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mockerycrow · 1 year

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Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!

400 Follower Celebration

—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost

Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.

A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS

[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]

It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.

You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.

“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.

You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.

You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.

Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.

You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.

You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.

A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.

Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.

No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..

It’s him. It’s Ghost.

All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.

Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.

He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

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biceratops7 · 10 months

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***

Same energy 👆

#literally obsessed with that trope #supernatural natural being getting gendered and just being like ‘’no ❤️’’#I headcannon crowley actually does have a concept of gender cause it’s just fun #and this is the only time I think they correct anyone #so my silly little theory is they’re just not using he/him rn but it not pressing enough to catch anyone up to speed #good omens #gos2 spoiler #Crowley #nonbinary #gender fluid #not a girl #tgp #the good place #janet #parallels #biceratops

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hamletthedane · 2 months

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I love you mean girls in literature, I love you manipulative and scheming elder sisters of the protagonists, I love you ambitious women washing damned spots from bloody hands, I love you “she was always the perfect/favorite child,” I love you Emma Woodhouses and Caroline Bingleys, I love you mean girls with complex and morally questionable but ultimately understandable motivations, I love you mean girls they called evil and never bothered to explain at all, I love you mean girls who are not even girls, I love you queen bees, bullies, cheerleading captains, and heads of the school play in teen flicks, I love you weapons of war and calculating politicians and manipulators of royal court, I love you sirens and succubi and vampiresses, I love you changed by the end, I love you still the same bitch as before-

#this character type is so compelling #for the record this is not limited to actual female gender characters - mean girl is a state of mind #tagging to find later on my own blog bc tumblr search feature sucks:#writing #tropes #mean girls #literature

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whump-a-saurus · 4 months

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i love whumpers that are just fucking delusional, that genuinely think they are in a loving, healthy relationship with their whumpee.

like they brag to their friends about having “such an awesome partner” and how they’re “so excited they are moving in with them”, when in reality their “partner” is tied up in the basement with a black eye and multiple broken ribs.

i just think that’s so silly of them ^^

#whumpee #whump #whump community #whump scenario #whump tropes #whump writing #whumpblr #whumper #whump prompt #writing #whump tag #whump whump whump #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #writblr #gender nuetral reader

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farfromstrange · 7 months

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Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then.

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow.

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this.

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare.

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much?

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back.

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now.

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day.

One day.

Three hundred days, all wasted in one.

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one.

And then it just… ended.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself.

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own.

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back.

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued.

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands.

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up.

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again.

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes.

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up.

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it.

But God, you were so in love.

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up.

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him.

You killed each other.

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it.

He was your first true love.

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once.

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you.

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on.

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger.

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say.

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter.

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget.

You need to forget Matt Murdock.

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

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whump-queen · 7 months

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I’m completely obsessed with like, whumpee forced to stand at attention, forced to hold a position for inspection. whumper grabbing their face, tilting their chin, trailing fingers down their torso, circling them slowly, growling in their ear—

#it gets worse #whump prompt #akia.txt #inspection tropes #my beloved #creepy/intimate whumper #look I don’t claim these tags as gender but #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #the vibes? immaculate #inspection whump #stand at attention

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mogaiers · 13 days

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ComCubeTropic ;;

[PT: CompCubeTropic ;; ]

— a tropic gender term related to the Companion cube trope!

Colors based off;; a bit obvious lmao, the companion cube from Portal !!

#trope gender #-tropic #🌧️💤coining💤🌧️#Compcubetropic #☁️✨mogai titles✨☁️#mogai #liomogai #mogai coining

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yxami · 1 year

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Stupid little thought after brainstorming. I know I know, I should be working on the request I got because I’ve only gotten a few so far but I wanted to feed you guys something while I finished that up.

Description: yandere jock, heavy bullying, bully to friend unnamed yandere, he’s just called yandere jock throughout the story cuz I don’t think he’ll be an oc unless people are interested. Also for the life of me I could not find a book that was like soaked even though I was searching soaked muddy book aesthetic for ages LMFAO.

Yandere jock that just can’t help but watch the little quiet kid in the corner, he just wondered what you did all day. You were quiet, meek, and didn’t do anything.

He had never bothered to look at you before so why now? He watched you interact with the few friends you had in your classes. He knew you didn’t have any actual friends other than some classmates you spoke to. He knew you were rather boring but you still somehow peaked his interest. There was something about you that couldn’t stop him from trying to find out more.

He followed you home once and also couldn’t help but wonder what the inside of your house looked like. His curiosity beat the best of him and he broke into your house the same night! Of course he made sure you didn’t know, but he had to see what your room looked like too! Since he was there why wouldn’t he?

Same guy who would randomly start to poke and make fun of you. It started one day and never stopped, he would jab at your choice in clothing, how you never talked, anything about you? He would make fun of you for it. Even if it was normal and rather bland thing he would find a way to bully you about it!

Of course, nothing was done about the bullying. It was rather unnoticed at your school, it wasn’t uncommon to see a person humiliate another. You were just an unlucky person who was the victim.

You didn’t do anything about the bullying since this was a well known guy at the school. He was attractive, athletic, and very good with people. He had many friends, and everybody loved him! So what if he had a few cheating scandals with every short relationship he got in? Nobody cared! He was cool and that wasn’t going to ruin his reputation.

You were at your usual spot in the school gardening area. Nobody went there unless it was the gardening club after-school. You were sat on a little brick lining to give plants a little leverage from the ground. You heard footsteps and a painfully recognizable voice stop in front of you that sneered at you.

“What are you doing? Do you really have no fucking friends that you read your little books here?” He laughed so hard as if a award winning comedian had told him a joke.

“Uhm.. yeah.” You mumbled to yourself.

“Can you speak any fucking lower? You’re so pathetic” He snatched your book away from you and you got up quickly trying to retrieve it.

“Please don’t! It’s the schools book! It’s not mine!” Your urgent tone wasn’t for show. The book was expensive because of the length and quality of it. You knew you wouldn’t be able to pay for it if he destroyed it!

“That’s even better” He grinned throwing the book in a puddle that had formed under a hose’s doing. You saw it splash back under your bully’s shoe as he further destroyed it. Smushing it made it so it was now muddy and soaked.

You didn’t want to cry, you sat down trying your best to keep it in. Your throat burned as you felt a lump that was developing through your throat.

Please don’t cry right now please don’t please please please

Tears forced themselves out of your eyes, it stung and your face reddened. You were embarrassed but you couldn’t help it. You were upset and sad about the book.

The reason of your tears was a little stunned that you were crying. The balls of your palms were in your eyes as you tried to cover them. Tears ran down your face to your cheeks and your pants. He didn’t think you would actually cry? You never cried whenever he bullied you, so why now?

“Ah-.. why are you crying..?” He was a little awkward. He didn’t know you were going to be like that.

You didn’t say anything but just let out a sob. You just sat there.. and sobbed.

“H-hey! I’m sorry just stop crying! Look I’ll pay for your book. I didn’t realize it was so important!” He quickly said. His hands waved in the air in a flustered manner. He wanted you to stop crying.

Once he realized that you were still crying he picked up your book and swiped off excess muddy water as much as he could. He tried smiling as he handed it to you.

You stared at the book and took it in your hands. Still upset a few more tears raced down as you sniffled.

“I’ll pay for it I swear! Just stop crying, okay?” He said after noticing your wavering expression. He was still shocked that you were even crying over a book. Not all the insults he threw at you, not the intense bullying he did, just a book? You were so weird..

“Okay..” All you could say was okay. You didn’t want to speak further, your hands clenched around the book as you left as quickly as you could. He tried chasing after you, not thinking you would leave so quickly.

“Hey! Hey wait up!” He grabbed your shoulder after rather effortlessly catching up to you.

You looked up at him, eyelashes wet from salty tears, slightly red eyes as well. Your face obviously showed signs of freshly recent sobbing that he has just seen. His heart actually ached seeing you like that. Yeah, of course, he would see your irritated and defeated face when he bullied you but not this one.

“Let me buy it right now, okay? And then I’ll buy you something from lunch? Does that sound good?” He spoke in a sickly sweet tone as if you were an upset kid. It weirded you out that he was trying to act nice now.

“m’ fine, just go away please..!” You kept marching on while this so called ideal of a man kept following you.

“Cmon, I’m trying to be nice!” He insisted.

“I don’t care! You’re being fucking weird go away!!” You ran off finally speaking some of your mind. This time you weren’t chased by an athletic guy that you probably shouldn’t have been running from in the first place.

The next few days were rather quiet. No tall intimidating guy that would bully you. Just your regular silence that you didn’t know you would miss so much before he showed up in your life.

That’s until he started bugging you again. Trying to give you little trinkets and gifts. What was he aiming to get? Your gratitude?

You were sat again in the garden area, despite knowing he discovered your spot.

He walked in and you both immediately met eyes. You quickly tried getting up before he told you to sit down and sat down next to you.

“Listen I’m sorry, I feel bad for bullying you.”

“Why are you apologizing now..?” You were so genuinely confused.

“I don’t know myself, I just didn’t feel good after seeing you cry. It made me feel weird, I didn’t like it.”

“So this is just because you’re guilty?” You stared at him blankly with a disgusted look on your face. One you couldn’t hide even if you tried.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Just let me buy you stuff so it’s not so awkward!” He sighed.

“You never even let me buy that book for you, so we’re going to go get it now!” He looked at you and grabbed your hand, leading you to the library that you were so fond of.

“I don’t want to go with you! I forgive you, just stop bothering me” You whined about having to go spend time with him.

“I’m buying this book for you, I don’t care what you say”

“You’re so annoying!”

These events were probably the ones that led up to that same jock following you all the time like a puppy. He was now your friend unfortunately, he was much nicer than before and properly apologized once you let him.

He treated you fairly, not mocking or bullying you anymore. He treated you way better it was a little unsettling. You just assumed after him seeing you cry that was him drawing the line. Which was a really strange place to draw the line.

He would buy you gifts as soon as you said you were interested in something, he would ward off any potential friends predators by getting naturally touchy with you, basically becoming your body guard.

He still kept up his daily stalking, sometimes being able to come over if he begged enough.

What a weirdo!

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #gn reader #bullying #yandere bully #yanderebullytofriend #bullytofriend #enemies to friends trope #maybe lovers #male yandere #stalking #poorbookbeingdestoyed #gender neutral reader #maybe an oc #yandere jock #college jock #ethanmyoc

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prokopetz · 29 days

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Humanoid robot with "FAKE GAMER GIRL" stencilled on its chestplate and no other obviously gendered features.

#concepts #media #tropes #robots #gender #memes

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staliaqueen · 1 month

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Mal's Avatar: The Last Airbender rewatch: The Cave of Two Lovers 2.02

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atopvisenyashill · 5 months

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i was thinking more about characters Performing Gender, but not necessarily Transgressing Gender. I wound up focusing on Ned and Sansa bc I feel like I understand them the most but-

Sansa as a hostage is imo the most obvious (bc it’s so well done) moment of someone clearly Performing Gender but not being transgressive in that performance. Which isn’t to say it’s not a complicated performance; it’s a fine line Sansa walks between weaponizing her gender to protect herself without seeming too fake. She’s trying to placate the Lannisters by playing the perfect, dedicated, air headed betrothed because it’s the only defense she has - if she outwardly rebels, she will be punished in a likely violent and/or sexual way (which isn’t even conjecture - when she says “or maybe he’ll give me yours” Joffrey has her struck with an armored hand). She’s not quite successful in being convincing but that’s because it’s a rather extreme situation; despite no one believing her, she does make herself seem meek and stupid enough that no one suspects she’s plotting to escape with Dontos until she’s well away from KL. The fact that she even has Dontos to confide in is because of Sansa’s relationship with gender! When she saves him, she covers her rebellious slip by playing up Joffrey’s intelligence & his role as King; she reaches for “tools” of her gender AND of ~proper manhood~ to save a life and herself from another beating. Her retreats into the godswood and silence are very much Sansa attempting to recharge from these draining interactions, the same way a knight would need to stop and eat and rest after a fight. She is fighting, constantly, by forcing herself to stay within the narrow confines of a specific type of gender performance as a way of shielding herself from harm.

Ned yelling at Cat is another big one, and I’ve seen the scene referred to as Ned using his patriarchal power to scare Cat, which is a great description. It feels like a Performance because Ned is putting on this terrifying Lord Stark mask in an attempt to get Catelyn to stop asking about Jon (and Lyanna). This is not how he usually acts with those he loves! When Ned is with His People, he is welcoming of questions, curiosity, emotion, even transgressive thought (to a point! the idea that Ned is a feminist because he lets Arya learn to fight is Not accurate but you can’t deny he allows significantly more flexibility wrt gender expression than most of the fathers we meet in this series. the bar is in hell tho). Yet when Cat asks him about Jon’s mother, Ned scares her so well she stops asking & still remembers the moment bitterly over a decade later. And if that snippet we see through Bran’s eyes of Ned praying that Cat will forgive him does come after she asks (like it’s suspected), it’s clear not only that this is a performance he’s putting on & weaponizing against Cat, it’s one he does not like using as a weapon against someone he is close to. After using the power his gender gives him to cause harm, he retreats to the godswood and silence to pray and rest, much like Sansa. A spiritual cleanse, the way a soldier may pray after battle, to reset and reconnect Being A Proper Man to Being A Kind Man.

I think there’s something interesting in that two of the characters most widely defined by how well they adhere to Westerosi gender norms both dislike feeling like they had to weaponize their gender. They are exhausted by the performance, because it’s a performance. This isn’t Sansa getting excited over tourneys, or Ned teaching his sons to fight; it’s toxic masculinity, it’s structural misogyny. It’s something they’re good at, excel at, and connected to something they enjoy but when it’s paired with violence, whether done by Ned or done to Sansa, it crosses over in their minds from an innate part of themselves (The Gender) to a performance necessary due to survival (The Gender Role). And that after these performances, both retreat to nature & god as a way of resting and cleansing from the experience.

#valyrianscrolls #ned stark #sansa stark #getting on my soap box #there’s something here too about romanticism. like shelley and coleridge and whitman. the need to return to nature to undo society’s harm.#especially with the way various romance movements and romantic tropes are played with by their characters.#i can’t even remember who said it which just shows u how shitty an english major i am aksjd but about how.#like society is necessary but just as necessary is the ability to escape into nature. i *think* it was coleridge i’m probably wrong.#the gender war makes corpses of us all #gender politics in asoiaf #obviously you can point to several moments for both of them. sansa calling petyr father. ned’s relationship with theon. wherein they both #are clearly performing something for an audience.#there’s like 12 other branches of this in my head. jaime’s romanticism. being knighted bloody & the sacrilegious nature of the sept sex.#and his inability to escape his gender performance the way ned & sansa do. ned being willing to cry in front of others but robb only ever #crying in the dark with his baby brother after he loses ned. cat’s tower stuff & finding solace in sewing.#i’m gonna try to write up something about loras & renly here too. tomorrow.#also i wrote this at the train station after work so if there’s errors or it makes no sense just pretend u never saw it skskdj

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