphne smiles and laughs and licks berry juice off her hands as she observes you both.

You stare at the other girl for a long moment, not wanting to laugh but cracking a grin anyway. “I couldn’t possibly know! Maybe you should ask him—or ask the younger one you all have been obsessed with.”

Cassia stretches her arms upwards toward the night sky, crossing her fingers over each other. “Nope. He’s just fun to tease.”

“Fun enough for you to reveal yourself to him,” you point out.

“Say what you will,” she responds. “But at some point, you will probably have to talk to the man. Think carefully. You want to make a good impression on your not-so-secret admirer, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” you say nonchalantly, though you are already thinking of what you might say to him the next time he comes around.

Daphne looks to Cassia, then at you. “Well, just remember this. I wouldn’t waste too much of my good time with him if I were you. We all know elves don’t like us.” The mood shifts a bit at this, with the three of you giving each other unsettled looks as a familiar thought drifts in the back of your minds. It is not uncommon for elves to demean other species, nor is it rare for them to use this perceived superiority to take what they want from others.

Cassia pulls up a handful of grass and throws it at the other girl. “Must you spoil the mood? We’re just having a bit of fun. Besides, these elves obviously don’t object to us if they keep hanging around here unprovoked.”

“I’m trying to look out for the best interest of a fellow dryad,” Daphne protests. “Elven men are very seductive…everything you want them to be until they’re not. But, by all means, do as you please.”

“Like Cassia said, it’s just fun.” You keep your voice nonchalant, though you are already rising to your feet to walk back to your tree. “And thank you for the concern…although I’m not certain it’s warranted.”

The other girls let you walk back alone, knowing you need a bit of time to yourself to think. You wonder what the man’s motive could truly be, and what it means for you. The elves of Arthenia have historically been easy to get along with as they don’t share the views of many others in their race. The same can’t always be said for elven people outside of this small area, though.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

One day, Doyoung manages to go out to the forest by himself while his brothers are still busy with their studies.

He plans to leave you something again, maybe hoping to see you fully this time, though he’s also content to just be out in nature and enjoy the scenery if that’s not possible. At least that’s what he tells himself. Fortunately for him, Lady Luck takes his side today.

After getting off his horse, he heads straight for your oak tree with his gift in hand. It’s a small piece of dyed glass that he got from the Market Square, shaped like a maple leaf. It appears to change colors when held up to the light, as if it were a real leaf with the sun shining through its cells.

You’re already sitting on one of the upper branches when he comes to the tree. He stops in his tracks, thinking you might run off again if he comes any closer, but you simply sit and look at him, your knees close to your chest. He thinks about what a precarious position that is to take on a tree branch, but you’re obviously used to keeping your balance up there.

There’s a tense silence. Doyoung’s afraid you might leave, but he’s surprised when you stay put as the seconds tick past, wrapping your arms around your knees and watching him. When he becomes a little more confident that you won’t try to escape, he steps closer, albeit slowly. “Hello,” he says, keeping his voice even and quiet. Like he’s speaking to something vulnerable and scared.

After a few beats of silence, you say, “Hi.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m...Doyoung.”

“Doyoung.” You cock your head, weighing whether you should tell him your name or not, but you eventually do.

“It’s a pretty name,” he says, and he actually means it rather than saying it just to be polite. “Um…” He looks to the glass leaf in his hand, which is cradled in another handkerchief. “I was wondering if I’d ever get to see you in person.”

“I’m always here,” you say.

Doyoung nods and chuckles. “Well...I can’t argue with that.”

“You’re always here, too. With your group of men. Making so much noise that you scare all the creatures in the forest away.”

Doyoung winces. He already knew that they weren’t the quietest mice in the bunch whenever they came to the forest. “I’m...sorry about that. I’ll tell the others to keep it down from now on.”

You nod. “That would be nice. The other girls don’t like the noise.”

“What about you?”

You shrug. “They’re not wrong for being irritated about it.”

“Could this make up for it? At least, for you?” Doyoung pulls away the handkerchief and holds the glass leaf up for you to see. You climb down from your high post to look at it more closely, though you don’t leave the tree entirely; you just balance on one of the lower branches.

“It’s pretty,” you whisper, and Doyoung notices your eyes seem to sparkle a bit more at the sight of the ornament even though your outer demeanor is calm.

“Then I’ll leave it here.” Doyoung tucks it into the small tree hollow where he’s always put the rest of his presents.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, and he is surprised to see a slight smile on your face; the first one he’s ever seen from you. He realizes he’s staring at you a little longer than he should and catches himself.

“Ah, y-you’re welcome.”

You nod but don’t say anything more, and Doyoung knows he ought to speak again soon if he doesn’t want to surrender this small opportunity he’s had to talk to you.

“Are there...many of you here?”

“Dryads?”

“Ah, yes...dryads.”

“There are many, yes,” you answer. “Not every tree has a keeper; some are just empty. But many do. We live in our trees.”

“In?” Doyoung realizes this may be referring to something other than just literally living among the branches, which he didn’t think of until now. You nod.

“Maybe it’s a little different from your elven magic.” You glance at his ears and momentarily think of the conversation you had with the other dryads. “But it’s a type of magic all the same.”

“I see…” Doyoung remembers to file that bit of information away so he can tell Donghyuck, who’s been burning to know. The books in the library only provided so many answers, much to their disappointment, with them not having much recorded information on the tree nymph race. Dryads seemed to be a thing of mystery to many, though he could easily guess why.

“You’re not Eupheme-born,” you say abruptly. “Where do you hail from?”

“The kingdom of Ceres,” Doyoung answers. You nod, and he takes this as recognition. “Have you been there before?

You shake your head. “I can’t leave the forest.”

“You can’t? Why?”

“We’re connected to the trees. They keep us alive, and vice versa. If we’re separated over too far of a distance, both will die.”

“That’s grim,” Doyoung says, his eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t you ever want to leave? Go somewhere else? It can’t be happy to be chained to one place forever.”

You raise your eyebrows and laugh, incredulous at his statement. “Chained? The forest is my home. There’s nowhere else I’d ever want to be.”

Doyoung shrugs. “You have a much stronger constitution than me, then. I don’t know that I’d want to be tied to any one place for my entire life.”

You squint your eyes, staring at him carefully. “You’re royalty, aren’t you?” He nods in response. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts. You can come to this forest however you please and have fun, but you’ll have to have a family sooner or later...something more permanent to tie you to this world.” You slip down from your branch, letting your feet touch the ground, and Doyoung steps back a little to give you space. “Men like to roam and be free and sow their wild oats. They’re more than welcome to do that, but I’ll stay here among the trees.”

He stares at you in wonder, your words repeating in his head as you gingerly take his gift out of the hollow. You turn back to him momentarily, giving him a quick parting smile and a nod before skipping off into the trees.

“A letter came!” Jungwoo holds up a cream-colored envelope that sports their family’s familiar crest on a wax seal on the back. It’s a letter from their parents—their first correspondence since the men have left the castle.

“What does it say?” Mark and Donghyuck crowd around him to persuade him into opening the envelope faster. Before Jungwoo can read it, Sicheng plucks it out of his hand and holds it up to the light, making a show of squinting at the inky black handwriting. “Well? Go on!” Donghyuck prods him.

“Hmm...” Sicheng purses his lips and crinkles his brows as if concentrating hard, then gives them all a sly smile. “It says you’re all kicked off the inheritance and I’m becoming the next Crown Prince.”

Doyoung shakes his head and takes the letter from Sicheng as the younger man laughs. The other three boys balk at his attempt at a joke, and Doyoung knows the atmosphere could easily turn awkward if he doesn’t step in now. “Anyway. Let’s see what it really says, I’m sure they must be missing our presence…”

They all stand around Doyoung as he reads the letter out to them, trying to look over his shoulder as if he can’t read fast enough to satisfy their curiosity.

“Dear boys, we hope Eupheme has been finding you well.

Affairs in Ceres have been running as normal in your absence, thankfully, and Yuta and Jaehyun have been handling their new duties well. They also send their regards and hope to see you back soon.

“There is also important news for our Doyoungie. We are considering a potential match for you—the Duke of Ceres’ daughter, with whom you should already be familiar—and plan to set a meeting as soon as you return at summer’s end. We think you will find her very agreeable...” Doyoung’s voice falters a bit.

“Aw, is our indecisive brother finally going to become a married man this year?” Jungwoo slings his arm around Doyoung’s shoulders, and the older man lets out a puff of air.

“By the beginning of next year, who wants to bet?” Donghyuck snickers. “Girls naturally love you, it won’t take long for you to charm her. Either way, it’s not like you have very much longer to wait.” Mark elbows him in the side and he complains in turn, but not before cuffing Mark over the head.

“...I suppose.” That comment about being a “ladies’ man” might have drawn a laugh or two or even a boast if it were said months ago, but now Doyoung just feels strangely unsettled about it all—the impending courtship and his inevitable marriage. He continues reading the rest of the letter, though if someone were to ask him later, he wouldn’t be able to remember the rest of the words.

“We think you will find her very agreeable and are thrilled for you to get to know each other better. It is nothing to worry yourself over now, but do keep this in mind.

“Boys—remember to keep following all of your tutors’ instructions, and please refrain from making yourselves bothersome. You all are guests, and the King and Queen of Eupheme are being very honorable by hosting you this summer.

“We all send our best regards.”

That night, Doyoung tries his best to fall asleep but is kept awake by the contents of the letter. It’s hard to tear his mind away from what will happen once he returns to Ceres. Though he’d thought he’d be prepared for this, he feels unexpectedly nervous and averse to the idea of yet again courting someone he barely knows for months—and quite possibly marrying them this time around. He doesn’t know how much longer their parents’ patience in allowing him to take his time with finding a partner will last.

It’s proper. It’s tradition. It’s what’s expected of him and his brothers, and he’s been primed for this duty his entire life. Yet, that knowledge does nothing to quell the uncomfortable sensation—dare he call it dread?—creeping upon him.

He watches the clock on the mantle across his bedroom, just above the fireplace. Its little black hands tick by endlessly, counting down the seconds, minutes, hours. When another hour passes and he’s still staring at the clock, Doyoung peels the covers back and decides to leave the castle for a bit. He already knows of a few tucked-away passages he can slip out of that lead to the outside in some way or another, having bribed Jaemin into telling him where they are in case any of his brothers tries to sneak out. How ironic that he’s now using that knowledge for his own gains.

Although he’s not sure if he’ll need it, Doyoung throws on a cloak for good measure before escaping to the outside. He spends a while walking through the castle’s extensive gardens and making sure he’s staying out of sight of the guards, though he feels no sleepier than he did when he first got there. Exasperated, he’s about to turn around and head back for the indoors when the woods beyond Arthenia pop into his mind.

Should he? He’s already outside; what’s the harm in it? Admittedly, the answer is a lot if he’s caught, but he pushes those thoughts away, as his feet are already turning to lead him away from the castle grounds. Doyoung decides he’ll use his glamor for a bit to disguise his face and elven ears once he gets to Arthenia, though there probably won’t be many people awake at this time of night.

Without a horse, the walk to the forest is long. Doyoung doesn’t create any of his light orbs until he’s sure he’s far enough away from the castle to not be spotted by any of the night watch guards. When he thinks it’s safe, he conjures a small ball of burning blue light in his palm, which is enough to illuminate his footsteps.

Doyoung’s boots are wet from the damp grass by the time he reaches the Market Square, and he passes by the rows of houses and outbuildings without a sound. Some lights are still on in some homes, glowing a warm yellow in the dim light of the half moon, while others are pitch black and fade into the surrounding darkness.

The forest looks even more intimidating at night, even with the limited light. He hesitates at the forest entrance for a minute, wondering if it’s safe to go inside. He’s yet to see anything truly dangerous during the daylight hours, but things can be different at night. He didn’t think to possibly bring his bow and arrow from their archery lessons, and there will be no easy escape on horse if something menacing crosses his path. Shaking his head and sighing, he enters anyway and prays to whatever goddess will listen for the best. He’s already walked this far.

Doyoung convinces himself that he’s just going to walk around for a bit, maybe sit at the lake for a while, but after turning in a wide, looping circle, his feet eventually end up leading him to the oak tree. You are already sitting on a low branch when he arrives, as if waiting for his appearance. He notices you’re wearing the moonstone he once left in the tree hollow; somehow it’s been fashioned into a necklace, and he wonders where you got the tools to do that. One of your legs trails off the tree branch you’re perched on, swinging leisurely in the cool night air, and he tries not to stare.

“Y/N,” slips from his lips. “You’re awake at this hour?”

You smirk. “So are you.” Doyoung moves the cloak’s hood away from his face with this free hand, and you study the glowing orb in his other hand. “You’re a Light User...that’s interesting.”

“I guess it could make for a fun trick at a ball,” he says, and tosses the glowing orb up into the air. He does this a few times until he throws it up one last time and it hovers in the air, as if stuck by an invisible force. Doyoung manipulates the orb with his fingers in a way that causes it to split up into a dozen more bright glowing spheres, all suspended in the air. By now, the entire area around the oak tree is lit up from the light emanating from these numerous orbs.

You laugh softly at this display, reaching out to touch the orb nearest to you and discovering that, despite your hand passing through it, the air still feels oddly warm in the spot where the light glows. “Very pretty. It’s peculiar to see you at this hour, though. Are you even allowed to be out this late?” you ask, your eyes still lingering on the orb.

“No, but…” Doyoung trails off, unsure if he wants to revive that concern. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You finally look back at him, and your face creases slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Doyoung says, and he doesn’t know, really. Getting married was always a part of the plan, as royalty. So why is he doubting it now? Maybe he knows more about why he’s feeling this way than he’ll admit to, but there are things he’s still not even sure of himself at the moment.

You decide not to press the matter for now, especially after seeing his conflicted face. “You don’t have your horse. Was it a long walk?”

He nods and laughs a little, thinking maybe it was a bit ridiculous to walk all the way here in the middle of the night. He still has to walk all the way back, which isn’t an appealing thought. “Nothing like a bit of exercise to tire you out, I guess. Hopefully I’ll sleep better after.”

“You sound like a troubled sleeper. I eat jasmine petals if I have trouble sleeping. You know, there’s a bush of them around here.” It’s an offer for him to partake, if he wants to.

“My mom likes jasmine tea,” Doyoung says, grinning slightly. “Do you often have trouble falling asleep? I would think it would be easier being surrounded by nature like this.”

You slide off the lower branch and land on the grass with a soft thump. “Not always…but I’d rather have an easy remedy than be left without one when I needed it.” Then you move to follow a dirt path leading away from the tree, but not before turning back to look at Doyoung. “Come on, then. I’ll show you the bush.”

Once again, he hesitates like he did just before entering the forest. “Is...it safe?”

You squint at him. “Safe?”

“I mean…there must be other creatures in this forest besides the agreeable woodland variety.”

“Yes…but they mostly live on the far outskirts. And either way, none of the other inhabitants will hurt a dryad. We’re the forest’s keepers. So you’ll be safe if you’re with me.”

Doyoung decides to take your word for it and follows you along the path, his blue orbs trailing after him. He sends some further ahead to light the narrow path so you both can see better, though you already know where the bush is by heart.

Soon, you’re both standing in front of the aforementioned bush, which is laden with white jasmine blooms. They seem to shine unnaturally brightly under the illumination of the blue orbs.

“Take some,” you say, carefully plucking one of the flowers from the bush. You hold it up to his nose so he can smell it, and he does so. The scent envelops him like a warm hug, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s already making him feel better. When you hold the flower out to him, he takes it gingerly. He doesn’t fail to notice the soft blossom’s texture, or the equal softness of your hand.

“Will your friends be okay with this?” Doyoung asks tentatively, holding the flower in his hand with a certain fragility.

“They will. And if they aren't, it can be our secret.” There are no secrets in this forest, really, but you humor him anyway, wanting to do something nice in return for the gifts he’s given you.

Doyoung nods and takes a couple more of the flowers, their leaves included, for the tea. He tucks them safely in the pocket of his pants.

You smile at him once he’s taken what he wants. “You’re quite gentle,” you remark. Doyoung doesn’t expect to hear that from you, and he looks at you quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“You just appear to be very...cognizant. Many people who’ve come to the forest before don’t give any thought to disturbing the natural balance of things and taking what they want. Not the villagers, but others.”

“I see,” Doyoung nods, feeling his face grow warm. He’s never had that particular attribute associated with him before. Gentle. Men are meant to be strong and brave and fearless; gentleness is for the fairer sex. He doesn’t dislike it, though. Quite the opposite, in fact.

You nod in return. “Well, it’s getting a bit late...later than it already is, anyway. I don’t know how things at your castle work, but you may want to be getting back before someone notices you’re gone. The sun will be rising soon enough.”

Doyoung smiles slightly. “You’re quite right.”

“Would you like me to walk back with you? To keep you safe, you know.” You giggle at this. “I will only go as far as the edge of the forest. But you should be alright beyond that point.”

“That’s fine with me.” Doyoung can’t help but feel a little embarrassed about being on the receiving end of such niceties, thinking that this is the kind of thing he’d be doing for you in any other context. He’s not going to pass up the offer of safety, though—and the opportunity to spend a few more minutes in your company.

You talk in low voices on the way back towards the forest’s opening. Mostly about things in the forest, though Doyoung does mention his brothers once or twice. Secretly, you think it’s a bit endearing how much he cares about them even if they get on his nerves.

“We’re here,” you say once you’re in view of the village again.

“Thank you for walking with me. And thank you for the jasmine.” Doyoung pats his pocket.

You grin and wave. “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”

Doyoung starts walking off but suddenly turns back to you as if there’s something more he wants to say. You raise your eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak, but after a second, he only smiles—if a bit nervously—and returns your wave.

You shuffle back into the underbrush a bit, though you stay there and watch him walk away until he’s just a speck amongst the backdrop of the village.

Doyoung makes it back home undetected and climbs back into bed feeling tired enough to sleep now, though he also attributes some of his sleepiness to the pleasant smell of jasmine still clinging to him.

When he slumbers, he dreams of a soft hand touching his, ripe with the scent of jasmine flowers.

The days get progressively hotter as the summer months settle in. With their tutors’ increasing lenience thanks to them taking well to their educational and etiquette lessons, the men get more time to themselves to do whatever they wish. The heat encourages them to spend more time outdoors, whether it’s running through the castle’s expansive yards, shooting arrows at targets or some poor stuffed mannequins, or heading to the village—and subsequently, the forest.

One hot day when they have little responsibilities to tend to, Jungwoo comes up with the brilliant idea to head to the lake for a couple hours, perhaps to cool down from the heat by wading in the water for a while. Sicheng, who has grown a bit disenchanted with the forest, decides to spend the day with their three cousins instead.

However, when the men get within shouting distance of the lake, they realize it’s already occupied.

“Wait!” Mark hisses, pulling on the reins of his horse to make it stop. He holds a finger to his lips, and before any of the men can question him, the sound of shouting, laughter, and water splashing drifts to them on the wind. It appears they aren’t the only ones who’ve had the idea of visiting the lake today.

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s eyes widen, and he and Jungwoo waste no time with getting off their own steeds to head for the riverbank.

“Wait, where the hell are you leaving off to?” Doyoung whisper-shouts, but the two pay him no mind as they creep over to a cluster of bushes near the edge of the lake. The shrubs are big enough to conceal them while still providing a few gaps to peek through, and from their new post they spot the dryads farther down the length of the lake, standing in a shallow portion. The women aren’t near enough to spot the men hiding in the bush, but they are still close enough to see clearly from this distance.

“W-what do you see?” Mark asks, his body poised as if he wants to get off his horse and join them too, but he’s still unsure.

“You’ve got to see it for yourself,” Donghyuck snickers, waving the older man over.

Mark looks to Doyoung. Doyoung gives him an incredulous look, and Mark shoots an apologetic one back before dismounting his horse and going over to join his brothers, squeezing in-between them as they crouch on the ground. He sees a group of six dryads playing in the lake, splashing each other with the water. Two more sit on the bank observing the festivities and talking about something they’re holding in their hands, though Mark can’t quite make out what the small objects are.

Donghyuck has only barely seen you during the times he’s gone with Doyoung to deliver your gifts, though he instantly recognizes you as one of the girls standing in the lake. His breath catches a bit as he watches you with water glistening off your skin and your dress clinging to your body.

“Isn’t this a little distasteful?” Mark mutters, his big eyes darting nervously between his brothers. He shifts uncomfortably, looking like he’s ready to make a run for it if need be. “I mean, watching them through the bushes like this…”

“Probably,” Jungwoo replies. “But as long as they don’t notice us…”

Mark almost shouts at feeling a hand come down on his shoulder, and Donghyuck whips his head around when the same happens to him; however, it’s only Doyoung. “You all need to get up right now,” he hisses lowly. “Haven’t you learned anything over the past few months? This is inappropriate—”

“Why are you standing?! Get down before they—”

Before any of them can realize what’s happening, what must be a gallon of lake water splashes down on all four of their heads. Screams of shock ring through the forest, along with a loud round of laughter—coming from both above them and further down the lake.

Mark, Jungwoo, and Donghyuck get to their feet in a rush, looking and feeling very much embarrassed. They look up toward the treetops and see two dryads sitting in the cleft of some of the sturdier branches, openly giggling at them. Jungwoo notices they aren’t holding buckets or any other objects that could’ve explained how they got the water up there in the first place—just a net woven with leaves, which he is certain they couldn’t have been transporting the water in. And yet… “How did you...?”

The women aren’t interested in answering his question, though, and instead disappear into the branches, leaving nothing but a few stray leaves fallen to the ground.

“I think we probably deserved that,” Mark says, sighing and trying to shake some of the water out of his clothes. The rest of the dryads who are still in the water follow the lead of the other two girls, running out of the lake and scattering through the forest, the echoes of their laughter the only evidence that they were ever there. The only ones who stay are you and the two other tree nymphs sitting on the riverbank. Now that everyone is in full view of each other, Mark belatedly realizes that the “objects” the two girls were holding and cooing over are not objects at all, but small sprites.

You step a little closer to the group of men, and the other two girls watch them intently. “If you wanted to play with us, you could just say so. It would benefit you not to be a bunch of cads about it.” You roll your eyes, though you are somewhat amused by seeing them standing there looking soaked and embarrassed.

“O-of course! I tried to tell them, but you know how it is with these kids...we were just leaving, actually.” Doyoung grips Donghyuck and Jungwoo’s collars like he’s about to drag them off like two misbehaving children, and Donghyuck’s face flushes at being treated like a kid in front of you.

“Are you sure about that?” you ask, and Doyoung raises his eyebrows at your question. You lower your hand into the lake water as if you’re only checking its temperature or letting it flow through your fingers—which is why they’re taken off guard when you draw your hand back and send a big splash of water flying in their direction.

Donghyuck is the first to react, pulling away from Doyoung’s grasp and rushing into the water to splash you back. It’s not long before things quickly evolve into another splash battle, with the other boys wading into the lake to join. The other two girls give skeptical glances at first, but they eventually bid goodbye to their sprite friends and jump into the lake, too.

You all spend what feels like hours running through the water and splashing each other, and your two friends take more quickly to the men than you expected. When the hour for them to leave comes rolling around, you are all soaked but smiling.

“We’re never going to hear the end of it,” Mark says, looking down at their wet clothes. Still, there’s no concealing the bright and amused smile coloring his features.

Your two friends wave to the men and quickly slip off back to their trees, though you linger for a while longer as you watch them climb out of the lake and try to wring out their clothes. Doyoung’s the last one left standing in the water with you, and you turn to him.

“Did the flowers help?” you ask.

“The flow—? Oh, the flowers! They worked just as intended, thank you…” Doyoung blushes a little at the memory. As the others head for their horses, Donghyuck hangs back a little to hear the conversation, wanting to be nosy and wondering what flowers you’re referring to.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you reply, smiling and feeling a little proud that your remedy worked—even though you knew it would. “You know, if you ever need anything else, you can just ask…there are a lot of resourceful things here. It’s like living in an apothecary.”

“Well, I’m interested if he isn’t!” Haechan interjects.

You smirk lightly at him while Doyoung shoots him an irritated look. “Sure. I suppose you’ve taken interest in the forest itself and are no longer just looking for a pretty woman to mess around with?”

Donghyuck flushes at your words, and his smile falters a little at being called out on his earlier intentions. Beside him, Doyoung gloats internally, and he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. “Um…sorry about that.”

“It’s nothing new,” you say matter-of-factly. Then you turn to Doyoung. “Anyways…don’t forget what I said. I’ve gotten used to seeing you around here, so...don’t be a stranger.” You go to leave then, but not before turning back around once more. “And don’t go snooping around. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

Donghyuck only nods, too embarrassed to respond and unable to justify himself. Both men watch as you walk away, likely back towards your tree. Doyoung turns to the younger man. “Come on, then. Let’s be heading back; maybe our clothes will dry out on the way there.”

After the lake incident, Donghyuck insists on using all his lesson breaks for the next couple of weeks to go with Doyoung whenever he travels to the forest to see you. Donghyuck becomes even more invested in this after knowing that Doyoung had already met you face-to-face after going to the forest by himself. The older man acquiesces, though deep down he’d like to spend more time with you alone—especially with managing to make these visits only once or twice a week. Still, seeing you with his little brother clinging to his side is better than not seeing you at all.

Donghyuck is talkative and lively and inquisitive in your presence, much more willing to learn new things from you than from even the highest-rated tutors in Eupheme. Doyoung finds that particularly ironic, though he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he listens intently along with Donghyuck as you tell him about the many different kinds of plants within the forest, including what purposes they serve. Doyoung is always reminded of the night you gave him those jasmine flowers, and even now, he stares at your hands as you point out different leaves and subtly wishes he could have any excuse to touch them again.

“These berries are safe to eat, though they look very similar to poisonous Pokeweed berries. That’s why you want to be sure you can tell the difference between them…” You place a few in your palm and hold them out for Donghyuck to see.

Donghyuck—who looks at you like you know everything in the world. You know many things, but not everything; but you’ll continue to let him look at you so admirably, because you find it endearing. He somewhat makes you think of what it might be like to have a younger brother or an amiable male friend. Someone to offer you a different perspective of the world external from the community of women you’ve always lived in.

Could Doyoung be that male friend or curious brother, too? Maybe, but maybe not.

Whenever you turn and speak to Doyoung to keep him included in the conversation, you don’t get that companionable feeling. There’s something much warmer there, something that makes you smile a little wider and causes more interesting facts to pop into your head. You enjoy telling him more about the forest, your home, and you somehow feel like you’d tell him anything he wants to know whenever he looks at you.

You like to see his smile, and the way his eyes grow smaller as he laughs or grins at something you’ve said. You haven’t felt this in a very long time, but if there’s anything to compare it to, it’d be eating warm honey straight from the honeycomb, or breathing in a lungful of jasmine scent before drifting off to sleep.

You don’t dwell on it for too long, simply wanting to experience the emotions as they are rather than spend too much time worrying over what they mean. Nevertheless…your idea of Doyoung is quite different from a friend or brother, indeed.

Although it is a Saturday when Doyoung comes to visit you, the sky is a dark and restless contrast to the day’s liveliness, the clouds looking heavy enough to drag down to Earth. He knows it’ll likely rain soon, which means he should probably stay in the castle and keep dry, but he ventures out to see you anyway. Today is the first time in a while he’s been able to see you without Donghyuck by his side, so he’s taking the opportunity.

You’re not in your tree when he comes. He thinks maybe he might go and look for you, but you’ll know where he is faster than he could find you. It takes a few minutes, but as expected, you appear from the further reaches of the woodland, laughing to yourself and holding a ring of flowers. There’s a similar one on your head made up of purple and white blooms. Doyoung thinks you look something like an angel against the sky’s gloom, with a halo made of blossoms instead of light.

“You’re here now? It’s about to rain,” you say, though your tone shows you’re clearly happy to see him.

He shrugs. “I felt like getting some air...I’m not concerned with a little water, as you probably already know.” I wanted to see you, is what he’d really like to say, but he doesn’t want to jump the gun. You nod in understanding, then hold up the ring of flowers in your hand; it has a few blue ones reminiscent of Doyoung’s light orbs. You offer the flower crown up to him, and he bends so you can place it on his head.

“Now you look like a true prince,” you say, smiling in satisfaction at your masterpiece. “I’ve never seen you with a crown until now. That’s a shame.”

“It is a shame.” Doyoung brings a hand up to feel the petals of one of the flowers between his fingers, and he grins. “I’m quite handsome in one.”

“Oh, my prince!” You start prancing around Doyoung and his horse like a fairy, or maybe like a young maiden at a fancy ball, brushing your hand along the animal’s shiny coat as you do. “It’s such an honor for you to grace our forest with your elegant visage.” You finally stop in front of him with a curtsy, though you have to take a moment to readjust your flower crown when it almost flies off at the sudden stop. “What can I have the pleasure of doing for you today?”

Though he laughs at your acting, he’s also a little awestruck for a moment, taken away by your cuteness and humor. Doyoung realizes there’s an awkward silence settling between you as he’s yet to say anything, and he finally stutters out, “There was something I...w-wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?” You come out of your curtsy and stand straight in front of him, all ears open for whatever he’s about to say.

“Well, it’s…” It’s a lot scarier to say what you want when you’re standing in front of someone and not just practicing in front of the vanity mirror. Doyoung is still piecing the words together when a few drops of rain hit his cheek. He doesn’t think much of it at first, but the droplets become impossible to ignore when they suddenly come hammering down without pretense, as if the gods have given word for the heavens’ floodgates to open.

“Come on!” You start running and Doyoung has no choice but to follow, tugging his horse along with him. It doesn’t take long for you to lead him to a small cave he’s never seen before. To his defense, that’s likely because the opening of it is partially obscured by hanging vines and other vegetation. It’s tall enough for someone of Doyoung’s height to stand in comfortably, which he’s relieved by. He doesn’t consider himself to be one of the more uptight royals like many others he knows, but he also wouldn’t be thrilled by the idea of sitting down in a cold, dirty cave in the rain. Even with your haste, though, you’re both quite wet by now.

Though the cave is spacious enough for you two, it becomes apparent that both of you and the horse won’t fit. Instead, Doyoung guides the animal to take shelter nearby under a willow tree with overhanging branches.

The cave is not very deep at all, only extending a few feet backwards. Perhaps that’s reassuring, at least for Doyoung, because there won’t be any disgruntled animals popping out to protest against their space being invaded.

“Well, that was interesting.” You chuckle as you squeeze water out of the hem of your dress.

“Suppose I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.” Doyoung does the same for the ends of his hair, though he knows it will be a while before it gets acceptably dry.

You laugh and nod. “You said you wanted to tell me something. What was it?” you ask.

Doyoung pauses and looks at you carefully, with rainwater dripping off his chin and darkening his clothes. He looks very serious, which is something you haven’t really seen before. It makes concern rise in your stomach, thinking maybe he has some bad news to deliver.

However, you’ve mistaken the intensity in his eyes for somberness when it’s something else entirely.

“I...love you.”

You regard him with wide eyes, feeling a little taken aback. The rain pours noisily in the background, but you’ve heard him loud and clear.

“I know we have only known each other for a few months,” he continues, “but I love you. I want to be with you.”

You’re surprised that he feels this strongly about you already, but it’s also true that you’ve felt yourself falling for him in the past few months, with his thoughtful gifts and kind smile and soft voice. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, lips parting minutely. He catches the small movement of your mouth, like he notices everything about you—whether you acknowledged it before or not.

Doyoung takes your hand. Though his palm is wet from the rain, you don’t care about that. “I think about you when I’m not here in the forest…and when I’m overseeing my brothers’ lessons. I dream about you when I sleep at night. Every time I get another gift for you, it’s because I want to see you smile so brightly like that again, because of me. I never want to know a day without you.”

You know Eupheme isn’t his home, that he has to leave someday. You know elves don't generally think kindly of dryads, viewing you all as frivolous and foolish and loose; and even if him and his brothers don’t, there’s no telling what the rest of his family thinks. You also know that even without those two things standing in the way, he’s still a prince who’ll need to be married to a suitable bride at some point. All of those things make you nervous. There are many obstacles before you, but you allow yourself to forget them momentarily as you stand in this cave with him.

You bring Doyoung’s hand up to your lips and kiss his knuckles softly, taking what warmth you can despite his cool skin. You hold his hand tightly, like it might be taken away from you otherwise. “Doyoung…you have charmed me unlike anyone else.”

You bring that hand closer and place it over your racing heart, and he seems a bit hesitant at first because of the proximity to your breast, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he readily responds to the kiss you give him afterwards, drinking in your warmth as a balm for the sudden cool air. For a while, there’s only the sound of rain coming down and your lips connecting with each other’s.

You don’t know how long you kiss each other, but there’s nothing else you can do in this small cave, so you continue without thought to the outside circumstances. Even after your lips part, you huddle close together. You close your eyes in Doyoung’s embrace, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and breathing underneath your ears and basking in the fullness of your own heart.

When the rain finally stops, Doyoung has to leave. The sun will be setting soon; the downpour went on longer than either of you anticipated.

“I promise I’ll come back soon,” he says, clinging to your hand with both of his.

“You always do.” You already trust him more than you can say.

Doyoung nods to your words, smiling somewhat bashfully. He steps out of the cave and lets your hand slip from his. But before he can get more than a few feet away, he turns around and comes back to kiss you once more on the lips, his fingertips on your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You laugh once you separate from each other. “The sun’s getting low, and the others will question you. Go on now.”

Doyoung keeps to his word and makes his way out after fetching his horse, but he keeps glancing back to you until he’s completely disappeared among the brush.

You feel like your mind has been filled with soft moss, all airy and soft and tangled together with unending thoughts. You walk back to your tree feeling as if you could float there instead, enjoying the damp grass under your feet.

The time slips by blissfully.

Doyoung keeps coming out to see you during his free time each week, as he has done since he’s been in Eupheme, though sometimes he’s able to manage more than just one or two visits. On those weeks when he comes out more often, whether it be at night or during the day, you hold him especially tightly, enjoying the extra time with him and wanting to live inside of it—to freeze a moment in time and keep it close to your chest for as long as possible.

“I wish you could see the castle,” Doyoung says this low and close to your ear like he’s telling you a secret. He lies on his side beside you in the grass, playing with your fingers. A gap in the treetops lets a lopsided circle of sunlight shine down on your faces, warming you both from the inside out. “Walk through the maze of land...or see the stable.”

You hum softly. “Hmm...I’m sure it’s nice.” Doyoung laughs, knowing you’re not interested in any place else other than your forest; you can’t hide the neutral note in your tone, though he knows it isn’t towards him.

“Or I could live out here with you.” He strokes the pad of his thumb along the length of your ring finger, and you don’t fail to notice this.

You turn to him, full on grinning now. “I thought you said you’d never want to be tied to one place. Remember?”

Doyoung grins sheepishly along with you. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Mmm, how indecisive you are…if you stay with me here, you can’t ever leave.” You pluck a tiny blue flower from the ground and brush it against his lips, tracing the shape of his cupid’s bow with it. “Make your choice wisely.”

Doyoung purses his lips against the small flower, as if giving it a kiss, and does the same with your fingers as they ghost across his mouth. “I’ve chosen already, princess.”

You lean in to kiss him, and he meets you halfway. The little blue flower slips from your hand. You don’t know if there could ever be a more perfect moment, kissing him like this with the warmth of the sun on your back and your ears full of the sounds of birds chirping and insects purring—and, in the very distance, the lake water running.

You don’t get to bask in the moment for too long, though, before something is interrupting you; and it’s not one of the other women like you might’ve expected.

There’s a rustling and a crash in the bushes, and you whip your head towards the noise, but it’s only a deer—or maybe some other creature—running off. You catch a few glimpses of its brown coat before it becomes obscured by the leaves. You still keep your gaze turned towards the bushes. Though there is nothing else there, you still get the odd sensation of being watched, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

“What’s wrong?” Doyoung whispers, his index finger touching your cheek. He glances at the source of the noise, but his eyes stay mostly focused on you.

“I know it’s odd, but…have you ever felt like you were being watched? Even though nothing’s there?” you ask slowly.  “I’ve…sort of felt like this a few other times when we were together.”

Doyoung looks suspicious for a moment, though he eventually shakes his head. “No, I...not really.” He sits up to look at the same space you’re staring at, but he doesn’t see anything more than you do. “If someone else were out here besides the other dryads and the animals, wouldn’t you already know?”

“I suppose that is true,” you say, though you still look towards the bush, trying to see if there’s something you’re somehow not spotting. The sense that you have a pair of eyes at your back still doesn’t go away, even when Doyoung finally pulls you away from the spot to walk further into the woods.

In the middle of August, the Archduke of Eupheme holds a ball. He has been renown for his exorbitant parties for many years, and although he couches this party in the excuse of making the Crown Prince and his brothers feel a bit more at home in the kingdom, everyone knows it’s really just a reason to get drunk and have some fun. No one would dare complain, though; after all, who’d pass up the chance to attend? To rub elbows with handsome men and women and forget more pressing worries for a while?

The King and Queen of Eupheme see it as a good way for the young men to show off their newly acquired social etiquette they’ve been sharpening during their lessons—and possibly mingle with noble women. Similarly, none of the brothers will object to the latter idea. Except for maybe Doyoung.

“Cheer up! I’ve never seen you look so unsettled when going to a party,” Jungwoo says, pinching Doyoung’s cheek. They’re all loaded into their separate stagecoaches, with Jungwoo, Doyoung, Jaemin, and Mark in one and the other boys inside another behind them.

“I’m fine,” Doyoung insists, waving away the concern and plastering a hesitant smile on his face. He can already guess what’s in store for tonight.

The ride to the Archduke’s place is shorter than Doyoung expected. It’s been a long time since they last visited the Archduke’s mansion, and he swears he remembers the journey being longer than this. He sucks in a deep breath as he steps out of the stagecoach. The mansion looms large up ahead, obviously not quite as big as the King and Queen’s castle, but extravagant enough to be of note. Its stone interior glows with rows of brightly burning torches decorating either side of its grand entryway.

The Archduke’s large ballroom is filled to the brim with high-ranking officials and other nobility, with everyone mingling together in a big glittering clump of bodies and puffy dresses and long hair. There’s no other race but elves there, which is usually expected at royal balls like these; other species are often relegated to roles of servant, cleaner, waiter, and so on.

There’s a notable stir when the King and Queen and the eight men enter, and the room parts down the middle to make room for them.

The men wave and smile and mingle like they’ve been taught to, though some revel in it a bit more than others. They’re quickly embraced by the crowd, and the Archduke and Archduchess come to greet them. A young woman walks slightly behind them, her brown hair pinned up in an elaborate updo, wisps of hair clinging around her elven ears. Doyoung remembers her as their daughter and only child, who was never allowed to play in the yard with them as children because “such rowdy behavior wasn’t fitting for a lady of her sensibilities,” as her mother used to say.

“I’m sure you all remember Eunomia,” the Archduke says, encouraging the young woman to come to the front. The brothers all nod in acknowledgement, answering her curtsy with their own bows.

“You’ve grown even prettier since we were young,” Jungwoo says, smiling politely. The girl smiles timidly back to him.

“Thank you. You’ve become quite handsome yourself.”

“We’re so glad that we could be graced with the presence of the Crown Prince of Ceres tonight,” the Archduke continues. “We’ve all been looking forward to your appearance since we got word of your family visiting Eupheme. The timing, especially, is quite extraordinary, as we’ve been vetting possible suitors for our Eunomia.” It’s everything just short of an actual proposition to marry his daughter, and Doyoung’s lips twitch as a thousand different thoughts flit through his mind.

Doyoung bows his head slightly in acknowledgement of their statement and schools his expression into something neutral and amiable. “Extraordinary timing, indeed.”

It’s not long before the music is rising to a grand swell again. The other boys part ways to search for dance partners in the crowd, and Doyoung already knows what’s expected of him. He holds his hand out to Eunomia. “Would you like to dance?”

She nods and takes his hand. Doyoung leads her onto the main dancefloor beside a few other individuals who have already coupled up. A relatively fast tune carries their feet across the floor like the wind.

Eunomia is pretty, nice, and quiet. She’s too shy to meet Doyoung’s eyes directly—no doubt as a result of her parents’ training—and she lets him lead the conversation the same way he leads their dance. She would make the perfect wife to any other man but him.

Doyoung might have been more willing to pursue something with her if this gathering had happened a year before or even a few months ago, before their visit to Eupheme. Now, he only feels uninterested at best—and burdened at worst—about it all. He’s uncomfortable with the way her hand sweats in his palm, and with how fragile she feels in his hold. His mind keeps drifting back to the forest, though he tries to be present in the here and now.

The next few dances go similarly. Though his brothers and cousins seem to be enjoying themselves with the number of pretty women they have at their behest, Doyoung doesn’t feel the same. He ends up approached by various noblemen throughout the night, all holding some prestigious rank or another and seeking to introduce him to their daughters and insinuate a dance. And of course, being the gentleman and prince he is, how can he say no?

Each of the women is unique in their own way, but still not quite enough to hold his attention for long. He’s already made his mind up about who he wants, though you can’t be with him here now—or anywhere but the forest, really. This knowledge is equal parts comforting and disagreeable. He finally has an answer to the question about whether he’d ever find someone to love, though it turns out he cannot even be with you in an easy, convenient way.

By the time the night ends and the royals are on their way back to the castle, Doyoung is rather tightly wound. His mind swarms with thoughts of everything that occurred earlier in the evening and how annoyed and restless it all made him. Increasingly, he’s beginning to feel like he’s up against a wall that he just can’t surmount. He almost yearns for the days when he unquestioningly accepted his duty and actually received some enjoyment from his courtships, but he’d never truly want to go back. Not if it meant not knowing you.

“Are you okay? You seem upset,” Mark says hesitantly, noticing Doyoung’s tensed jaw as he keeps his face turned towards the window, looking out at the nightscape. Doyoung only gives his brother a quick glance before nodding curtly.

“I’m quite alright.” It’s a lie, but Doyoung doesn’t feel like trying to explain his mood at the moment. Though it’s easy enough for them to guess why Doyoung’s visits to the forest have been so much more frequent over the past month or so—and subsequently, why his mood is so sour now—it remains an open secret.

Jaemin settles back in his cushioned seat, grinning slightly to himself before looking up at Doyoung. “Your name must be on many a lady’s dance card tonight, Doyoung. I suspect every woman at the party had a turn, if not the Archduchess herself.” Mark elbows him in the side, but the younger man doesn’t think anything of it.

“I suppose so.” Doyoung rubs his finger over his lower lip. “But maybe you should be more concerned that the competition is diminishing your chances.” Mark and Jungwoo chuckle at that.

“Not to worry. When the time comes, the only choice they’ll have is me.” The younger two laugh even more enthusiastically, and Doyoung only shakes his head, grinning slightly despite himself.

 Once everyone is settled in for the night, Doyoung waits in his bed for an hour to be safe and then decides to sneak out to see you. Once again, he doesn’t bother with visiting the stable to take the horse, nor does he try to make himself look “presentable,” tired of being princely for the night. The only thing he does is pull on his pants and shoes and button up his shirt halfway before losing his patience and yanking his cloak on.

He uses his glamor to momentarily disguise himself as he passes through Arthenia, though the few stragglers outside don’t pay him much mind.

“Y/N?” Doyoung calls out your name, slipping his cloak to the ground once he gets to your familiar oak tree. He soon hears and sees the fluttering of tree leaves as you descend from the canopy and touch the ground, alighting from the branches as gracefully as if you’ve been doing it your entire life—which you have.

“My, sir. Here at this hour again? What could b—” You don’t get to finish your sentence before Doyoung is gathering you up in his arms and kissing you hard, his forearms wrapped tight around your waist. He picks you up off the ground and you let yourself be lifted, toes barely grazing the grass.

It’s a long moment before you can regain your breath. You look at him incredulously as he sets you back on the grass, pressing his forehead to yours.

“What...what’s got you in such a state?”

“Love,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your lips. You laugh at that, holding his flushed face in your hands.

“It’s a pleasant thing, isn’t it? But really, what is it? You seem tense.”

“I am tense,” Doyoung says, though he keeps his lips close to yours. He’s not really in the mood to go into detail about the evening and disturb what’s currently unfolding between you. “It’s just...royal niceties. They can become quite tiring.”

“That’s a pity,” you reply, though you pause in your next thought when his lips find your jawline and press against it firmly. This is the most intimate contact you’ve had since you met, or since he confessed to you, and it ignites a burning flame in your chest. “Maybe there is something that can help you with that.”

Doyoung pulls back to look you in the eyes, wondering if you’re insinuating exactly what he thinks. You step away from him and tug on his hand, pulling him away from the tree. “I’ll show you.”

You both walk along a section of the forest that Doyoung isn’t familiar with, and he conjures some light orbs to illuminate the pathway. You spend a long time walking—so long that he’s almost afraid he won’t be able to find his way back out. Or maybe he’ll encounter one of those unfriendly creatures that you previously mentioned lives on the outskirts. Wherever you’re taking him is farther than he’s ventured before.

You finally stop when you get near the west edge of the forest. The trees are slightly sparser here, and there’s a path through the middle that trails off onto the bottom of a steep hill. The hill marks the end of the forest and flattens out onto a field of tall grass. He catches glimpses of the grass swaying in the breeze under the moonlight and the light of his own orbs.

That’s far from the most eye-catching thing here, though. Another lake sits before you two, though it’s much smaller than the other one—more like a pond—and forms a nearly perfect circle.

You walk along the grassy bank and pull Doyoung along with you, and he’s surprised to feel heat coming from the water as he gets nearer to it. It’s not a burning hotness, but a comfortable warmth.

“Shall we swim?” You look at Doyoung over your shoulder, letting go of his hand to tug at one strap of your dress. He nods, watching wordlessly as you peel your dress off in front of him. His throat tightens to see you’re wearing nothing underneath. Standing nude underneath the combined glow of the moon and his own blue light makes you look positively ethereal, and Doyoung mentally imprints this image in his mind, filing it away as a permanent memory.

He watches as you step off the grassy bank and get into the pond, the black water lapping at your legs as you wade further into it. He’s still standing and simply observing you as you turn around to look at him and lift your arms out of the water, like you’re asking for a hug. “Are you going to leave me all alone in here?” You give him your best pleading eyes, and it doesn’t take long for him to strip his clothes off and come in after you.

He dips underneath the water’s surface and swims around you, and you giggle as you can just barely make out his form under the water. You can only spot the ripples he leaves behind.

Doyoung’s head pops above the water on the farther side of the pond, with his long black hair sticking to his face and covering his shoulders. It makes his ears stand out more, and you laugh. You swim over to him and he pulls you into him when you’re close enough, your naked bodies molding themselves to each other. You’re about to say something, but his lips quickly envelop yours and you forget any words you formerly had. You kiss for a while in the lake’s warm water, with the full moon and Doyoung’s lights serving as your only illumination.

You haven’t done much else but kiss so far, but you can still feel something hard and warm pressing into your stomach. Doyoung’s lips separate from yours to travel to your neck, pressing against your pulse point and softly sucking the skin there.

You pull away to look at him, your body feeling strangely light and hot all at the same time. “Maybe we should get out of the water,” you say, smiling coyly.

Doyoung nods and scoops you up, carrying you out of the lake and setting you down on the unnaturally soft grass surrounding the waters. It feels almost like a cotton blanket underneath you.

You’re both fully exposed in front of each other now, though you don’t really feel embarrassed about it. Doyoung’s hands are warm as he cups the sides of your face and nudges his nose against yours, teasing you momentarily with the promise of his lips before actually kissing you again.

You like feeling his hair underneath your palm, all wet and slick beneath your fingertips, and you run your fingers through the strands. They coil around his neck and shoulders like little snakes, or maybe vines on a climbing plant.

His member stands against his stomach, already leaking precum from the press of your lips and the warmth of your body against his. You reach out to touch him, tracing your fingertip against a vein and feeling the stickiness of the precum, and Doyoung sighs against your lips. His hands come to your inner thighs, pushing them a bit further apart so he can dip his fingers between them and feel you wet and warm for him.

You gasp sharply when he slides a finger into you. He reaches deeply inside you, his palm rubbing against your clit as he fingers you, and it makes you spread your legs wider and push your hips closer into his touch. You wrap your fingers around him, and you enjoy the pulse of his cock in your hand as you stroke him.

Doyoung soon slips another finger into you, stretching you out more for him, and you moan as he does. You press your mouth against the base of this throat and his collarbones, feeling the firmness of them as you lightly drag your teeth over them. As if by luck, he shifts his fingers a certain way and brushes against that sweet spot that has you leaning further into his body and moaning hotly against his neck.

“Doyoung…” you sigh. He gives you an answering moan as your fingertips slide over his tip, purposely lingering at the slit. Your lips brush against each other’s, not quite kissing but making some semblance of the motion. Despite how good you’re feeling now, with his hand working you up to an inescapable high, you decide you need to have more of him; you need to get as close as possible. “Doyoung, please.”

“What do you need?” he asks, his voice unbearably gentle and breathy in your ear.

“You.” You take your hand away from him to guide his body on top of yours, parting your legs to invite him in-between. You are less preoccupied with foreplay at the moment and just want him inside you, which he has no complaints about.

The firm press of him inside you is unlike anything you’ve felt in the recent past. It’s not like dryads go their entire lives without sexual pleasure—of course, there’s always self-pleasure and the company of other women, and even the occasional agreeable male visitor who comes into the forest—but it’s been a long time since you’ve experienced it delivered by another person’s body. It’s almost strange, but also good and familiar, if only a little painful at first.

You try to breathe evenly as Doyoung seats himself inside you, his hands stroking you so adoringly that it makes you lose your bearings. Him leaning forward to kiss you only takes more of your breath.

“Is this good for you?” he asks quietly. You’re not quite sure what part of it he’s referring to—him inside you or his hands strumming along your breasts and clit—but you nod enthusiastically. Everything he’s doing feels undeniably good. Just when you think it could not get any better, he pulls out a bit and starts thrusting into you. His pace is slow, allowing you to adjust, but it’s enough to make you cry out loud, gripping his slick shoulders for support.

Doyoung brings himself close to kiss your lips again, grinning against your mouth. “Shhh, my princess. If you’re too loud, you’ll wake all the others.”

You nod against his wet forehead, breathing heavily, though it’s a bit hard to keep yourself quiet as he fills your body over and over again. You press your thighs tight against his hips, feeling the muscles in his body flex as he thrusts into you. His movements create a slick sound between you, and the lewd quality of it entices you more.

While one of his hands slides slick and slow across your clit, you grasp the other and bring it up to your lips, kissing his fingers like you did the day he told you he loved you, and then nibbling on them, sucking them into your mouth. Doyoung twitches inside you when your mouth tightens around his fingers, and he groans into the night air. You’re reluctant to let his hand go, but you do it so he can leverage himself enough to dip his head lower and give more attention to your breasts, drawing his tongue across the round firmness of them and catching your nipples in his mouth.

He angles himself a bit differently so he can find your spot again and concentrates on repeatedly pushing into that sensitive part of you. His attentions bring you to your climax soon, and you can barely quiet yourself as you come around him. The pleasure seems never-ending, like it’s pouring into you from a bottomless well, and small tears bead at the corners of your eyes. Doyoung cups your face and kisses your tears away, and you hold the back of his head as he does.

When Doyoung gets close, he slips himself from inside you and thrusts in between the tight space of your thighs, his tip rubbing across your stomach. He comes soon after doing this, his seed pooling on your skin, some of it running into the grass.

You both lie in the grass after the aftermath, with Doyoung pulling you so you can lay your body on top of his. His heartbeat is still fast; you hear it hammering in his chest as you rest your head against his breast. You close your eyes and let the sound of it calm your own restless body.

After a few long moments of listening to the insects and night creatures making their midnight songs, you stir from your position on his chest and draw yourself up. “Doyoung…” you murmur, straddling either side of his waist so you’re hovering over him. You press your lips against his and he responds with a slow kiss. You can practically feel how satisfied he is as his lips push against yours, like a drunken sprite who’s gotten into a cup of ale.

You depart from his lips and trail your mouth over the rest of his body until you’re level with his softened cock. It jumps a bit when you grasp it, and Doyoung groans softly; his voice increases slightly when you press your lips to it, still tasting the remnants of his salty release and your own pleasure. His hand comes to hold the back of your head as you take him into your mouth, licking the shaft and feeling his balls in your other hand.

Though he was the one who’d hushed you earlier, now he has to choke back his own moans as you suck him and stroke your tongue around his tip.

You draw your mouth away from him, and a trail of spit follows your lips. “Does this feel good, my prince?” you ask, still stroking him languidly to keep his pleasure stoked. You know it does, but you want to hear it from his mouth anyway.

“So good.” He makes a noise between a whimper and a groan, and it travels straight to the apex of your thighs. His stomach tenses with his strained breaths as you take him back into your mouth, focusing your attention on the leaking slit.

His thighs tremble when he gets closer, and as much as you’d like to have him come in your mouth and drip over your chin, you decide to pull away and straddle your legs around his waist again. Doyoung whines needily, though his complaints are quickly forgotten when your sex slides over his slick shaft. He waits with bated breath as you grab the base of his member and line him up with your entrance, pushing him into you as you sink down on him. Feeling him part your walls makes your legs shake a little, and you readjust your posture so you can maintain your stability.

You seat yourself fully on top of Doyoung and let him press himself up into you as you push back down on him, your hands scraping for purchase on his chest. In this position, you can control the pace and ride him just so that his tip is pressing into your most sensitive spot.

Eventually, you lean forward with your mouth covering his. Another orgasm approaches you fast, and you pant against his lips as you search for that release again. “I love you,” you moan softly, trying to muffle your sounds with the touch of his lips.

Doyoung’s hands roam your body, coming up to palm your breasts and thumb at your nipples. “I adore you,” he whispers.

This time you both come within moments of each other, moaning into each other’s mouths. Doyoung pushes himself into you until you’re leaking over him once more, and then he hurriedly pulls out and comes across your thigh, leaving trails of white dripping down your skin.

Doyoung knows he’ll need to get up and get dressed at some point—and begin the long trek back to the castle—but he doesn’t think about that right now. He just pulls you closer and enjoys the warm stickiness of your bodies together, the lukewarm breeze stirring his hair, and the gentle grass tickling his skin.

“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”

Jungwoo brings this up to Donghyuck during one of their archery lessons as they sit beside each other underneath the sun. The younger man was noticeably not as concentrated or effortless as he’d usually be, and many of his arrows ended up being off-mark, if not missing their targets entirely.

Currently, they both sit in the grass after their instructor called for a break earlier, stating that they needed some time to cool off and pull it together—Donghyuck in particular.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck grumbles, sighing deeply and closing his eyes. If he could close his ears, too, he would. Unfortunately for him, his brother doesn’t take that as a sign to stop talking.

“That’s doubtful. Really, what’s chafing you? I know all the lessons can be annoying, but there is nothing we can do about that for now.” The younger man doesn’t answer at all this time, but Jungwoo continues on. “I know Doyoung isn’t with us during our breaks as often as he was before, but isn’t that a good thing? He can’t tell us what to do all the time.”

Donghyuck groans, wiping his hands over his face at the mention of their older brother. Jungwoo perks up at this. “Oh? Is it something with Doyoung that’s bothering you? What is it?”

Donghyuck is quiet for a moment longer. When it’s clear Jungwoo won’t leave the matter alone, he turns to face his brother fully, looking at him more closely. He hesitates for a moment before finally saying, “What would you do if you wanted something you couldn’t have?”

Jungwoo thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. It depends on what it is. Maybe the logical answer would be to just give it up and stop indulging a fruitless case.”

Donghyuck sighs, hanging his head. “Of course. But what if...alright, what if it was a person? Someone you’re particularly fond of. And…they just make you feel as if…if they looked at you once, you wouldn’t hesitate to hand them anything they could ever want. Then would you give up on them so easily?”

Jungwoo’s eyes widen, and Donghyuck thinks he must’ve said too much. Before he can speak to try to defuse the situation, Jungwoo says, “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about Nayeon. I’m sorry Donghyuck, but—”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck pushes himself to his feet, taking up his bow and arrow again and walking off to one of the targets farther away from Jungwoo. “Nevermind.”

After Donghyuck gives a few more unsuccessful tries, the instructor decides to dismiss them early and encourages Donghyuck to keep his head clear for their next session. “I am well aware of what you’re capable of, Donghyuck, and I know you understand your own abilities. Just look at it as simply having an off day, but do try to keep your concentration next time.”

“Yes, sir,” he replies, already feeling drained even though they’re only halfway through the day. The walk back to the castle with Jungwoo is quiet, though crossing the ample landscape gives him plenty of time to think to himself. What you’re capable of...Yes. What is he capable of?

Maybe there was still a way to alter the course.

“You’re particularly quiet today,” you remark, studying Doyoung’s face. You’re both sitting in the small clearing where you and the other dryads often gather at night, only it’s daytime now and the other girls are off doing their own things. Deeper among the woods, you can hear their laughter from a distance.

Doyoung came to visit you with a solemn look, and though you can tell he is still glad to see you, there’s also a tinge of disquiet beneath it.

A strong gust blows some strands of hair into his face, and you brush them away before he can do it himself. He turns his head and stares at you as you do, his eyes big and imploring and brewing with a distress you can’t place. “Actually, you seem to be a bit different since...that night,” you continue. Your face warms at the thought of your first time together, and how Doyoung took you in the grass and whispered sweet adoration to you. “Is something wrong?”

Doyoung’s lips part like he wants to speak, though he remains silent for a few moments more. Then he says something that nearly makes your heart stop, the words coming slow off his tongue. “I want to give up my title.”

“Your title? As Crown Prince? How can you do that?”

“I could do it,” he says, his voice still low. “There’s no law against it. It might be...dishonorable. No, it would certainly not be…” He pauses, then abandons whatever he was about to say. “But there’s no law to stop me.”

“But why? I thought you liked being royalty, at least to some degree. Your station in life affords you many things others don’t have.”

“It doesn’t afford me you.” He grasps your hand where it lies in the grass. “We can’t be together if I’m still Crown Prince. If I walk away, though...”

You’re also quiet now, unsure how to respond to a declaration like this. For Doyoung to give up his royal title for you...it’s a much bigger implication than you think he’s really considering.

“But, the throne...you’re the heir, and it just…” You’re almost desperate to come up with at least 100 reasons why he can’t do it, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe you’re too afraid to hope it could be possible, even if it’s the slightest chance.

“I have six other brothers. Any one of them could...” Doyoung falters, remembering Yuta’s and Sicheng’s controversial parentage, and then sighs but tries to remain hopeful. You look at him with wrinkled brows, worry crowding your heart. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, looping his arm with yours.

“I don’t know if they’d ever agree to it,” you say it almost inaudibly.

“There’s no way to know if we don’t try…” Doyoung replies, hugging you tightly to him. “I don’t care about giving up my title.”

You shake your head. “There are so many other things to consider, Doyoung.”

Doyoung knows you’re worried and doubtful, but he holds you close to him and kisses your temple and tries not to think about those things. He only wants to think about all the good things the future could hold for you.

A small grin appears on his face as he wills his mind to drift elsewhere. “How many children would you like to have?” Doyoung asks suddenly. You give him an incredulous look, though there is a grin of your own slowly taking over your lips.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want children.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “As long as I’ve been on this Earth, I’d have them by now if I wanted them.”

“Then it’d be just the two of us forever?” Doyoung pulls you so you’re both lying down and entangles himself with you, his head on your chest. He listens to your heart, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a sense of sleepiness. “That’s fine with me.”

You feel a tug at your heart, like the chambers are contracting in pain. “Yes, an eternity together.”

Despite your many doubts and questions, you have a warm dream that night. One of you and Doyoung living in the forest together, running through the hills, jumping across creeks, and enjoying each other’s company to your heart’s content.

Donghyuck knocks on the door of the King’s sitting room, his palms sweating as he waits for a response. Sicheng stands beside him, quiet and waiting to see if the man will respond. The King of Eupheme may be a long-term friend of their father’s, but Donghyuck can’t help the slight fear he feels whenever he’s in the man’s presence. Something about him has always been a little colder, more unforgiving, and more unyielding than their own father is.

“Who is it?” The man’s voice booms from behind the door.

“It...it’s Donghyuck and Sicheng, Your Highness.” Donghyuck’s voice wavers a bit as he speaks, and he tries to suppress the tremors in his speech. “We’re here for our...meeting.”

“Come in, then.”

Donghyuck turns the doorknob and enters the room, closing the heavy door behind him and his brother.

“Well, then. What is the pressing matter you have to inform me of?” The King raises one eyebrow, looking skeptical about whether Donghyuck has anything to report or not, though he waits patiently for the boy’s response.

The elven King’s presence seems impossibly heavier in this singular room, filling every corner of the space and physically weighing down the Earth’s gravity. Donghyuck almost doesn’t know what to do with himself in response to this force. Sicheng is less affected by it—or better at hiding it—though his face creases minutely. Donghyuck ends up speaking without thinking clearly about what he practiced prior.

“D…Doyoung is courting a dryad.”

“A...what, boy?” The King slowly leans forward, his sharp eyebrows drawing together, one hand coming up to stroke his long beard. They both know that he knows full well what a dryad is, but he seems unable to comprehend what Donghyuck has just blurted out. Or maybe he thinks the younger man is lying.

“A-a dryad, Your Highness. He’s been using his assigned free time—and sneaking out at night—every week to see her, in the forest beyond Arthenia. H…he’s even thinking of asking to be relieved from his title to be with her.” Donghyuck feels sweat gathering on the back of his neck, as if he’s the one about to be punished.

The King’s brows furrow even more, though this time his eyes hold a hint of rising anger. He leans back in his seat again, holding Donghyuck and Sicheng with a hard stare. “These are quite damning claims to make. Where is your proof?” Before either one can respond, the King continues on. “He will doubtless be questioned, but I would think that both of you have ample reason to try to sabotage the Crown Prince—especially you.” He directs his gaze to Sicheng at this, and Sicheng’s face falters. “A whore’s son will always believe he’s owed more than he’s worth.”

Disgust and hatred rises up in Sicheng’s chest at being regarded like this—always as less than his half-brothers—though he tries not to let his rage show. His jaw clenches as he speaks, keeping his tone measured, and it takes him a long moment to force out a proper response. “We indeed have proof…Your Highness.”

“If you’ll allow us, we need a mirror, Your Highness,” Donghyuck adds.

Still with a skeptical look on his face, the King waves his hand towards a small round mirror hanging on the east wall, sitting formerly unacknowledged despite all its ornate trappings. Sicheng walks over and takes it off the wall, coming back to stand in front of the King with it. Donghyuck comes up behind Sicheng and lays a hand on the back of the older man’s neck, pressing his index and middle finger where his brain stem would be. Donghyuck closes his eyes and concentrates, while Sicheng keeps his own eyes open, staring into the depths of the mirror and his own reflection.

In the mirror image, his eyes turn a foggy gray. Donghyuck’s memories flood into his mind as if they were his own, experienced with his own five senses; he can almost smell the forest grass and feel the sun burning his skin. Sicheng then takes his right hand and presses his fingertips against the mirror, forcing it to bend to his power and replicate what he’s seeing in his mind’s eye.

When the image becomes steady, Sicheng holds the mirror up to the King and lets him see what it displays; you and Doyoung lying in the grass together, with you dragging a tiny blue flower across his lips. Doyoung tilting his head up to accept your kiss. You looking straight ahead, trying to figure out why you sense a disturbance in the forest, only to see a deer—and missing the invisible form of Donghyuck staring at you and your lover from the bushes. Your conversation is hard to hear, consisting of mostly vague echoes, as if you were speaking underwater—channeling sounds is harder than conjuring up images—but there’s no need for words to understand what’s going on.

The King’s eyes are a windstorm of emotions at this point, a close rival to the actual stormy gray of Sicheng’s eyes as he reveals the memory. He is silent for an excruciatingly long moment. Still, he continually strokes his beard in a repetitive motion, though his gaze displays the true anger burning beneath the surface.

“And where is Doyoung right now?” he finally asks, after it seems like an eon has passed. Then he waves his hand sharply towards the mirror. “I’ve seen enough of that.”

“He has no duties to attend to as of right now, so he must’ve gone to the forest,” Sicheng responds. Donghyuck takes his hand away from his neck then, stepping back in a jerky motion as he tries to regain some of the energy spent from transferring the memory. Likewise, the mirror image fades once Sicheng takes his hand away from the glass, and the normal brown of his irises bleeds back into his eyes. “To see her again, no doubt.”

The King nods, pressing his fingers together into a steeple, his thick rings glinting in the light of the room. “Just as you say, the matter is quite grave. The King and Queen of Ceres will have to be notified immediately...and it will be handled accordingly.”

Donghyuck and Sicheng nod to the King’s statement, shooting each other looks out of the corners of their eyes. Donghyuck feels a small sense of triumph at knowing his brother will likely be sent back to Ceres soon—or at least, forbidden to see you anymore—even if he knows deep within that he shouldn’t be reveling in Doyoung’s impending heartbreak like this.

“Unfortunately, it also cannot be forgotten that you two, and all your other brothers, withheld this information for months.” The King blinks slowly. “I must also assume that my sons have been swept up in concealing this utter nonsense, to some degree. Those transgressions will be dealt with accordingly as well.” He draws the last sentence out to emphasize his claim, though the men have already heard him clearly. The tiny smirks they allowed themselves to show quickly fade.

Donghyuck feels as if he’s just had a bucket of cold water poured down his back, and Sicheng’s fists curl tightly around the mirror.

Donghyuck is the first to respond, bowing his head. “A-as necessary, Your Highness.” Sicheng lowers his own head after the younger does, though with noticeable reluctance.

The King waves his hand as a signal for the two men to leave, though he still looks thoughtful for reasons neither of them could guess. “You are both dismissed.”

Sicheng is fuming once they leave the sitting room, though Donghyuck’s anxiety manifests itself as tense silence, which is a true rarity for him.

“Look what your impulsiveness has gotten us into this time,” Sicheng gripes once they’re far enough away to not be heard. Donghyuck reawakens at that and shoots his brother daggers with his gaze.

“I didn’t think we’d get punished, too! And if you thought it was such a bad idea, you should’ve never agreed to it!”

Sicheng shakes his head, scoffing. “It’s neither here nor there anymore. Whatever comes of this had better be worth it.”

“You’d better hope,” Donghyuck continues. “Like we don’t know you’d sell us all out to have Yuta, your favorite brother, as the Crown Prince instead of Doyoung.”

Sicheng whips back around to Donghyuck. “I’d think he’d deserve it more than any of you ingrates who’ve had everything handed to you. You could never even imagine what it’s like to have to fight and scrape for an iota of respect among your own family.”

Donghyuck wants to scream something childish and hurtful back at him, but he’s lost on what to say. They all know Sicheng and Yuta have always been a bit separate from the rest of them despite their best efforts to make them feel included, but he hadn’t realized Sicheng felt quite this forsaken. The King’s earlier words certainly don’t help. Donghyuck has enough conscience left to feel guilty, though he refuses to acknowledge that aloud now.

When Sicheng sees that Donghyuck doesn’t have a response, he nods in vindication and stomps off.

After Doyoung returns to the castle that afternoon, the atmosphere in the castle is notably more tense. It’s as if storm clouds have gathered in the rafters, waiting for the perfect time to rain down hell. He senses this acutely, though he can’t quite understand the reasoning for it.

Donghyuck is uncharacteristically quiet today, and Sicheng is similarly reserved. Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin conduct their business as usual, though there is a certain stiffness to their auras; the kind of careful and cautious demeanor you learn to adopt when living under the constant presence of a ticking timebomb. Mark and Jungwoo, who accompanied Doyoung on his visit to Arthenia and the forest, remain just as clueless as him about what’s wrong, though they also feel uncomfortable underneath the weight of the tension.

The air stays this way for hours, including during their nightly dinner. The Queen and King don’t do or say anything out of the ordinary, though Doyoung can feel the King’s eyes on him as he eats. The sensation of being watched makes his stomach curl into a ball, and his heart kicks up like a drum at the thought that pops into his mind. Maybe he’s been found out? But how? He’s been as careful as he knows how to be. He doesn’t truly believe any of his brothers would tell, and his cousins have been too disinterested in the affair to go stirring up trouble behind it.

Their three cousins eat quietly with their eyes glued to their plates, wondering what could be the cause of their father’s anger this time. They’ve known him long enough to pick up on the telltale signs of his rage, even when not openly expressed.

It’s nothing short of a relief when dinner is finally over, though Doyoung’s blood turns to lead when he hears the King’s deep voice booming from behind him. “Doyoung. Come with me.” The other men shoot him varying looks as they file out of the dining room, though none of them say a word. Donghyuck throws him a concerned glance in an attempt to remain unsuspecting, though there is a slight unsteadiness in his step.

By the time he gets to the King’s sitting room, Doyoung’s heart is beating overtime. He stands in front of the older man with his spine ramrod straight and his lips tucked into a thin line. The King doesn’t even acknowledge his presence for a few moments, simply stroking his beard and looking at some spot in the distance. Doyoung can’t decide if this is worse than being pinned under his gaze or not, though he quickly gets his answer when the King finally looks at him.

“Do you understand your position as Crown Prince?” This is not what he expected to hear first, though it fails to ease his anxiety.

“Of course, Your Highness. It’s a high honor, and one that requires a certain discipline.”

“Then why have you allowed yourself to become quite so undisciplined in your activities?”

Doyoung doesn’t know how to respond to this at first. He blinks rapidly and sweat breaks out over his skin. “Activities?” he stammers out, his mouth drying up.

“You’ve allowed yourself to be enamored by a woman who is so low she must live in the forest like an animal and forage for food. And you think this behavior is becoming of a man of your station?”

The room appears to spin. If his heart was hammering before, now it stops momentarily. Doyoung feels like he’s just smashed into a stone wall head-on. “Your Highness...I…”

“Have you lain with this creature?”

“Sh-she’s not...I…”

“Have you? Do not lie.”

Doyoung thinks of your hands on him and feels sick at such an intimate moment being forced out into the open like this, in such a cruel manner. “Y…yes.”

The King shakes his head, his frown deepening even more, if that’s possible. “And is there any chance that she could be with child now?”

Doyoung can’t remember ever feeling this humiliated, flayed open for all to see. “No. I was...careful.” The King pauses for a moment, like he doesn’t quite believe Doyoung’s claim. He doesn’t ask any further questions about it, though, and Doyoung doesn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved about that.

“Understand that you are infinitely lucky that you are not a woman, Doyoung, and can remain relatively unsullied by such acts. Nevertheless, I would’ve thought your father would’ve raised more diligent sons than this.” The King leans forward, and it seems like the Earth itself shifts with this movement.

“Then let one of the others have my title,” Doyoung blurts out, finally finding his voice again. “Yuta or Jaehyun. It doesn’t matter who it is.”

“Yuta isn’t getting anything,” the King spits. “Do you mean to make a complete mockery of your family? Your kingdom? To have a bastard sitting on the throne? Your father is a noble man, but laying with whores has resulted in the two biggest mistakes of his life.”

Doyoung’s head swims, and he has to bite back the first response that rises to his mind. “Your Highness, you’re correct in noting that I’ve made a grave error. Perhaps I’m truly not suited for the role. Don’t you think having my title transferred would be the best way to remedy that? Jaehyun is fit to be the Crown Prince. He can take my title, and I—”

“And you can do what? Live in the forest with the rest of the dregs?” The King draws himself up in his chair, and the action reminds Doyoung of a big brown bear attempting to intimidate a trespasser in its territory. His muscles turn rigid with fear. “It would behoove you to abandon this insane talk if you don’t wish to make the consequences worse for yourself. I’m not your father, boy, but as long as he’s left you under my care, I won’t entertain such dishonor on his behalf. ”

Doyoung wants to continue protesting but also knows that, just like you told him, this appears to be a fruitless case. He lowers his head as his stomach twists and his body tenses up further with the fear of what will come next.

“As you can expect, there will be no more visits to the village or the forest, if you can exercise no more self-control than this.”

Doyoung blinks rapidly, though there are no tears coming. “Will you send me away?”

“That would only draw more attention, which is the last thing we need to do. You are simply to remain in the castle until it’s time for you all to return to Ceres. Barring any more royal events, you will not be going anywhere further than the front lawn.”

Doyoung says nothing to this. To speak or nod would feel like sealing his own fate, though it’s already been chosen for him.

“You are lucky, Doyoung. Remember that. It is easier than you think for all of this to be forgotten, swept under the rug, so you can return to your homeland with your title and dignity intact. See—we do not even need to let your mother and father know. In a year from now, you will be wed, and this will be nothing but a regretful—if vague—memory.”

Still, Doyoung does not respond, his tongue heavy and immobile.

“You are your family’s honor. The consequences will not be as harsh for you...as long as you obey.” The King’s body relaxes now, as if all the day’s tension has suddenly unwound itself, though this is more of a false sense of security than any true calm. “Is that understood?”

Doyoung’s throat burns. It seems like he’s being pressed in on all sides. Not answering the King is not an option. Not seeing you again is not an option, either, if he wishes to preserve any iota of happiness on this Earth. Here it comes, now—the wetness gathering in his eyes and the tightening of his chest.

“I understand, Your Highness.”

It has only been a few days since Doyoung last saw you, but this alone feels like centuries to him, especially with the King’s order trailing him like a cement block tied to his leg.

He doesn’t intend on following it, regardless of the consequences. Maybe he’s not thinking straight anymore, but nothing else matters as much as you to him now.

There isn’t any way to easily get to you, though, considering the guards that have been stationed outside his room every night. And the other guards who follow him around the castle nearly 24/7 now. His glamors only grant him enough leeway to disguise his face, which is no use in making it out of his doorway undetected.

The stress of it all nearly makes him physically sick.

His brothers and cousins are not guarded quite so constantly as he, but they are similarly forbidden from leaving the castle—lest they try to report back to you with a message from Doyoung, or something similar.

Doyoung still does not know how the King found out and has had no free opportunity to question his brothers and cousins about it. In the back of his mind, though, the idea that he could’ve been betrayed lives constantly among his thoughts. Thinking on it for too long makes the back of his mouth taste sour, but he can’t help the festering sense of distrust he feels towards everyone around him.

Frayed and at his wit’s end, Doyoung finally thinks of an idea after an entire week of missing your presence. It’s a lot to ask for and may not work, but he needs to at least try it once before ruling it out. He has to be careful about it, of course, to avoid being found out by any of the watchful guards. Still, he manages to write a note during an etiquette lesson with his brothers, when the guards are standing outside the room. It’s easy enough to disguise his pen’s movements as him simply taking notes.

When the instructor looks down to read something from his book—squinting harshly even in his glasses, for his lack of sight—Doyoung slips the piece of paper to Mark. Mark gives him a questioning glance, though he says nothing. He only opens the note towards the end of the lesson, which is probably for the best because he makes a startled noise after reading it. Thankfully, it goes unnoticed by the instructor who is too busy listening to Sicheng answer a question he just asked him. Mark’s eyes burn into the side of Doyoung’s face, though the older man only gives him a sparing glance and returns his attention to his papers.

 Mark and Doyoung don’t get to talk formally until their next set of archery lessons. Only one of Doyoung’s guards is present that day, and he hangs back far enough outside of the archery range that it’d be difficult to hear their conversation, especially with them talking in low tones. Doyoung is the first one to initiate once their archery teacher becomes preoccupied with showing Jungwoo and Jaemin the technique for a trick shot.

He glances over at Mark after letting his arrow fly, then turns slightly toward him as he grabs another from his quiver. “Mark.”

The younger man’s eyes widen a bit at hearing his name called. “What?” he answers full-voiced, which causes Doyoung to give him a glare. Catching onto what’s going on, Mark throws an anxious glance behind them to the guard and to his left to the instructor, but no one pays him any mind.

“The note.”

Mark makes a face as if he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then quickly tries to relax his expression. “Doyoung, I don’t think…is this really a good idea?”

“I need to see her, Mark,” Doyoung hisses.

Mark’s eyebrows crease. He takes a moment to shoot his arrow at the target, not wanting to come off as suspicious to the others by just standing there. “I’ve never created a portal like…between Donghyuck’s room and mine, back at our castle? Yes, that’s perfectly fine. But from here all the way to the forest? That’s…” The younger man shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You have to try,” Doyoung begs. “Practice it or something. All you need to do is create one to get to my room, and then to the forest. I don’t care if it takes you a while, as long as I can see her again before we have to go back.” He does care, but at this point, he figures it’s better to have something than nothing.

Mark gives Doyoung a long look, shakes his head again, and then nods. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

Doyoung presses his lips together and nods. His eyes are desperate, though he tries not to be. “It’s okay. Just try, Mark.”

Mark spends the next few days in the library in-between lessons. Though he hasn’t taken much interest in this part of the castle before now, he finds himself pouring through old, dusty books in search of something that can help him find a way to create a long-distance portal.

One of the books he finds describes simply just concentrating all your energy into your hands and putting it forth to open up a rip in space—which he is already capable of, but that doesn’t help him with projecting it out further. Another contains a weird chanting verse that he tries to pronounce, to no avail. Even if it did work, he wouldn’t know how to say it.

However, he eventually happens upon something that catches his eye.

“The Root Chakra serves as the foundation of your body and soul. Only when you are firmly grounded in your current body, space, and time can you begin to manipulate other spaces in time…whether it concerns generating long-range portals through space manipulation or even accessing different moments in history.”

“Opening the Root Chakra, huh?” Mark laughs to himself quietly and shakes his head. Despite being a magic user since birth, along with the rest of his brothers, this is the first time he’s heard anything of the sort. But it’s better later than never to learn.

Perhaps he’s more invested in this scheme than he should be, for both his and his brother’s sakes, but he also knows that he hasn’t seen Doyoung so fulfilled and joyful since discovering the forest. If his efforts can make a bit of difference in Doyoung’s current sunken mood, Mark is willing to try.

Therefore, he sets to work on “opening” this purported Chakra, keeping his practice to late-night hours to ensure he won’t be walked in on by anyone else. He feels a bit awkward at first, maybe even a little foolish, with “meditating” and trying to reach out to some strange energy inside himself. He’s never had to put much thought into creating portals before; it’s just something that happens as he wills it. He never considered that there might be more to the practice—that he’d need to tap into some kind of extra energy to improve his skills. He thinks back to the magic crystals in the marketplace and wonders if they’d be any help in this situation, though there’s no way of finding out.

Mark practices opening portals within the floor, knowing his room is above an empty guest room, as it’s too risky to try any of the walls; Jisung and Jungwoo sleep in the rooms on either side of him. He is soon able to make his portals wider than before—where they used to be the width of only his palms—which allows him to peer more clearly into the empty room below, though he still hasn’t tried to conjure anything farther away than that.

Once he feels he has more control over his energy, Mark soon begins experimenting with visualization, a technique the book cites for conjuring up long-distance locations. Allowing his energy to concentrate in his hands, he places his palms just above the floor of his room and pictures a place he’s fairly familiar with by now—the library. If it goes as planned, he’ll have created a portal to the library; if not…who knows what will be on the other side.

He feels the energy flow through his body, from his core, up his back, across his shoulders, and down his arms…it gathers in his palms and fingertips and triggers a small rip in time, which he gradually coaxes open wider, all the while visualizing the library as clearly as he can. Mark pushes the portal open a bit wider still and opens his eyes slightly to see if it’s worked. He’s dismayed, however, when he still sees the empty guest room sitting below him. A heavy sigh leaves his body, and it pushes the rest of his energy out with it; the portal closes with a silent snap.

Guess he’ll just have to try again.

The next few tries work similarly, and on those nights, he often ends up climbing into bed feeling discouraged and sapped of strength and wondering if he’ll ever get it, or if any of this is worth it. He keeps at it, though, for Doyoung’s benefit. And also partly because he’s curious to see what he’s capable of; now that he’s opened these floodgates, he needs to see how far he can push himself.

The first real hint of success takes him by surprise. It doesn’t happen quite as cleanly or perfectly as the book says, but something happens. When Mark opens his eyes that time, he’s still looking at the guest room—but now there appears to be a faint afterimage of the library merged with it, as if someone had tried to paint two different pictures at once. It’s not a complete location shift by any means, and he doesn’t try to go into the portal—afraid he might somehow get stuck between two realities—but it’s a start.

Improving on that start requires a little more time. More hours of meditating, reading, pushing his energy out and expanding it, visualizing. The afterimage begins growing clearer all the while.

On one blessed night, Mark opens his eyes, and the library itself is sitting below him. Not a faint representation of it, merged with some other room of the castle, but the actual library. He’s so surprised that he almost closes the portal by accident and has to steady his concentration to keep the energy flowing. Carefully, he sticks one hand through it. Then the other. It is still hard to keep the entrance open without physically guiding it with his hands, but he can manage it for a minute or two.

He looks at the long distance beneath him to the floor, with nothing but a lounge sofa to break his landing. Sweat breaks out on his skin, but he takes a moment to steel himself and take a deep breath. Then, he jumps through the portal feet-first, bouncing clumsily onto the sofa and tumbling onto the floor. Just as quick as he can right himself, he hurries behind the sofa to hide, afraid he might’ve alerted one of the guards with his rough landing. The portal has already closed above him with the loss of directed energy.

Mark waits for what feels like forever, his legs burning from holding the crouch, but no one comes. When he’s positive it’s safe, he places his hands on the floor and this time tries to create a portal back to his room. The spacetime-rip flickers briefly as if it won’t work, and a surge of panic rises in him, but soon it displays the sight of his bed and the nightstands on either side. A sigh of relief leaves him, and he jumps through the portal as smoothly as he can, landing on his bed this time.

Now, he is ready. He hopes.

The end of September—and the end of their stay in Eupheme—approaches. By that time, it has been weeks since you and Doyoung have seen each other. The one bright spot, though, lies with Mark.

Mark passes Doyoung a note during another of their etiquette lessons. The older man doesn’t wait to open it, though he keeps a watchful eye on the instructor as he does.

I think I’ve done it. Let’s try tonight.

Doyoung sucks in a breath and slowly lets it back out. Then, he crumbles the piece of paper up and shoves it into the pocket of his pants. He gives Mark a small nod, and Mark returns it before facing the teacher again as if nothing has happened.

Even though Doyoung had already given Mark instructions for how to create the portal, he is a bit unsure what to expect that night. He sits on the edge of his bed fully clothed, his hands clasped nervously together as his eyes dart all around the room, wondering where Mark will show up at.

He soon gets his answer when a teal ring of light manifests itself on the east wall of his room. It remains small only for a few moments before widening out enough to accommodate Mark’s form as he steps through it. Mark himself looks a bit shocked at what he’s just accomplished, even though he’s been doing it for a good amount of time now. Doyoung leaps up from the bed, about to speak, though he winces and remembers they still need to be mindful of the guards outside his door.

“You really did it,” Doyoung whispers, watching in awe as Mark closes the portal to his own room behind him.

“I did,” Mark affirms, and he can’t help but grin a little. However, his smile slips. “There is one thing, though.”

Doyoung’s stomach drops, and he can only imagine what this caveat will be. “What is it?”

“Well, once I’ve created the portal, I’ll have to keep it open,” Mark says. “Otherwise, I won’t know when you’re coming back…since we can’t communicate. But…I’ll only be able to keep energy flowing into it for about 15 minutes, maybe less, so…”

“…so make it quick. Right?” Doyoung replies. He is not surprised. Not because of any lack in Mark’s abilities, but more because this just seems to be the kind of luck that’s afflicted him as of late. Mark nods sheepishly.

“Just…be aware of the time,” Mark says, giving Doyoung an apologetic look. The older man only nods silently and steps back as he lets the younger do his work. Mark walks over to the wall he just came from and places his palms against it, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, and concentrating. He holds the image of the forest entrance in his mind’s eye and shifts the power out from his hands and to the wall, opening up a gap in space as the portal widens.

Doyoung’s heart rate picks up as he sees that familiar forest entrance forming in front of him, still crowded with overgrowth and greenery. He steps over to Mark to see it closer, and he can even feel the cool night air brushing past his skin as he peers in.

Mark opens his eyes and nods for Doyoung to go on, and the older gives him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Indeed, the forest on the other side is the exact same one he’s been visiting for the entire summer. The same dirt underneath his feet, the same trees crowding each other in. For that reason, he doesn’t waste any more time with rushing inside, heading straight for the oak tree.

There’s an indignant sentence waiting on your lips when you hear Doyoung crashing into your forest late that night, not having seen him in weeks. You’re hurt, but you also realize there must be something serious going on back at the castle if it’s taken him this long to get back to you. However, the words die when you see the pure anguish on his face as he bursts out of the vegetation.

You slip out of the oak tree to meet him on the ground, and he scoops you in his arms like he did all those weeks ago, though this passion is now charged with fear. “Doyoung, what’s happened? What’s the matter? What has kept you so long?” you ask worriedly, taking his face in your hands.

Doyoung holds you close and simply buries his face in the front of your dress for a long moment, breathing in your scent and absorbing the warmth of your skin. Though you are terrified and confused, you wait for him to calm himself enough to speak to you.

“I can’t anymore,” he says, his voice low and broken. Your heart drops at this.

“Can’t what?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“The King has forbidden me to come here—I shouldn’t be here now, but Mark...Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You hold Doyoung tighter against you, as if you could both become one being if you concentrated hard enough—wished hard enough. Your head throbs with the hurt of it, and your heart feels as if it’s being cleaved in two. You don’t say anything for a while, biting your lip so hard that it nearly bleeds.

“I tried.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Forgive me. I tried.”

“There’s no one to blame,” you argue, breathless from the vise pinching your heart and lungs. “I think we both knew how this would end…”

“I don’t want it to be this way. Y/N, forgive me. I should’ve never told you anything…perhaps if I’d kept my feelings to myself, we wouldn’t be in this mess now. You could live happily as you were, and I—”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I wouldn’t trade our time together for any living being…not even the gods.” You shake your head as tears begin to slip down your cheeks. Doyoung tries to wipe them away, though tears of his own escape without his permission. “It may be selfish, but…I-I just ask that…p-please don’t forget about me when you leave and start your own family.”

Doyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath and presses your head into his chest. “I could never,” he whispers.

He thinks he’s safe in your arms, and you safe in his. That’s what he’d like to believe, as you sit here together in the forest for the last time. Unbeknownst to him, something in the castle stirs and then bursts to life, violent and red-hot with rage.

Mark, on the other side of the portal, waits. He feels his energy weakening the longer he holds it open, but he does so anyway as nervous sweat gathers on his temples. He wants to call out to Doyoung to somehow warn him of the time limit, but remembers that the guards will hear it if he does. So he remains silent and waits impatiently as the end of the 15 minutes approaches.

However, he can’t wait any longer as the time ticks past. His magic flickers once, as does the portal, before disappearing completely. Mark nearly keels over at the loss of energy and has to catch himself as quietly as possible, bracing his shaking hands against the floor. He pushes himself up a bit and sits on his knees. He thinks desperately to himself, I should make another portal, but he doesn’t have enough energy for that at the moment.

The next move he makes is a costly one.

He reaches into his pants pocket for his pocketwatch, which he remembered to bring with him. He intends to see how far it is past the time they’d agreed Doyoung would come back, and how long it might take him to regain enough strength for another portal, but his shaky hands cause him to drop the small watch. He tries to grab the chain, but the movement is too sudden and clumsy and causes the watch to bounce even farther away from him, skittering clear off the rug and onto the hardwood floor.

Mark swears all his organs stop functioning at once when he hears a knock on the door. It’s quiet at first, and the silence is deafening. He thinks about scurrying up into the bed and lying there to pretend like he’s Doyoung, still asleep and not out in the forest, but his legs are locked with fear and lingering weakness. The second knock is more forceful, and the guard doesn’t wait for much longer before jamming his key in the lock and swinging the door open.

Mark whips his head around, and they both stare at each other dumbstruck for a moment. The guard’s gaze lingers at Mark in confusion, then quickly sweeps over to the empty bed. His eyebrows draw into a furious expression. “Where is the Crown Prince?”

Doyoung’s heart squeezes painfully at the thought of returning to Ceres without you, his brothers going on with their lives as normal despite his own secret heartache—and it’s only then that he realizes he’s lost track of the time. He jerks away from your arms, looking around frantically. “Wait—Mark.”

“Mark?” you repeat, confused.

“I…he made a portal so I could get here, but I was supposed to…shit. Come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and you both rush to the forest entrance. When you get there, though, there’s no portal and no Mark. Doyoung’s grip around your hand tightens. 

Though you aren’t totally sure what’s going on, a sudden dread overcomes you. “What happened to it?”

“He probably had to close it, but…I’m sure he’ll open it again once he gets his energy back.” Doyoung’s voice is uncertain, though, like he’s trying to convince you both. You look at the side of his face and try not to voice your fears, but as you both stand there waiting to see if the portal will reappear, it becomes apparent that something has went wrong with the plan.

“Explain yourself.”

“Your Highness…I…um…” Mark’s mouth is too dry for him to properly form words, and his legs shake where he stands. Not because of having his energy sapped—because of the King’s overbearing presence. The King stands in front of him, not even bothering to go to his desk this time, and Mark has to crane his neck a bit to look at him, though he can’t meet his eyes. “It was just…”

“I won’t ask again.”

Mark shakes his head and pulls at his hair, silently begging Doyoung for forgiveness in his mind. Still, he doesn’t say anything to give his brother up, keeping his eyes averted more out of fear than deference. “Please, Your Highness…I just…”

When the King sees that Mark won’t give a direct answer, he scoffs in disgust, sweeps the younger man out of the way, and heads for the door. Though Mark only moves a few inches, he feels like he might as well have been thrown clear across the room. The King speaks to one of Doyoung’s guards, who was standing just behind Mark. “Call the rest of the guards. I’ve exhausted my patience on the matter; these lecherous whores cannot be allowed to continue defiling my kingdom.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” Mark’s small voice is lost to the air as the King leaves the room without a glance backwards. The guard goes to enact his order, while the other one grips Mark tightly by the upper arm and drags him out of the sitting room. “N-no, wait, what’s about to happen?”

The guard yanks Mark’s arm in a gesture that calls for the questioning to come to an end. “Best keep quiet, boy. You and the Crown Prince have gotten yourself into enough shit tonight.” Then he chuckles. “One of these days, he was bound to find out that everyone won’t keep coddling him and wiping his ass. About to lose his title over some pussy. Quite sad, isn’t it?”

The guard’s words—and the realization that none of them have ever really cared about Doyoung’s wellbeing beyond being his hired watchdogs—sets Mark off. “Shut the fuck up!” Mark spits in his eye and stomps on the man’s foot at the same time, and the guard curses and lets him go for a split second. Mark doesn’t wait. He takes off down the hall, unsure where he’s going but knowing the castle is big enough to lose the guard—as long as he doesn’t run into anyone else.

He just needs to get somewhere where he can have enough time to create another portal.

“This can’t be good…” you finally say. You and Doyoung must have a death grip on each other’s hands right now, but neither of you are willing to pull away.

Doyoung shakes his head slowly. “No…it’s been too long. Maybe I-I should go back. Maybe if I go back willingly now…” He trails off, not knowing what could come at the end of that sentence.

“Doyoung, no. I…please don’t leave me.” You feel mentally torn between sending him away and knowing this is the last time you’ll see him versus having him stay here with you, if only for a few minutes more. At this point, you’re not sure what the right answer is anymore.

“They might come looking for me, Y/N, and I don’t want them coming here disturbing the forest—"

“Stay! You can hide somewhere, I…as the keepers of the forest, we’ve been handling ourselves against intruders for years. We can protect ourselves—and you. If they come, you can hide out here until they leave. Please, stay.”

Doyoung cannot say no to you or your pleading eyes. He nods. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen after all this—if he wants to go back to the castle, or if he’ll even be allowed to return. He doesn’t know what they’ll do to him in retaliation, and even the vague idea of it frightens him. Having his title removed is one thing, but the King of Eupheme is far more vindictive than that.

You and Doyoung only make it to the small cave you’d hidden in on that rainy day before you hear the distinct sound of another pair of feet crashing through the woods. You both whip your heads around, though you also grab Doyoung’s arm and pull him under the cover of the willow tree. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and you are too frantic to be able to sense who this new person is; though the question is quickly answered by a sharp whisper.

“Doyoung! Doyoung?”

“It’s Mark,” Doyoung hisses, his eyes widening. He slips between the tree branches and softly calls Mark’s name. In another few moments, the younger man is standing under the tree with you both.

“What happened?!” Doyoung asks, holding onto the younger boy’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Doyoung.” This is all Mark can say, and the words roll off his tongue repeatedly. He hangs his head. “The King knows, and he’s sent the guards to come here—I don’t know what he’s going to do, but—please believe me. It doesn’t sound good. He’s done being reasoned with.”

You and Doyoung look at each other with trepidation gripping your chests, realizing the stakes are much higher than you anticipated. This does not sound like just another case of “unwelcome intruders,” but “unwelcome intruders with bloodlust on their minds.”

“But—I can create another portal. I’m sorry, the last time, I just—but I can make one now. Come with us, please.” The last sentence is directed at you, and you shake your head.

“And go where? They’ll still be waiting for me at the castle. Are you suggesting we run away from Eupheme?” Doyoung’s voice is not reprimanding, but more incredulous than anything else.

Mark’s hands shake at the idea of turning his back on his family, which is something he’s never had to consider before—not even in the slightest sense. Things have gotten much more out of hand than he could’ve predicted.

You shake your head again, your hand slipping from Doyoung’s. “Just…I’ll stay here and help the others. You should go.”

“Y/N, I...” Doyoung’s throat tightens as he tries to speak, but his thoughts are disrupted by a quickly mounting commotion. The sound of hooves beating in the distance, though getting increasingly closer. The shouts of men who are ready to wage a battle, with fire racing through their veins.

Though most of Arthenia is asleep at this time of night, the noise of the horses’ hooves and the soldiers’ shouts is enough to begin waking the townspeople up out of their beds. Faces press against windows and peep out of doorways to see what’s happening.

The villagers are terrified when they see a group of soldiers adorned in the royal insignia and riding on horses enter Arthenia with lit torches in their hands, thinking their homes are about to be destroyed. However, they become even more confused and frantic when they quickly realize this band of men is paying their properties no mind and heading straight in the direction of the forest instead.

Some of Arthenia’s magic-wielders rush from their homes to try to put a stop to the men once they understand the situation, and the orcs and ogres meet them with brute force alone. The guards are met with a fight fiercer than they expected, even with their torches and daggers, not realizing the villagers could be so battle-hardy.

The King watches the battle ensuing in Arthenia from a hilly vantage point above the small town. The guards have failed to make much more headway against the villagers, who are gradually inching them back towards the village entrance. Shaking his head in disgust, the King pulls on his horse’s reins. “If you want something done, do it yourself.”

Some of the townspeople notice the King’s appearance just before he rides into the village. A few of them falter and cower in fear, finding the nearest exit point and taking their leave. Some others, incensed at their town being threatened and generally filled with rage at the King’s lack of fair leadership, decide to charge him head-on. They’re quickly extinguished, though, when the King conjures a great sphere of fire in his hands and whips it across them without a second thought.

He does the same to any other Arthenians who attempt to challenge him as he cuts a path through the village, uncaring of the land and homes he sets on fire as he does. A couple of the guards hop back on their steeds and follow him to his ultimate destination.

The King drives forward into the foliage. The women of the forest are armed with their own heavy rocks and sharpened arrows and daggers dipped in poisonous berry juice, though their weapons can barely leave their hands before everything is suddenly being enveloped in a wide swath of fire, meted out by the King’s hand. He leaves a path clear for himself and the guards in the middle, but the trees on either side are sent up in a blaze.

The two guards remain in single file behind him to use his fire as a shield and avoid the sharp rocks and poison-dipped darts zooming past their heads. Perhaps they’ve underestimated these tree-dwellers; already, there have been a few scrapes that were too close for comfort with the jagged edge of a rock or two. The guards light up as much greenery as they can as they go, using their torches to ignite leaves and low-hanging branches.

All around them, there are the sounds of Arthenians and dryads screaming in tandem as their homes go up in flames. A few nymphs lie fallen among the grass, unmoving as their tree homes burn up in the night.

The King, who has had the foresight to bring his shield, keeps it steady in front of him as he blasts fireballs out from behind it, lighting up one group of trees after another. He doesn’t know which one belongs to you, but he is willing to burn down the entire forest to find out. His movements are wilder than they’d normally be, which says a lot even for him, who has previously had no trouble slashing down anyone who stood in his way during battle—even if they were innocents.

“Doyoung!” The King shouts, and he whips up a great blanket of fire. He sends it careening up towards the sky like a shooting star, and it lands high among the tree canopy, heavy and far-reaching enough to burn treetops several feet in every direction. The guards become a bit wary at this, as the flames blaze above their heads and send sparks and burning debris flying down. “Doyoung!” His voice shakes the leaves like thunder. “If you do not wish to burn alive with these forest dregs, show yourself now!”

Doyoung’s spine stiffens as he hears his name echoing through the woods. It comes from a distance behind you all but is still too close for reassurance. If you stay in this spot for another few minutes, the King or one of his guards could be right on top of your heads.

“Come on!” Doyoung pulls your hand tightly as he helps you up the edge of a steep grassy incline, Mark supporting you from below. Though you’d be able to make it up there any other time by yourself, you don’t dare deny the help now. Your whole body feels like a live wire of fear and panic; the forest burns around you, and the encroaching smoke threatens to choke all three of you to death. Most of all, you feel devastated to see what’s happening around you, being essentially powerless to stop it. Nothing of this degree has ever befallen your home before; even the rare small blaze could be easily enough snuffed out. But not when the flames are being stoked and encouraged like this—building upon each other to see which can reach the tallest tree or the farthest edge of the forest.

After you reach solid ground, Doyoung drags Mark up behind you. There’s no time to pause after all three of you are on the ground; Doyoung grips your hand again and Mark follows behind the two of you as you run.

“The tree, the tree, the tree…” These words spill from your lips in a frenzy. Though your tree hasn’t been touched by the flames yet, it’s only a matter of time with the forest rapidly catching on fire. You can still feel the deep anguish of every other tree in the forest as their trunks catch fire, their leaves shrivel up, and the water evaporates from their root systems. Their silent screams and the shouts of your fellow dryads ring in your head loud enough to make you fear that your skull will split.

“Where are we going?” Mark asks, covering his nose with his sleeve and coughing profusely at the smoke all around.

“Out of the forest!” Doyoung shouts back. He doesn’t really know where to go except for the edge of the woods, and you aren’t in a state to tell him where to head. Deep down, he knows you want to turn back and go to your tree. The oak tree lives innately in you and you inside of it, and it calls you to come back, but the path is too dangerous; returning to it would only speed up what appears to be progressively inevitable. The King and his guards are somewhere in the forest behind you all, and turning back would only land you right in their hands or in the tendrils of the fire.

One of the guards feels a tinge of nervousness grow as the fire rages on around them, and he decides to try to reach out to the King. “Your Highness! I will go in search of Doyoung. Perhaps we should fetch him now before some danger befalls him; the fire is spreading exponentially.” The King gives him a signal to depart, though his eyes still burn just as brightly as the flames do.

The guard separates from the King to cut a path diagonally through the woods, going off to find Doyoung. The Crown Prince may have disobeyed the King—which is as good as committing treason against the kingdom—but it would still not look favorable for him to have died in a fire started at the King’s hands. However, the King is too far engulfed in the whirlwind of his own rage to consider these things more deeply.

The other guard stays by the King’s side, though his horse nervously shifts in place at the flames all around. The two men come to a stop in a wide and messy half-circle of fire, their backs to the flames as they watch the woods ahead for any signs of approaching creatures—or Doyoung himself.

Unbeknownst to the King, your oak tree sits only a few feet away in a yet-untouched portion of greenery.

A few leaves suddenly fall off a tree up ahead—too sudden to merely be caused by the wind—and this makes the King whip his head around and raise his hand to unleash more fire. Nothing appears from that spot, however, and the leaves remain as still as they were before. That moment of hesitancy costs him.

A small poison-tipped dart shoots from the leaves, catapulted by the force of a sudden, expertly-timed breath through a wooden blowgun. It lands squarely in the King’s open palm, which still faces the tree. A shout bursts from his throat in response, and it is only then that the guard realizes what’s just happened.

“Your Highness—!”

The shock and pain of the sudden assault causes the King to strike out in delayed anger, sending a wave of fire at the row of trees ahead of him—and a little further beyond, your oak tree in its small, grassy clearing. The dart burns up in his palm as he does, but its sharp point has already broken his skin. His reaction, though hampered by a few seconds, doesn’t afford Cassia much time to do anything but watch as a wall of feverish red and orange overtakes her, but her last few thoughts linger with you—where you might be within the forest right now, and if she could see you again in some faraway afterlife.

You’ve always known you would die when your tree finally did, but you weren’t sure what you expected it to feel like.

Certainly, not this kind of great reckoning—a sensation of every living element simultaneously being drained from your body. It feels like the core essence of your being has been cracked like an egg and is now flowing out endlessly, laid to waste in the grass. The sudden weakness that eclipses you makes it so that you can barely move your legs to continue running, and you collapse to the ground.

Mark nearly trips over your fallen form, but he quickly finds his voice and screams for Doyoung. The older man is already turning around, however, at feeling your hand slip from his. He rushes to you immediately, his eyes growing wide as he tucks his hands under you and scoops you into his arms.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please! Y/N, please, no!”

“Doyoung…”

“No. No! I’m begging...please, stay with me.”

Tears spill from his eyes in an endless torrent. You would like to touch his face at least once more, and you are infinitely glad—if not also heartbroken—when he grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek. His tears wet your skin, running down your palm.

“I…I already told you not to forget me, so please…”

“Y/N, I’ve got to get you out of here…” Doyoung says desperately, and he struggles to make it to his feet. His legs tremble too much to support him, though, and his shoes slide in the leaves and dirt underfoot. Mark stumbles backwards, his back hitting a tree trunk as his muscles tense in horror at the scene in front of him.

“D-don’t. Leave me here.” Even saying this much feels like a massive effort.

“What?”

“Th-the forest and I are one in the same. I live and die here. Please…do this one thing for me, Doyoung.” You look at him imploringly with as much strength as you can summon despite your eyes growing heavier. Beyond the smoke, the cloudiness of your own tears, and the pull of death, it’s becoming harder to see; his features blur amid your surroundings.

Doyoung is quiet for a moment, though he slowly nods, gripping your hand tightly. He lowers his forehead to yours, and through the smoke and fire, he swears he can still smell the scent of jasmine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“My prince…” The corners of your mouth rise in a tiny smile. “I love you.”

The Crown Prince keeps his forehead against yours, his tears raining down on your cheeks long after you’ve gone limp in his arms.

Mark slumps to the ground, feeling as if his stomach will turn itself inside out, his heart hammering in his chest. He tries to breathe evenly, though his chest tightens painfully from the attempt. Eventually, he buries his face in his hands, trying to physically shut out the ache. He’s not sure how much time passes like that, with him and his brother immobilized on the ground, but he does know they need to leave, soon, as the air around them grows more stifling.

“Doyoung…D-Doyoung, we need to…w-we should…” Mark’s voice cracks, coming out weak in the roar of the noise around them. He coughs again, then shuffles to his feet, leaning on the tree for support.

Doyoung looks up at him without a word, his face streaked with tears and dirt. Then, slowly, he unravels himself from you and lays your body gently on the ground. He shuns his cloak to cover you with it, though part of him desires to stay here and perish with you instead of leaving only a portion of himself behind.

Him and Mark travel a few more yards through the woods, and though he’s never seen this part of the landscape before, he can guess they might be nearing the edge of the forest. The trees have begun thinning out here like they did at the small circular lake.

“Wait—" Mark calls out. Doyoung doesn’t bother looking back at Mark, but he can hear it too. The sound of horse hooves increases in volume, and they soon see one of the guards riding towards them, torch still in hand.

“Crown Prince! Prince Mark!” he shouts. “Come with me immediately!”

Doyoung looks frantically towards the ground. A sizeable rock catches his eye, bigger than the palm of his hand, and he picks it up. Without a second thought, he launches it at the guard’s face. It catches the guard on the left side of his face with a sickening pop, causing him to yell out in pain and fall from his horse. His torch falls from his grasp, starting yet another small fire where it lands.

With its rider gone, the horse slows its pace, though it does not stop. Doyoung catches it by the reins and is able to bring it to a pause long enough for him and Mark to get on. Everything else falls away from him as he guides them towards the forest’s outskirts; he barely feels the wind whipping past them, the lingering smoke stinging his eyes, or even the sturdy animal racing underneath him. He has a brief thought about what happened to those dangerous animals you said live on the outskirts, as there are none here now, but he reasons that maybe they’ve already made their own escape.

The sky is turning lighter now from the approaching dawn. When they finally breach the last row of trees in the woods, they come out onto an expansive field, only broken up by stray trees here and there and other landforms. On the far horizon, another town looms against the sky, though it’s much bigger than Arthenia.

Doyoung signals for the horse to stop, and both he and Mark sit there for a few long moments. Mark sucks in a few deep breaths, as if he were the one running this entire time. 

“W-what…what now?”

Doyoung doesn’t answer at first. Then, quietly, he asks, “Are you coming?”

Mark doesn’t know where his brother intends to go, but he wordlessly understands that it isn’t back to the castle. Or even Ceres. He swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I…I have to see the others.” He means their brothers. He means their parents back in Ceres, if he is even allowed to live. He is not sure what the King will do to him once he returns—if he’ll be tried for treason. Still, his chest burns with the desire to see his siblings at least once more.

Maybe that’s how he justifies it.

He’s not entirely sure why he refuses Doyoung in this moment, even when he thinks back on it years from now. Maybe he is too ashamed of the guilt—of feeling like it was all his fault. (If he hadn’t dropped the stopwatch…) He doesn’t want to serve as that constant reminder for his brother.

“Can you get back, then?” Doyoung asks. Mark realizes he’s referring to creating another portal, and he nods, though somewhat hesitantly.

“Y…yeah. I can.” He swallows again and hesitates for another moment. Then, Mark dismounts from the horse and looks up at Doyoung. “Where…where will you go?”

If the older man has already planned his route, he doesn’t disclose it. He simply looks at Mark with an expression that can only be described as pitiable, broken. His eyes are red-rimmed and his skin is ashen. “Goodbye, Mark.”

Mark stares at his retreating back as he leads the horse away and across the field. The space between them stretches out into forever, with a million unsaid thoughts and emotions falling in the gap.

Behind him, the forest continues to burn, taking all life with it. In front of him, Doyoung’s form turns into a speck against the endless green. It is a long time before Mark leaves that spot in the grass.

In the castle, Donghyuck slumps against his window as he watches smoke rising in the far distance, already knowing where it’s coming from. Like a mirror image of his older brother, tear tracks make their way down his face as he buries his head in his arms.

“What have I done?”

[raisans-art]

What the Fuck Are these Characterizations: The Essay

Full warning: This is only concerning Tommy's stream made today, 4/29/2021. I know Ranboo has streamed after Tommy but I haven't watched that.

On with the essay.

A lot happened.

Tommy tried to kill Dream, Dream actually killed Ghostbur, Wilbur is back (pog). It's a lot. A lot of plot and a lot of emotions. I will preface this with the usual "holy hell these people are pretty damn good actors for having no formal training as far as I'm aware." They get their emotions across very clearly and that's kinda why I'm making this in the first place. The way some of the characters acted in Tommy's 4/29 stream is a bit odd in my opinion.

Now, I will concede that I have not been diligent with the Dream SMP lore. I've been given broad strokes and have seen various clips but I have definitely not been on top of it. I may have missed streams entirely and you all more avid fans may be able to name scenes that I haven't seen that rationalize some of these reactions that I will be criticizing. If you can, please do so! I'd love to start a dialogue over this!

So, how I'm gonna break this all up is to take a look at Tommy, Wilbur, Ranboo, and Awesamdude and how their CCs characterized them during the stream. I'll sing praises where they are due and point out my criticisms where they arise. Then, I will try to surmise some meta as to why I think these characterizations came to be in the first place.

Tommy

Tommy, to me, has the best characterization in this. CC Tommy clearly has a very good sense of what he wants from his character and has been playing into that line of thought from the beginning of this whole debacle.

Tommy is scared, paranoid, and pissed off. Ever since he left the prison he avoids taking damage like the plague, rambles indecisively, is easily sent into a panic, and is hypersensitive to the people around him. He panics when he sees weapons out and one crucial thing that he made clear from the start was that he wants Dream dead.

Straight out of limbo, Tommy concludes that Dream needs to die. From there he plans this whole mission with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Ghostbur to get in and kill Dream. He says that Dream can't keep living with this power at his fingertips, and from before his final death, Tommy clearly wants to be rid of his abuser, adding a personal layer to his plan. Tommy is stubborn and determined since the beginning, sacrificing his life and disks for L'manberg and refusing to believe that his home is gone until the place is blown to bedrock. Of course, he would stick to his plan to a T.

Now, is this a smart decision to sneak into the highest security area in the entire SMP? Fuck no. It's a stupid idea. Even if Tommy hadn't messed up, Sam would've seen Dream die to a floating axe and kept Tommy and Ghostbur in that containment cell. It would've been a one-way ticket, especially given what we see of Sam in this stream.

But this all makes sense for the character CC Tommy is playing. Tommy isn't thinking about how smart of a decision this is and he hardly ever does when he takes action. He shoots from the hip, takes his first instincts, and acts on them.

It's easy to draw a clear line of progression of Tommy as a character from season 1 to this moment in season 3 and past Ghostbur's death. His hyperventilating as he tries to get his plan to work after it failed, Trying to save Ghostbur from what he went through, lashing out at Sam, and yelling at Wilbur. All of this in line with who Tommy is as a character and how events have changed him. This is a good characterization.

Wilbur

Wilbur has changed a lot since we've seen him last, both alive and dead. Since he's been alive, Wilbur has changed his tune from "I want to die" to "hell sucks, mate." What's particularly interesting is that this sentiment that he has from being alive carried for a long time into his limbo, as evidenced by his appearance in the season 2 finale on the bench. He wanted to "stay dead" at that point. Since we've seen him in limbo, he's gone from content in his situation and understanding why he's there and that he's there forever.

Now we have Revivedbur. Revivedbur is ecstatic to be alive again. He goes from numb to embracing feeling again. The fandom once thought that Revivedbur would be annoyed with or hateful towards Dream for bringing him back turned into joy and reverence. This is quite a drastic leap. Bad characterization.

But it isn't.

I have seen one clip from Ranboo's stream on 4/29 and that is Ranboo telling Philza that Wilbur is alive. In this bit, after mentioning that Wilbur has been in limbo for a perceived 13 and a half years, Phil says "13 years is a long time to be away... he almost certainly isn't the same person... people can change quite a lot in a single year, two years, three years, four years, even five years, Ranboo."

Wilbur has been gone for 13 years. He's been in the same place with no change other than Tommy for 13 fucking years. That's 13 years where we heard from him 2 times. We know virtually nothing about what those 13 years were like for him, but from what Wilbur has said, it was torture to him. He was stagnant, stuck in a fucking tube station for 13 years, unable to leave no matter how hard he tried.

We know so little about how his time in limbo changed him because it's such a long span of time with radio silence. I dare say this is fucking great characterization.

Ranboo

This is where I start having some issues, and this is where I have the least amount of context. From what I've seen, Ranboo is little miss angst who forgets things and is constantly on the verge of having a panic attack (hyperbole). From what I have surmised of his character in various contexts, serious and dramatic scenes and domestic ones, Ranboo really cares about the people around him and is scared of himself and his mind.

So why is it that he straight up just sneers at Tommy, saying "the hell did you do?"

I'm really just focusing on this because it just seems really off to me in the context of his character. Ranboo was in on this plan. It's pretty common knowledge that the only person with revive powers is Dream. Ranboo doesn't know everything that happened within the prison, sure, but why is he so quick to assume that Tommy was the root cause? Is it because he's been hanging out with the world's 2nd biggest Tommy hater, Niki (the character for clarification)? I honestly don't know where this jump-in assumption is coming from. Given what I understand of his character, this line and the implications I'm getting are just a bit out of character. Feel free to explain why I'm wrong because I am not in this loop whatsoever.

Awesamdude

Sam is where I have the biggest issue. How does a man go from living on an isolated island in grief over a death he could've prevented if only he had been quicker, to yelling at that same formerly dead person that he was at fault for the death/revival of another person?

Now, one thing that is strengthened by this characterization is Sam's dedication to the rules. He has his strict protocol and he is not going to let that slip up for anything. He wants to keep Dream in prison and never let him out.

But I'm just having a hard time grappling with a man so quick to blame himself last time something like this happened being so quick to place blame on a child he, from what I've seen, had a good relationship with. It feels like I'm missing something here.

Yeah, Tommy broke into the prison, but why is Sam's first thought that Tommy was trying to break dream out? This harsh turn on Tommy just doesn't come across right to me.

Why Did This Happen?

I do think there could be a meta reason as to why these don't land right to me. These two characterizations are centered around Tommy. How people are reacting to Tommy's actions. Tommy and Dream are the head of the prison stuff right now. at least as far as I know. I'm not sure if Wilbur has come back on as a writer yet but last I heard it's still Tommy and Dream handling their shit. With the writers in mind, I wouldn't put it past them to decide to add more conflict with Tommy and other members of the SMP right now. The Egg is a bit busy with other things, Jack is just running the hotel, and the Syndicate doesn't really have any qualms with Tommy on any level that they would act on. It could be the writers trying to add conflict to the prison storyline by generating conflict between Tommy, Ranboo, and Sam with Wilbur being a fuckin wild card.

I don't know mate, I just wanted my thoughts out there and maybe be fucking pounded into the ground by people more knowledgeable than me.

Have a dialogue with me I'd love to debate. (All friendly debate please I don't feel like taking this too seriously it is Minecraft roleplay after all.)

[dwellordream]

“Because informal camaraderie between the sexes was an unfamiliar phenomenon, figuring out how to relate to each other was a complicated matter for both men and women. As one young man noted in 1924, "Nowadays when a woman goes everywhere and does everything, it is very difficult for a man to figure out how to treat her." "How is a man to know how to treat a woman anymore?" asked another bewildered soul. Obviously, these and other young men were at a loss when it came to relating to women as friends and companions. Did female companionship mean, they wondered, that men had to be courteous and gentlemanly at all times? 

Would they have to refine their language and manners in order not to offend female sensibilities? Or should young women simply be treated as men would each other? Most often they found no clear answers to these questions, and they had a hard time imagining new ways of behaving. "No matter what I do," grumbled one young man, "I never seem to do the right [thing]." Young women seemed equally unsure about how to interact with the opposite sex. On the one hand, they longed for frank conversations and easy rapport. On the other, they did not need advice columnists and etiquette experts, or their mothers, to remind them that "nothing is as delicate as a woman's reputation."

As they well knew, simply seeming too anxious for male companionship or too careless in selecting one's company was sufficient to cast doubt on a woman's moral rectitude. Yet, showing too much reserve might mean missing out on having fun. Their concerns were therefore of a different kind than young men's. Was it really true, they wanted to know, that men found women who went out at night by themselves to be "cheap"? Did men approve of women who wore lipstick? And under which circumstances could a woman allow a young man to walk her home? "I don't want to be prudish, but I don't know what is appropriate," one nineteen-year-old woman wrote, summarizing the dilemma she and many other young women faced.

In public discourse, the uncertainty over new codes of behavior came to a head in discussions over the seemingly trivial issue of male chivalry. Throughout the 1920s, young men and women debated this matter with an astonishing passion, and for that reason alone it is worth examining. What were these discussions about? What caused them? What was it about this issue that triggered such intense feelings? And what does this tell us about the difficulties associated with establishing cross-gender camaraderie? On the surface, the lines of conflict were clear enough. Over and over again, young women complained about what they perceived as rudeness among men. "Why are Danish men so ill-mannered?" "Femme" wanted to know in 1923.

"Girlie" was convinced that "chivalry and courtesy disappeared along with the crinoline." Writing from Italy, another woman was sure that Scandinavian men would "die of embarrassment" if they saw the gallantry with which "even lowly dock workers on the Arno River treat a woman." Adding insult to injury, one of the few Langelinie girls to speak out in public claimed that her interest in the visiting sailors stemmed solely from the fact that the foreigners were "considerate," "gentlemanly," and "chivalrous" companions who did not try to take advantage of "a decent and well-behaved young girl" like herself.

"A Copenhagen Girl" agreed. Since "you can use a very strong magnifying glass and still not discover even the tiniest trace of chivalry" among Danish men, she didn't find it surprising that nice girls like herself preferred the company of men like "Pierre and Giovanni, Tom and Jack." In most cases, young men declared themselves guilty as charged, but, they argued, this was only because chivalry was an outdated form of conduct entirely incompatible with the kind of camaraderie women seemed to desire. "What is it that determines that a man must always be chivalrous toward a woman?" a self-described "nonattentive gentleman" thus asked.

Another young man who defiantly labeled himself "nongallant" wanted to know whether "a young woman has any right to be offended because I do not pick her up before a dance but ask her to meet me at a trolley stop?" "Mack and Jack" were equally annoyed by what they saw as unreasonable demands on the part of female companions. "We are two young men," they wrote to an advice columnist in 1923, "who would like to hear your opinion about the behavior of two young ladies. The other night after we had been out dancing together, the young ladies wanted us to escort them home, but we live at the opposite end of town and escorting them home would have taken more than an hour out of our night's sleep, so we refused. Now they don't want to see us again."

The unmistakable tone of anger, resentment, and indignation that runs through this discourse suggests that more than etiquette was at stake in the controversies over chivalry. When young people debated whether men ought to open doors, assist with overcoats, carry packages, offer cigarette lighters, give up their seats in trolley cars, and walk companions home, they were, of course, trying to determine what constituted proper behavior in an era when gender norms were being redefined. That in itself was fraught with difficulty, and the confusion they expressed was genuine. 

But because both men and women perceived chivalry as a source of power and control, their "conversations" are therefore best understood as part of a much larger struggle over the relative status of men and women in a changing cultural context. For that reason it became such an intensely contested issue. Certainly, women's insistence on male chivalry was not merely motivated by a desire to indulge in the pleasures that spring from a companion's service and attentiveness. In their eyes, chivalrous behavior indicated, among other things, a certain level of male regard. After all, it had in the past only been disreputable women who could not legitimately demand such treatment. 

Insufficient male chivalry was therefore seen, even among many self-proclaimed "modern" young women, as an insulting sign of disrespect. More importantly, young women also perceived chivalry as a sort of sexual safety mechanism. At the heart of the ideology of chivalry lay the notion that men were responsible for serving and protecting women. Therefore, as long as women could hold men to a code of behavior that emphasized courtesy and (sexual) self-control, their ability to protect themselves from physical and moral danger seemed all the greater. And if this potentially greater degree of safety came at the expense of what seemed more egalitarian companionship, that was a price worth paying for most women. 

Besides, despite their modernity, young women were not out to eradicate gender-differentiated forms of behavior. While they were eager to assert their independence from older patterns of social interaction and to develop new forms of camaraderie with men, they still insisted on their femininity and on having that femininity acknowledged by male companions. "It might well be," one women poignantly argued, "that women in this country have reached their goal in terms of equality with men, but that does not mean that they have stopped being women."

That sexual equality and continued male chivalry were demands not incongruous with each other was a claim many men found hard to accept. "We don't understand how young girls can demand to be equals and at the same time demand to be treated as ladies," two male friends explained. "Women have by now for many years sought equality with men," another man elaborated, "and it is therefore my infallible [sicl] opinion that the ladies must either be entirely independent in all matters and renounce gentlemanly gallantry, or they must relinquish their equality with men." With such comments, young men laid bare what was for them at the heart of this matter. 

Clearly, they expected women to reciprocate for the favors and attentions they received with a certain degree of modesty and deference. As Karen Dubinsky has pointed out, the flip side of chivalry and protection is power and control. When men no longer felt they had power and control over women, they were, as they repeatedly stressed, no longer willing to respect a code of conduct that endowed them with a specific set of duties and responsibilities. Underlying the controversies over the issue of chivalry were therefore much more profound conflicts, most of which derived from young men's resentment over losing a set of gendered privileges and an authority over women that older generations of men had been able to claim. 

Even though many young men were attracted, at least in principle, to the idea of having fun and enjoying themselves in the company of female peers, they were also deeply ambivalent about young women's entry into what had previously been male territory and their encroachment on what had traditionally been male prerogatives. As one newspaper columnist complained in 1921, "Women have forced their way through every door—into the labor market, into politics, and into entertainment. They are getting more and more rights—rights to this and rights to that—but what about us men? We don't seem to be getting any more rights."

Many young men also took offense at women's relative independence in public arenas. As long as young women had money of their own, they did not have to depend on male companions in order to partake in public entertainment. Although most men had greater earnings and more spending money than their female peers, even those women with the most limited funds were usually able to afford a movie ticket, the admission to an amusement park, or a cup of coffee in a restaurant, and unlike in the United States, for example, young Danish women typically paid their own way when they went out with male companions, at least as long as they were not engaged or going steady.

 "Of course, we paid for ourselves when we went out," insisted Stine Petersen. "Yes, naturally! Naturally, we paid for ourselves," exclaimed Netta Nielsen, seemingly surprised at the suggestion that men might pay for female companions. While hard on their pocket books, such financial self-reliance had several advantages for young women. First, it allowed them, as Michael Curtin has pointed out, to signal that "the relation between themselves and [male companions] were of a public and egalitarian nature, not romantic as between lovers." Perhaps more importantly, it released them from any obligation to male peers and from the moral suspicion that surrounded any woman who accepted gifts and treats from men who were relative strangers. 

Besides, paying one's own way also protected young women from ending up, as Nikoline Sorensen phrased it, in an "awkward position" where men "might expect things" in return for their generosity. But rather than appreciating the potential for egalitarian friendships that such practices produced, most young men resented the self-reliance of their female peers, perceiving it as a challenge to male initiative and a lessening of their power. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, much of young men's resentment grew from their sense that women were in fact not only becoming less dependent, but were also acquiring a whole new kind of power over men. 

"What are men to do? How can they protect themselves against these attractive, scantily dressed young girls? We are under their spell," a twenty-two-year old man complained in a statement that interwove two of the most common strands in male discourse on postwar gender relations. First, men of all classes and ages spoke of young women as increasingly bewitching and seductive. Whether it was their short skirts, deep necklines, freer body language, or seeming flirtatiousness that led men to this conclusion, they generally agreed that the new generation of women possessed an unprecedented degree of sexual allure. 

Second, they constantly complained that women were using their wiles, their charms and their bodies as unfair means to gain control over men, who were ill-equipped to withstand such an onslaught. "This is the last and final battle in the war between the sexes," one observer declared in 1924. "After suffrage and all the other rights women have obtained, they are now plotting their final assault. With their physical allure, they are striving to master men who are, after all, only men." In this light, young men's unwillingness to behave chivalrously begins to take on its deeper meaning. In a situation in which many young men believed that women were gaining the upper hand, they were less than eager to engage in behavior that smacked of servitude to women. 

In earlier generations, a man who fetched a woman's coat or carried her packages had discreetly underlined his own masculinity through a show of physical ability. By the 1920s, the very same gestures seemed to many young men simply to demonstrate service and subordination to a new generation of women who already possessed too much power over them. Quite understandably, they therefore resisted any involvement in such behavior. Although the debates over chivalry are revealing of the underlying conflicts that seriously circumscribed any effort to create more frank and egalitarian relationships between young men and young women, they may ultimately be read as fairly innocuous. 

After all, having to fetch one's own coat is at most an inconvenience, and while ungentlemanly behavior might offend a woman's sensibilities it hardly impairs her autonomy or her freedom of movement. But because (sexual) self-control was a central component of the ideology of chivalry, young men's increasing unwillingness to adhere to this long-standing code of conduct had more serious consequences. Predictably, although unfortunately, it led to an unprecedented level of physical and sexual danger for all women who ventured into public arena.”

- Birgitte Soland, “Beauties and Boyfriends, Bitches and Brutes.” in Becoming Modern: Young Women and the Reconstruction of Womanhood in the 1920s

[ranboo5]

whats 'the clip' and knifetrick?

Augh. Under the cut for shipping discourse and p/dophilia ment (nothing graphic or specific). Gets long bc I discuss my thoughts on DSMP shipping in general. You are setting me up fr anon

Some quick vocab -

intimacy here is used to refer to. Well. Any kind of intimacy between characters, of any sort, as an umbrella term /r, /p, and /qp here are used as shorteners to denote "romantic," "platonic," and "queerplatonic," both as adjectives And as verbs ("to /r" = "to portray romantically") shipping here is used to refer to any focused examination of intimacy between characters

And some clarity that Should follow from the essay next but may not - """anti-antis"""" and RPF writers delete forever

The Clip is from one of if not the? most recent Discord stage(s) Mr Live has done (which I missed when it was live RIP) wherein he issues a hard ban on shipping him ("do not ship me, in any way, with anyone!") which would less influence c!beeduo (which has been portrayed/stated to be romantic AND nonromantic both conflictingly for a while until being confirmed unconfirmed several months ago, that being the last was heard) without its direct invocation if he hadn't also cited for the reason as being underage ("'Cause, one, it's straight up pedophilia") which is! a) immediately applicable to At Least his DSMP character, Partially and b) while not Strictly True (should b obvious that portraying a relationship within the bounds of what it is in canon and in a nonsexual way is not That, and /r-ing c!beeduo etc was possible to do Appropriately again by remaining w/in the bounds of canon) is Clearly Indicative of the fact that baggage-wise it IS associated with people being fucking creeps

This Really complicates things bc like okay the apparent solution is "lol just don't /r it" but it's really like. A Worse issue than that bc like.

Okay the reason shipping in terms of fictional characters is a Different Bar is bc it's an examination of Intimacy and certain lines exist in certain dynamics of intimacy that Isn't Shown (which is the whole Within The Bounds Of Canon thing) which is important in a medium like DSMP because of the smaller gap + more personal relationship b/w character and streamer. Examining intimacy beyond th bounds of the consent that has been established in that regard is Weird at best and Violating And Creepy more often and, As Mentioned In Ranb's Stage, Literally Evil at worst

Which is why writing abt like. QPR or platonically intimate Techno and Philza (characters) is smth that is fine because that's smth that has been shown and repeatedly stated onscreen; it's in the bounds of canon n thus within th bounds of what the streamers've consented 2 be done with their characters. But writing T3chza making out or whatever is fucked up because it's smth that's beyond those consent barriers

And the thing is right

Slapping a /p on T3chza makeout doesn't. Make it less violating

Like what you CALL romantic is not the measure or whether it's past those barriers yk? And if it's indistinguishable, if it's in extrapolative territory that is Past The Bounds, it Does Not Matter how much you /p it EVEN IF IT IS TECHNICALLY PLATONIC y feel? Like at the end of the day placing a moratorium on some/all forms of shipping is placing a moratorium on certain examinings of intimacy

And okay 2 go back to Mr Live and his character. What it implies taken in context w/ older portrayals of c!beeduo and said by invoking smth that both evokes Really fucked up baggage (that does unfortunately exist btw I'm sorry if you didn't know that but People Really Do B Fucked Up Abt Beeduo) AND applies to his character is a revocation of consent to examining deep intimacies:tm: with his character, which is gonna apply regardless of the nature of that intimacy (even if nonromantic)

Like I don't /r c!beeduo myself, do not, never have, but I talk to people who have and have consumed content where they r background /r; I also don't think it matters. Like I don't Actively /r it and I don't Actively Not /r it because imho w/ the intimacy regarding c!beeduo that is plot relevant and character important whether that intimacy is /p /qp or /r doesn't really matter. I don't consider myself Less of a c!beeduo shipper than someone who /rs them because that would be dumb as hell and while none of the content I've made* is Intrinsically or Intentionally /r it certainly can be read tht way as much as it can be read /qp or /p. It's be dumb and hypocritical of me to like, dunk on ppl for /r-ing c!beeduo when I'm also invested in these two and my tonetags r not gonna suddenly Delete the picking apart I've done of the dynamic @ hand

Which Has Been. Within Bounds Of Canon. It's been what's been shown (sometimes to my great distress. There is a reason that the :canon_beeduo: emote looks the way it does) Directly Onscreen and in general keeping with the tone n intensity/directions of what they've Done With The Characters

HOWEVER

As mentioned up there. Revocation of consent

It makes. Full sense 2 me that Mr Live wants to place a moratorium or fullon ban on shipping his characters perhaps where he wouldn't have before because of the Unfortunately Very Extant trends of people being Fucking Weird about shipping his characters AND of using them as a Thinly Veiled Excuse to ship HIM, which. I should not have to explain why shipping real people is fucking abhorrent

THIS creates a problem which is a. Bit of a vacuum in interacting with what is a facet of c!Ranboo's arc, decision making, and character. Like you CAN have c!Ranboo w/o cbeeduo but you Can't Really have his plotline without examining c!beeduo. And as I mentioned earlier: even if your examination of c!beeduo is fully platonic, the significance of it To the plotline means that any examination of it and its relevance to the plotline and characters IS gonna be an examination of intimacy, which. Regardless of it's platonic, Is Still Shipping

Unless some HARD retconning happens it leaves this like. Hole in an aspect of c!Ranboo's arc and decisionmaking and it's very. Uncertain? God. Fucking months ago I was already kind of :huh. Does he know what the fuck he's doing: irt c!beeduo and desperately wishing for things to be cleared up and now it's only That Much Stronger

NOW. KNIFETRICK, FINALLY

Knifetrick (or, as it’s actually listed, Bishop’s Knife Trick) is a fic about "Ran and Jackie from The Pit TFTSMP" in a "canon-typical ambiguously romantic relationship." As you can tell from the scare quotes, especially if you've seen me vague, both of these are, to put it politely, Doubtful. I've read the fic; I will not be sharing my opinions because that would be neither productive nor responsible (I will just say I can't recommend it and leave it at that) but I WILL say the following that Is relevant to the conversation:

Ran's and Jackie's characterizations respectively have very little to do with characterizations from The Pit, and bear a dollar-store-version resemblance to tropes and personality motifs found in ESPECIALLY fanon c!beeduo, especially later in the fic. I would not go so far as to say they are Intentionally Literally Ranboo and Tubbo but they are transparent expies and were clearly written at LEAST unintentionally w/ c!beeduo in mind (esp since. Ran and Jackie barely interacted in The Pit), and for a readerbase that, as far as I can tell, is HUGELY dominated by /r c!beeduo shippers. Like. Sorry. This is off-brand c!beeduo.

The dynamic between the two is pretty unambiguously romantic, also; despite what the fic's white knights claim, romantic tropes and implications/motifs/imagery from at LEAST chapter two, and is very much explicitly romantic by the most recent chapter.

FROM CH1:

"And now, with raised eyebrows and a pursed lip, the newly named General Jackie observes Ran in such a way that makes the enderman’s skin crawl. Ran reminds himself that this kid, as short and harmless as he may look, is trained to kill. [...] Jackie narrows his eyes and tilts his head a little, as if he’s trying to read in between every one of Ran’s imperfect scales."

FROM CH2:

"It makes Ran’s skin itch with discomfort. [...] 'That actually doesn’t explain much of anything at all,' complains Jackie, and he pops a few croutons into his mouth with one hand. 'Tell me what you’re thinking, pretty-boy.'

"Ran feels his face flush, no doubt mildly glowing green.

"Yes, that was the other thing. The unnecessary compliments to his physical appearance.

"They don’t happen very often, and don’t seem to have very much meaning or intention behind them— Jackie often speaks like an unthinking kid— but when they do happen… they’re embarrassing. [...] It’s annoying how the rug is pulled out from under his feet in these moments when he’s 'embarrassed'. Like the conversation see-saw has temporarily shifted weight in the general’s favor."

I am not going to include excerpts from Chapter 6 because it's just the entire chapter.

I WILL SAY, HOWEVER, STEPPING ON THIS SCORPION BEFORE IT STINGS: they are not written in an RPFy manner and I don't think there's any grounds, including Vibes, of accusing Knifetrick of being like. Closet truthing or whatever. Also, while I think there's certainly Some Weirdness ESPECIALLY around the reaction, the romance itself is Not written in any way I'd call weird or problematic pre-clip; it's nothing inappropriate or like Weirdly Fetishy or whatever. Knifetrick is not #problematic or anything and I don't have beef with like the concept of liking it intrinsically; if I thought it was like. Abhorrent I wouldn't be sharing excerpts lmao dhjfnhdsbvdnfjh. Hence: if anyone uses this post or anyth like it to send harassment or bad faith ANYTHING to anyone involved with Knifetrick I will hunt you down in the fucking night even if it WAS #problematic that'd be the LITERAL OPPOSITE of productive and as it stands it's Literally Not. Essentially: Knifetrick is a (questionably-written /mean) fic using Ran and Jackie from The Pit as a vessel for a large chunk of the dynamics and headcanons of fanon /r c!beeduo in particular

And again, I would not call it problematic in any way (aside from the disingenuity of the insistence that it's TOTALLY UNRELATED TO BEEDUO and TOOOTALLY WASN'T INTENDED TO BE ROMANTIC GUYS like own your shit please)... IF it weren't for the advent of The Clip, which is calling in2 question the Entirety of the problem of /r-ing any variant of c!beeduo or any of Ranboo's characters at all

I really do not have an answer for this tbh. I genuinely wanna hear from the streamer on this more specifically because I like,,, I got no clue where 2 go from here? Do I just consider an arc retconned? Was it an issue of speaking abt a troubling subject kneejerk wise and I'm reading too much in2 it?

I just. I dunno

Tl;dr (AT LONG LAST)

- The Clip is a clip of a Discord stage where Ranboo (streamer) loudly explicitly decried shipping in a way that implicitly applies to characters he plays - This would be all well and good but is rendered complicated by the plot relevance of c!beeduo, which does not stop being shipping if it's /p'd due to it still necessarily being an examination of a particular intimacy in a way that is in canon hard to distinguish the /p, /qp, or /r nature of - Bishop's Knife Trick is an AO3 fic centered around using TFTSMP characters as /r c!beeduo expies which is not a bad thing in and of itself unless it also is covered under this moratorium - Things remain unclear until and unless we get clearer word from streamer, but considering Mr Live seems to be allergic to clarifying anything abt c!beeduo this is doubtful

*very little if any of the content I personally have made 4 c!beeduo has been posted publicly, for related reasons. You May have seen it if you're in servers w/ me, depending on Which Ones

[smolstarthief]

Persona 5/Persona 5 Strikers: Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Hoo boy... So this honestly has been a LONG time coming on my end because I have seen so much of that debate on social media (Twitter namely) and I can see the points of BOTH sides but there have been moments where it just got out of hand... Especially whenever people tried to put in a more grey/nuanced take only to be slammed and taken out of context. Even repeatedly mentioning the interrogation at the beginning of P5 which, I will admit has gotten tiresome. At least for me, I do still feel for Joker and I wished the game acknowledged his trauma more but there's a thing called, "beating a dead horse" and this is one along with "Haru says ACAB" in Strikers (which was done THREE TIMES in the same arc and it got annoying fast, like shut up already! We get it!). So, let's dive in a little bit:

MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!

Persona 5/Persona 5 Royal

Now let me just say I know! Police in Japan are just as bad if not worse than the West and I STILL hate the idea of Makoto wanting to become a cop for such naive reasons (especially with what happened to Sae, her own sister!)... But there are at least some of form of nuances sometimes and by that I mean, I can see what they were trying to do? I do agree that P5/P5S backpedaled SEVERELY by deciding to sweep issues under the rug after addressing them and not continuing from such. In fact I feel like it could have been a hell of a lot better. But P5 did something different compared to previous games and addresses the issues DIRECTLY right at the beginning of said game! It was tense and horrifying, but needed. Of course... They then sweep it under the rug and act like nothing traumatic happened to our protag which is NOT a good look at all and I'm still pissed off about it. In the main game's case, it's portrayed as more black and white with only a SMALL amount of nuance like that cop that was trying to help Futaba when she went out by herself and got lost (which people ignore entirely by the way). So I CAN see where people got the "anti-police" message from... But that's only the tip of the iceberg as it's ACTUALLY more about Systematic Corruption, not exactly or JUST police corruption. Namely in politics with Shido and the Conspiracy (which is apparently still somewhat around in Strikers until Owada's downfall) controlling everything all the way to law enforcement. The force had been basically under his payroll (including the corrupt SIU Director before his death) whether by force or not (mostly not in this case though). Now honestly, the police depicted there are undoubtedly rotten to the core save for a VERY SMALL handful (the cop that was trying to help Futaba which, again, gets ignored by several). Look at the interrogators who ruthlessly beat and drug a minor without any second thought or remorse for example. But again, the black and white narrative the game kept unwittingly doing ended up being to its detriment in a way. I'm not defending those assholes AT ALL! They deserved every punishment given to them! But for a game that goes on about grey morality... It doesn't quite deliver on that. Still though, it does emphasize that it's more of the fault of the whole corrupt system, not just one part of it. There needs to be change and reform which is what our MCs were trying to do in a way (more like inspiring change but still). In the end, it's all about the following:

Corruption and abuse of power.

Again the police depicted in this game were incompetent at best, corrupt at worse with very few silver linings. But it's not just them but rather the one person responsible for the whole mess. Who had them under his payroll? Who controlled them and by extension all of Tokyo? Who was willing to dispose of anyone who "outlives their usefulness" or is perceived as a threat to what he wants (including his own family)?

SHIDO AND BY EXTENSION THE CONSPIRACY

Bottom line: They are definitely a problem but it's not just them.

"But, Joker and his trauma?"

I definitely understand that and still do. I fully believe he has and still has trauma with the police. Easy! But... I do feel like people go too far with it sometimes. It's hard to explain but there have been moments where people either use it as a justification/argument against someone trying to provide a more nuanced view of things or... Dare I say, depict him like a "uwu soft traumatized boi." Like I said, it's hard to explain on my end so feel free to ignore it. Everyone deals with trauma differently so there is STRONG chance that I'm overanalyzing it. I just remember moments where I just feel a little, I guess annoyed? I'm not sure exactly but final thing: I understand what he went through and I can't imagine how long it would take to recover but I hope he DOES overcome it.

"Sae? Akechi?"

Yep, even though their jobs are different, they are by and large members of law enforcement no matter how you spin it. Both were broken in a way. Akechi is pretty easy to explain with how Shido negatively impacted his life but not much about Sae, who dealt with sexism/misogyny at her workplace along with the trauma of her father's (also a cop) death. She no doubt had some idealism only to be hit with the fact that she's gonna have to use underhanded/downright illegal tactics to get by and even rise up the ranks. She, therefore ended up (well, nearly) corrupted herself before coming to her senses. That's honestly one of the BIGGEST REASONS why I felt like Makoto joining the force to become a police commissioner isn't a good, even a downright naïve, idea. I honestly would have been somewhat fine with it if it weren't for that fact among other things. Regardless of her willpower, it will go south fast.

Now... Onto Strikers!

Persona 5 Strikers

Since the game came out and I started playing it, I still feel like the system is still beyond saving, especially when attempting to do it from the inside. But I don't mind the added nuances that P5 didn't do much of. It's still continuing the critiques, just shows more of what does happen within said system and even has an ACTUAL officer (Zenkichi) say, "Yeah, my job sucks, everyone's corrupt, there are much better ways to do things and make a change but not this. I'm only staying because I have a daughter to take care of and it's all I know. I'm no different from them." Was it all handled well? I wouldn't say "yes" (Joker's trauma is BARELY addressed at all of course) but a little better than what P5's narrative did which only addressed the issues but not exactly follow up on them. Now to be fair... In the system, regardless of where you live, any one within it who remotely tries to do something or speak against it either lose their jobs or even go "missing" irl. Those have happened and it's more proof that yeah, it's rotten to the core. There's no denying it but regardless, that's NOT what the game is about at all. At least that's what I feel about it as it's only PART of the narrative. I think Zenkichi puts it best here:

Speaking of Zenkichi... Oh boy... Now I definitely understand some of the criticisms with him but honestly, he was the best written (PT) character I've ever encountered! He was honestly the perfect representation of those that genuinely want to help and do good, only to be held back by an extremely harsh reality. It was already hinted at with Sae but here? It 100 percent confirms just how harsh and even cutthroat it can be if it could break someone's idealism so badly. Even Kaburagi of all people thinks the same thing Zenkichi said:

Then there's his past and it's a tragic one! But let's look more at the decisions he ended up making:

While it was no doubt done to protect his daughter, he ended making a selfish decision along with a selfless one (which was brilliant!) with not only allowing the cover up of his wife's death and denying justice for her, but also ruining an innocent person and their family's lives.

It's horrible, but also... There's a grey area/nuance as with the rest of his character. It was both understandable, but also wrong as he, as Akane's Shadow puts it:

He sacrificed his values, his morals, all for the sake of having a peace of mind. Speaking of Akane, she's also an interesting case in a way that she more or less perfectly represents the more "black and white" views on justice in general. Namely the more toxic/biased kind. Her reasons are also understandable but she was also acting selfishly by only focusing on how SHE was effected by Aoi's death and not even considering those that were also grieving her death and/or that people grieve/handle grief differently than her. But back on topic.

Her own views and beliefs that law enforcement basically SHOULD be dismantled (mostly out of said childish bias and black & white views) and it's framed as WRONG and it's very much correct on that. Chaos and order are two sides of the same coin, one can't exist without the other. When I say ACAB, I'm calling for reform, defund, have the corrupt held accountable for EVERYTHING and even face jail time for their crimes! Defund the police, have the ones that arrest, harm, and even murder out of bias (race, gender, etc.), lose their badges/jobs and locked up, make improvements! It's saying that there IS still corruption out there and there's no denying it. But fully eliminating the law in general will just lead to more problems. Now granted, she's young and clearly doesn't fully understand why those views are ultimately wrong but still... It was a very interesting subject to tackle and I feel like they handled it well.

Now back to Zenkichi, he was at first in denial about his decisions ultimately being the wrong ones too and even tries to justify it. Of course, his Shadow said otherwise and that was when he finally admitted that he really did act no different from the criminals he despised. But it also doesn't mean he can't redeem himself and that's what ultimately leads to his new resolve:

That right there along with everything else! There's the nuance! And ultimately despite some hiccups, Strikers handled the grey morality and nuance beautifully! Especially regarding law enforcement! Dare I say, even better than the base game! It continues the critiques with no problem but also showing different sides and areas of it! There is good and evil, but what about in-between? What about the more greyer area? It still says that there IS corruption, sometimes even beyond saving but... Sometimes a small silver lining is hidden somewhere.

Now, the ultimate question:

Is P5 & P5S (namely the latter) Pro-Police or Anti-Police?

Personally, my answer is this: Neither.

Why? What theme do they both have in common?

JUSTICE

Someone puts it best on Twitter that the games are more pro-justice and I fully agree!

P5/P5S gives the idea about following your OWN justice, your OWN moral code and rules, paving your OWN path and not let others dictate it! That's what the MCs ultimately start to learn in both games. Therefore it's pro-justice. Again, do I agree that the system is beyond saving? Yeah. Do I at least acknowledge and understand what the narratives are trying to say and nuances regardless even if I don't agree with some writing decisions (ex: Makoto wanting to become a commissioner despite everything)? Also yes. But at the same time, don't judge a book by its cover for other people (not just law enforcement and politics mind you). Especially some that genuinely DO want to help at best. That there is nuance and greyness, just have to look closely. Some of the MCs are still TERRIBLY written and executed (even annoying) but the message was still somewhat there.

Final Thoughts

Now I fully understand how you all feel of course! I still believe in ACAB and even I agree that maybe I'm one to talk and have a lot more to learn about the world... This is just my own attempt at putting my own two cents in. If you disagree, that's fine! This is just what I've felt should be at least talked about more often. And I tried to phrase it as best as I can without coming off as insensitive or ignorant and if I did, I sincerely apologize for that! I'm not trying to say, come off as a "bootlicker" or any of the sort. I'm just trying show discuss more of the grey areas and nuances that are, more often than not, constantly overlooked. How one interprets both games is ultimately up to them. You, the player. And this is my own interpretation. Simple as that. I hope you all have a good day/afternoon/evening!

[jessie-writes-things]

From the Darkness | Part 1

This is a commission from the lovely @grogusmum! I'm so so so sorry for how late this is love! Life got in the way a bit. Originally I was gonna do this as one giant piece, but you've been waiting too long and so I just needed to get something out. This ended up being a bit more soft-angst rather than fluff but I tried my best to balance it out. The next part will be full-on found family fluff though! 🥰

This whole thing stemmed from that throwaway line 'I've spent much time on Tatooine' from The Marshall. Basically, I just liked the idea of Din having a somewhat secret life hidden away there. It gets explained a bit more in the second part, but that's really all the context you need right now. 😅🥰

Pairing: Din Djarin x Neutral Reader

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Found family, fluff, soft angst

Warnings: Star Wars level violence, vague mentions of PTSD/Trauma, nightmares

Summary: Din comes home to Tattooine and you spend the night on the Razor Crest.

You always heard the Razor Crest before you saw it. The loud hum of the clunky engine made you jump every single time and you had always wondered how long it would be until the ship just dropped out the sky.

Your answer came quicker than you thought. It was around midnight when the first signs came, snippets of voices fluttered by like quiet, sleep-laced whispers on the wind.

See you we do! Coming home we are!

Then came the ship barrelling onto the landing pad, and you weren’t dramatic in saying you thought the planet was about to explode; walls rumbling, ground vibrating. Peli had been prompted to spew out a few choice words, stepping outside just as you did to watch the slivers of silver moonlight spring off the ship as it finally settled down.

The landing had been…less than graceful to say the least. The engine sounded worse than you’ve ever heard. One of her feet had been ripped clear off, making her tilt to the side at an unnerving angle and you didn’t even want to think about the number of outer plates there were to replace.

What worried you more was the look of annoyance on your boss’s face, pinched and red, and you just had enough time to convince her to head back to bed, promising to deal with The Mandalorian until morning. And thank every planet in the galaxy she listened because if the Crest hadn’t woken up the neighbourhood, you knew she sure as hell would of.

There was an etiquette, you learned through years of working on the hanger; you should never enter a person’s ship first. To regulars, it was like walking into someone’s home without being invited. But so early in the morning you weren’t for niceties.

You walked up that ramp like pray on a hunt, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and you may have stumbled a bit, but it was a hunt.

The Mandalorian was clearly waiting for you, sitting in the cockpit, the baby asleep in his pod although you had no doubt he was listening to every word.

Very out of character, he was the first to speak, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘It’s okay.’ It wasn’t…well, it was. You were just grumpy and tired and wanted to go back to bed, ‘She looks a mess.’

‘Can you fix her?’

You had assumed her mess from the work of another bounty gone wrong, maybe Mar again but you weren’t in the right mind to ask. ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘What you’re about to ask me to do next.’

There was a silence, a comfortable one but silence, nevertheless. Eyes heavy, you were fading fast, head resting against the passenger seat you had claimed as your own. You weren’t too sure if you had fallen asleep or not. You closed your eyes for what felt like a moment too long and when they opened again, Din had shifted his seat to look at you.

‘We need to stay for a few days.’ His head tilted like a little puppy dog. Helmet still on, you were left trying to imagine how he looked in that moment; eyes squinted, crinkled around the sides in admiration.

Not the exact words you wanted to hear, but not surprising in the slightest.

You decided to push again, ‘Anything else?’

He was smiling, at least you were sure he was, his voice sounding a little lighter despite the artificial muffle of the modulator, ‘Come to bed?’

---

I caught a frog today. Very big frog. I wanted to show you. But ManDad was not very happy with the frog in the big ship. So I ate it, I did. Miss you lots, I did. And so did ManDad. Smiles when he thinks about you, he does. I feel the happiness. Thank you for making him happy.

---

Turns out it hadn’t been Mar that took a hit at his ship.

There had been an incident, Din told you in the quiet of darkness, arms wrapped around you, his head buried safely. Long tufts of hair tickled your jaw and chin whenever he moved or talked, about due for a haircut but that was a battle for another day.

‘Moff Gideon is dead.’ But so was Kuill, the kind Ugnaught who had helped at the start of all this mess. Whatever was left of the Empire was still after the kid and Din still needed to find the Jedi. ‘Karga’s still alive.’

‘I thought he double-crossed you?’ At some point his head had moved onto your chest, letting your fingers card through his hair. You could just about see his face in the small cracks of light, not that he needed to hide anymore, sometimes you think the dark was comforting for him.

The smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips and you really hoped it was because of your touch and not the thought of the Guild agent. Small wins and all that, you guessed. Better to have Greef around than no one at all.

‘I can’t stay long.’ His voice wavered, ever so slightly. You had become accustomed to the bittersweetness of it all, stroking the back of his neck as your heavy eyes began to droop again.

‘That’s okay.’ While it felt like a brick being thrown at your chest, you understood. Truly. The entire Empire was after the kid and, subsequently, him. Not to mention the constant battle against other hunters who had it out for his head.

Because while you knew time was finite with him, at least you had something.

---

Happy to be home we are. ManDad gets lonely sometimes. Feel it I do. I try my best to make him smile but sometimes it does not work. Make him happy, you do. A man should not be lonely for too long, he must not, for loneliness can be deadly. When I am gone, look after him you must. Promise?

---

Quiet moments in the dark were always the loudest for Grogu. Like father like son, you guessed. Neither of them liked the stillness much, both of their minds racing faster than the speed of light. It was always easier to read them in these moments. Flashes of images blended into a mosaic behind your eyes as you tried to hold down a specific part of a memory or a dream.

Some nights it was easier than others. There were times Grogu would sense you in his mind and would purposefully push an image forward, always something he thought was silly like a particularly funny looking frog or a memory of Din singing to some cheesy eighties song you had left behind on a CD during their last visit.

The colourful rhythm and syncopated beats making the walls of the Razor Crest dance along with them and you did everything not to burst out laughing in the still night, biting your lip only for a small snort to escape. Din caught on, barely opening his eyes a crack to mumble out some half-arsed are you okay before rolling over and heading back to sleep again.

It was easier to read Din when he was asleep. Not that you did it much or even intended to in the first place. But sleep tore down the walls he had spent years building up, subconsciously pushing the dreams into your mind. If Grogu’s thoughts were a lulled whisper, Din’s were white noise. Fuzzy static took up most of the space, at times slipping to let through blips of voices or a grainy picture of long past memories. They were too quick to get a full idea of what he was dreaming about.

A boy.

The pop of blasters.

A woman screaming.

One deep breath and the image faded. Din would wake for a moment, eyes closed and he’d turn back to face you. His chest shook, barely and nothing noticeable normally, but you caught it, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and mumbling a soft it’s okay as he settled back into you.

---

Today was not so bad, it was not. But sometimes I still think about the dark place. Scary and lonely was I. For a long, long time. Then there’s light and I see ManDad for the first time. And then everything is better, it is! No longer do I need to fear the dark.

---

Like always, Grogu climbed out of his pod early morning and forced the doors of the sleeping pad open, giving him room to wiggle his way between Din and you. These were the times you’d feel the tug of his mind at the doors of yours, asking permission to be allowed in.

If your consciousness was awake enough, you’d let him, letting the Green Bean explore the distorted images of Earth and your past life. You would find him standing next to you, present you, in the middle of the dirtied street, dark and damp as rain pounded on the concrete around you, drowning out the screams of the people as they rushed by.

He’d hold his arms up, a quiet hold me please passing by and you’d take him in your arms, holding him close. Sparks of fear rolled through you, weighed down by dread and it was hard to tell if it was coming from Grogu or your past self.

Clouds filled the sky like grey shadows. It had taken you a long time to realise they weren’t normal, that the clouds were too big, were floating by too quick to be anything natural.

That had been the first time you saw them. Aliens. Or what people on Earth would think of as aliens. Tall, grey, slimy, the stuff you had only ever seen on TV and they were now shooting from the skies in streaks of red light. Streets pathed in dust that smelt like ash and day-old water.

The two of you walked through the mess like ghosts, people running left and right and through you, some in slow motion while some were ungodly in their speed. They all died in the end. Zapped out of existence by a singular lazar.

Someone yelled about children. Save the children. Spare the children. Collect the children. Round them up near the hanger, discard the ones we don’t need, you know the ones I mean, don’t talk back to me. Their voice washed over you in cold chills, sounding so far underwater that they might as well not be there at all.

A man stopped in front of you. Tall dressed in all black. A human man staring right at you. He didn’t look panicked like the rest, was calm and collected as he pulled out his gun and aimed so perfectly right at your head. You didn’t move, didn’t duck for cover as he pulled the trigger.

You should know better than to look.

There’s a woman behind you. Was a woman behind you. She’s dead when you turn around, a pile of smoking ash on the cobbled path, already being washed away by the rain.

Then there was the child, arms still stretched out to hold their mother’s hand, eyes wide in fear but they don’t cry. No matter how much their heart is racing. No matter how much they want to scream as the man grabs their arm and drags them away, throwing them in line with the rest of them, waiting for their turn to be scanned and thrown in the hanger.

They don’t scream, even when the doors slam shut and darkness is all that’s left.

---

Awake, are you? Sleep I cannot. Wonder if ManDad knows how much I love him, I do. ManDad is amazing he is. He saved me from the dark and keeps me safe, he does. Let’s me eat cookies, he does. Such lovely cookies. Try some, you must. But ManDad hurts, I feel. Feel his heavy heart, I do. So much pain and loss cause a man to be sad. Want him to be sad I do not. When I am gone, please tell him all the time that he is special, he is. Always be my buir, he will.

---

‘Buir.’ Grogu sat on your stomach, watching with wide, curious eyes as he followed your finger to where Din moved back and forth getting ready to head out. It was just some low-level bounty, armature work really, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from budding in the pit of your stomach. Distractions curved the nausea, curled up with the pod door open, blanket tucked under your chin with the residual warmth of his body still hugging you, ‘He’s your buir.’

Din hadn’t put his helmet back on yet, the roll of his eyes contrasted with the small half-smile on his lips. In the light, it was easier to see the damage he had taken during his last fight. There was only so much an ex-bounty-turned-nursing droid and some bacta spray could do. The large gash across his forehead looked painful and you made a mental note to check it over when he returned.

‘Don’t teach him that.’

‘Why not?’

There was a pause. You caught the way the small smile faltered, wavering with doubt and uncertainty and maybe a hint of sadness although that last part was hard to tell. And while the wall Din had built around himself was thick, sadness was strong enough to creep through the cracks. Even Grogu noticed, large ears pricking, head tilting in ManDad’s direction with a small coo.

‘Aliit ori'shya tal'din.’

‘You’ve been practicing.’ The words were light, a brow quirked in your direction and you knew what it meant; you’re adorable. Thank you for trying. At least he was smiling, finishing up the last buckle on his holster ‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’

Maybe you should have been more surprised by the slip of his tongue. The way he carried on getting dressed, not even pausing once at his mistake.

You had heard him say those words before a hundrad times or more. But you wondered how long he had meant those words. Months? Years? Was it a new development? Was it something he had always known?

But there was no surprise. Instead, a warmth planted itself in your chest, and it grew, branches stretching to fill every ounce of your being until it was all you could feel.

‘Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.’ His eyes widened at your mimicked words. The pronunciation was still a bit off and sometimes the emphasis was stressed on the wrong bits, but it was nice to know you were close enough that he understood you, ‘I know what it means now. You can’t trick me anymore.’

Din picked up the helmet and put it on before you had the chance to see the full smile that bloomed, but you heard it, the hints of pure happiness shining through the modulated, ‘I was never trying to trick you.’

You fought back your own smile. The heat spreading across your cheeks told a different story though, serving as a reminder of years old built-up emotions neither of you had time to unpack at that moment.

So, you did what you both did best. You quickly changed the topic, shifting your attention back to the Green Bean plopped on your stomach, happily teething on the small silver ball he sneakily snatched from the controls. A few seconds later and his attention found yours, giving you a gleeful smile as he held out the ball as a peace offering.

‘Ba'buir.’ You pointed back at Din and Grogu laughed, ‘He’s your Ba'buir.’

But Din was already out of sight, halfway to the door when he called back, ‘He’s older than me!’

Older, I surely am. And wiser. Yet know, you do not. Be careful ManDad For space can be dark and dangerous.

The lock hissed as it opened, seemingly louder in the suddenly quiet Razor Crest, ‘Be careful.’

‘Always.’

---

buir = parent

Aliit ori'shya tal'din = "Family is more than blood."

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ="I love you."; literally: "I will know you forever."

Ba'buir = grandparent