#man i love writing romance. i get so into it

[avelera]

I've been thinking about this meta and laughing actually because I want to reiterate, the foundations of Jayce's Season 1 plotline was clearly a typical morality play where he has an angel and a devil on his shoulder and he's tugged between politics and science.

To briefly sum up the meta above, what subverted this very reductive plotline was making Mel not evil (actually, not evil at all, just her own person with her own goals which are indeed mostly altruistic) and to make the motivations for Jayce 90% of the time to be helping Viktor and their work.

I think originally, the plot was supposed to be "Viktor and Science are Good" "Mel and Politics are Bad" "Jayce is Seduced by Bad Politics and Sexy Mel Away from the True Value of Brotherly Friendship and Science" with him only coming back too late to his Good Science Bro and realized his Evil Politics and Girlfriend Mistakes after Viktor has tragically decided to go full Machine Herald after Jayce's abandonment.

Now in this simplistic version, this failed morality play on Jayce's part is a Tragedy because he realizes his mistake and returns to his bro after it is Too Late and now he must use the lessons he learned to Save His Bro from Evil (that Jayce caused with his initial abandonment).

Then a bunch of other better storytelling drafts happened and we got the plot of Arcane as we saw it BUT

BUT

The thing that is absolutely cracking me up about this proposed timeline of storytelling decisions and where it got us (which I firmly believe to be true) is that it led to the absolute gayest take on Jayce & Viktor ever like, seriously, by fleshing out this story the way they did, it went from "Save the bro you tragically abandoned" to "Save the man you did EVERYTHING for because only YOU can rescue your soulmate across all timelines, all possibilities, and you must give more than you did before, you must give everything of yourself to this cause and you do so gladly, in the most romantic gesture of all time." Like...

Ok, I'm gonna say something potentially unpopular here but I don't really blame Christian Linke for seeing Jayce/Viktor as brotherly, because that's what like 99% of straight male showrunners see when they write the gayest relationship of all time and given what we know of what Jayce & Viktor looked like in the earliest drafts, it probably was more brotherly in the earliest versions that he had the most influence on before he handed it over to better writers and artists.

(I speculate the reason for male showrunners not getting how romantic the "friendship" stories they're writing are is because for many cis straight male creators, "brotherhood" as defined by "not blood relatives but more than a best friend" with another man is the closest relationship you can have, while romance is just a relationship with the best sex you'll ever have, maybe, or just the woman you're "supposed" to settle down with, whereas for women and queer writers, they tend to write the love interest as being your most important person, not a blood relative but more than a best friend, and this is where the wire gets crossed because these cis male writers don't realize they've written a catnip romance for everyone who isn't them ANYWAY I DIGRESS).

SO, this re-write of Jayce's reductive morality-play plot where Science Bro Good and Politics Girlfriend Bad to make Mel and Viktor more nuanced and complicated and not really dragging Jayce into two directions because he's doing everything for Viktor 1) makes all his motivations realign to be just about Viktor which is insanely romantic. But 2!!!

2) In the original morality play plot with Science Bro Good, Jayce returning to Viktor in S2 but it's Too Late is just tragic but it could still just be a story of betraying a friend and your own principles.

But in the revised arc, where Jayce did everything in S1 for Viktor, including overthrowing the government, but in S2 realizing that he wasn't helping Viktor in the way Viktor wanted, that he should have instead stayed in the lab to help Viktor instead of trying to save him elsewhere, and then re-writing Jayce's entire life purpose in S2 to be about saving Viktor's soul and oh, also the world I guess, goes from being "Reductive Jayce making Amends for Leaving his Science Bro for Evil Politics Girlfriend" and instead makes it, "Man who gave everything for his best friend but it wasn't enough to save him then course corrects and figures out how to give his best friend what he REALLY needs, but only does so tragically too late, and must then go on a Tragic Quest, tear himself down to shreds and build himself back up again to become a vessel of but one singular goal, which is the salvation of his Science Bro's SOUL, rescuing him from a fate of loneliness worse than death, because in all timelines, in all possibilities, only HE can rescue his Science Bro from himself oh, and also the world, I guess." And it just becomes the most insanely romantic story of all time.

And I can see how in the foundations of the old story, this would be a much more "friend-coded" story for Jayce and Viktor but because of all the nuanced writing levels that were added later, it just got 10x and then 100x more romantic until it's the most undeniably, mind-breakingly romantic story ever of literally saving one another's lives and souls over and over again across the multiverse because only you can save each other, you are doomed without one another, and yeah, if originally you just wanted to show Jayce being torn between his evil politics girlfriend and his good science bro buddy and then spending act 2 redeeming himself for his act 1 temptations then yeah, I can see how as CL or other show runners you might not have realized what you were cooking until after it came out of the oven!

I feel like so much of the silly Mel vs. Viktor discourse when it comes to Jayce would be resolved if people realized that the plot was originally conceived as a basic morality play arc with Mel as the devil on one shoulder and Viktor as the angel on the other for Jayce.

The bones of Jayce's plot in Season 1 is of a good-guy scientist who is tempted by the allure of politics and fame, with a beautiful femme fatale politician seducing him towards power on the one side and his humble 'brotherly' relationship with his scientific partner representing Jayce's 'true self' that he is drawn away from by her machinations. It's a very, very old school, reductive, male-centric plot that literally boils down to "bros before hos".

It even makes sense for S2, with Jayce overcoming his corruption arc in S1 and returning to his "bro" only for his prior sins to tragically launch Viktor's own corruption arc as the Machine Herald only after Jayce has learned his lesson.

And then the Arcane writers and Fortiche subverted this plot. Here's how:

They made all three characters multi-faceted adults with their own agency and motivations. None of them are puppets for the others or, if they are, the time one character spends controlling the choices of another becomes part of that controlling character's sins that must be atoned for (namely, Jayce resurrecting Viktor against his will, Mel manipulating Jayce against his will, Viktor trying to control everyone against their will).

For example, they made Mel complex and interesting and a good person in her own right. Yes, she still has elements of the beauty, danger, and allure of a femme fatale but by making her her own person with her own plot and motives, none of which are malicious (at most, they are self-serving until she changes her views on Hextech and how best to bring peace to Piltover).

Jayce is still torn between Mel and Viktor but he also fully has his own agency, as many are quick to point out. He is often dragged around by the manipulations of others too (Mel yes, but also Marcus, Vi, and Ambessa influence Jayce into bad decisions). Part of his arc is learning how to be true to himself and his own goals after his time spent in the Anomaly future. But, even there, you can still see the bones of the original morality play arc, where the "Good Ending" for Jayce is to go back to his lab partner "bro" and bring both of them back to being true to themselves.

Viktor isn't just helplessly standing by while Jayce ignores him. In fact, Viktor often deliberately cuts Jayce out of his experiments. He doesn't tell Jayce about the Shimmer, or the self-experimentation, or even about Sky's death until after Jayce resurrects him with the Hexcore. Viktor has agency, he has his own goals, and while he frequently chastises Jayce for abandoning their shared dream in what I believe is another hint of the bones of the original morality play plot, he also has his own flaws and his own journey to go on independent of Jayce.

Much of the silly bickering I see between Mel and Viktor fans comes down to who "deserves" Jayce, who is "erased" by not ending up with Jayce, whether or not Mel is manipulative, or if Viktor thinks about Jayce at all when he's busy pursuing his own goals, and I think all of those are absurd arguments.

Mel is manipulative, it is part of the bones of the morality play plot that has her as the antagonist, but they made her so much more than that, that I think it's an active disservice to the character they made to reduce her story down to whether or not she ends up with Jayce. I get why people get hung up on it, because I do believe it's the core of the first draft of her plot, but the richness of her character comes from moving beyond that. Indeed, in S2, the least important part of her character is her relationship to Jayce. She has her own stuff going on.

Whether or not Jayce is a victim of manipulation or whether or not he pursued power for its own sake is also showing an understanding of the basic, core plot they built the richness on top of. Jayce was seduced by Mel's manipulation and he did grasp after power, but they enriched his character by making his goals more noble and more tragic. He's always trying to fight for Viktor, for Hextech, for their shared dream, and for making Piltover a safer, better place, but how he goes about it often makes matters worse until he learns, grows, gains wisdom, and makes terrible mistakes he arguably can never make up for fully.

Jayce also isn't fully a victim of Mel's manipulation, just as she is not fully a mastermind able to control his every move. He breaks away at a certain point and makes his own (poor) decisions in ways that frighten her and make her regret her actions, until he grows enough to recognize the wisdom in her advice (though he later grows again and recognizes the original manipulation, which leads to him breaking up with her in 2.08 because Mel's sins are still there and they are the reason she and Jayce don't have hope for a future together once he realizes he can't trust her because actions have consequences in Arcane).

As for Viktor, he doesn't like Mel. In that, I think we again see the original morality play roots, with him as the angel on the shoulder disliking the devil who is seducing Jayce. But they enriched his character by having him respect Jayce's choices even as he may have privately disapproved of them, and to have his own arc to worry about with his failing health, and his other flaws like intellectual tunnel vision/naiveté, and his tendency to self-isolate in the face of his terminal illness. He has his own stuff going on.

They also subverted the morality play arc to a certain extent by having Viktor stop being the angel in S2. Indeed, the framework more or less falls away entirely and it become Jayce trying to save Viktor from himself, and from Jayce's own mistakes of not destroying the Hexcore, while Mel is busy with her own story of politics, war, and magic.

Anyway, I hope some of this makes sense. But I think if people just recognized that yes, there are elements of Mel as a bad guy in the fabric of the story, of a story where Jayce is in a balancing act between his demons and his angels, but that good writers came in and layered real people over these simplistic plots, made it so Mel's story isn't just about Jayce, Jayce's story isn't just about getting corrupted by a femme fatale, and Viktor's story isn't just about being abandoned by Jayce, and thus elevated the trope beyond its tired-out, simplistic roots, there'd be a lot less wank.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[gauntletgirlie]

So, I have a confession to make. Long post to follow, sorry.

Anyone who follows my blog knows I post the thirstiest bullshit, alright, and I love it but…

… there’s a part of me that doesn’t agree with the sexualisation sometimes. I’ve often wondered if my brain just works in different ways to other people’s, maybe I have some aroace in me yearning to come forth? But there are a lot of ships that sprung up from TROP where I have nothing against them at all, I firmly stand on ship and let ship, but what they were founded on I did not interpret as sexy or romantic.

For example, Adar is shipped with all and sundry and it’s brilliant and peak comedy at times, fuelled by Sam Hazeldine’s fantastic chemistry with his co-stars. But there are certain scenes where I get why they were interpreted that way, but I also think a lot can be missed by jumping to sex/romance.

One instance is Adar telling Elrond he has the beauty of his forebear Melian. In modern society, a man calling another man beautiful probably is flirting, since men (generalisation) struggle to compliment each other apparently without feeling the need to caveat “no homo”. But in the context of Tolkien’s world and even medieval norms, that wasn’t the case. If anything, Adar is showing off his knowledge and also baiting Elrond by asking if he’s as wise as Melian.

Also take the scene where Adar chokes Elrond to get Nenya from around his neck. Often interpreted as kinky (which is valid). Sometimes choking is just violence though. Adar needed to get Nenya and overpower Elrond. He’s in the middle of a literal battle. Maybe I’ve watched too much true crime and seen the effects of countless domestic abuse cases, but choking can just be violent and violently intended. Probably a boring and obvious take, but that’s how I perceived it when I watched.

Does Adar look sexy as hell doing it? I think so but others might not. Could you also see it as Adar flirting with Elrond and ship them together? Of course! Why the hell not! I just sometimes miss the non-romantic aspects of analysis and discussion.

Same with Maidar. I totally get where that ship comes from, it makes sense, it has a lot going for it. I also personally adhere to the notion there was no sex or romance between them. I think there was alluring, I think there was admiration, I think there was a codependency, I don’t think it was sexual or romantic. To me, having your best friend and/or most trusted, loyal follower stab you in the back would hurt more than a lover. I might be falling back on my own thoughts on how I’d feel and I would personally be more devastated at being betrayed by my closest friend than my husband. I’ve lost friends and I’ve lost loves, the friends hurt more.

Adariel is another one. Again, I think there are strong grounds for that ship and I love so much of the art for it, but a lot of what is interpreted as romantic for me was just tactical manipulation, coupled with genuine admiration on Adar’s part and the fact that Galadriel is beautiful so most people would be attracted to her if we’re being totally honest. Adar used her to get what he wanted. His methods might have included flirtation or creating tension in closeness, but for me, they were all about tactics to defeat Sauron. Galadriel and Nenya were a way for him to do that so he did want he needed to facilitate that.

I’m not even going to touch on Haladriel or Saurondriel because this post is already hella long and my anxiety is already sky high so I’m chickening out.

Sorry this is such a weird random word vomit, it was nerve wracking to write and post, but I just needed space to let this part of me out. I know it’s so contradictory to how I’ve presented myself on here so far, but I felt like if I’m allowed to let the thirst flow, I should be allowed to let this version of me out as well.

I’m literally this:

Guess which one gets fed more? 😂

Fear not, folks, I will resume my thirsty bullshit forthwith.

[rei-ismyname]

Who do you think has been the best at writing Kurt and what is your favorite stage of the character? Personally, Kurt from Excalibur is my big favorite.

Hey! I don't think I've actually talked about Kurt much, aside from complaining about his NPC status and bizarre priest coding (that was quickly reversed) in From The Ashes

It's hard to argue with Excalibur as a defining run for Kurt's character and his themes. He got to buckle his swash and I really enjoy the relationships built during Excalibur (except Brian. Dude sucks IMO) - even if those relationships and shared experiences have been backgrounded of late. I wasn't aware of different authors when I first read it but looking back Alan Davis if I have to pick.

My favourite stage of the character though is Krakoan Age Kurt. I enjoyed him under Hickman's pen (even if the third law was a mistake.) Si Spurrier made some pretty massive missteps in Way of X but I'm glad that his reaction to Krakoa generally and The Crucible specifically was explored. There's a lot of ways to approach 'I need to start a mutant religion' and zooming in on his personal crisis of faith and allying him with Legion really worked for me.

Focusing on people and examining the laws with the background threat of Onslaught was clever, and he reached the only conclusions that makes sense. I do wish it was longer and a deeper dive into the laws, but it'd break the premise a little if The Onslaught Revelation ended and Kurt said out loud that the Krakoan government is corrupt and we need to start from scratch. Everyone nearly died permanently because Xavier has too much power with no means of accountability.

I'd have hated it if he really did start a religion; The Spark was a secular philosophy that addressed his personal crisis and resonated with a certain kind of person. I've seen people call it a religion and it makes me wonder if they read the book. The foray into justice reform in Legion of X is something I loved on a conceptual level - yes he was using his QC position for legitimacy but at its core the Altar and Legionaries was about the little people, the younger folks, those working for redemption. Kurt's pointed and specific refusal to co-operate with Charles Xavier on his authoritarian bs was a great character beat, as was defending Juggernaut's agency and the chance to be better. I do wish the original sin of Sabertooth in the hole was touched on, but Victor LaValle nailed it elsewhere so I can't complain.

Combined with the Quiet Council dissolution in Immortal X-Men I think we'd have seen an upswell of younger, politically engaged mutants eager to reform their home. I digress.

I loved Kurt's time as Spider-Man (or spinnenmann lol) as a kind of back to basics during the worst time for mutants. It's relatable that he'd be overwhelmed by trauma and grief and just want to be 'a whole Kurt Wagner' for a while. Fight some bad guys, have a romance, eat pizza with Spider-Man. I definitely liked the retcons in X-Men Blue: Origins, the follow up in X-Men Forever, but most of all that he was allowed to be angry about it in Uncanny #700. Trust is earned and neither of his bio parents have done that.

As I mentioned, I'm unimpressed with how he's been used in From The Ashes. He's wasted as a background character and I think putting him on the Uncanny team was a mistake. If it was my decision I'd have him as a peacemaker, flitting from team to team and book to book. I especially feel like he'd visit Katschen himself and not be a party to Iceman spying on her. Kurt and Kitty have a much closer relationship. Tom Brevoort has been outspoken about the X-Men killing people in Fall of X - Kurt and Kitty are the perfect lens to explore that through.

I get that he was already taken by Uncanny, but focusing on Logan and Rogue (where their familial relationship 'upgrade' is recent and barely established) to the detriment of other longstanding relationships feels like a waste to me.

It seems I had more thoughts on Kurt than I thought. Thanks for the ask!

[crazy-ache]

Was there anything that inspired you to write Animal Instincts? 👀 aka one of my favorite Elucien fanfics ever?

Oh hey!! 🐈 So I was inspired to write Animal Instincts when I was reflecting on the kinds of fanfiction I read over ten years ago in previous fandoms. There's a lot of tropes/styles that you don't see very often anymore and I was like *sigh* we really need to bring that back to the ACOTAR fandom. I think ACOTAR/Elucien fandom in general has a lot of newer fans (meaning this is their first fandom ever) so I understand why these tropes don't naturally come up, but man we really should pay our respects to our roots! I think people tend to cling to modern tropes found in romantasy/dark romance, but there's some really great classics out there.

Some of the ones I was thinking about were: Cat/Animal transformation fics, 3 times they didn't/1 time they did, writing one-sentence stories for every single letter of the alphabet (this was my JAM), song/lyric fics, text thread fics, genderbending, spin the bottle, amnesia, body swapping, getting trapped in very tight, enclosed spaces (the ultimate forced proximity trope - like a closet or air duct haha), love spells/sex pollen, fake dating, etc. All great ones! I love coming across these tropes in fandom :)

Also does anyone remember when authors would include interviews with the characters in their author's notes? LOL I miss those days.

Body swap is coming soon for sure. It's next after my current fic.

As soon as I reflected about cat transformation, I knew Elain was destined to be a cat. And then the story just wrote itself!

[plip-plap-plop]

Something that romance enjoyers have taught me is that romance fiction isn’t meant to be a model for you to emulate, it’s play drama. It’s about problems in the romance, and navigating them, that’s the conflict.

I’m not a romance reader generally, but two of my favorite romances in all of media are Ymir x Historia in Attack on Titan, and Guts x Casca in Berserk. Guts and Casca because they help each other become healthy, sure, in ways I’m not really close to, to be fair.

But Ymir and Historia… They’re not just traumatized and coping, they’re assholes.

To each other

And that’s what makes them compelling. Because they’re young (in terms of life experience), because they’re inexperienced and because they take out their clashing ideals, which are already compelling (whether to be so selfish that you ignore the people around you or to be so selfless you sacrifice yourself? And both of you bitches are awful at it? I digress), ON EACH OTHER, and yet they still find something within each other that makes them want to stay around. And they fucking grow from it.

It’s like finding a shitty story that has something fascinating in it so that you dig through the rough to search out the diamonds, and because people are adaptable and changing, you actually get help each other clean up a bit.

I’m gonna go out on a limb and say, from what I see out there, this fiction can get treated like the line between wrestling with differences isn’t distinguishable from codependency. And I mean, I’m no romantic, but I think that sounds a bit cynical? And observably false? (And like… people can compare and contrast real life and fiction… it’s gonna poison their minds just like those damn video games with all them thefting grand’s auto!)

Wouldn’t writing a relationship with no conflict not be a story? Or at least, no longer than one poem about loving your partner? It’s just a vignette isn’t it?

Isn’t it more valuable even, to tell stories about shitty relationships just so some young kid can compare and be like “oh. This isn’t good!” I know Chainsaw Man did that for a few young guys out there, who saw themselves in Denji’s dynamic with Makima and starting thinking about things and making further realizations with this horrifying nightmare as their catalyst. The guys that like Makima? Either they’re getting to explore something safely, or they’re the target audience, who will be reached eventually because in five years after some more life experience they’ll have the idea of her as a story of how that could go.

So yeah. There’s my piece about how this genre should be taken just as seriously and just as lightly as any other genre

writing a relationship. is it healthy? no. but is it hot? oh, absolutely.

i love a good train wreck sometimes

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. (if only it were that simple.)

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fianc��e — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[antigonesghosts]

What I loved about Cinderella's Castle is it is so entirely about Ella. We know starkid can handle a show with tons and tons of characters but I found it quite refreshing for it to be so wholly her story? I think it was a lovely choice for this show and man Bryce did such a perfect job of it, she is truly such a star

[brainrot-jikan]

im not the biggest alhaitham/kaveh shipper (because im a rare pair ho) but it seems to me that in alhaitham/kaveh getting-together fics tend to be... unequal.

the beautiful thing about alhaitham and kaveh is that they're both equally right and equally wrong and equally dicks about it. but the writers for alhaitham/kaveh much more frequently seem to give alhaitham the burden change (the burden of the character flaw) instead of kaveh.

in any good character arc, the main character has a fatal flaw or misconception, and by the end of that arc they have addressed that flaw in some definitive way. scrooge was a scrooge and learned that being that way was detrimental; merlin from finding nemo was overprotective to a fault and had to learn that he couldn't (and shouldn't) control everything and to let go; the wolf from little red riding hood learns that you should stop while you're ahead.

stories centering around romance tend to lean heavily on character arcs, which makes sense. and since romance generally requires two individuals to be vulnerable and open and emotional with each other, it makes double sense that alhaitham/kaveh authors zoom straight into alhaitham's lack of emotional vulnerability.

this bothers me.

in society, individuals are expected to experience and present emotions in a specific way. if someone dies, you cry. if someone smiles at you, you smile back. if you're at a party, you're supposed to be having fun. if you don't do these things, you're seen as impolite at best and a inhuman freak at worst. when these behaviors are frequent it's often viewed as emotional immaturity, or a lack of ability to feel at all. the inability or lack of willingness to conform to societies emotional expectations of you is seen as a flaw and a reason for exclusion.

alhaitham is canonically disliked and avoided for being the way he is. he prefers it this way, but that doesn't mean the people perpetuating this avoidance are in the right. they are the societal pressure to conform that alhaitham blows off. alhaitham could be the way he is for a lot of reasons: avoidant attachment style, trauma, following someone else's example (eg. his grandmother), or just his base personality. it doesn't MATTER. he is the way he is. kaveh having to accept that should be part of the story.

putting the burden of the fatal flaw on alhaitham, making the way alhaitham treats kaveh and the people around him the problem, feels invalidating. it implies heavily that alhaitham's way of interfacing with the world, alhaitham's very SELF, is incorrect. my suggestion is to flip a larger portion of that burden onto kaveh. kaveh 👏 character 👏 arcs 👏

some examples/recommendations:

- make kaveh project his insecurities onto other people but especially onto alhaitham; he's overly reliant on other people for his own self worth, and he perceives alhaitham's lack of positive feedback as a direct reflection of how alhaitham feels about him. but learns along the way that alhaitham doesn't hate him, kaveh's actual struggle is with hating himself and being unable to his own self as worthy of love. maybe throw in how you are responsible for your own recovery, other people can help but you can't rely on them to carry you through self actualization.

- or, kaveh tries to make alhaitham behave more like a "normal" person, to be more pleasant and emotive and forthcoming, and then realizes he's in the wrong for trying to make alhaitham into something he's not, possibly for all the wrong reasons (not because he likes alhaitham better like that, but bc society says that's healthier and a better/more conforming way to be)

- or you could go ahead make alhaitham's issues the main problem but they're too complicated to overcome in a short period of time, so kaveh has to accept alhaitham is doing his best in his own way and not push for unrealistic and unhealthy changes. he could alter his own behavior to give alhaitham space and time and a safe place to land.

that got sappy so it's past time for me to dip out. go forth and ship things; but maybe consider letting alhaitham be a rude stone-faced bastard if he wants to be.

[dodger-chan]

#google search "books for crotchety old women in their mid twenties who like murder mysteries and gay people"

And There He Kept Her by Joshua Moehling

Not exactly a mystery from the reader's perspective, more of a dark thriller (serial killer, missing girl, etc.) with mystery elements. The sequel is a much better mystery, but I think you need the character introductions from book one. There's a lot of small town drama and politics in both books, which to me is the more interesting part of the series. The main character/detective is the acting local sheriff (the election to get a permanent sheriff is a major plotline in book two) with a tragic past (a brother who went missing as a kid and a murdered boyfriend who he couldn't properly mourn because their relationship was secret)

Last Call at the Nightingale by Katherine Schellman

Period mystery set in New York in the roaring twenties. The mystery is really good and, as I recall, solvable for the reader. The main characters are really interesting people. There is a love triangle (our intrepid young seamstress/detective has feelings for both the mysterious nightclub owner and the semi-criminal fixer with police connections) but a well written one that mirrors the heroine's inner conflicts. I am very biased towards this series because it touches on so many of my interests.

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett

One of the all-time classics. Fantastically written mystery. I'm not sure if the reader can actually solve it, but you do get all the same information the detective does, just not any of his reasoning. And you probably know who did it because it's a famous story. It was written in the twenties, though, so its queer villains are not exactly portrayed with modern sensibilities.

The Quaker by Liam McIlvanney

Another thriller, but one that leans more into the mystery aspect. Definitely on the darker side, with cops investigating a serial killer in 1969 Glasgow. To be honest I read this book when it first came out in 2018 and I don't remember why I liked it but I really did.

Proper English by K.J. Charles

Charles tends to write queer romance, but this one is also a murder mystery. It's been a while since I read this one, too, and the romance stuck with me more than the mystery, but as I recall it's one of those murders in an isolated country estate at a house party with a limited number of suspects, nearly all of which were being blackmailed by the victim. (If you're unfamiliar with the works of KJ Charles, they're a fun author. Their Sins of the City series is also kind of a mystery, though it takes a backseat to the love stories. And the Will Darling Adventures has kind of a spy thriller/mystery plotline, though again the romance is the main point; the spy stuff is what happens while the romance develops)

That's pretty much it for murder mysteries with canon queer detectives off the top of my head but Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe mysteries are fun and very readable (they were written over a long time span so the older ones use some very uncomfortable language). I'm a huge fan of Raymond Chandler, particularly The Big Sleep and The Long Goodbye (it's very easy to read Philip Marlowe as bi; The Long Goodbye is more about his relationship with Terry Lennox than it is about the murders). Hammett's The Thin Man is another really great mystery, and the main characters (married couple Nick and Nora Charles) are very sweet and in love.

Getting into reading in 2025 is a nightmare like why is everything divided into “cosy” or “spicy” and why are we describing protagonists and plots with fanfic tropes 🙃🙃

[entomolog-t]

Stupid lowscale gt brainrot but like--

You know the "stranded on a planet with sexy 8ft-10ft tall alien men" monster "romance" trope???

Give me a story just like this but like humans are smaller because of higher gravity. Its nothing so severe that anything super off is noticeable at first. Similar body types, perhaps even the alien species is much more physically intimidating looking (especially if we're going to the ye old hunter gatherer/barbarian trope), maybe they notice that they feel really good on this planet, perhaps even they make the connection that they can jump a fair amount higher. To them its nothing crazy. Going from a 2ft vertical to a 4-5ft vertical is cool, but its nothing like the videos of walking on the moon.

The aliens however, notice something is off fairly quickly. With a language barrier there might be the need to physically pull someone out of harms way, try to direct them one way or the other etc... and humans?? Despite their size, they're *heavy.* Not as heavy as the aliens, but far too close for someone half their size. Watching the humans aid them in tasks is surprising, and they're quite impressively able to carry a fair amount.

Perhaps it takes a while for the humans to notice, and it comes as a shock. Be it something perhaps cute like playfighting, or something more severe like an actual physical altercation, it becomes apparent that the humans are leagues stronger than the aliens.

Some Local coffeshop employee Becky Smith of middle of nowhere USA is suddenly able to lift the equivalent of 800lbs and is now seen as some warrior class being and is just trying to live out her monster romance fantasy. Girly was looking for a fearsome warrior and somehow became it instead.

This is so silly and stupid but I love it and would PAY to read it.

[stenshale]

actually “the man Anders is honorbound to kill was his ex-lover in every playthrough, but if your player character is a woman, he doesn’t mention it because his writer wanted the player to be able to decide he’s heterosexual” is such a gross thing to say about your video game. Yeah he’s canonically bisexual but you can ignore that if you think it’s icky ^_^

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[starry-bi-sky]

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus When her body was found I'd be the choiceless hope in grief That drove him underground

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

Jason is gonna be sick.

Memories swirl in his head, laughter ringing like bells in his ears, and bring with it a torrid feeling of rising horror. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth; a rock sinking in his gut. The image of a woman and a smile made of stars burns behind his eyelids.

Danny.

He met a woman named Danny last month, with eyes blue and green like a watercolor gradient. She stopped him in the middle of the street, acting as if she knew him. Except Jason didn't know her, and his attempts to correct her only made her grow confused, only made her grow insistent.

That he was her Jason, her fiancé.

Jason had told her she was wrong, that she had the wrong guy. He'd gotten icy with her, had been rude as he told her he wasn't her damn fiancé. He left before she could say anything, left her clutching her hand where a ring sat.

Except she'd been right. He just hadn't remembered.

He's gonna be fucking sick.

A memory hits him vivid and hard like a gunshot wound. A bullet would feel better than this.

They're dancing in a kitchen somewhere -- their kitchen. They'd moved in together. Fuck, they'd moved in together. Somewhere on the outskirts of Amity Park, Danny's city in an apartment that wasn't too big or too small.

Music is playing from Danny's phone on the counter, Jason's tongue forms the words 'Across the Stars' before he can even recall the melody. It was Danny's favorite, he can't blame her, it's a beautifully sad song.

It's early morning; they're still in their pjs. Sunrise is spilling through the windows, putting the room in a wonderfully lazy glow. It's straight out of a romcom, it leaves him with the dredges of something ridiculously fond. Jason can't remember why they started dancing, but he can't take his eyes off her. She had some sort of health problem, he can't remember what, but he bets it will come to him.

The memory of Danny looks at him like he's the most beautiful thing in the world, a smile on her face like it's the easiest thing to put there. She looks at him like she's madly in love. She is; they are. Jason's remembering it now, and it's hurting him.

It fades away with the music.

But Jason's mind isn't done torturing him; the floodgates have been opened. Another memory quickly takes its place.

Jason's gonna be sick. There is a churning in his stomach.

Movie night. They're watching something on the small tv Danny's got in her living room. The two of them stuck under a blanket, Jason's head on Danny's chest, listening to her impossibly slow heartbeat as her fingers weave patterns through his hair.

They've done this plenty of times. A bowl of popcorn sitting on the floor by their feet, which are tangled up in each other, and movies of their choice playing on the screen.

Jason's got a hand under her shirt, idly tracing the raised Y-scar carved into her chest. Years old, she told him, given to her by her parents when they suspected her of being a ghost and wanted to cut her open.

("I can kill them for you." Jason told her, immediately, without thinking. He remembers being confused about why that threat came to him so easily, and why he knew on instinct that he could do it without blinking. Jason frightens himself a little by how willing he is to spill blood.)

(But Danny doesn't seem to mind. She laughs, something sad in her pretty blue-green eyes, "You'll have to get in line with my brothers and friends. They want to, too.")

(He blinks at her, he presses a kiss to her sternum, right where the valley of the 'y' met the stem. He feels a little less frightened. "Gladly.")

The memory itself isn't special, but it unlocks the rest of every movie night they've ever had. Sometimes the night ends with them falling asleep. Sometimes the night ends with lips and teeth; Danny's got fangs, and she's used them more than once.

He's fucked up. He's fucked up so bad.

Jason's seriously going to be ill.

--------

(He doesn't know what the memory is about. He just knows that Danny is laughing and sitting on his hips, the two of them in the grass at some park as she kisses his face like she's trying to leave freckles in her wake.)

("My darling." She croons, holding his jaw in her callused hands. Her hair curtains over them both. "My sun, my earth. My heart beating. My beautiful, handsome, Jason Todd.")

(She's being poetic, and Jason's face is burning in a blush that threatens to swallow him whole. He's grinning like a fool, his hands caught around her waist like fishhooks. "Aren't you supposed to say 'my moon', not 'my earth?'" He asks because if he listens to her any longer he'll combust.)

(Danny kisses him quick and leaves him wanting; leaves him chasing. She's smiling at him and his eyes lock onto her fangs. She could rip out his throat in one fell swoop, and he'd let her. "Maybe, but you're the earth because I'm the moon. I am inexplicably drawn to you, my love.")

(Jason becomes so quickly heart-full that, really, the only response he can give is to flip them around so he can kiss her into the dirt. And he's never really listened to Hozier, but he's starting to understand the man when he says; 'I could never define all that you are to me'.)

--------

("Oh, I've died once." Danny tells him in one hazy evening, sitting on the counter with whiskey in her hands. They've both had a little too much to drink, but Jason remembers this moment vivdly.)

(He turns to stare at her in horror. She smiles at him, dark and bittersweet. "I got back up.")

(He can't imagine dying, but it feels familiar to him. He closes the distance of the kitchen between them, brows furrowed. He puts his glass down, and cages her legs between his arms. "When? How?")

("I was fourteen. My parents lab; in their pursuit of science, they never really noticed if their children got caught in the collateral. It hurt." She says, and points to a scar he's always wondered about: an ugly mottled one, big, that goes through her stomach as if she'd been stabbed. Or impaled. Starburst burn scars litter her side, her legs, her palm. He's always wondered about them, but never asked.)

(Jason traces the scar on her stomach in mute horror, Danny's breath close to his ear. He listens to it like a dying man drinks water. "I don't remember being dead." She mumbles, taking a sip of her drink. "I just remember waking up.")

("They got you killed." He's never hated anyone more.)

(Danny remains silent, and when Jason looks up, her eyes are hollow like a corpse. "No," she murmurs, "it was my fault.")

(She doesn't bring it up in the morning, when they're both nursing hangovers. Jason admits, he's too afraid to bring it up.)

--------

(He proposes to her at the top of one of Amity Park's hills, beneath a sky full of stars and no moon to be seen. There's no cloud in the night sky, and the air is warm.)

(She says yes.)

--------

(They're dancing again, they like doing this. They do it often. Jason cooks; they dance; Danny tells him about anything and everything, and he soaks it up like a sponge.)

(They're talking about Star Wars this time, and Jason has never been more in love. Granted, he doesn't remember being in love before meeting Danny. He hopes there wasn't anyone he loved before this; he doesn't think he can love them anymore.)

("Broken Heart Syndrome is a very real thing!" Danny rants. They're listening to Across the Stars again, and he stops to lean them both against the counter. "And while it's rare to die from it, it can still happen! Especially if you have a weak heart, like mine.")

(Jason huffs, but finds it hard to argue. He's listened to her heartbeat. It beats worryingly slow, and if he cranes his ears and listens hard, he can hear the whooshing sound it makes.)

(She's assured him before that it's harmless, but he's not always convinced. He worries.)

("Well," he scoffs, placing his hands on her hips and rubbing circles into her skin with his thumbs. "It's a good thing I don't plan on breaking your heart anytime soon.")

--------

More memories fill up his head, like a room being flooded with water. Some of them mundane, some of them sweet, some of them steamed. But one thing stays certain; he deeply, gravely loves this woman.

And he fucked it up.

The memories all come at him at once, and a deep, pained groan rolls over him like a wave. Dick looks at him as he hunches over, he can feel eyes burning into him.

"I'm gonna be sick." He says aloud, yanking off his helmet as a choking heat of dread hits him like a hot flash. Damian takes a wary step away from him. "Oh, I'm gonna fucking vomit."

The little brat snarls at him; "Don't you dare." and takes an even further step back from him. Tim gets out his phone, and Jason has half a mind to try and kill him again. "There's a trashcan over there if you're going to."

"Please do." Tim says gleefully.

"I had a fiancé." Jason says, and it's really not something he wants to admit out loud to his.. uh, family. But it's more for himself; to confirm this dreadful, beautiful truth than to let them know. "Oh, I've screwed up."

He's got to find Danny, he needs to apologize. He needs to explain himself. He needs to find her yesterday.

--------

He finds her, he does. But he finds her buried six feet under, two weeks too late, with flowers growing at the foot of her grave. Jason feels like Orpheus standing at the foot of Eurydice's grave.

DP x DC prompt - Who gets amnesia twice?!

Danny and Amnesiac!Jason

Jason has an accident as Red Hood which causes which to suffer from amnesia - he ends up with Danny and the two build a life together

One day, Jason leaves for something and tells Danny that “he’ll be back soon.”

Coincidentally Jason regains his memories from before Danny (maybe he meets his family or a rogue or gets into another accident) - but regaining his old memories causes him to forget Danny due to the confusion

Jason resumes his life prior to Danny - and poor Danny is worried about his bf/fiance/husband and goes to look for him - maybe when he finds Jason, Jason doesn’t recognize him and acts coldly/suspicious towards him

So Danny decides to go live in the GZ semi-permanently for a while and fakes his current living identity’s death

Jason starts remembering Danny and goes to find his lover only to come across a grave

[girlmetalsonic]

something that is like the baseline of amys entire character to me is that shes lonely. shes clingy and physically affectionate in a way none of her friends really are, shes always getting pushed aside and left behind. yeah, she helps out people she doesnt know because shes a nice person, but also, she sees part of herself in them. she wont leave someone else behind because she knows the feeling —and more importantly, hates the feeling. if she doesnt have somebody to stand by her and be there for her, then shes going to be that person for everybody else. something something her obsession with sonic is really just like a manifestation of that desire for closeness with someone, and she thinks that romance is the only way to get that. idk... this hedgehog can have so many abandonment issues.

[kwyoz]

wow, i love when the dragon age fandom is very normal about veilguard's companions being pansexual and totally not being lowkey really fucking pan and bi phobic.