#I feel like this is a lady doth protest too much situation

[javelinbk]

"I called him [Paul] once though, when Yoko was pregnant. It didn't go well. There was nothing there. I had got all sentimental about the news and I wanted to share it. But Yoko was listening in on the other end and I was too uncomfortable."

"Why didn't you tell her that it was a private call?"

"Charles, don't you know that a couple as close as my dear wife and I have no private anythings? I was so uncomfortable that it made Paul uncomfortable. I was already wishing that I hadn't tried by the time I got him on the line. I felt foolish. 'Hi, it's me. How ya been? What's new? We're pregnant! How are you?' The conversation just deteriorated into, That's nice, okay, good-bye, see ya,' and that was that. Then he started coming around the Dakota when he was in town, but you know about that."

"He was using you. Seeing you not producing while he was doing Madison Square Garden helped psych him up. He needed to think that he was that much better than you to get his energy up."

"The funny part is that I let him get away with it for so long. You know, I used to dread it when he was in town, but I never had the sense to go out to the island or just not answer the door. He'd come striding in with a guitar under one arm and Linda under the other, asking me what was new, knowing nothing was new. Then he'd always ask if I'd heard his latest, which I usually hadn't. The guitar was so we could sing together, but that was never going to happen. I'd just tell him that I was really busy being a father. He must have seen through that because he's a father many times over and that certainly doesn't tie him down. It wasn't till I told him that I was real busy and that if he wanted to see me he'd have to call first that he got the message to leave off. I have your tarot advice to thank for that."

"Think nothing of it."

"I don't. But really, that was important because it got me off the hook without losing face, as Yoko would say.

John Lennon talking about Paul McCartney. Excerpt from ‘Dakota Days’ by John Green

[buckybarnesss]

hi hello, it's me again

I'm rewatching the pool scene because of Reasons, and you know what? Derek never gets mad at Stiles for dropping his ass in a pool. Derek's potential last words are, "Stiles, son-of-a-bitch" and yet he's never like "thanks for getting us into this mess!!"

The idea that Derek gets super pissed when Stiles messes up or does something out of pocket, just isn't factual. He doesn't even throw Stiles against a wall after this, they have their big eye intense staring moment!!

abomination my beloved. whichever person came up with this specific scenario on the writer's team had a galaxy brained moment.

they came out to have a good time and it's not going well.

derek immediately knew stiles's felt more than a little betrayed at derek saying he didn't trust him (the lady doth protest too much derek).

he knew what he did and probably sat on the bottom of the pool contemplating that perhaps he should've said yes to the trust question. yet stiles still comes back for him and derek doesn't even get mad about it. instead he asks if stiles got ahold of scott.

derek never once blames stiles for any of it. he got scratched trying to protect stiles (fuck erica i guess). he's the one who turned his back on the kanima. stiles caught him despite being told to run and attempted to get him to safety and than stiles stayed with him for two hours holding his paralyzed ass up.

than stiles puts a bow on the whole situation by confirming he doesn't think werewolves are abominations.

derek rarely gets actually angry at stiles. annoyed and exasperated isn't the same as angry. not once does derek act angry or upset at stiles over the whole pool situation. the man is practically giving heart eyes by the end of it before he pulls the walls back up.

it's like derek had an epiphany about his feelings about stiles.

[likecastle]

Robin/Nancy makes the other cry. You decide if it is in an angsty or horny way!!

And we're back! This one is a stone cold bummer, I'm afraid! Enjoy!

Robin knocks on the doorframe of the guest room, and Nancy blinks up at her, taken aback. She genuinely hadn’t heard Robin coming—too wrapped up in her own thoughts, probably. “OK?” Robin asks.

Nancy dips her head. “Yeah, of course.”

“Feel like celebrating?” Robin holds out a can of beer. “Steve found some in the fridge in the garage. It’s probably like a year old at this point, but if expired beer is the thing that kills me after everything else that’s happened, so be it.” She shrugs.

Nancy accepts the can, but she doesn’t open it, just holds it in her hands. It’s the same brand they were drinking the night Barb was killed, she realizes with a pang. It’s only fitting, she thinks, that all of this would end in the same place it began—for her, at least. She traces the blue lines on the can with her thumb, thinking about how much has changed since then. Barb probably wouldn’t even recognize what’s left of Hawkins—or Nancy, for that matter.

“I’m not really much of a beer drinker, myself,” Robin says, sitting down on the bed beside Nancy. “But, I dunno, it seems like we ought to mark the occasion somehow.” Robin pops the tab on her can of beer and holds it out to toast Nancy. “To doing the thing!” she says in a falsely bright voice.

Nancy smiles despite herself, and taps Robin’s beer can with her own. “To doing the thing,” she echoes, with significantly less manufactured cheer.

Still, she can’t make herself open the can and take a drink. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever had a drink, that night at Steve’s house, but it was maybe the first time she’d been drunk, and it has never felt as good as that ever again. Not that she’s had all that many opportunities, but every other time she’s let herself get drunk, it’s turned on her somehow—at Tina’s awful Halloween party, finishing the last of Murray’s vodka with Jonathan the night before he left for California. It always manages to wend itself back to the first time, and she’s got enough memories flooding back around her as it is.

“It doesn’t even feel real,” she says quietly.

Robin nods solemnly. “Yeah, well, we’ve been here before, haven’t we? It’s a real Charlie Brown and Lucy situation, only in this case the football is saving the world I guess?” She mimes snatching away a football from an approaching kick. “Fool me once shame on you, fool me five times, shame on some evil psychic monster man, I guess.” She takes a deep swallow of her beer, and Nancy thinks that possibly this isn’t the first one she’s had. “But at least we know that if the end of the world does start all over again, we’ll probably be able to figure out a way to shut it down. Just, like, on average.”

On average, Nancy thinks, they’ve managed to forestall the end of the world four times, never actually to stop it. The jury’s still out on this round.

“Y’know,” Robin says in a small voice, “it’s all right if you’re not, y’know . . .”

Nancy shakes her head impatiently. “If I’m not what?”

“. . . feeling like celebrating,” Robin says. She hesitates, then adds, “If you’re not OK.”

“I know,” Nancy says, sharper than she means to. “I’m fine.”

Robin finishes her beer with a wince and says, “See, I just don’t think that’s true. And, I mean, it’s nothing personal. I don’t really think that could possibly true for any of us.”

“I’m fine,” Nancy hisses, hating the way Robin’s trying to push this touchy-feely bullshit on her. “Maybe you’re not dealing with things, but I’m handling it.”

Robin laughs. “Brava, Wheeler. Really convincing. A+. Where’d you study? The Lady Doth Protest Too Much School of Dramatic Denials?”

“Can you for once just give it a rest?” Nancy snaps. “For once in your life take a hint? No? Well, then, here, let me spell it out for you: I – don’t – want – to – talk – about – it. Not to you, not to anyone, got it? Is that OK with you? I came up here to enjoy a little peace and quiet and you insist on shoving in where you’re not wanted, just like you always do. Just leave me alone.”

She regrets it the moment she sees the look on Robin’s face—stung, eyes suddenly glossy with unshed tears. But Robin just smiles, this horrible thin twitch of her lips, and says, “Sure thing, Wheeler.”

“Robin, wait—” But Robin’s already out the door, disappearing down the dark hall.

[skaruresonic]

Out of curiosity, could you make an example of a character that, in your opinion, was forcibly woobiefied by the narrative? In what instance(s) did you feel "cool motive still murder" or "I do not care enough about their plight, stop manipulating me"? It is a fine line to cross, so I find it hard to pinpoint where it is.

Scourge is one example. Archie really flip-flopped on what it wanted him to be. The new kid on the block? A pathetic nobody? Woobie, destroyer of worlds? Outside of that one side story, Scourge's daddy issues are not brought up again, begging questions of why they were introduced to begin with. They don't particularly do anything to flesh him out since they don't gel with his previous characterization (hailing from a world where everyone is "born evil") and his tears at Jules' mean words feel manufactured; if he really cared about his father, maybe he shouldn't have killed him.

Also like what the fuck, dude, your father achieved world peace and your response is to off him? At least when Creoda offs his dad, it's because his dad forces him to in replacement of his brother's punishment, and he's clearly horrified. 😤

Another example would be how the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy treats Christian Grey's trauma. Grey is a billionaire at age 27 by essentially doing nothing other than being adopted into the right family. Furthermore, he is an abuser who uses his kinky predilections as an excuse to "whip little brown-haired girls" who resemble his mother, whom he calls "the crack whore."

He used to go hungry sometimes as a toddler and this is stated to be the reason he does humanitarian aid now that he's #ultrarich. His lover Ana makes such a huge fuss about the trauma he sustained at the age of four, to the point where she infantilizes him as her "lost boy" during the most random moments, despite the fact that he's a grown man with more money and power than brains. Like sometimes she will cry over this shit for no apparent reason. It doesn't occur to her that he is financially abusing her by showering her with expensive gifts she doesn't want and forcing her to sell her old car.

Although it's not impossible for childhood hunger to impact one's psyche well into adulthood... those issues usually stem from having been poor and food-insecure for a long time. Grey would have well forgotten his hunger after having been adopted because the threat was no longer hanging over his head. So it comes across as "methinks the lady doth protest too much" whenever Ana yammers on about how little Grey had, especially when she goes all "uwu my poor Christian" in order to gloss over her own abuse at Grey's hands.

The more plot-relevant trauma Grey sustained is having been assaulted as a teen by an older woman. Even that is loaded with unfortunate implications, as it suggests an interest in kink must be the result of sexual trauma. However, the narrative treats the matter with such heavy-handed and juvenile clumsiness anyway that you just wind up feeling irritated with everyone involved.

Ana gives his abuser the nickname "Mrs. Robinson," and it's like. Reducing Grey's assaulter to a cougar psychically distances us from the gravitas of the situation. The book only pays the barest lip service to the fact that it's wrong for grown women to assault male minors (and even that feels perfunctory), and worse still, Grey remains friends with his assaulter, citing her as an inspiration and the reason for his empire. Like, what the fuck?

E.L. James could have built a more substantial story with these elements. Perhaps Grey is being financially abused by his assaulter long after the sexual assault stops, but he cannot escape the relationship due to being entangled in emotional and financial thorns. Perhaps his assaulter blackmails him, threatening to tank his reputation if he comes forward on the basis that people still believe the "female predators are just cougars doing young boys a favor" myth. Perhaps it takes him falling in love with an "unwashed peasant" Ana to realize that love isn't supposed to hurt, and he gives up his billionaire lifestyle for her despite poverty-related fears brought on by his childhood hunger.

This was probably close to the story 50 Shades wanted to tell, but it fails at that due to the fact that Grey is a massive douchenozzle who abuses his power and the fact that Ana has the IQ of a mollusk.

Imo woobification is a matter of whether the trauma remains relevant to the character and narrative in question. Scourge doesn't give a shit about his dead dad after issue 192, and neither does the rest of the comic; ergo,

Likewise, why should we care about the time Grey had nothing to eat at age four when he now commands the wealth of a small nation and can afford to feed a second?

The impact has to be proportional. Nobody lives to adulthood without accruing some baggage along the way, and it ought to be the same for fictional characters (generally speaking; there are, as always, exceptions).

I think the solution entails trying to consider characters holistically: where they've been, what they've seen, their beliefs, their culture, their environment, their relationships. Each impacts the next. Not to keep tooting my own horn by using my work as a counterexample, but Creoda suffers from the trauma of dehumanization at the hands of his family, which would be bad enough on its own. But it is exacerbated by his brother's abuse, the fatalism of Saxon culture, the strife in his relationships with those who ought to love him and who he ought to love, and "reinforced" through his continuous and painful resurrections.

His brother Cynric is the cause of the curse that echoes through every chamber of his life, so it's little wonder, then, that Creoda's goal is ultimately to destroy Cynric in the vain hopes of becoming a normal man. But it will not be enough to replace the emptiness, for death, like vengeance, always craves more.

It is not a drastic or singular trauma like the more overt 'nam flashbacks Arthur suffers of Camlan, but his beliefs have calcified in his bones like a misshapen sheath, protecting a more vulnerable marrow within.

Creoda does not base his beliefs on nebulous notions of faith; the curse is indeed real and ontologically proven as far as he's concerned. It is real because it proves itself to be real. And every implication that comes saddled with it is, therefore, just as unshakably real. He cannot be reasoned with because this is how he knows the world works. Nothing is more frightening than the implacability of a zealot who believes reality proves him right.

Yet knowing his mindset does not excuse his cruelty. If anything, his piety to a vindictive god makes his actions even more fucked-up, because he could say "my god has said that I must take your firstborn son to prevent a blight" and it's like what are you going to do? Kill him? The guy who can't die?

[angelicfangirl]

Melody asks!!! 11. What would your Tav consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate? 21. How does your Tav feel about love? (Embarrass her please) and 24. What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers?

Melody, my beautiful charlatan tiefling illusion wizard! (I actually have very few screenshots of her, oops). The Charlatan background is definitely a leftover from wizard school - what better way to test your students' illusionary or deception skills than fake potion selling etc?

11. What would your Tav consider to be their greatest flaw? Is this accurate?

Melody does not prefer a great deal of self-reflection, but I think she would say it is her temper or her penchant for attracting trouble. Those flaws are accurate, but her greatest flaw would be her habit of pushing people away or keeping things light/superficial to protect herself. She doesn't let people in very easily, partially due to her magical focus on illusions and deceptions - far easier to trick people if you don't really care about them.

21. How does your Tav feel about love?

Love isn't something she necessarily wanted in her life prior to the Tadpole Incident, and even saw as a bit of a weakness. Her parents have a comfortably open marriage, but she didn't really want to be tied down even by that much herself. See above about keeping people away. She's always been more comfortable with casual lovers, or a like friends with benefits situations. Definitely not the type to talk about feelings, even with friends or things.

Of course now that she's ended up in a OT3 with a vampire and a druid, both centuries older than her and at least one significantly wiser than her, her opinions have changed a little! She still doesn't really like to label things or talk about love specifically, but she's getting better as they all get more comfortable with each other. (and considering how cross she gets whenever either of them is in trouble methinks the lady doth protest too much). She definitely prefers actions over words.

24. What first impression does your Tav give off to strangers?

Glamourous and a bit otherworldly with her obvious tiefling/magical nature. She's gorgeous and she knows it, and is not afraid to use the full force of her charms when required - sometimes quite literally with her repertoire of spells, especially if you have something she wants/needs. She can also be a little snooty/spoiled, particularly if you cross her or insult her - fastest way to trigger that temper. She's a flirt, but typically prefers the other person to approach her first. She's also a very good liar, and made a loooot of persuasion/deception checks in this game.

See: lying her way into both the goblin camp and Moonrise Towers, and carefully picking all her enemies off one by one without alerting anyone else.

See: sleeping her way through most of the options in the game without breaking any hearts (Astarion, Halsin, Sorn, Nym, Mizora, nearly Haarlep if I'd had more inspiration for the saving throws)

EDIT: Shit I forgot the Emperor, I knew she banged someone else! It's my own fauly for making her Dream Protector/Guardian such a hot drow, she legally had to do it. NO REGRETS (even when she was called out right at the end of the game lol. She was like fair call but is this the time)

[pantherlover]

A Local Habitation Re-Read: Part 3

Hello again! As always, these commentaries are not spoiler free, and please come talk to me about stuff! It's way more fun that way!

Chapter Eight:

I keep forgetting how much I loved Toby having Tybalt's jacket. (Also lol at Toby going 'the scent of Tybalt's magic comforting for some reason. This is for sure a thought that I don't need to dwell on Ever')

I really like the idea of inanimate objects having Opinions about being enchanted. It feels like an offshoot of knowes being alive.

I would love to know more about Dryads and whether April having control over how old she presents herself (at least I assume she does; I know she looks older at the end of this book, and I'm pretty sure she looks younger again when January gets brought back) is a Dryad thing or a being part computer thing.

Everything that Toby says about how the Daoine Sidhe are viewed is really interesting given that we now know that she's not one. She says that they're mostly known for being bloodworkers, but I think for most of the series they're better known for their illusions (and for overwhelmingly being the ruling nobility)? I wonder if she thinks that Daoine Sidhe are more associated with bloodworking originally because that's what she and Amandine are associated with.

Relatedly, she says that the Daoine Sidhe 'didn't sign up for the position of "most likely to handle your corpses"'; given what we know about Eira now, I don't think that's true at all. Considering how often Eira (and all of her children) were responsible for death, it actually makes a lot of sense that they'd be able to steal a person's secrets/memories after killing them. (That's SUCH a grim thought; that after a taking a person's life, Eira would be able to take from them anything they wouldn't give her)

Chapter Nine:

Okay, their (probably specially designed) security cameras were turned off, the bodies had wounds that were likely made with the machine *they* were designing, and Toby tells them that the blood no longer contained memories - you know, the thing that they were specifically trying to do - and it still took them THREE MORE DEATHS to admit what might be involved in killing people?? They are putting *effort* into being in denial about this.

Toby always worries that she broke Quentin when he charges head first into danger, but he's asking to stay and help roughly 30 seconds after seeing his second and third bodies, so I don't think Quentin's self-preservation was as well developed as she tells herself it was.

Chapter Ten:

I don't think Gordon's actually too bad at diverting suspicion from herself, although she does hit 'the lady doth protest too much' levels a couple times. The most suspicious thing about her is probably that she's never the first person to find the body.

I love April kinda-sorta conveying appropriate emotions (presumably to optimize people's responses to her requests) but not quite caring enough to seem genuine.

Chapter Eleven:

It's weird for Toby to not automatically arm herself. I give her a lot of grief for her lack of common sense, but I will admit that there are lessons that she's learned.

Although Toby definitely shouldn't be giving anyone shit over not being sensible.

'Three of us jumped at every shadow, while Gordon just walked blindly on.' Okay, that's also really suspicious. I know none of them are great at staying in pairs, but everyone other than Gordon was at least a little bit nervous about it. Gordon being the only one to point out that being in pairs isn't helpful if one of them is the murderer also feels a little ironic, like she's thought it through more than everyone else because she had to. I might just be projecting a bit on that because I know she's the murderer though.

I feel like this situation where April has to be rebooted is demonstrating a flaw in their plan to digitize everybody. (Also, did anyone guess that Seanan McGuire would predict the Metaverse?) Even if you could digitize most of Faerie, *someone* still needs to be on the outside to make sure that the system is running. That's a lot of trust to put in someone to not just shut everything down and effectively kill everyone who was 'downloaded' onto the server.

It's possible that Toby was so bad at picking up clues in this situation because Alex's enchantments was making her more willing to dismiss anything suspicious.

That's it for now! Please feel free to come talk about things with me.

[sepdet]

These are too new for a GenXer except Sailor Moon, so I'm gonna take you back — to 1991, the heyday of niche "lesbian slice of life" comic Dykes to Watch For.

That was also when @neil-gaiman gave us Sandman's trans Wanda and lesbian couple Hazel & Foxglove, as well as minor queer characters (plus the Endless) before them.

In 1991-92, Star Trek: The Next Generation made a couple of daring-for-the-time attempts to tackle LGBTQ+ issues by proxy. Both used Roddenberry's trick of dodging censors by "resolving" the situation in a way that leaves all but the more bigoted and oblivious viewers dissatisfied and pondering.

EG the Trill first appear in The Host (their look altered in DS9) in order to give Beverly a body-swapping love interest. It doesn't work out:

CRUSHER: Perhaps it is a human failing, but we are not accustomed to these kinds of changes. I can't keep up. How long will you have this host? What would the next one be? I can't live with that kind of uncertainty. Perhaps, someday, our ability to love won't be so limited.

KAREEL: I understand.

CRUSHER: Odan, I do love you. Please remember that.

(Kareel takes Beverly's hand and kisses her wrist)

KAREEL: I will never forget you.

(From Chrissy's transcripts. I had forgotten that Beverly doesn't say she feels differently now that he's a she, but that humans struggle with physical fluidity. I don't recall discussion of gender identity so much as "alternative sexualities" at the time, even in my queer-friendly college, but maybe that was my own ignorance.)

That kiss was Kind of a Big Deal, sold by McFadden's conflicted expression. Like the Kirk/Uhura kiss, it was enough to earn hate mail from scandalized viewers while others thought that's kind of hawt the lady doth protest too much "Oh come on, Bev!" and may have reexamined their own attitudes.

TNG tried again with the clunky 1992 story, "The Outcast," featuring a species that's done away with concepts of gender and finds them sexually deviant. Of course, Riker's love interest self-identifies as female, which puts her in danger from her race's legal system and bigotry in ways he doesn't fully comprehend.)

Note that TNG was often the first LGBTQ+ rep our parents saw, with us watching them.

Meanwhile, fansubs of 1987-88 Vampire Princess Miyu (both male and female queer characters) were trickling in from overseas. And I only just realized that behind the Japanese mythology, Miyu was reimagining Hollywood's classic Lesbian Vampire trope. 😅)

In 1989, Doctor Who kept giving Ace a Captain Kirk style "girlfriend of the week," but it wasn't clear the production team knew that's what they were doing. The writer of the final story confirmed she absolutely did do it on purpose — and she made Ace's girlfriend a furry! However, she had to sneak it past the censors via hints and coding.

It wasn't until Revolutionary Girl Utena (1996-1998, fansubs trickling across by 1999) that I saw the real deal: a star-crossed lesbian romance (and every kind of AO3 warning and ship).

That said, we all knew in the mid-90s that Xena and Gabrielle were a couple — it wasn't so much queerbaiting as censor-baiting ("What transparently flimsy plot justification can we use so they'll let us get away with THIS?")

So I nominate Xena/Gabi for the "HOW COULD YOU FORGET?" option.

[c00kieknight]

Sometimes I think about the woman at the beginning of baby got back. Ma'am, you did not need to go into that level of detail. You are way too focused on the size of her butt and how round it is. There is no heterosexual reason for it to be drawing this much of your attention, it definitely feels like a lady-doth-protest situation

[farfarawaygirl]

Hi, I was also pleased with this ep for the same reasons you listed! I had a feeling that Ashley & Tim wouldn’t break up at the end, but at the very least, the date seemed to plant some seeds of doubt in their relationship. Also loved the chemistry between Chris & Lucy (why couldn’t he have been like this from the beginning???) What are you thoughts on Tim calling out him being Lucy’s sergeant, especially when literally in the prior scene, they were operating as partners?

As far as Tim maintaining the boundaries between him and Lucy in the workplace - every time he calls it out, I always think of "the lady doth protest too much", and how Tim doesn't even validate Ashley's concern with Lucy (not that there was much concern).

Both Tim and Lucy are used to fiercely defending each other. Lucy to the Detective from IA, Tim with Rosalind - and arguably Caleb. Those are just the first examples that pop to mind, but we know that Tim and Lucy are the only OG Rookie/TO team that made it all 13 months, they shared more with each other than any other team on the show. Arguably, they are the B point couple in this show - their storylines are usually interwoven. Tim and Lucy respect each other.

Two standouts for me:

Tim saying Lucy is too smart to get caught stealing in 1x13

Lucy defending Tim to Nolan, and calling him calculating not cruel.

There is an ying yang dichotomy at work here, they are two sides of the same coin. Lucy wants to know where stands in the world, where the safe spaces are, and Tim wants to control his own fate, because he doesn't know if he can trust anyone else. Safety and security - for themselves and others - is both of their goals.

I think Tim maintaining that Lucy is his Aide, and he her Sergeant is how he is trying to make the situation safe for both of them. He doesn't want to let other people know what is happening between them - maybe, because he doesn't know himself. I don't think that either one of them is aware of the depth of feeling between them. Let alone that it is reciprocated.

Tim is a black and white thinker, and as long as he can easily say that he is Lucy's Sergeant, he doesn't have to look any deeper than that. We don't even need to create subtext, or use supposition, Tim said that because he doesn't see a possibility of anything more between them.

anywhooooooo, that's that on the Sergeant line.

As far as Chris and Lucy go - I am happy you liked the chemistry. I like the softness/vulnerability that Melissa infuses into Lucy, but I just feel meg about Chris. Win me over, I say. I want to like him - so, it should be easy.

[seravphs]

I love my friends 😭 thank you for reading Sel 

This scene was actually added near the very end of my editing process because I didn’t think that the original introduction was strong enough or created a solid foundation for the story/Gojo’s character. I feel like my intentions with this scene were almost directly channeled to you haha. Establishing how insane Gojo is (lol) by showing how far he’s willing to go for something like this was important to his dynamic with the reader and his role within the story. His strength allows him not only to bypass the limits of a normal human being, but have shaped him to the point that he doesn’t even think like one either, which heavily contrasts the reader who is defined by nothing but the limits placed on her. 

I’m so glad that it reminded you of GOT/HOTD! I drew inspiration from a lot of different places for Knight! Gojo, and GOT/HOTD were some of them. 

At least someone liked it because I remember that scene did not land like I wanted it to 😭. In the first iteration of Knight! Gojo, that scene was supposed to be Gojo finding a way around your ‘untouchability’ as a princess - since he’s not allowed to be with you directly, he was using Yuki as a proxy to show you what he wanted to do to you. It was supposed to a smoldering, sultry scene replete with repressed desire as Gojo showed you exactly how much he wanted you in a room full of people who didn’t understand the message that was just for you, which is why mc’s cheeks were burning, but I think people just thought of it as him flirting with Yuki lol. 

In any case, for my second attempt, I tried to make it more obvious that Gojo’s intentions were for the reader. Yuki’s not the type of woman to let herself be used like that though, so- that’s all I’ll say for now. 

I really enjoy Shoko and Gojo’s friendship! I wish we got more of them in the manga, but this is my world, so I can do whatever I want. 

I’ve said this at some other point but as much as I do love the hc of Gojo with a rocky relationship with his parents, specifically his mother, I tend to write him as a mama’s boy. I like that dynamic a lot! Someone unto a god who still has a lot of love and respect for his ‘creator’. Also, Sorashi is just important to the story overall. 

Getou’s a darling. Love that boy. I had so much fun with him here. 

Oh, I love Utahime so much. Both in Cruel Summer and in this universe, she makes for such an incredible, loyal, loving friend. 

The princess herself is near and dear to my heart too! During my first round of editing, I worried that making her so helpless would annoy readers, so I tried to inject the story with more of her internal monologue so people would feel more sympathetic towards her and understand her situation a little more. 

Even though the line about ‘people around her destroying themselves for her benefit’ isn’t exactly Shakespeare, I love it a lot for all the reasons you brought up! It highlights a lot of interesting points about the reader’s character - how she’s more of a treasure than a person (something to be guarded/protected/sacrificed for), how she has little say in the matters she cares about even when she’s technically in a position of power, etc. I love that you called her ‘their dying cause’. 

Exactly! Like she mentions when she remembers what Sorashi used to say, the more someone protests something, the closer it is to a vulnerable spot. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks” and all that. She has to forcibly remind herself of it, over and over, precisely because she wants it so badly. 

The princess is unreliable because she has a biased view of her father, but she’s also overwhelmingly practical, as her repeated attempts to conform to the expectations placed on her even as Gojo goads her to do otherwise shows. She has a very complicated relationship with the king, which will keep coming up. 

Minor spoilers for the next chapter, but someone calls Gojo the reader’s guard dog (or lap dog, I actually can’t remember lmao) which is very accurate! He’s both fiercely protective and very gentle. Tamed, you might even say. 

He understands her position because it’s one that he’s grown up navigating. As her childhood friend, he’s constantly brushing up against the boundary that the title of princess creates. Besides that, he’s also naturally grown into a role of protector. Even though he’s not technically her knight, he’s been watching over and guarding her since they were very young, so he’s used to doing things for her. It's basically ingrained in him.

Not to get all sappy on you, but you’ve been so supportive throughout all the time I’ve known you. The fact that you’ve read Knight! Gojo version one and now this one, and can comment on both and recognize the older draft, warms my heart. You always manage to read my mind with the themes and motifs - I’m actually a little worried that you’ll be able to predict what I’ll do next lol. 

Thank you for reading and commenting and being so good to me in general! I’m going to be going back to this review whenever I need a push to keep writing. Your constant support, telling me you’re proud of me, and encouraging me to keep going means the world in a way that I can’t express. 

Also, the line with the cup was about the ways in which Gojo disrupts the reader’s princess-like behavior and perfect court manners, so in a way - yes! He is ‘tainting’ her, and struggling not to, and all of that. Beautiful interpretation as always <3 

Act One, Chapter One: half agony, half hope

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

Main Masterlist | AO3

wc — 10k

tags — royal au, knight gojo, princess reader, forbidden love, ballroom scene, dancing, court politics, blood, minor character death, period-typical misogyny, complicated relationships with fathers, secret meetings, flouting social etiquette by sneaking out to meet your childhood best friend who is also your loyal knight, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Next: the beginning of devotion (coming soon)

He was so still Shoko almost mistook him for a dead body. It was a common misunderstanding in her line of business, but not one she was usually startled by. As a poisoner, legally and officially a herbalist, the occasional corpse on her table wasn’t such an unexpected occurrence. A lord, on the other hand, was. 

Especially if it was him.   

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a lord. He was the son of the former Hand of the King, the greatest swordsman in living history, and connected to the princess. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know the Gojo name. It was synonymous with the royal house itself as the clan that had produced scores of advisors to the king. In nearly every generation, the heir to the throne was accompanied by a Gojo, acting as a living sword and shield. 

But even with that storied history, this one was special. A young man who had risen to prominence during The Silent War, he returned home from hell as a knight unlike any other. The bards would adore him. They already did. 

Most generals earned their titles by leading campaigns. Gojo hadn’t needed one. He turned the tides of the war as a single man army. They had started calling him a grim reaper, a god of death. 

Shoko disliked him on principle, but she couldn’t kill a man like that. They’d have her head on a pike. She didn’t mind the idea of dying so much. What she did shrink from was the idea of dying painfully. 

The princess was known for abstaining from most decisions involving the crown despite being in line to inherit it, but Shoko somehow doubted that she would remain so passive if her favorite knight was murdered. Thankfully, Gojo let out a soft breath to show her that he did remain among the living. 

“I thought you died,” she remarked. 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” 

She said something else, but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. He was floating through a shapeless world again, chasing that moment. It slipped away from him despite his redoubled attempts to capture it. He remembered the tang of iron in his mouth. Blood spraying in the air, a mist that he could smell and taste. The leather grip of his sword in his hands, slippery with sweat. 

He was trying to win back enlightenment, briefly attained and lost again just as quickly on the battlefield. A feeling of deep and solid peace had settled over him as he hacked through bodies, as if that was what he was meant to do. It should’ve concerned him. He already confused the ever thinning boundary between man and monster. That bloodshed brought him such euphoric tranquility could only mean it was growing worse, but he hated things he couldn’t understand. 

He needed to experience it again. Just one more time, so he could make sense of it. The smell of blood. Wading through the dead and the dying, thigh deep in gore - it was no use. Frustrated, he let it go. 

There was something soothing about the cracks in the ceiling. He stared up at it, letting his breaths come as shallowly as they had while he had been immersed in his meditative state. Shoko’s basement was chilly and dark, but it was necessary for the illegal autopsies she performed at his request. Those, and the poisons she crafted for him, were its primary purpose. It was only a stroke of luck that these qualities were also helpful for his attempts to recover his short-lived state of grace. 

He was tempted to try again, but not today. There was someone too precious to keep waiting if he delayed any longer. He wouldn’t impose upon her the way he often imposed on the elder lords who tried to remind him of his place by pulling rank. While they deserved his spite, she didn’t. 

Even Shoko was surprised by his sudden desire for punctuality. “You’re not going to stay?”

“I have a princess to rescue,” he said. “Dragons to slay, things of that nature.” 

Shoko scoffed. “You are the dragon they have to save princesses from.”

Well, Gojo thought as he hurried down the corridor, she wasn’t wrong. He was sure others agreed with her. He didn’t waste his time with children’s tales anymore, but he remembered his mother’s voice whispering to him in the dark, curled around him in his bed. A dragon was a tool to lock princesses away. His presence deterred anyone from coming too near to his princess, so by that definition, he was most certainly a dragon. 

Gojo found that he was a little proud of himself for that. Thinking of his mother had made him nostalgic. He thought she might be proud too, that he had taken such good care of the princess she herself had looked after. A dragon might trap, but it also guarded and hoarded. He had polished his princess like a treasure, lavishing her with attention until she had become a gem. 

She was beautiful. 

He was a soldier, so he had long since rid himself of the ability to lose his breath, but if he still could, he would’ve choked at the sight of her when he broke past the doors. She was seated so that the eye of anyone who entered the ballroom would be drawn to her first, but he would’ve found her regardless. He had promised. 

Wherever you were, he would always find you. 

It’s difficult to hide, being as tall as he is, but Gojo managed. He didn’t want you to see him coming. Already, he has to bite his lip to fight down his smile as he draws closer and closer. A few more steps, a detour to duck behind some random noble, and he’s in front of you. 

“May I?” You don’t have a chance to speak before he’s already dragging a chair closer. 

The smile on your face doesn’t match the harsh delivery of your words. “The next time you leave me alone with these miserable fools, I’ll order you to fall on your sword.”

Gojo laughs, unfazed. “Good choice. You’re too pretty to get your hands dirty. Although, you are a bit more murderous than expected for a princess.” 

“You try putting up with Naoya’s simpering gibberish for an hour.”

“I don’t have to.” He slips into the chair beside you, avoiding you neatly when you try to trip him. “Watch your feet, my lady. People like me don’t have to put up with Naoya.” 

People like you shouldn’t have to, either. You’re both higher ranking than he is, a princess and a lord each, yet Gojo’s the only one who gets to escape his painful-to-witness affections. 

It’s only natural. A royal dowry comes attached to you. Any eligible man would have to be an idiot not to fight for your hand, but really, they’re vying for a chance at kingship. You can’t go one day without someone reminding you that you’re a physical embodiment of the crown, something to want and own. 

Gojo pours himself water with a heavy hand, bypassing the wine. Watching him sip at it, you realize you’ve actually never seen him drink.

“Come now,” he says, a little softer. “Don’t look so desolate. What will I do if everyone sees you pouting? You’ll ruin my reputation.”  

“You don’t have a reputation to ruin.” 

“Don’t underestimate the things I’d do for the smallest sign of joy from you. Shall I procure one right now to destroy for your amusement?” 

You know he wants you to smile, but you can’t. Even if Gojo can usually pry laughter from you with the ease of a trained jester, this time, your sadness weighs over you like a heavy wool cloak. It’s your birthday, but it’s not a happy occasion. Every passing year tightens the noose around your neck. 

You’re a princess, and that means your life was arranged for you before you breathed your first breath. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve never had a choice. 

“Don’t,” he whispers. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t make that face,” he says. “I’d marry you. If it came down to it, I’d take care of you.” 

His words nearly cause you to spill your drink all over your finely embroidered dress. If it set in, it would never come out. He grasps your hand just as the cup begins to tip, saving you. 

“Did you mistake your water for wine?” It’s a genuine question from you. 

He waves his goblet around carelessly. You’re worried he might be actually drunk, but you smell no alcohol on him. He couldn’t get inebriated from just a sip, anyway. Whatever wild whims have overtaken him tonight are entirely of his own design. 

“Better me than Naoya, no? I’d keep you safe.” He cracks a crooked smile in your direction, like you’re sharing a secret. “Admit it. I’d be a good husband. If I were around, you’d be untouchable.” 

He’s telling the truth. If Gojo Satoru was your husband, no one would dare anything with you, but you chase the idea from your mind as quickly as Gojo plants it. You’re your father’s daughter, raised on his practicality. You don’t waste time on pipe dreams. Better the hideous truth than a lie costumed in beauty - the bite of thorns was infinitely preferable to the impermanent fantasy of petals. 

Instead of answering him, you push your plate in his direction. You don’t even have to ask. Gojo dutifully takes your knife and fork in hand to cut up your meat. “Not even going to consider it, princess? I’m hurt. That was a serious offer, you know.” 

“You’re insufferable. Be quiet and eat.” 

Gojo’s mother used to say that the more adamantly someone denied something, the closer to the truth it likely was. You can only hope Gojo doesn’t remember, because she was right. The reason you won’t give him even an inch on the topic of marriage is because a proposal from him is the only thing you want but can’t have. 

Predictably, he ignores you. He’s never known when to quit. With so little that can genuinely stand in his way, Gojo has difficulty understanding the concept of a limitation. You’re both spoiled in that sense, noble children who had never been told no. 

“Think about it,” he says casually. “We’d be invincible. What other house could stand before our union?”

“I said- hello, father.” 

“A little early to be calling- oh, hello, Your Majesty. You look well tonight. Is that a new ring?” 

Your father cuffs Gojo around the ears. “Brat.” 

He’s in a good mood, then. 

“My little girl,” he says to you. “How pretty you look. I’m surprised no one has stolen you away from me yet.” 

You’re not so little anymore, but you forgive him. It’s just the two of you, ever since the queen died. He’s the reason you are what you are, as cultivated as a rose in a greenhouse. The climate that nurtured you is one carefully tailored by his own hand. 

“Not for lack of trying,” Gojo says brightly. 

“Boy,” your father calls him, despite the fact that Gojo isn’t a boy either. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He looks truly sorrowful for a moment. “You look just like your mother.” 

Gojo’s smile freezes on his face. It’s true, he does. Through him, the king’s former hand lives again, but you know Gojo doesn’t want to be seen as an extension of her, even if he misses her more than anything. 

You’re familiar with the way your father knows exactly what to say to make you feel small again. The king is someone who exudes power. His uncanny ability to pick out what you’re most sensitive to and exploit it makes even the most proud of noblemen revert to children in his presence, as if they’ve been scolded by a nanny for stealing tarts from the kitchen. It’s strange that you feel the need to protect Gojo, the strongest person you know, from that. 

He reaches out and pats Gojo’s cheek now that he’s reduced him to silence. “Enjoy the night, my dear child.” 

When he leaves, Gojo slumps back in his chair with a tick in his jaw. Even if the king is your father, he can’t help himself. “Nasty old man,” he mutters. 

You pinch his thigh beneath the table. “Smile and look pretty.”

“Ugh, who is it now?”

“Lord Zenin and his son haven’t gotten their fill of tormenting me.” 

“Hm,” Gojo says. “I wonder.” 

“If you have a plan to avoid them, hurry. They’re nearly here.” 

“I don’t know,” he teases. “I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like conversation with Sir Zenin very much either.” 

He grabs your hand. “Then you’ll forgive me for anything that happens tonight?” 

“Anything is questionable, but do as you please.” 

He tugs you from your seat, pulling you through the crowd of people. Caught in his wake, you float past faces familiar and unfamiliar until the patriarch of House Zenin and his infernal spawn fade behind you. 

When you turn to face him again, he’s dipped into a bow. His smile is sweet, boyish. It’s as if you’re children again, and he’s stolen you from your lessons to waltz in an empty ballroom, motes of dust that you’ve stirred up floating in the sunbeams. 

He extends his hand, a sapphire burning on one finger. A dragon curls around the silver band of the ring, a nod to his heritage. Though the Gojos are a powerful and ancient house, in this moment, Gojo looks young, foolish, and all the better for it. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” 

You giggle, wishing you had a fan to pretend to hide behind. You’re playing pretend again, acting as if you’re characters from a storybook.

“I’d be delighted to, my lord.” 

The music swells. Gojo takes your hand and presses a kiss to your bare knuckles. His lips are soft against your skin, temptation incarnate. In his grasp, your fingers tremble slightly, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. 

You’re terrified by how much you want him. 

If you let him in for one second, you can imagine how easy it would be to never stop. He’s every one of your desires and hopes made manifest, tied up in a single person. Although it’s impossible, you still feel the heat of him. The warmth of his lips linger on you, a stolen moment before he sweeps you up in his arms.

This is how you remember he’s a boy no longer. The breadth of his shoulders is wide. He’s lost the roundness of youth, his face growing angular and cunning. There’s solid muscle underneath your hands as he pulls you with him, his feet beating a steady rhythm that you have to fight to keep up with. 

He’s doing it on purpose, you know, testing how much you still retained all of those years of tutoring. You’re determined to show him they weren’t for naught. 

When you catch your breath and master the music once more, gliding with him rather than being tugged along, he smiles like he always expected you to. He’s been like this since you were young, dangling challenges in front of you that he’s equally as excited to see you pass as fail. 

The music slows. All around you, the frantic steps melt into slow swaying. You’re feeling brave tonight, so you step closer. You allow the arm curled more tightly around your waist, the tender look in his eyes. When you steal a glance around, no one is watching the two of you, but how far can you go before you lose it all? 

“Don’t talk to Naoya again,” he murmurs against your skin. It tickles, and you squirm until he presses so close it petrifies you. “I don’t like the rumors around him.”

“What rumors?”

“Bad ones. He tumbles girls and leaves them with nothing. Hurts them, takes whatever he wants, and ruins their lives. I don’t trust him, and especially not with you.” His hand smoothes over a stray ruffle on your petticoat, the gesture impossibly loving. “Never with you, princess.” 

You shudder at the way he says princess, feeling cut open, exposed. What has gotten into him tonight? You don’t understand. It feels like drowning, your brain always three steps behind, struggling to break the waves of your confusion. 

You know you’re weak. It’s your name that protects you, the threat of your father and the royal house behind you. Alone, you’re a lamb to slaughter. You’ve been spoiled your whole life, leaving you naive and helpless. 

Gojo is someone you trust implicitly. He’s always protected you. You’ve relied on him for as long as you’ve been alive, but perhaps that’s conditioned you to feel comfortable putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. Even at the chance of exposing how poorly you’ve been trained for the court’s schemes, you don’t hold back when you’re with him. He makes you feel at ease to speak freely without fearing how much you’ll reveal of your own vulnerabilities. 

“I can’t,” you tell him honestly. “House Zenin is one of the Three Great Houses. I can’t refuse Naoya without good reason.” 

“Then marry me,” he says softly. “Marry me and be done with all of this. They don’t deserve you, anyway. They won’t treat you like I will.” 

You close your eyes, feeling the telltale hotness of incoming tears burn behind your eyelids. Why did he do this to you? He was so gentle it hurt, even though you knew he was capable of terrible things. Somehow that made it worse, the knowledge that he was choosing to be kind. 

“You should go,” you say instead. 

Marriage between you and Gojo would never happen. Forget your father. An alliance between the strongest house and the royal house? It would be akin to tyranny. There would be blood in the streets before any of the other nobles would allow it. It’s better not to dream about impossible desires. 

Thorns, not petals, you remind yourself. You can suffer the truth. 

“Why?” He says. “I want to stay with you. I want to be good to you.” 

“This isn’t something to joke about, Satoru.” He looks like he’d rather you have slapped him. “Never talk to me about this again. Find someone else to dance with.” 

There. Your brain snags on something to distract you. You’ve been dancing with him for too long. It’ll reflect poorly on your reputation to give an unmarried man so much of your attention. 

“Pick another partner,” you urge him. 

His brow creases. Stubbornly, he holds onto you even tighter. “Don’t want to.” 

“You have to. Everyone will whisper. I’m surprised they aren’t already.”

“Then let them,” he pleads. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

Regretfully, you pull away. Darkness clouds his beautiful face. It’s unnatural. When you remember him, he’s always smiling. The instances when he directs a genuine frown at you are few and far between, but you’ve already made your decision. 

Gojo stalks off in search of a new partner. Somehow, even though you were the one who forced him to leave, your heart stings to watch his back fade into the distance. If you didn’t want him to go, you shouldn’t have said anything. This is what you hoped for. Still, it’s painful. 

You want to find somewhere to rest after your spat, drained from a rare argument with him, but nowhere is secluded enough for you to let your guard down. Suddenly, you feel a wave of hatred for your stupid, glittering palace and the stupid, glittering fools infesting it. You just fought with your best friend and you’re tired, but you still have to keep up appearances. 

Somewhere nearby, Gojo is spinning another girl, her skirts flaring out around them. You wish you could press your palms to your eyes, letting the pressure relieve your headache, but you’ve shown enough weakness tonight. Instead, you tilt your head back and breathe, trying to appear calm and in control. 

It’s a good thing you restrained yourself, because Naoya is the one that finds you. His shoes are the first thing you see, black leather with steel accents. Steel, not silver, because he wants it to hurt when he kicks. 

You know. You’ve heard the stories. 

“Abandoned by Satoru, my lady?” You hate the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Gojo makes it sound so intimate, like it’s for you and him only. Naoya’s version is a bastardization, much like the man himself. 

You’re too tired to deal with him, and yet, you’ll have to. House Zenin is important to your father and thus, important to you, especially when you inevitably replace him. “What are you insinuating about your princess, Sir Zenin?”

You use the proper address, the way he should’ve spoken about Gojo. They’re not close enough for him to be calling the other man by his first name. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “Don’t get defensive now.”

You want to tell one of the knights stationed around the hall to drag him away. Instead, you smile and let him prattle on. Court politics. If you ever want to prove to your father you deserve everything you’ve been born into, you have to play the game. No matter how terrible some of the players are. 

“Since you graced Satoru with one, I hope you wouldn’t mind another dance.” 

Turning him down isn’t an option, but when you see that everyone’s watching, you realize even more how much it really isn’t an option. He probably arranged it that way too. Demonspawn. You’d curse his house if you could, instead, you offer him your hand, cringing internally when he tries kissing it. 

You can’t help but compare the two. Gojo did it better. 

Like any son of a high born house, Naoya’s a good dancer. It’s the one compliment you’re willing to grace him with, as everything else about him, especially his personality, is hideous. His hand is solid against your upper back, the other leading you as you spin around the room. It makes you want to scrub yourself clean, even under the layers of clothes. 

You’re doing this for your house. Your throne. This is nothing. None of your mantras diminish your desire to shove Naoya’s head in the cake waiting at the banquet table. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he tells you. 

“Forwardness is unbecoming in a man,” you say with a smile, as if he’s telling you the sweetest nothings. “What would my father say?”

“Don’t play coy, princess. We both know how this ends.” 

“Please excuse me,” you say as soon as the song ends. One is enough. “I find myself rather dizzy.” 

Naoya’s lips whiten with anger. He tries to grab your wrist, but someone steps between you. “Watch your hands with Her Royal Highness, Zenin. I won’t tolerate your disrespect.” 

Naoya’s eyes flash, but the interloper is sweeping you away already. His hands hover above your dress, never actually touching, as he guides you in the opposite direction. 

“Sir Getou, what are you doing?” 

Getou looks down on you in amusement once you’re a safe distance away. “Satoru sent me to rescue you, of course. I didn’t think he was serious when he said you would get into trouble without him.”

“Trouble finds me,” you reply archly. 

“Yes, yes,” he placates, sparking annoyance even though he just saved you from Naoya. “Are you tired of dancing yet, or do you have room for one more? I’m hoping to make an impression on potential wives by dancing with the princess.”

You’re smart enough to know that one more is rarely truly one more, but Getou did save you from Naoya. Besides, if you’re busy with him, no one else can ask for your hand. 

“I suppose I can spare you a dance.” 

Like Gojo, Getou is an adept dancer. He is, after all, a trained court noble, and the sons of House Getou are unusually predisposed to the arts in any case. If the Gojos are known for their strength, the Getous are known for their crafts. 

Getou doesn’t flinch from your unwavering gaze. If anything, he seems to find it amusing, although in the way one would find a puppy amusing. Gently, he leads you around the ballroom. 

“Stay alert, my lady. Someone’s watching you,” Getou warns. 

You follow his gaze to Gojo. There’s a beautiful woman in his arms that takes you no time at all to place, so infamous is her notoriety. Yuki of House Tsukumo is second only to Gojo in her blatant disrespect for everything the elders held dear. 

They make a striking couple. Everywhere they go, heads turn to watch them pass. Her gold to his silver, her lion to his dragon - it would be a powerful match. They would be perfect for each other, if only because no one would be able to challenge each other like they could. 

Excellent dancers each, together they become an instrument for the music to shine through. Getou is gentle with you, each movement as delicate as lilies floating across the surface of a pond. In contrast, Gojo and Yuki dance like they’re fighting, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They’re magnetic, drawing every eye in the room to watch them. 

Everyone else may be entranced by the pair of them, but the pair itself seems disinterested in the crowd around them. Yuki’s eyes are closed but Gojo-

Gojo’s looking at you. Your cheeks heat with his attention. His stare is intense, eyes half-lidded. Every move is prowling, almost predatory. His eyes remain fixated on your face as he and Yuki move in a complicated, sinuous series of circles. There’s something impossibly filthy about his gaze. It borders on indecency, combined with the way he barely seems to be paying attention to dancing, giving you all of his focus instead.

“We can’t let them steal all the attention,” Getou says. He really is Gojo’s brother-in-arms. “Let’s give them a show.” 

You’ve never been trained in statecraft, but you’ve been given the very finest of tutors in the elegant manners of the court. A show, as Getou puts it, is more than within your capabilities. You close your senses to the rest of the world, focusing on the shift of your skirts and Getou’s quiet voice as your steps weave intricate patterns across the floor. 

He’s a naturally friendly man. It’s easy to talk to him, whispering between each peak in the music. Although he’s friends with Gojo, your social circles rarely overlap enough for you to spend much time in Getou’s company. You’re almost surprised by how much you enjoy it. 

“I think it’s time to change partners,” calls a familiar voice.

As Getou takes the hands of Lady Yuki, her eyes still closed as she sways, someone takes his place. Gojo’s hand slides from where Getou’s were placed appropriately on your upper back down to your hip. You drag them back up, ignoring his pout. He’ll be your last dance of the night. 

“Should I be worried about being replaced?” He murmurs. 

“It was only one turn,” you tell him. 

“And I never want to do it again,” he says. “The other girls don’t dance like you do.” 

He’s an unrepentant liar. You might have been tutored by the best dancers your father could find, but at this level, first and second place might as well be interchangeable. He’s only saying it so you know that he wanted to come back to you, despite the fact that you forced him away. 

Gojo’s a contradiction wrapped inside a paradox, at once sadistic and merciful. No one’s capable of making you feel as much as he does. Without the guidance of formal tutors to give you the education of a prince, you have no idea how to navigate the dangerous world of alliances and betrayals, war and peace. Once, you clumsily blundered through diplomacy, watching your father’s disappointment grow by the hour. You’ve since learned that complete silence is preferable to gaucheness. At least that is something your education as a princess has taught you. 

But Gojo knew you before you grew into the woman you are now. He still remembers how to pull smiles and tears from you, how to push you to the brink of exasperation and coax you into brilliant happiness. He has a key to all the gates you’ve erected. No matter what you do, he always slips past your defenses. 

If you keep letting him do as he pleases, you’ll be the only one who loses. Gojo is a man. If he’s rumored to be attached to the princess, it’ll elevate his reputation. He’s already the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. Being thought of as a profligate would only make them worship him more. People love a little hint of degeneracy to their heroes - not too much to make them immoral, but enough to make them attainable. 

A princess is not a hero. You’re not someone to attain, you’re someone to obtain. When people look at you, they only see the crown. If you’re thought of as a ruined woman, it would prevent you from finding a husband. It would destabilize the entire kingdom. 

It hurts to realize that you’re that selfish. Gojo would’ve chosen you over anything, but you’re letting something as empty as reputation displace him. 

Not that it’s exactly a choice. Your life has been forfeit since you were born. You don’t belong to yourself, but to the royal house. As the only child of the king, you can’t allow yourself any mistakes, not when even the barest twitch of your fingers is scrutinized. 

When Gojo offers to escort you back to your chambers at the end of the night, you swallow down the desire to agree. His eyes are hopeful, mirroring your own expression. It could be like back then, when you were children, running through the halls of the grand palace without a care in the world. Except you know you can never return to the halcyon days of your childhood, before your mother died, before his mother disappeared, before everything went wrong. You try not to let the disappointment on his face bother you when you allow the knight your father sent to bring you back to your rooms instead. 

You attribute the strange feeling you get in the morning to the leftover melancholy of last night. Sunlight trickles across your face lazily, not enough to raise you from your bed but just bright enough to remind you that morning was here. 

You’ve never slept long enough for the sun to warm your face while you were still entangled in your sheets before. The window faces your bed at such an awkward angle that the sun has to be high in the sky before it can light across your pillows. 

Usually a maid wakes you by now if you aren’t up already. Where were they? 

A gentle knock at the door only makes you more apprehensive. It can’t be Utahime. You know the sound of her steps. The pacing is stilted, awkward, as if whoever was behind the door was nervous. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, princess!” Definitely nervous. Not a voice you can recognize. A new maid, perhaps? But why would they-

The door bursts open. You scream as a cloaked figure lunges at you. She throws herself on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed so she can run you through with the knife she has raised in her left hand. 

She’s crying. “You weren’t supposed to be awake!”

Crying and angry. Fluffy white down bursts into the air, obscuring your vision as she stabs a pillow so brutally it vomits its contents. She’s not very good, which explains her terror. Unfortunately, you aren’t very good either, and you’re pinned underneath her. Thrashing doesn’t work - at the very least, she’s stronger than you, if badly trained. 

When she finally immobilizes you, she has a growing bruise over her arm from a terrible punch you had thrown, trying to mimic the way Gojo does it. Keeping your thumb outside your fist was all you remembered, and it went wide. You barely managed to hit her, and it came with a cost. She snags your wrist and pins it down. 

The knife plunges towards you. It’s rusty, which terrifies you almost as much as the implement itself. If by some miracle you survived, you’d be at risk of infection. 

Blue eyes flash before you. In this moment, an inch away from death, you wish you had gotten to say goodbye to him. Fear robs you of rationality. You don’t know anything but that you want to see him one more time and feel the warmth of his embrace. 

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

You crack an eye open. The girl is no longer visible. The only person leaning over you now has white hair and the characteristic Gojo eyes, impossible to fake. You decide you must’ve died already. This is heaven, where your wishes have been granted. 

Gojo pulls you up. His hands are warm and solid. Vaguely, you realize that you’re trembling with the same nonchalant distance that you would use to catalog the color of the pillows. 

“You’re not dead yet.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “No, I could just tell by the look in your eyes.” 

“The girl…”

“Dead.” 

You scramble to the edge of your bed and peek over. Sure enough, she’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat has been cut so surely her head is nearly separated from her body. 

You gag. 

“Wait,” Gojo says. He kneels to tear off her cloak and holds it in front of you. “Here, princess.”

You don’t want to give in to your queasiness, especially not when he himself is so stoic, so you shake your head. More insistently, he pushes it towards you. 

“It’s only natural,” he soothes. “I’m used to this. You’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Just come here,” you say weakly. “No, actually. I’ll come to you.” 

“Give me a second,” he says, dropping to his knees. Under the bed, he retrieves your silk slippers. He slips them onto your feet gently, standing when he’s finished with his task. 

Obligingly, he waits as you gingerly step over the girl. When your slipper threatens to dip into the red stain spreading across your floor, he simply grabs you underneath the armpits and lifts you over it. 

Even though it’s a horrific scene, you can’t look away. Her face is frozen in a still mask. Bile fills your stomach. Gojo gently turns your head in another direction with two fingers, the touch delicate. “Don’t look.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“I told you not to restrain yourself,” he says disapprovingly.

“You’re not- you’re-“ You can’t figure out the right way to finish your sentence. “Does it really get that easy?” 

His laugh is short and brutal. “Easy? I didn’t even think about it. All I know how to do is kill. I don’t mind it, for you.” 

You shake your head. There’s nothing to say, with a body between you and blood pooling around both your shoes, but still, your heart aches. You had known him when he was a boy. It would always be hard to see him with calluses where once his hands had been chubby and soft. 

He chucks you under the chin, the gesture fleetingly affectionate. “Don’t be so despondent, princess. I’m glad to do it. That’s what knights are for.” 

Knights and maids, all meant to lay down their life or other lives for you at your convenience. Utahime was too loyal to have let an assassin into your chambers by choice. Your breath catches. It concerns him that you’re teetering into upset again, just when he’s calmed you down. 

“Satoru, is Iori-“ The thought is too horrible. You can’t finish it. 

“She’s not dead,” he says. 

Noticeably, he doesn’t say that she’s alright. 

Utahime will be scarred forever. They found her slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her body dumped unceremoniously after they stole her from outside your bedroom. A massive gash opened her right cheek up, crossing just slightly over her nose bridge. 

You almost can’t bear to look at her. Not because her scar makes her hideous - far from it. Utahime will always be beautiful to you. The scar is only a reminder of how you’ve failed her. 

You’re a princess without any power.  All you can do is fuss over her after the fact, unable to change the past. 

“Princess,” she hisses, jerking away from you for the third time in as many minutes. “You must stop! I’m your lady-in-waiting, not the other way around.” 

“You got hurt for me,” you say, hands balled helplessly at your side. You refuse to touch her more aggressively, for fear of aggravating her wound. The bandages wrapped around her cheek are an ever present reminder of how much she’s sacrificed for you. So are the whispers. The looks. She holds her head high, acting as if it doesn’t bother her. 

“I was glad to do it. I didn’t want to be shipped off to some far away baron anyway. Be grateful,” she cracks a smile you don’t feel. “I certainly am. At least I could still join the church, if anything.” 

Why do the people around you insist on destroying themselves for your benefit? 

“You don’t need a baron.” Loyally, you vow, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Be careful, my lady. Some would take that as a marriage proposal, and then I’d have twice as many death threats.”

“I’d protect you.”

“You, princess? I doubt that,” Gojo calls. 

You’ve been watching the knights move in and out of the arena from your vantage point on the royal balcony, but very few of them have dared to address you, much less speak to you so casually. They’re all too focused on the tourney you’re set to watch this afternoon. Only he would be so familiar with you and so unconcerned about the sparring, knowing his chances. 

Utahime lets out an aggressive sigh with no regard as to whether or not Gojo could hear her. In fact, she’d probably prefer it if he had overheard. Gojo, for his part, ignores the chance to antagonize her for once in his life in order to focus on you.  

“You know, my lady, I’ve heard an interesting rumor going around.” 

You walk to the edge of the balcony and peer over the railing. Utahime gasps in fear and grabs onto your petticoats, afraid that you’ll tip over the fencing. “Go on, Sir Gojo,” you say. 

“If a fair damsel grants a knight her favor, he’ll fight ten times as well. Twenty, even. And all the more so if it’s the princess, who everyone knows is the fairest in the land.”

Unwillingly, a smile twitches to life upon your lips. “Is that so?”

“Won’t you grant your most loyal knight a token of your affection?”

“Don’t,” Utahime gripes. “What has he done to deserve it?”

A scrap of pale blue fabric flutters in the light breeze, reminiscent of doves. Gojo catches the ribbon you’ve loosed from your hair, his fist enclosed in armor. He brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss he can’t place upon you. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching. 

“I’ll win this whole thing,” he says. “I’ll defeat every knight here for you.” 

The trumpets blow, calling the contestants. He’ll be wanted. Utahime shakes you lightly as he leaves your sight. “Get yourself together,” she says sternly. 

“But mama, I love him!” You joke. 

Her frown can’t last in the face of your teasing smile. She fixes the lace on your sleeve and collar, though they’re hardly ruffled. She can’t help herself. It’s her second nature to dote on you. 

“Ah, my princess,” she sighs. “You worry me.” 

You poke her uninjured cheek, trying to get her to smile. “It’s not me. You worry too much.”

Another voice cuts in. “I feel the same way sometimes, my dear Lady Utahime, but I trust no one more than you. Her mother left her to your capable hands, after all.” 

Your father has arrived. Utahime smiles as the king kisses her cheek, but you can’t. You know he means it lightheartedly, but it galls you all the more that he says it so blithely. When your mother fell ill, Utahime had been the one who took charge of looking after you. 

Not your father. 

Not your only living parent, the man who was supposed to feel all the closer to you for your loss. Instead, he pushed you away. 

You knew you weren’t being fair. 

The king had been wracked with grief over the passing of his beloved wife. Along with his other royal duties, he couldn’t possibly have been expected to watch over an infant as well. You know better than anyone the toll the crown takes on a man. Stewardship of this land asks a heavy price. It’s not an easy role. 

No, you can’t blame your father for choosing the country. It’s his duty, as it is yours.

You only wish it hadn’t been Utahime’s burden to carry instead. She was just a few years older, a child still when she had raised another child. In many ways, she had been a mother to you. Only now that you’ve grown older than she had been back then do you understand how much responsibility she had accepted at such a young age. 

Your father turns to you. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“It’s barely started. Only the squires have been jousting. We haven’t seen any of the real knights yet.” 

“Those squires will become knights themselves one day. Watch carefully, and you may discover a treasure worth keeping.”

As he speaks, you finally find someone worth watching, as if your father only had to say it to cause it to happen. A boy with rosy hair lunges towards his opponent. He disarms him and forces him to the ground - only to offer him his hand in exchange.  

The other squire hesitates. Doubt crosses his face. Finally, he accepts the proffered hand like someone expecting an attack at any minute, but all the other boy does is pull him to his feet and dust him off. He’s more honorable than most of the knights of the realm you know, too focused on humiliating their opponents to flaunt their own glory. 

Your father doesn’t notice your distraction. He’s still speaking. You bring yourself back to the conversation just in time to hear him say, “Sukuna, the King of the Curses.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“It’s no laughing matter, I’m afraid,” your father says gravely. “He’s the ruler of the Western Kingdom, the land where the sun never sets. Perhaps he’s grown tired of his arid land and seeks gentler climes, for his invasions have earned him the title ‘King of Curses’.” 

Utahime’s lip curls in disgust. “King of Cruelty is more like it. I’ve heard of what he’s done to his prisoners. That man has no honor.”

“None,” your father agrees, “and yet it is necessary not to antagonize him. We are small if prosperous. We can’t afford it.”

Utahime looks as if she wants to speak, but she holds her tongue. She’s always been good at navigating the court. Trained under her, you wait as well. Taking your cues from her is something you’ve done since you were a child.

“Yes,” your father says, his eyes distant. He’s ruminating over something he won’t share. “He can’t be provoked. The representative he sent us for this tourney must be carefully attended to.” 

That representative, Uraume, doesn’t fight like any knight you know. Their sword is wider than most of those found in your country, and half as tall as a man. Precision is lost in favor of brutality. They wreak havoc with the brutality of a butcher, tearing through the ranks of your best and strongest. Of course, he’s not the only strong fighter. There are other knights to watch as well. 

“That Lady Tsukumo is doing quite well for a woman,” your father notes in surprise. “What prodigious talent. I don’t think her house has produced a fighter like that in years.”

“She’s better than half your knights,” you remind him. “Lady Tsukumo already defeated most of her bracket.” 

“Yes, yes,” your father laughs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m simply admiring her.” 

As the day progresses, clear victors emerge in each division of the tournament. Uraume is one of them. Gojo is another. 

They placed him against Getou for his penultimate match, knowing the crowd would go wild for a contest between not only two of the best knights of the realm, but sworn brothers. Although Getou is better than most, Gojo is more of a natural disaster than a real, human adversary. At the end of their round, Getou smiles even as Gojo brings him to his knees. 

The next round is even more hotly anticipated than Getou and Gojo’s. 

Gojo strides into the center of the arena with the classic arrogance he’s known for. He delights in riling the crowd up. They cheer louder and louder on each circuit he laps around the arena on his silver stallion, pale as moonlight. By the last, they’re nearly delirious with passion for him. 

Uraume has no such pretenses. They’re a cold creature, as frigid as they come. 

It matters not. Gojo beats them so easily that it can only be described as disrespectful. He rides past Uraume and thrusts the hilt of his sword into their stomach with such force they fall off their horse. Gojo dismounts casually. He hadn’t even used his blade. He flips Uraume onto their back with a boot and steps onto their breastplate, pinning them in place. His sword hovers underneath their chin, a whisper away from death. “Yield,” he says pleasantly. 

You, remembering your fathers speech about Sukuna’s chosen representative from that morning, glance to the side. He’s smiling as gently as ever. Underneath his cloak, where only you and Utahime can see, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white. 

After the match, you recognize one of the men rushing Uraume off to be one of your father’s most trusted advisors. He must be doing damage control, but then again, when is he not when Gojo’s around? 

Your father stands, as composed as if he had never been upset in the first place. You envy that self-control. You’ve always aspired to your father. In your eyes, he was the perfect ruler - perhaps because he was the one who taught you what a ruler should be. 

Gojo waits in the center of the arena. He’s beautiful as always, as fierce as an avenging angel. There’s a fine sweat beading at his temples in a way that makes you want to wipe it off with your handkerchief, but you abstain, knowing thousands are watching. 

Gojo has no such scruples. 

When it’s time for him to be awarded his laurel crown, he kneels - not to your father, but to you. A gasp rises from the crowd. You stifle your own shock. Here, where every sign of weakness is clearly visible and easily taken advantage of, you can’t reveal that this wasn’t planned. The royal family’s control over its retainers must appear immaculate - even if Gojo had always been uncontrollable. 

Wordlessly, your father passes you the laurel. You know something is brewing. He can only tolerate Gojo’s outlandish behavior so many times. But this isn’t the place to worry about your father’s incumbent wrath, so you take over the duties of honoring the victor. It’s easy. You’ve seen your father do it enough times to be able to replicate it in your sleep. 

Gojo rises from his knees, a hungry smile on his face. “I told you I’d win.” 

“That you did,” you reply noncommittally, trying to figure out how you’re going to discreetly get him out of the arena without your father attempting to try him for treason. 

He frowns. Knowing him and the type of maneuvers he’s likely to pull, you put a respectable amount of distance between the two of you as you mark his brow in gold paint. 

When you grasp his hand to lift his arm into the air, he presses something into your palm. Years of sharing secrets and playing pretend at espionage have trained you not to flinch. When you lower your enjoined hands, you slip the shred of paper he’s passed you into your pocket. 

People are cheering. You notice with warmth that he looks heroic, like he’s stepped right out of an old legend. Your father doesn’t seem to agree. 

Arguments between the two of you used to be few and far between, but lately it seems like you can’t do anything right. You’d forgotten what it was like to retreat to your parents’ bedroom for a scolding. It hadn’t happened since you were a child, yet here you were again, studying the fabric of the draperies to avoid eye contact with your father, just like you had when you were younger. 

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” you start. But that’s not true, and you know it. So you try again. “He wasn’t trying to cause problems. He cares about the kingdom, father. He was just trying to show off his - our - strength.” 

“Gojo is a liability.” How easily your father casts him off, marks him as defective. He’s always been like that - clinical in his appraisal. You lacked that precise, indifferent ruthlessness. You’ve tried. 

“He’s a good man, a good knight. House Gojo has always been loyal to us, father. Remember his mother? Remember Sorashi? She wouldn’t want you to treat her son like this.”

Your father flinches. First comes sorrow, then, anger. “Don’t speak to me about Sorashi.”

“You can’t just pretend like they never existed! Sorashi, my mother-“

“Child, you are testing my patience dangerously.” 

You fall silent, hating yourself for it. Always a child. Never someone worth listening to. 

“You don’t understand anything,” he says more gently. 

“I don’t understand anything because you won’t tell me anything!” 

“You’re a princess,” he snarls. “You’re not supposed to know anything!”

You reel back, stunned. You had always been afraid that this was how your father truly felt. 

“You have no sons, so it’s me or no one else.” Disgust fills you at the fear in your own voice. Weak. Pathetic. After all these years, the lessons your father gave you still haven’t sunk in. Perhaps he’s right, and you’re not fit for the throne after all. You’re still begging for what you want instead of demanding it like it’s what you deserve. A prince wouldn’t act like this, but you’re not a prince - only a girl who was never taught how to rule. 

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t say anything about sons. See, you’re too young and inexperienced. This is why I won’t let you in yet. You’re not ready to rule.”

“But I will?”

He gives you a wan smile. He’s tired. Guilt seeps through you. These days, all you do is fight. You miss the times when it felt like you had worked together. At the end of all of it, you love your father. You hate that it’s been like this. 

“All in time, my child. I love you, I really do. But you’re not ready.” 

Mutiny curls under your tongue. You’re not ready because he waited too long, hoping for a male heir until your mother died. By then, it was too late for you to catch up on years of lessons you should’ve had. Regardless of what he says, you know how he feels. You were never the one he wanted but-

He’s still your father. When he reaches out to stroke your cheek, a peace offering, you close your eyes against his hand and don’t give voice to your treasonous thoughts. It’s nothing to suffer the humiliation of your status for a while longer. You have all the time in the world to earn your place. 

Your father is right, in the end. You can be patient. 

Back in the privacy of your room, you unfurl Gojo’s note. Gojo’s mother had him trained in elegant cursive that he uses for formal documents and letters. In his messages to you, it degenerates into chicken scratch. It’s a lucky coincidence that it’s all but unreadable to anyone else, making it a code only you can decipher. 

The gardens at midnight. - S. 

Only a place and a time. Is he trying to tempt fate? 

You indulge in the idea of not going, especially since things are already tense with your father. All the way up until the hour you need to leave, you let yourself believe it’s not happening. It’s too risky. People are already suspicious of you as it is. The minute passes, and if you go now, you’ll be late, so you won’t. 

You grab your shawl with a huff of annoyance. You’re going. You were always going to go, from the very moment you got the note. 

You aren’t used to sneaking through hallways you usually glide through. There are several close calls as you make your way closer and closer to the gardens. Multiple times, you’re forced to make a run for the nearest door or drape to hide behind. 

You’re barely two feet away when you’re finally caught. A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. Did you even notice the maid coming up the left hallway?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. It’s lucky that he was there to save you. 

Gojo has always been there to protect you. The tension bleeds from your body. You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.” 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. His very presence is the promise of security. It makes it too easy to relax when he’s with you. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he remains silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. “Satoru?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You raise it to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised to release the scent into the air. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s too.”

You freeze. 

“If not marriage, then knighthood. Let me be yours, in whatever way I can have you.” 

“You have me,” you tell him. “You always have.”

You don’t know how to answer such devotion. Besides the obvious political ramifications of being wedded to Gojo when your marriage is meant to be a bargaining chip used for the sake of your kingdom, you don’t want it. Not like this. 

Gojo has been your dedicated shield for so long, the two of you have forgotten a life where he wouldn’t give up everything to protect you. He’d do anything for you - even that which he should hold sacred for himself. His very body is littered with scars that he’s received on your behalf. How much more can you take from him? 

Does Gojo really want to marry you or does he want to protect you? Will he play the part of the devoted servant for the rest of his life? 

“You don’t have to…” You realize you don’t know how to say it. Or that you don’t want to. Selfishly, a part of you can’t bear to release him from the oath he gave you when you were children, though he couldn’t have known. Neither of you could have understood what it meant for him to kneel at your feet and swear his life to you. It had all been in good fun, the way children understand things. “I don’t want you to- Oh, Satoru. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough for me.” 

For a second, your imagination plays tricks on you. The cobalt of his eyes kindles into a terrifying flame, like the lightning in the town he hails from. It’s as if the draconic blood his ancestors claimed still lives within him. 

He continues as if he hadn’t heard you. “I’m going to ask your father tomorrow. I want to be your dedicated knight; I won’t wait any longer. I’ve waited enough.” 

His pushiness feeds your annoyance. You cling to it, preferring it to the dreadful hopelessness inside of you. The right thing is not always the easy thing. Gojo deserves his freedom after wasting his youth on keeping you safe, yet letting him go feels as difficult as willingly driving a nail through your hand. You want to cling to him forever, reassured by his strength. 

“Don’t,” you say, trying to sound firm. 

“At the ceremony,” he says determinedly. “When he gives me captainship in the army. He’ll have to say yes if I ask him then.” 

“Satoru, please-” Your voice wobbles embarrassingly, and you have to pause. Silently, you beg your tears not to fall. The way he disarms you is humiliating. You turn away, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you has taught him a lot. He bandaged the scrapes that you refused to cry over and avenged your honor after you pretended your pride hadn't been hurt. He can see right through you. “Please don’t.” 

You see the frustration on his face. He’s not a man used to holding himself back, and yet he does. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

It’s just another number to add to the tally of favors you owe him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know. Though I do think the king will ask me anyway, so this is all pointless.” He looks away. “I just wanted you to- Nevermind.” 

“Really?” Doubt colors your voice. 

“I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“He doesn’t like you,” you point out. “No, he does, but it’s a very begrudging like. I don’t get it.” 

It makes you smile, thinking about the way your father can’t stand Gojo but won’t allow anyone else to speak poorly of him. He’s still a Gojo after all, no matter how much trouble he causes your father, and your father loves Gojos. The royal house has always held their house dear. They had been close for decades. Always, they were something to the other, no matter what form that something took. 

“There you are,” Gojo murmurs. His fingers trace the arc of your mouth. “So pretty.” 

You glare at him through tears. “And whose fault is it that I cried?” 

“Your father’s?” 

You scoff. “You see? This is why he doesn’t like you.” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him for it if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor.” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

He breaks you down so easily. You press the flower back into his palm. “I know you’ll do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer. 

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, fearing your voice will give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. Does it look like a real kiss from afar? Did he mean it to? 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks Yaga. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder as the voice registers. Lord Commander Yaga is close to the King. As the captain of the kingsguard, he could ruin everything.

Gojo lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face. He pulls you towards him, arranging your legs around his waist. A soothing hand traces a warm path up and down your back. It calms you as much as it shames you. You’ve never been this close to any man, not even him, and now you’re cuddling only for the sake of protecting your secrets. 

“The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard,” he says casually, as if the two of you aren’t trapped in an extremely compromising position. As if your father wouldn’t demand his head on a pike if Yaga realized who it was. 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

That night, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yaga gave no sign he recognized you. He acted as if he normally would upon encountering any soldier of his on a late night escapade, profoundly disinterested and deeply desirous to get away. Only in the morning do you begin to doubt your deception. 

[onegayastronaut]

Regret (Jennifer Jareau x Reader)

Words: 2592

You weren’t sure when you started having feelings for JJ, but once you realized what was happening, it was too late for you to turn back. Every time she looked at you or touched your arm, you were sure that she could hear how fast your heart was beating. Most days, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her, and either Tara or Emily would have to kick your leg under the table so that you wouldn’t be too obvious.

On one of your weekly get togethers, Garcia came in with her usual offering of tequila. JJ had texted the group chat that she would be coming in late because the nanny had run into traffic, and the girls have decided to take this time to interrogate you about your feelings.

“So, (Y/N)! Tell me, how deep are your feelings for our JJ?”

“Feelings? What feelings? I don’t have any feelings for her!”

“Oooh, she’s defensive!” Tara raised her eyebrows at the others. “We all know what that means. If the lady doth protest too much, then we’ve hit jackpot!”

“Listen, guys, we all know JJ’s amazing in every sense of the word. And it doesn’t help that she is ridiculously good looking. I know that I will die for her without hesitation if the need ever arises, but she’s married to Will and seems happy. I don’t want to be the reason that she loses the family that she has spent the last few years building.” You felt your cheeks start to flush after your heated pronouncement, but it seemed to have the desired effect on the others. The topic was left alone for the rest of the night, and you were grateful that you didn’t receive the regular number of underhanded jabs when JJ finally made it to your house.

The new case that Garcia had brought the team thankfully kept you close to home, and you were paired with JJ to case out a possible lead. You couldn’t help but feel as if Emily had done this on purpose – she knew how big your crush was on JJ, and both her and the team enjoyed watching you blush whenever the blonde addressed you directly.

As soon as the car stopped, JJ put her arm over your torso. “I’m going to need you to be careful this time. Garcia hasn’t been able to get that much information from this unsub, which probably means he or she has more up their sleeve that we haven’t uncovered yet. It would make me feel better if you let me go in first this time.”

“Wowww, JJ, are you feeling protective over me?”

JJ didn’t answer, but something flashed in her eyes briefly before she masked it. “I just want you to be careful, okay? For me.”

You got out of the car and frowned. For me. That was not something that you were prepared to hear and was very unlike JJ. You shook your head; JJ was just being a good friend. That’s all it was, there was no way she could have meant anything besides concern.

As you approached the house, you noticed a flap of curtain fall back into place, and you made eye contact with JJ. Both of you pulled out your sidearms and approached the house. The team already knew where you were and was on route, but it didn’t seem wise to wait for backup now that you knew whoever was in the house had seen you two. As you got inside, you saw the contraption that was certain to have been the cause of death of the victims. It seemed that you were right after all – whomever was responsible lived here.

Before you had a chance to step further into the house, there was movement out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of JJ as the sound of a shotgun went off. You were barely able to register JJ returning fire before you hit the ground, and everything went dark after that.

As the team were on the way to the scene, Emily received a call from JJ. “Emily, send a bus to the house. (Y/N) is hurt real bad, she needs help as soon as possible.”

“How bad is it?”

“She’s bleeding everywhere, Em. There’s so much, I’m trying to stop it, but I don’t know if she has enough time. I can’t lose her, not like this.”

“Okay, the ambulance is on the way. Just hold on. (Y/N) is a tough girl, she’s going to make it.” Emily tried to project confidence in her voice, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful or not.

Luckily, the EMT’s were able to get you to the hospital in time for the doctors to stop the bleeding, but the blood loss was so severe that they had to induce a coma in order for you to recover. Throughout the operation, the rest of the team waited for news of your condition in the waiting room. JJ was still covered in your blood, but she couldn’t bring herself to go wash it off. Everything was answered in a short nod or a slight shake of the head, and pretty soon everyone knew to leave her in peace. It seemed like she could barely even register Will and her sons coming to visit her, but everyone knew that she was dealing with the shock of what had happened.

The most infuriating part of the whole situation was that the doctors could not give anyone a clear idea as to when you would wake up. It could be a few days, they said. Or it might take years. Nothing was for certain, and all they could do was wait and see if you made any progress.

Throughout the next few weeks, a routine set into place. JJ visited you at the hospital after work without fail. It didn’t matter how bad the weather got or how tired she was, she came in every single day and held your hand. She would talk about everything and anything that came to mind. Even though you didn’t respond, she still felt like you were there for her, and in a sense, you were. You could hear every word that she said, but it was the getting your mouth to open part that was hard.

As you stayed in your coma without any outward sign of getting better, JJ tried to get back to work and gain a new sense of normalcy. But something that she didn’t count on was that she couldn’t get you off her mind. She didn’t realize how much she missed your little jokes and pranks in the office, and girl’s night was just not the same without you there. It felt like a huge part of her was stuck in the hospital room with you.

JJ didn’t realize this, but the people around her noticed the changes in her behavior ever since you got shot. Everyone on the team felt your loss, and they tried to be there for her. However, there was only so much anyone could do when there was no update on your condition. The team learned to work with a JJ that barely looked up from her work and didn’t spend time talking to anyone. It was like they lost two team members at once, but they understood why she was like this. Will tried to be as understanding as possible, but there came a time when he needed support too. JJ was rarely ever home, and when she did come home, she barely talked. He couldn’t help but feel as if she was in a coma along with you.

March

April

May

On one of her visits to the hospital, JJ was surprised to see Emily already there. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here this early.”

“I just wanted to stop by and say a few things to (Y/N). I always feel as if I don’t come by as often as I should.”

“I’m sure she understands. The two of you have always been so close.”

“I know. How have you been holding up since everything?”

“I signed the divorce papers, so I guess it’s official that I’m newly single.” JJ laughed mirthlessly. “Although, I don’t see what the point of being single is at this point.”

“JJ, I know going through a divorce is hard. Especially after both you and Will have gone through so much together –”

“That’s not what I mean.” JJ’s words came out harsher than she had meant it to. “I meant that I should never have married Will in the first place. Not when there was someone right there in front of me all along.”

Emily put a hand on JJ’s shoulder. “She cared about you too.”

“I know that, Emily. But don’t you see? It’s too late for both of us. I should have realized sooner that what I was feeling for (Y/N) wasn’t just ‘friendship’ or anything of the type. I loved her, and I didn’t do anything about it. And now that I’m finally ready to confront my feelings toward her and tell her what’s been in my heart, she might never get to hear what I want to say.” Hot, angry tears came out of her eyes, but JJ didn’t care who saw her cry anymore.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t believe what you were hearing. JJ loved you after all! But she was crying right now, and you wanted to let her know that you were there to comfort her. It took all of your strength to concentrate on moving your hand a little bit, but you didn’t know if she saw the movement or not. Taking this tiny action drained all the strength from your body, and you felt yourself slipping back into the darkness.

June

July

August

September

The feeling of slipping in and out of consciousness were getting more and more frequent, and you were now sure that JJ could feel the small movements that you made whenever she was around. It felt like you were fighting against a fog every time, but you were sure that you wanted to fight your way out of it. The doctors were more hopeful that you would be able to make a recovery, but they still held off on giving an estimate on when you would actually wake up. Given the amount of time you had been out, they didn’t want to give JJ too much hope.

It was during a night when JJ came into your room to “discuss” a case when you felt the strength to try and open your eyes again. She was talking about an unsub that was murdering young women in the Tristate area, and she wanted to voice things out with you. Even though she knew that you wouldn’t respond, she felt like conclusions and ideas came easier to her whenever you were in the room.

As she was talking, you managed to fight through the fog and open your eyes. You had to shut them immediately, as even the low lights in the room were too bright for you. You tried opening your eyes again, and you managed to bring the room into focus. The first thing that you saw was JJ, and you were fairly sure that you had never seen anyone prettier than she was at this moment. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she was wearing her favorite sweater. Her legs were tucked in the chair, and she had the file placed on the table in front of her.

“So, as I said, the unsub seems to take their victim out in broad daylight. Nobody has heard any struggle as these women disappeared, and there have been no overlap in terms of witnesses. It’s frustrating because this is during the day when people are supposed to be more aware of their surroundings –“

“Are you sure this person isn’t using a lure or a trap?”

The sound of your voice seemed to have stunned JJ into silence. The way that her mouth was hanging open as she gaped at you would have been comical under any other circumstance, but you knew that she was shocked to see you awake. “Did you miss me?”

“Oh my god! You’re awake! Oh my god! How is this happening?”

“I heard your voice, and I knew I had to wake up in order to see you. And I might have heard a little bird tell me that someone was in love with me.” You gave JJ the smirk that she had made her fall in love with, and she ran over immediately to hug you. “Don’t suffocate me now, or I might not be able to wake up from this one.”

“Sorry, I just got so excited. I’ll go tell the doctor that you’re awake.”

“Hold on, not before I do this.” With a great effort, you leaned over to give JJ a quick kiss. The smile on her face made you feel like everything that you did up to this point was worth it.

The doctors were deeply impressed with the fact that you had managed to wake up after all this time. All they recommended was physical therapy for the next three months, but otherwise, you seemed healthy enough to head home.

After you had arrived at your house, you turned to JJ and reached for her hand. “So, when will I be able to take you out on a date?”

“Right after you face the welcoming party that’s waiting for you in there.” She nodded at your house, and you were pretty sure you caught Garcia peeking from behind the curtain. “They’re all very excited to see you back.”

“And I’m excited to see them too. But I want to spend time alone with you as soon as possible.”

“Are we jumping to the bedroom already, (Y/N)? How very forward of you.” JJ got out of the car and helped you out.

You gently punched JJ in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Once you got inside your house, Garcia was the first person to run over and hug you. “I’m so glad you’re back! Did you know how much I missed you? I mean, we all missed you, but I’m pretty sure I missed you the most, right next to JJ, of course.”

“I missed you too, Garcia.”

Emily made her way over, and after hugging you, said “Don’t scare us like that again, okay? I don’t think anyone would be able to go without you again.”

“Oh, she knows she’s in real trouble if she gets hurt again.” JJ came up behind you and kissed you on the cheek. Her hands moved down to your waist and stayed there as she leaned closer. “I won’t let her out of my sight from here on out.”

Luke whistled from the back of the group and yelled, “Get it, JJ!” before he was shushed by Tara, and the rest of the group snickered.

“Wait, so does that mean that the two of you, are, you know?” Garcia put two of her fingers together.

“Oh, we haven’t gotten to that part yet, but if I was a betting woman, we’re going to get there really soon.” JJ gave you a firm pat on the butt as she said this and laughed.

You were pretty sure that your face was about to light on fire, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[sokkastyles]

I was talking about this to my cousin, and I feel like there's this misconception in fandom (especially for this who don't ship) that zuko and katara yell at each other a lot even as friends. Post TSR, I can't think of a single moment where either of them have lost their temper at the other?

Yeah, honestly, when people say that all they would do is yell at each other I just have to laugh because that’s literally the opposite of what we see of them on screen.

I mean, we’ve seen them argue, but never without any reason, and they actually manage to work it out in a healthy way and their relationship becomes stronger as a result. And that’s actually a sign of a healthy couple. If you’re afraid to disagree with your significant other or you can’t resolve fights in a healthy way then that isn’t a good thing. Obviously you don’t want to argue all the time, but no relationship is going to be always without conflict. The key is in whether you’re able to resolve it, and I’d argue that Zuko and Katara actually provide one of the best examples of that.

And the anti discourse around this annoys me in particular for two reasons. One, people insist that a strong female character has to be tempered, and because Katara is a character who does get angry and lose her temper and feels things very strongly, people feel like she needs a man to hold her back. Which she does not.

As for Zuko, because he’s an abuse victim people act like he’s too damaged to have a healthy relationship and he would just not be able to control himself emotionally, which is also false because he had like, a whole arc of learning to control his temper and changing himself and getting rid of toxic behaviors. Like, that happened in the show.

The one scene I can think of after “The Southern Raiders” where Zuko loses his temper at Katara is in “The Ember Island Players.”

This kinda turned into a meta about that episode so whoops.

Zuko complains about his portrayal in the play and Katara teases him, and he shouts at her but it’s without any of the volatile nature of some of the ways he took his anger out on others before.

He doesn’t seem like he’s really angry at her, and look at her face. Look at how much fun she’s having! Katara, the girl who worried about being seen as too serious. Look at how natural she is with him. It comes across more as good-natured ribbing (dare I say...flirting?) on both their ends, even though both of them are upset about their portrayals. Katara isn’t fazed by his dramatic reaction and he’s immediately forced to eat his words. Which I think is an important aspect of Zuko’s arc of learning to control his temper and realizing that he doesn’t need to take everything personally. He’s forced to live with his own embarrassment, which fits with the theme of learning humility. We’ve seen him do the same thing several times after joining the gaang, where he initially gets angry but then makes a conscious effort not to overreact. Which isn’t always easy, but he’s trying.

And part of it is also that he feels safe with her, despite his long face. He knows that she’s not really being mean. Katara can be mean even to people she loves, but she’s transparent with her emotions. 

Contrast that with the way Zuko was with Mai, who he could never figure out. Mai always encouraged Zuko not to show his emotions and he predictably exploded because he was feeling things and he didn’t know what she was feeling or what she wanted from him.

This episode is actually another really good example of how well Zuko and Katara do get along and are able to resolve conflict even in a situation where both of them are upset and dealing with their own individual issues. Even though she made fun of him for it before, Katara is empathetic when she realizes what is really behind his anger, which is that he misses Iroh and feels guilty about the way he treated him.

And it shows how well she knows him. She knows that he can sometimes do hurtful things that he regrets later, but she also knows that he loves Iroh. She knows this because this mirrors her relationship with Zuko. I mean, the relationships literally echo each other in this episode. She’s been in Iroh’s position, he hurt her and then sought her forgiveness (and she was also there when he betrayed Iroh. She is in a position both to understand and know that his regret is sincere and to reassure him that he can get Iroh’s forgiveness, as she also forgave him. That’s why she’s the one to comfort him outside Iroh’s tent a few episodes later.

It’s also kinda funny that they are so close in this scene because the scene right before this one is the zutara crystal caves parody. They go from moving away from each other, embarrassed at the idea of being a couple, to very close in a matter of minutes. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

This is also right after Aang walks out in a huff, because of the whole stage zutara thing. Like? I wasn’t supposed to ship them here?

Aang and Katara argue this entire episode, and when Katara tries to comfort him about his anger at his portrayal in the play, he takes it out on her.

Katara: Relax, Aang. They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all the time. [Everyone looks at her.] What?

Aang: [Turns around and sits down. Sarcastically.] Yeah, that's not you at all.

I remember having a really visceral bad reaction to the way Katara is treated in this episode that I couldn’t really articulate, and at the time I didn’t realize how much it had to do with shipping because I had no idea what the fandom was like when I was watching the show. I described it to a friend as Katara being treated like “the girl” of the group. Even though there are two other girls present, Toph is one of the boys, and Suki is in an established relationship with Sokka so she’s not a threat. But Katara is Aang’s love interest, and their relationship status is uncertain, so she’s treated like a source of conflict for Aang. I was able to pick up on this even though I didn’t feel particularly negatively towards the Kataang relationship at the time, but in hindsight this treatment of Katara is so tied with Kataang that it’s hard to avoid negative associations with the ship itself.

Katara spends a lot of time this episode trying to comfort Aang, who spends most of the episode angry at her for things she didn’t do and can’t help. She also has to deal with seeing a version of herself onscreen that is racist and misogynistic, but who is there to comfort her? Aang, Sokka, and Zuko all get upset about their portrayals, and are allowed to vent and be comforted, but Katara is punished for it and then told that she is like that, and mocked. She has to comfort Zuko, too, but at least she gets to mock him as well and give him a little bit of what she has to put up with. And he’s not the one who yells at her while she’s trying to comfort him, that would be Aang.

If this episode was supposed to be anti zutara and pro kataang, it certainly did a poor job indeed. Even in this scene where they all look at her and fall silent when she says she’s not a sappy crybaby, and it’s supposed to be a joke because “haha, women are irrational, amirite?,” and then Aang responds sarcastically, the blocking clearly places Aang and Katara in opposition to each other, with Aang facing away from her and Zuko between them and the closest person in the group to Katara. The intent was obviously to make the audience worry for Aang that Katara won’t reciprocate, but it actually makes Katara and Zuko look like the more appealing relationship if you are looking at it from Katara’s perspective.

And then Katara and Zuko spend the rest of the finale getting closer while Katara and Aang argue and then wordlessly play kissy face in the last two seconds of the show.

[thebacon24]

So listen, I have been developing some theories and I just want to talk about it. Spoiler warning for those who haven't read it.

For reference, I am on flashback 12. I have had a couple minor spoilers becuase I couldn't help not looking at fan art.

First I just want to talk about how by chapter 20 i was suspecting that the memories she couldn't access were memories she had with Draco 😭 and she actually says to him she'd rather be raped by his father than to develope feelings for him. My God.

And then Draco says some really awful things to her about how he doesn't care and it's all obligation...and I thought the lady doth protest too much?

I couldn't fucking contain myself when the flashbacks started holy shit. No one could get me to shut the fuck up.

Reading through the flashbacks is like reading through the beginning again, of her and Draco getting to know each other. They even have some of the same conversations, like written exactly the same way. I read that SinLinYu wrote it this way intentionally so that you could read it either starting at the 'present day' or starting at the flashbacks.

This is where my new theory question comes from. PLEASE DONT TELL ME IF IM RIGHT OR NOT.

Hermione doesn't remember everything she had with Draco before her torture, but does Draco? I assumed he does for a while because it was what made sense of his being unnecessarily kind towards her. But the fact that they have some of the exact same conversations over again makes me wonder if he didn't do something to his memories as well?

It could also just be that if he knows everything the whole time, I can't bear to think about his emotional turmoil over the whole situation. So it's easier to imagine he also doesn't remember 😭

I will check back in.

I'm reading Manacled for the first time, and I feel like I am gonna desperately need to share my emotions with someone.

[bootsandboots2]

i know richie saying “what, to like a woman?” to eddie is usually read as an expression of richie’s own internalized homophobia and subsequent outward overcompensation and it is a ‘canonically’ a defense mechanism etc. but i like to think it’s richie calling eddie out on something that richie knows about just like eddie saying he knows richie doesnt/didnt write his own material. like it represents some sort of unsaid knowledge and connection between the two of them based on their pasts or a conversation they maybe once had. i guess i’m trying to argue that richie trying to make a gay joke about eddie wasn’t like. entirely unfounded from richie’s POV. 

there’s no evidence for this. i’m reaching. but another thing is that i truly think richie’s own fear about his sexuality would prevent him from making a seriously risky joke that could bite him back bc the losers could be like the lady doth protest too much or whatever bc they are emotionally intelligent and observant and richie is smart enough to know when he’s gone too far imho and i feel like he’s constantly balancing it in his head like what it is too far and this was a situation that in some ways reflected more on eddie (if based on unsaid knowledge) than him but also revealed his inner thoughts.

i think it’s also hard to know exactly how aware richie was of his own feelings. he was obviously aware but it’s hard to know how much denial and repression there actually was in his head. it’s possible he made jokes to forcefully show his own denial even to himself like look at me making this easy breezy gay joke haha no gay here but i don’t think he was confident or aware enough to pull this off bc defense mechanism implies unconscious use like i think if he was constantly thinking about how in love he was with eddie every single millisecond while trying to fight it/deny it i don’t think he would be making jokes like that bc it would be too raw and risky and he’s too afraid. i think he pushed it down and it resurfaced subconsciously when given any kind of hope from eddie and this moment triggered it in him and he reacted, most likely without thinking bc he obviously didn’t sit there for five minutes thinking of this joke but there’s so much messiness happening in his subconscious that it’s not actually without thinking. 

it could also be read as questioning, obviously, like who are you married to like he’s obviously interested and wants to know but can’t bring himself to ask outright and is afraid of disappointment so he leads with it. IF the question is based on unsaid knowledge between the two i think it is tenuous at best but this is bc i personally refuse to accept the idea that richie was pining for (in his eyes) his straight best friend the entire time. i don’t think anything was clear between them tbh and you might be saying if richie knew eddie wasn’t totally straight why didn’t he tell him he loved him but i think we have to remember that eddie was his best friend and that’s a lot. i think richie thought eddie was probably straight or didn’t even really think about an alternate possibility but like also not ??? or at least some part of him deep inside hoped bc i just don’t think you make those kinds of comments to someone who you know for a fact is straight unless it’s a joke and i think to richie he thought it was a joke just some nice gay chicken but it like 100% wasn’t bc he obviously really wanted to know/confirm if eddie was in fact married to a woman??? 

and the joke isn’t actually funny like the punchline/implication is literally just: eddies can’t not be gay he’s obviously gay it’d be shocking if he’s ‘straight’ and i think richie is testing the waters on how the losers club reacts to this bc if they laugh it’s like oh yes being gay is funny nothing funnier than the idea of eddie being not being ‘straight’/married to a woman it’s meant to be out there a wild thought an impossibility but at the same time not too out there bc like it wouldnt have been “funny” if he’d said it about ben, i dont think. it’s based in something beyond their banter. also at the same time he’s implying that eddie being gay would be a joke/a bad thing/gross or whatever and i think thats the internalized homophobia piece but it’s sad that it also applies to eddie and not just himself like damn richie you cant even keep it to yourself you gotta make fun of others and i also believe he wanted to see eddie’s reaction to this. how does eddie feel about richie accusing him of this. how disgusted is he, really?

and richie thinks he safe here bc of course eddie is married to a woman of course this is a hilarious joke but to him it’s not really a joke and then eddie gives it back to him with lets take our shirts off and kiss and i think in many ways this reaffirmed his safety like oh haha eddie is also playing gay chicken we’re good he’s not too grossed out at least but i cannot even begin to unpack eddie’s POV here bc i dont think he’d given it back until that point i have no idea where this is going and i lost the plot long ago 

tl;dr maybe im giving him too much credit but richie tozier is smart and uses jokes as a defense mechanism yes but he’s aware of this just enough to not make jokes that reflect solely on him and him alone and he uses them to get information 

don’t remind me that the true horror of this story is meant to be richie loving eddie the whole time and eddie being unaware of this fact bc that’s what the wikipedia says i’ve already sickened myself enough over that line and i will simply not listen!!!! (aside: set designers aren’t stupid they know people aren’t gonna think the r with the heart around it on the bridge is for like...the ritual of chud. like what were they doing.) the point of this is that eddie KNEW and he loved richie back or something okay and i dont know why im writing this in past tense when they are alive and living with their dog in LA no one read this and if there are holes and inconsistencies don’t point them out or i will cry bc i am stupid thank you 

[pixieungerstories]

Captive - 7

Elly was barely in the door when the pizza arrived.  “You have the wrong house,” she said politely but firmly.

The delivery guy looked at his clipboard.  “Nope.  Right address, says Ben ordered them.  They are already paid for so it isn’t a prank call.”

“Oh,” she said lamely. “Ben.  Yeah.  This is the right place.  I just wasn’t expecting him to be here this late.”  She fumbled in her purse for a tip and staggered inside under the weight of five extra large.  When she tried to hit the light switch with her elbow, nothing happened.  Then she noticed the ott-light had moved.  She groaned.  How many times did she need to tell Posy not to do that?

 The pizza was set on the counter as she stomped up the stairs to flip the breaker.  Once she hung up her coat, she wrenched off her heels and threw them into the hall closet with a fury that might have been surprising if she hadn’t spent the day feeling like an idiot child.

She found her sheep slippers, grabbed a beer out of her fridge and pounded down the stairs again.  

“Ben?” she called.

There was no answer.  

She walked around the shop, turning off the lights.  The bakery was still a mess, which was just not like him.

The door to the basement was open.

Oh god!

“BEN?!” she yelled frantically, as she ran to the steps.

“Careful, treasure, you don’t want to slip.”

“Oh!  Hi, Elly!  I ordered pizza.”

Elly stared between the two of them in the gloom of a battery powered trouble light.  Ben in the chair, George curled up on the floor in front of him.

And a mostly empty bottle of scotch on the table.

“Are you drunk?”

“Probably,” Ben said amicably. “Did you know you have a dragon in your cellar?”

Elly sat down heavily on the step.  It took her a few minutes to even try to get her brain working again.  In the meantime, Ben asked, “Any sign of the pizza?  George says he’s never had taco pizza or buffalo wings.”

“Yeah,” she said faintly.  “It’s upstairs.”

“I’ll get it!” Ben stood up, then he suddenly sat back down.  “I think I need a minute.”

“You need food,” George corrected.  “You wait here, I’ll help Elly get whatever it was that you ordered.”

“You can’t -” she stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “OK.  this is ridiculous.  I’ll go close the curtains, then we call all eat in the bakery.”

She grumbled to herself as she pushed the tables against the wall and closed the blinds.  She jumped when she turned to find Ben standing way too close to her and George peering at her from the stairs.  Ignoring George for a moment, she looked at Ben.  “Are you OK?”

He gave her a glassy look, “I’m -” he started to say, then stopped for a moment, “ I’m not entirely sure this is real.”

“That’s up to you,” George rumbled coming into the dining room.  “Tomorrow you  will wake up with a hangover and we can all just pretend this is a bad dream, if you want.  For now, however, I smell dinner and I know that buffaloes don’t have wings.”

“They are chicken,” Elly murmured as she went to get the food.

“I like it when people bring me cooked chicken.  They are too fiddly to eat on my own.  Eau de burning feathers is not an appetizing smell.”  George got the pizza boxes off the counter and carried them back to the bakery’s dining room.  He managed just fine, but it was awkward to look at.  His legs looked kind of bandy and short, his feet more hand like, and hs tail seemed to be in the way.  He ended up sitting at the table, but on the floor with his tail lashing behind him like a cat.

Ben brought over two tea cups and two water pitchers George graciously accepted one of the jugs and held it like an oversized mug, taking a long drink.  Elly was suddenly very aware that she never brought him liquids.  Ben was oblivious to that and was pouring her a cup of water.  

“I can make you a pot of decaf if you like.”

Elly waved him away, “I have most of a beer around here somewhere.”

“On the coffee table by the fireplace,” George said, carefully trying to figure out the pizza box.

Elly went to grab it and came back in time to see Geoge popping a wing in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.  “We don’t usually eat the bones,” she pointed out.

“Extra calcium,” George shrugged.  “These are good.  I was expecting them to be more spicy.”

Ben blinked, “I ordered mild, medium, hot and extreme and I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to eat the bones because they could make sharp pieces and-”

“That’s dogs,” Elly interrupted.  “I have no idea if it applies to … George.”

George was already daintily taking another wing out of the pizza box with dividers keeping the wings segregated from each other.  He crunched that one up too.  “Which one is the spicy one?”  Ben pointed.  “You are staring.”

“Right!  Sorry!  It’s just …  wow.  Holy shit.  You are … amazing!”  He turned to Elly, “You have an actual dragon in your actual dungeon.  Do you have any idea how cool that is?”

Elly just snorted as she helped herself to a slice of taco pizza.  “This is just weird.  I can see using salsa instead of tomato sauce, and almost see queso instead of pizza cheese, but who puts sour cream on a slice?”

“Hey, at least I ordered it without the lettuce,” Ben argued.

“OK, these ones are getting better,” George said, pointing to the extreme wings.  “I’m not sharing these.”

Both humans stared at him.  It was Ben who finally said, “I can just imagine you on Hot Ones on YouTube.”

“What?”  Elly asked, but Ben was enthralled watching George suck the sauce off his fingers.  

George, however, was watching her.  “What did the lawyers say?”

Elly glared at her pizza then took a swig of beer.  “Any major changes to the business are subject to approval from the trustees.  They don’t object in principle as long as I can show I won’t have losses in excess of the monthly stipend.”

Now Ben was looking at her. “You are going to change the business?” he asked with feigned nonchalance that was undermined by his voice breaking part of the way through the sentence. 

Elly shook her head, “I wouldn’t interfere with the bakery, but I don’t know enough about yarn to keep this place afloat.”

“You were learning though,” he pointed out.

George snorted, “She is unhappy though.”  He narrowed his eyes at the man.  “Why is it your concern?”

“If I close up shop, Ben is out on the street,” Elly pointed out.  “This will affect him too.”

“Hmm,” George considered this.

“Try some pizza,” Elly suggested.

“Get Ben a beer,” George suggested.

“Nah, man. I gotta drive home.”  Then he frowned.  “I gotta clean the kitchen.”

“I will allow you to sleep on Elly’s couch on the second floor,” George replied magnanimously.  Elly rolled her eyes.  Ben grinned at his plate and took a slice of the all meat pie. 

“I like this place, they have good sauce and they have a partially good sourdough crust.”  He took a huge bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, “and I’m sure they make their own sauce.”

“You already mentioned the sauce,” Elly pointed out.

“It was a very good bottle of scotch,” George explained.  “The boy needed it.”

Elly sighed.  “Yeah, you can sleep in the guest room,” she agreed.  “I’ll change the sheets and help you clean the kitchen tomorrow morning.”

Ben was looking thoughtful.  “I know you don’t order this much food all the time.  Is that why all the cats are going missing?”

“Yes!” Elly snapped.

“No!” George just looked hurt.  “I don’t eat cats!”

Ben chortled, “Methinks the lady does protest too-” but before he could finish the quote, George leaned across the table and snapped his teeth uncomfortably close to Ben’s face.

“You do not come into my house and disrespect me like that!”

Both humans froze.

George blinked and leaned back away from them.  He turned and glared at the door to the stairs.  “I have changed my mind, treasure, I do not like this friend of yours.”

“I’ll -” Elly squeaked then stopped and tried again.  “I’ll just take him home then.  To his home, I mean.”

George looked pointedly at the window, “You can not go and be back before dark.  Take him upstairs, put him to bed and if he remembers this in the morning, I will expect an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” Ben said immediately.  He was extremely contrite.  “You are right.  That was rude.”

George narrowed his eyes at him.  “Go,” he managed to hiss the word despite the lack of sibilants.  As he watched them scurry up the stairs like frightened mice, he helped himself to another wing.  As he was crunching he could hear Elly speaking upstairs.

“That isn’t even how that quote goes.  It’s ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks’ -”

“Really?  That’s the part of this you have a problem with?”

“No.  I’m just... “ she sighed.  “Look.  You need to think less drinking buddy and more tetchy grandfather.”

George managed to frown even harder.  Tetchy?  Really?  The grandfather, well, it was completely incorrect but he could see how she got there.  But techy?  Ugh.  He finished the wings and opened one of the pizza boxes at random.  Bread, tomato sauce, meat, mushrooms, bland white cheese, not ideal, but oddly satisfying.

The reality of the situation caught up to him.  He groaned.  He should have made the boy sleep on the chesterfield in the basement.  Instead, he was up there with Elly and George was down here, alone. That certainly wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Still, it would be dark soon.  Time to go for a night out.

[some-days-we-get-sundays]

caity in the community?

Sorry yall but I’m just never getting over this video  of Caity Lotz saying she could be bisexual. I feel like you can just see her mind turning the whole time before the question is even asked- it seems like she is really thinking about her sexuality. I feel like Jes has always just been very straight. In interviews she often says she is straight and it’s not like ah the lady doth protest too much it seems like she genuinely says it so that she is being mindful and aware of the privilege she has to play that character of Ava as a straight woman. Caity on the other hand I feel like, unless I’m mistaking has not very much called herself straight. Her early interviews before she even was on Arrow she was very much a “my celeb crushes are “Ryan Reynolds and Brad Pitt/Leonardo DiCaprio” and I saw this weird interview when she was in her girl band that was very heteronormative. But since playing Sara Lance I think it’s really opened her eyes to her own sexuality and the spectrum! I’d have to search for the interview but she said her celeb crush was Angelina Jolie this time. Which lesbihonest that’s a lot of girls answers when they are unsure, in the closet or trying to put it on the table without fully outting themselves. She also posted this androgynous non-binary person who she said she has a crush on on her insta story. 

But this interview of her saying who knows maybe I still will be... that just says to me that you’re not a straight person because you’re leaving the door open for whatever comes your way. And the way she said it was like in her mind she was thinking about someone or something or a situation that had her thinking maybe she would realize down the line that she liked women too. ANYWAY. I say all this as the Ruby Rose thing develops (someone posted a pic of Caity wearing Ruby’s shirt). I would not even know how to act if Caity ends up being in the community! I’m starved for more queer actresses playing queer characters! And just more out and proud queer ladies in the industry. I also feel like if she came out it would give lgbtq fans like myself even more of a way to connect with her - especially during the one on one interviews. It wouldn’t just be like oh your character helped me and the way you portrayed it was amazing but it would be like being able to discuss her coming out process or what helped her or how she figured out she liked women or what she thinks it will mean for her future roles when she’s done playing Sara, if she was scared to come out to family and friends, if she would start directing more queer short films etc. Like the possibilities would be endless and we’d have another celeb in the community. idk this whole thing intrigues me. I’m not here tho for people on twitter forcing her out or making suggestive comments on her photos with Ruby.