#a ​very nice traumatizing memory i look back on with fondness

[abyssruler]

DOTTORE REQUEST TIME!!!!!!

i may be projecting a bit here but what abt….. a reader who is ill but has an intense phobia of anything medical related, sort of like a hurt/comfort situation? i am physically licking your blog rn. 🕺

an apple a day

dottore x gn!reader

a sick person with intense fear of anything medical related and a doctor with a bit too much homicidal tendencies are locked in a room together. it goes about as well as you would expect — which is to say, not at all. exceptions can be made, however, such as when the sick person is the homicidal doctor’s significant other.

fluff(?), soft dottore, mentioned death and unethical methods (among other stuff) but this is a dottore fic it’s practically a staple

anon, i’m sorry, i know you said hurt/comfort but i am physically unable to write dottore in any genre other than crack, comedy, dark, or spicy stuff. i did try my best tho!

He doesn’t like it when you rebel against him, even less when you get sick. It’s hard to decipher the expression he has on at the moment, but you’ll settle for exasperated.

“I don’t want it!” you yell, cowering in the corner of your bed and raising the blanket up to your mouth.

Dottore stands beside your bed with a pill and a glass of water in both hands. He’s been at it for hours, trying to convince you to drink the medicine he personally made to suit your tastes after you said you didn’t like how bitter medicine always tasted.

“It’s either this or an injection. My patience is running thin, pet.” His voice held the promise of being true to his words. No matter how much it should make you see sense, all you could think about was how that pill would get stuck in your throat and then you’d be subjected to the awful and bitter aftertaste of it, even though he already said it shouldn’t taste that bad.

A shiver runs through you, feeling cold even with two layers of blankets settled on top of you. Your head feels like it’s about to explode, your nose stuffed and throat dry. You know you should just suck it up and drink the pill, but even the thought of doing so makes anxiety creep to your chest. It’s irrational and stupid, Dottore said as much, and he’s right, but as much as you want to be able to just get on with it so you can finally get some much needed sleep, you just can’t. You physically can’t. It feels like your insides are going to twist itself every time you imagine going through with it.

“Or would you prefer one of my segments do this in my place?” He asks, threatens, more like. He knows how rough his younger selves are compared to him, knows that you realize exactly what having them here in his stead would mean. The younger ones would give you a warning just to be nice, a sentiment they don’t offer anyone else, before pinning you down the bed and plunging a needle through your skin to get it over with. Perhaps the older ones would be more gentle with you considering how you feel about it all, but they’re still far less patient than Dottore himself.

You groan in displeasure, feeling stubborn tears well in your eyes at how unfair he’s being. Throwing your blanket over your head, you close your eyes and try and blink the tears away, sniffling as your nose became more runny than it did before. Hiding yourself under the blankets isn’t going to solve anything — it certainly won’t instantly heal your sickness — but it does show how displeased you are with him.

Dottore hums at your behavior. You’re lucky he treasures you as much as he does, else you would have ended up as extra parts in a machine. Anyone else who dared to treat him like this would have met a slow, painful death, and that’s only if he decides they should be granted the luxury of it.

The side of your bed dips with the weight of another person. “What will I have to do to get you to drink your medicine, hm?”

You peek your head from beneath the covers, finding him staring at you, the impatience gone from his eyes. You purse your lips, “I don’t want the pill.”

“And what it is that you want?”

You startle at the question. Thinking for a moment, you recall a memory from your childhood, back in the days when all they had you drink for medicine was—

“Syrup,” you say, blinking up at him almost hopefully. “Something easy to swallow and doesn’t taste bad.”

He reaches a hand to idly twirl a strand of your hair in his finger. “Any other requests?”

“Um, raspberry flavored maybe?”

“Shall I add any sedatives?”

You glare, narrowing your eyes at him in warning. “The last time you did that, I was delirious for a week.”

He grins, showcasing rows of sharp teeth and sounding utterly unapologetic as he says, “Apologies.”

“I mean it. Don’t add anything suspicious to it, okay?” You grab his hand, squeezing it threateningly despite the state you’re in. He gazes down at you with amusement.

“Of course, whatever my pet wants.”

“And stop calling me your pet, people will think it’s some weird kink.”

Dottore’s lips twist, an almost teasing lilt to it — or as teasing as he can be. “Isn’t it, though?”

“I’m gonna blow my nose on you.”

He laughs.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For the Hulk vs. Wolverine/Wolverine and the X-Men platonic yandere au, imagine a Reader who was either being spied on by Weapon X, or who somehow just kept following them from time to time, maybe foiling their plans (and trying to keep the poor traumatized *ssholes alive)... H*ck, maybe Reader was someone who was a potential candidate for the program...

Reader just ends up stuck with them somehow, keeps stopping them from dying or being killed off, and is at first hated or seen as weak... Except Reader still does them solids and favors without asking for anything in return or expecting anything, which leads to the growth of some... softer... feelings of the mutants for once. Because that little idiot who keeps being nice, even if they're hurt for it, is THEIR sweet little idiot or friend or pup or whatever. So they obviously should be allowed to stay...

It comes to a head when Reader actually tries to leave, be it move on to other things or somehwefe new, or abandon the group if they were part of the program, leading to mixed emotions and reactions...

🧡🦡Logan would want Reader to leave, h*ck, he's probably setting something up so they can leave amd slip away without anyone catching them. If he can, he'd leave with them... This helps activate his dad instincts, and whether he remembers this or not, he does remember Reader's scent, and that he sees them as someone to protect...

🦁🦷Sabretooth hates the idea of Reader leaving, having a soft spot for them and Logan, but would rather have them with him, make them stronger, get them to stay and not even think of leaving the program him! Would hunt them down and try try force them to stay, would even make them forget certai things if he could.

🎭💙Mystique, if she was still there at that point in time, would realize she wants Reader someone safe, where they can have a life, be innocent or at least free, and tries to help them, even if it's only in small ways. Would toss someone off a cliff for getting in Reader's way of escaping (so, the majority of everyone-)

❤🐼Deadpool would find the idea funny. Leave them? After everything? Quite the kidder, eh, kiddo? Well... that joke wasn't very funny, was it? He's against it, but treats it like a game. He won't stop Reader from trying... but he will chase them and give them a hard time, eventually dragging them back, because, look, hey, they're his buddy~! And buddies don't leave buddies behind! Reader put so much effort into them already, so why give in now?

⚡💛Maverick, if he is there at that point in time, wants what he thinks is best for Reader (his small memories/dad instincts popping up). He thinks they're safe wherever he is, so if he's with Weapon X, then Reader will join them, no matter how much of a tantrum them throw. He understands it's not... soft, being what they are or doing what they do, but he can keep them safe. The rest of the mutants? The people they all hint for a living? They can't. So it's best Reader gives in and joins them and makes it easier on themself, or they'll have to use discipline, and no one wants that...

🔪🗡Lady Deathstrike is probably fond of Reader, especially if they were kind to her or said she was beautiful or right about something. She doesn't care much if they stay or if they go, but she wants to know where they are, who they're with, and wants updates on everything they do. She's controlling, wanting a perfect version of them...

🩸🐙Omega Red would probably not care much either way. If he's soft for Reader, they were likely treating him like a person, someone who bleeds and can hurt and who needs care. Would agree Reader should stay with them, but wouldn't want to break them too much... If he thought they'd be killed, I will say he would let them go. Whatever chance guarantees their survival is what he chooses in the end...

🦡💛 If Laura/X-23 is around (depends on when this takes place), she'd be younger, so she views Reader as the closest she has to a sibling or friend. Wants them, because they're comforting and nice and sneak her treats, but doesn't understand yet that if they stayed or joined them, they'd be broken the way she and the others are... If Reader did leave, they left Laura a few gifts, mainly anything Reader had that Laura liked, so she'd have some form of comfort after Reader was gone...

No matter what, they're all somehow attached, whether they like it or not, and Reader attempting to leave them would likely crack the fragile peace they made... And if Reader did manage to escape... they're going to have to watch their back for a very long time...

(Imagine this if you want for X-Men Evolution! I'm just trying out this other X-Mem series and seeing if I like it! Enjoy this honey fresh from the comb!💛🧡🐝🍯🧪)

[ancientgreekyuri]

Today marks three years of Dianthus existing! I made my first concept sketches for her on 11/20/23 💖 this also means it's been three years of Diathesterius! I sometimes use the date I uploaded Dia to toyhouse, the 21st, as the anniversary date just in case I'm late... but I managed to finish colouring this <3 I had actually wanted to do something for this earlier in the month, I even made some very elaborate plans for it... but it ended up not happening! Which is okay 💞 but I still wanted to draw a little wedding piece... so I did! I'll make something fancier when I have more time later on... 💝 I used my own handwriting here for authenticity, but at some point... I'd like to be able to rewrite in Greek for More authenticity <3 Uncropped version (and long rambling post) under the cut 💕 I get a little Vulnerable so don't read it if you're gonna be mean or else I'll like Get You or something

I've made posts in the past talking about why Theseus and Asterius mean so much to me, but I don't think I've made one on why Dianthus herself means so much to me.. so for her own third year anniversary, I'll do that here! before I begin...! the fruit in dia's hair here are from the strawberry tree, arbutus unedo. I associate the tree and its fruit with Theseus but... it's honestly been so long, I don't remember exactly why! Just that, for some reason, I imagine thathis childhood home had a tree of these fruit blossoming just outside his mother's room, and thus he has fond memories of it. Lady Dianthus... she who loves all things pink, actively hates celery, and still has a job at the library despite being so fogetful and clumsy... she who met Theseus and immediately became obsessed because it was the first interesting thing to happen to her- not a parent or someone she's close to, but herself! her first time feeling as if she had a true purpose. She who didn't understand Theseus' obsession with Asterius until meeting he Minotaur, and promptly decided "he's not scary? he's not scary at all! he's just a cow!" I've made sona and the likes before Dia of course, but she was the first in a long time who was truly meant to resemble me in all ways (except for the setting, of course...). I made her design simple so I would easily be able to redraw her, and gave her one of my favourite palettes pink and green and cream and gold. At first I really didn't expect to get that attached to her... I went months without drawing her after her initial creation. but the more I drew her the more I realized how much fun I was having with her...! It's funny looking back on it... originally I had a much more comedic idea for her story, and di not intend to ship her with Theseus in any serious way. It was going to be a completely one-sided love (with Dianthus taking the role of "crazed fangirl" - which she still is, in a way). I'm sure it isn't a surprise but it didn't take me long at all to start drawing ship art of them, creating artworks and writing of Theseus and Asterius was a self indulgent joy for me, so why not selfship art too? I ended up invested, of course. Using Dia I put a lot of my own feelings into a story; a sense of otherness, her loneliness, feeling lost and out of place. I had removed it later on because I felt uneasy with how vulnerable it was, but at one put I had placed one of the most traumatic events of my life into Dia's story- sometimes I think about adding it back, because I know giving her an oppurtunity to open up about it with her beloveds would be something beneficial to Me irl(!). But that's besides the point here... she's a stubborn girl, sweet but arrogant is my usual go-to descriptor for her; that's how I think of myself too, just based on what I've been told (I have a hard time thinking of myself as nice, though others always say so to me...). That may be part of why I tend to look for those features in (fictional!) lovers... something feels good to me about being able to butt heads due to this shared traits, but still coming together and making amends despite it. I do think it's a little funny that the sonas I've gotten the most attached to so far- Dianthus, and now Nerine- have some sort of theme of death with them. Dianthus is literally a ghost, and Nerine is metaphorically one (and maybe liteally, if I ever make up my mind...). Maybe that's just fitting for me, though... hmm... I'm not sure what else I want to say here... I think of Dianthus as "Me but in Hades Game / Ancient Greek context." Of course some events that happen in her life didn't happen to me, or, sometimes, I dramatize it (Dia's mother leaving her and her father to become the wife of a god was inspired by the fact that for the first few yers of my life, my parents were separated... but they always had a positive relationship with one another! Unlike Dia's parents), but she's become a big par

t of me all the same. Just as I am happy and hoping to spend many more years with Theseus and Asterius, I hope to spend many more years with her as well. i think that's all I'll write for now <3 if you read this thank you for being curious enough about me to be interested in all this 😭

btw, here's the first ever post of her... (yes thats my priv </3 i briefly unlocked it to search for this... don't try and follow me over there though it's crazy over there)

[autistic-sidestep]

lying down thinking very hard abt sidestep trying ortega's cooking for the first time, canonically them liking anything ortega makes, that ortega learnt from tia elena that feeding people is the best way to befriend people and that SO many of their fond memories are food-related. (bumped into overdrive with a sugar vice step!) the necessity of needing to eat a lot to maintain their telepathy helps, ofc!

#Sugar—my brain needs the energy.     One drawback of your telepathic powers is that you need a lot of carbohydrates, and sugar is the easiest way to get them. […] the syrupy drinks you were used to back when [you were at the Farm]…

even chen's memory of a happy sidestep involves food

[non(knowssteelsuspects) tacticianstep] [i]So excited about a milkshake. Laughing with Anathema. The almost childish glee with which ${che} delighted in normalcy. In junk food and music. In movies.[/i]

which is why he stocks the fridge for an ally/friendly step

*label steelfridge (steelshelf true) "Raiding the fridge again?" Steel's voice is too soft for being inside the HQ. […] "Yeah, I'm a regular criminal," you joke, not looking back. Your eyes catch that damn shelf again, with your name clearly on it. There are some beers at the back, as well as assorted snacks. All things you've stolen in the past.

this can even be triggered by marcia from the business base

*label businessstart Sometimes, you pretend that this is what ordinary life must be like. Having a job. A daily routine. Surrounded by normal people, thinking unimportant thoughts. It's a nice enough fantasy, easy to indulge in when you sit sharing a meal with Marcia. She's brought a chili today, not as spicy as you're used to, but for a moment, you're having a flashback to another table, to another shared meal. Familiar laughter. A sense of belonging. You shut your eyes hard, and when you open them, it's Marcia's face you see and not Tía Ortega's. "Was it too hot?" Marcia looks concerned, and you realize your eyes have been tearing up. "I'm fine," you lie, hiding your face as you bite down on a piece of bread. "Thanks for sharing." "A meal is meant to be shared," she says, triggering more memories you don't want.

leading onto comforting spaces and memories with elena and ortega, it's definitely true ortega's strongly associated with food - all their meetups tend to revolve around meals

As do snacks. Is that part of what ${he} learned from ${his} mother? Feed people to make them comfortable, and you suppose the alcohol is mostly for ${him}self. (vice = "sugar") $!{he} always lets you steal ${his} snacks.

"Ooh, they have pancakes." "Pancakes." You shake your head. (*if vice = "sugar") Old memories. You used to eat those together.

What else did you have that wouldn't bring back traumatic memories? Clubs without Anathema, karaoke without Sunstream coming to life on the stage? Dinners with Tía Elena?

(retri epilogue, ortega pov)

Food. When in doubt, always go for food. $!{he} learned that trick at a young age, and it has never steered ${him} wrong.

memorial park meetup

[non alcoholic vice step] "You don't have to talk," ${he} assures you. "But what do you say we get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat?" "Coffee…" You almost laugh, because that's how people work, isn't it? When something uncomfortable happens, make sure to eat or drink something. It will make things better.

hoots

Of course ${he}'d pick a spot like this, [if see_shrink] where ${he} knows you would feel safe, especially after what you just went through. [else] the site of many of your escapades. Familiar. Safe.

"You know what Mamá would have said…." $!{he} wags ${his} finger in the air with a serious look on ${his} face. "If it tastes bad, it's good for you." Your voice is a fair approximation of Tía Elena's; you've heard that sentence often enough. For some reason, she had always been very concerned for your health. Intent on not letting you go hungry.

and ofc, the apartment scene

  "I'd like that," you admit. It sounds good; a little privacy is what you need right now. "Been a while since I ate something homemade."     "I think I still remember your favorites," ${he} says with a chuckle. "Wow. It's been ages since we did this."     "Yeah," you look away to hide your smile. "I miss it."     "So do I." For a moment, you think ${he}'s going to say something else, but ${he} doesn't.     "I like your food," you finally admit, a little lower than needed, because you're not sure how ${he} will react.

*if ((wound = "a severely bitten lower lip") or (wound = "a severely bitten lower lip, and a sore shoulder"))   "Are you sure you're going to be okay eating with that lip?" $!{he} touches ${his} own in sympathy.   "I'm not going to starve," you say with a careful smile. "Just don't make it too spicy."   "But I like spice…," ${he} complains.   "Sucks to be you then."   [*if ortega_friendship >= 75] Your smile softens somewhat. "You can always add it last, just to your portion."

"Any requests?" $!{his} voice is light and airy, clearly attempting to strike a lighter mood. "I like everything you make," you say, with a nonchalant shrug. [...]

It feels surprisingly normal sitting in Ortega's kitchen, one leg pulled up on your chair, watching ${him} cook. You helped cut the vegetables, but once the preparations were done, the stove was all [hers/his]. A familiar routine. It used to be what you did back in the day, maybe not every week, but when you had the time. The smell brings back fond memories [...]

"It's been a long time since we did this." Ortega again, breaking the silence that had been building, putting food on your plates. "Yeah," you admit, wishing it didn't smell so good, wishing the smell didn't take you back. […] "Do you like it?" "You're a good cook but such a sucker for compliments," you say, shoving in another mouthful. "I like it." […] You don't know what to feel as you watch ${him} eat, sharing ${his} table, sharing ${his} food. Sharing ${his} home. $!{his} friendship. $!{his} heart.

epilogue (recovering in chen's apartment + dating ortega)

 "Your kitchen really sucks." Not exactly the smartest thing to say, but ${he}'s never been that good with words when ${he}'s stressed. "You know that, right?"   "I know," Wei sighs, with the long-suffering look he has perfected over the years. "And you know it too. You say it every time you cook here."   "$!{he} cooks here?" [...]   "Occasionally." Wei sits down at last, giving Spoon a scratch before the dog pads back to ${name}'s side. "When ${he} feels I've been eating too badly."   "I know your stomach doesn't always agree with food, but occasionally you just need some homemade caldillo." ${ortega_name} turns back to the stove, glad for the opportunity to busy ${his} hands. The closest thing ${he} can get to meditation, that, and the bike. [...] And everything starts with a delicious dinner. Even if ${he} has to be careful with the chili.   $!{he}'s made worse sacrifices.

of course ortega learned it all from tia.

 "Not Ortega?" Steel sounds surprised, which is annoying. Are you that predictable?     "You know Tía Ortega. Dishes get done in that household." You can't help but smile at the memory. Another life. Another world. Did you use to be happy once?

[...]

Once upon a time, [if ortega_former ally] you were a frequent guest at [Elena's] house // [else] you were close. Back when she lived in the city. Invited into her home, at her dinner table. Hugs. Friendly laughter.

[...]

But it would also mean meeting her again. Stepping back into the past, being soft, loved, cared for, and you…you're not the same. Ortega hasn't told her about you for a reason.

i just.... augHHH. food as love.

[blackjackkent]

Stopped in camp and chatted with everyone while sorting inventory; a few people wanted to talk about the shapeshifter and everyone else just wanted to talk about Halsin and how hot he is. XD

"So Bhaal's Chosen is a doppelganger. I should not be surprised - they have ever been among his favorite servants. Orin is testing you; either she thinks herself a predator, playing with her food... or she fears what you might do. Good."

Hector had a nature check to recall things about doppelgangers but his memory fails him in this particular instance. So instead he just says, "You seem to have experience with doppelgangers."

"Aye - this all begins to ring a little too familiar for my liking. The last time I fought doppelgangers, the Bhaalspawn Sarevok was using them to subvert the city government. Aid his rise to power. But Orin is more predator than politician, I think. She simply wants to make us feel hunted. Isolated. 'Tell the lordling that Orin is watching.' It seems Gortash and Orin have had a little falling out. We should leverage that."

Makes sense - and tracks with how Hector was already interpreting the situation.

And yay earlier game throwback! This is a throwback all the way to BG1 - the doppelgangers in the city and in Candlekeep. A particularly traumatizing experience for Caden but I can't imagine Jaheira looks back on it with any fondness either, even though they won.

-----

"Fucking shapeshifter. She'll try to break our best asset - our trust. Fortunately, she's no match for our second-best asset: me."

Hell yeah. Hector gives her big lovey eyes, obviously. Though secretly I suspect he is worried that his love and trust for her is going to end up used against him at some point in Orin's plans.

-----

"It's not enough we have a gallery of villains to look out for, but now we could be infiltrated by a shapechanger? I can't even tell if any of you are acting strange because you've been replaced or because THIS GROUP IS FULL OF WEIRDOS!!!!!!"

LMAO. Hector gave Astarion this very startled face and I don't blame him; Astarion was REALLY worked up about this. XD He's also not wrong; this group is full of weirdos.

-----

"That foul shapeshifter Orin is like a scavenger beast - probing us for waeknesses. Do not let her shake your resolve."

Hector's resolve has been shaken from the moment he started this mess but he will do his best. <3

-----

"It's about time Halsin actually stepped up and joined us properly. He's certainly been taking up space at camp for long enough."

That seems unnecessarily rude, Shadowheart. :P

-----

"A savvy move, recruiting Halsin to our cause. While I'm adept at most forms of Weave manipulation, druidic magic is not my area of expertise. He will make for a most useful option to have in reserve."

This is somewhat funny because we also have Jaheira, and must be REALLY funny if you are playing a druid yourself. We have no shortage of druidic options.

-----

"Ah - Halsin is such a delight. Woe to the cultist who tangles with that thick hunk of an elf."

XD Please go shoot your shot, Wyll. Hector is breaking both your hearts at this point so maybe you can bond over that.

-----

"Halsin's proved himself a fine ally already. He'll be useful in battle, if those tree-trunk arms are an indication."

[snickers] Very nice arms indeed, Lae'zel, I agree. Unfortunately I think he's another one who will probably try to talk philosophy with you if you try to blow off steam with him.

[9tzuyu]

home

warnings: talks of alcoholism and trauma

note: this is a vent fic coming from personal experience so yeah :p

+ two fics one day? crazyyy

ty moli for proofreading ‹3 no tags because it might be a sensitive topic </3

. . .

you were never fond of parties. they were always too loud, too crowded, too unpredictable – especially when there was a large amount of alcohol involved. it wasn’t so much that people were drinking, but how they began to act after drinking too much.

if it were up to you, you would’ve been locked in your room watching tv for the rest of the night, but tony harassed you all week about coming to the party until you finally agreed.

the music was loud, almost everyone was drunk, and you were far from having any kind of fun. you felt awkward, out of place. so instead of trying to socialize, you found yourself standing at the back of the room with a cup of water in your hands.

memories of your mother drunk and unstable were reeling over and over again in your mind. no matter how much you tried to focus on something else, teenage trauma began to seep through into your thought process.

all of a sudden you remembered how you were forced to be the parent instead of the child, how you had to fend for yourself a great deal of time, the selfishness of your mother every time she chose to drink instead of being sober enough to protect you.

“y/n?” natasha’s voice snapped you from your thoughts and you quickly plastered a smile on your face.

“hello nat.”

“you alright?” she asked curiously.

“yeah, of course i am. i’m at a party hosted by tony stark himself.” natasha giggled, taking a sip of her drink.

“they can be a little much at times.”

you nodded in agreement. the two of you stood in silence before you decided to leave.

“well i’m a little tired, so i’m off to bed. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

it was clear you were lying, but natasha didn’t want to push the matter. so she figured she’d wait up and keep an unknowing eye on you.

“good night y/n.”

. . .

you found yourself surrounded by the crisp new york wind on the roof of the tower. everything felt more at peace in contrast to the party. nothing was too loud, you had a nice view of the city, and you were alone. it almost allowed you to catch your breath.

“you’re going to get sick if you stay out here much longer. it’s cold and you’ve been up here for about twenty minutes now.” natasha’s voice rang through your ears. “i’m okay nat, it’s not too bad.” not a few seconds later you felt a jacket drape over your frame.

“may i sit?” you nodded and watched natasha place herself comfortably by your side. she said nothing, only taking in the new york view herself.

it was comforting, natasha was comforting. you could trust her with anything, no matter how bad it may be. she was like a warm blanket of security.

“she wasn’t bad, you know,” you began. natasha tilted her head. “who?”

“my mom.” there was a pause between your next choice of words. one natasha knew too well. you were debating, debating on whether or not you should continue sharing such a vulnerable piece of your being.

“she was never violent or anything when she was drunk. she never yelled or screamed at me. but she was clumsy, very, very clumsy…” you trailed.

“i feel like i have no reason to complain or call it traumatic because it doesn’t sound traumatic when i say it out loud. people have it so much worse, you know? so why do i feel so horrible about it? i mean, yeah, there were days, weeks, months where i had to take care of her because of how drunk she was, or because she fell and couldn’t get up. and yes, i was a kid, and i know it wasn’t normal, but it could’ve been worse.”

natasha adjusted herself to face you. she cupped your chin in her hands to look into your eyes. “you have every reason to feel the way you do. no kid should ever have to go through that. it doesn’t matter that other people have it worse than that. she was supposed to be the parent, not you. you were a child.”

“i know, but still-”

“don’t do that to yourself,” she cut you off.

you closed your eyes, leaning into her. “i just feel so stupid and normally it doesn’t affect me like this, but the party… being surrounded by so much alcohol and so many people drinking alcohol just reminded me of my mother.”

“it’s not stupid, please don’t let yourself hang onto those kinds of thoughts. besides, what made you go this time? i know you normally don’t attend these kinds of things.”

“tony wouldn’t leave me alone about it all week.”

“well that’s the last time he’ll ever do that.” natasha confirmed, adding a smile to her face as she rubbed your cheek.

“let’s go in and get you all warmed up, okay?”

“mkay.”

you followed natasha all the way up to her room. confused, you stopped in your tracks.

“this isn’t my room?”

“take your pick, your room or my room. either way i’m not leaving you alone tonight.” your face softened before you felt a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“your room please.”

natasha smirked as she opened her door. “any particular reason?”

“i like the way you smell.”

“oh?” she raised her eyebrow.

“sorry, i know that sounds weird-”

“no, it sounds adorable.” natasha corrected, dragging you into her room. “you can change into these, don’t worry about returning them.”

“thank you nat.”

. .

you spent the rest of the night with your head on natasha’s chest, her arms wrapped around your frame. the memories of your mother were put to rest for the remainder of the night. you chose to focus on natasha and how beautiful she looked in the moonlight.

and then you had the realization that she was your home.

[thefanficmonster]

Inky Memories

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Drug Use (Past), Domestic Violence (Past), Shoplifting (Past)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Tattoos can reveal a lot about a person. What will Y/N’s tattoos, which she has kept hidden for so long, reveal to Corpse? Will it change anything between them?

Requested by Anon. If you’re reading this you know who you are 😊 Thank you for the request, hope you like what I did with it. Sorry if I made it too angsty! And my most sincere apologies for publishing it so late. Enjoy XOXO ❤

“Guys, come on now! I’m not hiding anything!“ I laugh, looking up from the comments to the camera, “You know how much I hate being embarrassed! Believe me when I say these tattoos are EMBERRASSING. I got them while I was either drunk or in my emo phase and I’m not too proud of them.“

I’m currently doing an Instagram live Q&A session that I scheduled last week. I do one every month and it’s my favorite way of connecting with my audience. An hour of chill lo-fi and questions and answers. I get really excited every time I schedule the session. My fans are such amazing people and they are all so supportive, funny, intelligent...I could go on and on about their positive qualities. One thing I’m not too fond of is their persistent curiosity. Here’s why.

Yesterday, while streaming, I got an unexpected pain in my forearm. Instinctively, I lifted my shirt sleeve to see what was wrong, flashing a few tattoos at my viewers in the process. I’ve never mentioned my tattoos to my audience, not even my boyfriend, actually, so to have this much attention on them so suddenly makes me want to hide them even more. People started commenting on them during the stream and I tried to dodge the majority of the questions, but I knew they would be inevitable during the Q&A. If the session hadn’t been scheduled for like a week at that point I maybe would’ve postponed it until the dust settled. 

“I have several. Not only on my arm.“ I only answer these vague questions. I avoid the ones that are asking details like what is depicted with the tattoos and what’s their meaning, bla, bla, bla.

Here’s the thing. I got my first tattoo when I was fifteen at this shady alley tattoo shop and I’ve been obsessed with tattoos since. I made a deal with myself to get at least one every year.

Needless to say, I’m twenty years old and have almost the same number of tattoos. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of them. And I lied when I said they were embarrassing. I am quite happy with them, the way they look, at least. Each of them represent something different. Unfortunately, they are representative of some dark and depressing times. Times I want only the fewest of few people to know about.

“Yes, he’s here. You can’t see him, but he’s waving. He says hi.“ Corpse is the perfect distraction. My viewers love him just as much - maybe more - as they love me. 

He knows how easily I get overwhelmed by the attention and pressure of thousands of eyes on me and whenever I’m having a hard time while streaming all he has to do is walk in my recording room and just say the most random thing. Recently, his go-to phrase has been ‘Chicken wing’ and it always cracks up both me and my viewers.

Speaking of Corpse, him and I have been dating for over a year now. We moved in together a month or two before quarantine was officially a thing so we have been together 24/7. It’s scary how many things you can pick up on when you spend so much time with someone. That, of course, means he has noticed some of my tattoos. He has asked me about them, like why I cover them up and why am I so secretive about them and I’ve always been vague and indirect with my answers. He’s the sweetest and most patient person ever, so he has never pressed me with the questions, but I’m still hoping to gain the courage to reveal them to him someday.

“Thanks for tuning in, guys! See you tomorrow for my regular stream and next month for a chill hang out like this one. Love you, stay safe. Mwah!“ And with that the live video is done and I can finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Now we can order dinner“ I smile at Corpse who is chilling on the couch in my recording room. He looks up from his phone screen, returning my smile. “Were you recording a Behind The Scenes again?“

He does that often, not only with my Instagram lives but sometimes my streams as well. That’s actually how we revealed our relationship to our fanbases. 

He nods, “Yeah.” He pauses for a second, switching to a sitting position with his feet touching the floor. We’re almost at eye-level now. His arms snake around my waist as he pulls me closer towards him. I take the hint and settle in his lap, my legs on either side of him. “I admire how well you handled the pressure back there. I know how you feel about that topic.”

The small bit of anxiety that has started spreading throughout my chest disappears. He has that calming effect on me. Like my own personal safety blanket that’s with me at all times. “I wouldn’t have handled it so well if you weren’t here with me.” I say as I run a hand through his hair, moving a few stray curls away from his gorgeous eyes.

He shakes his head, making the strands fall back over his eyes, “It has nothing to do with me, Y/N. You are simply an amazing person, that’s all.“ His cold hand cups my burning red cheek, leaning my head down so our foreheads are touching. “Nothing could change my mind about it.“

That sentence causes a small pang in my chest. I feel like a manipulator. I’ve led this man to fall in love with me without knowing the past versions. I realize it’s incredibly manipulative of me to reveal my dark aspects only after we’re head over heels for one another, but I can live with it. If it were up to me, he’d never have to know. He would never have to find out that I’m not the amazing person he thinks I am. I have been broken countless times before and all my pieces are just glued in place. Not all of them are where they’re supposed to be and some of them are on the verge of breaking off. Just like a mirror. You can put all the pieces together but not only will you see the cracks, the shards can fall at any moment. 

My tattoos are to me as the cracks are to the mirror - evidence of my fragility and the many falls and breaks I’ve had throughout my life.

“Are you sure about that?“ I whisper, trying my hardest to engrave every detail of this moment in my mind because, after what I’m about to do, I’m afraid we might never be like this again.

The softness of his curls, his scent, his warmth, the way he makes me feel. I can hardly believe I’m risking losing all of that, but I owe him the truth.

I feel him nod against my forehead. I tense up and pull away so I can look him in the eyes. It’s hard for me to maintain eye contact especially when I’m fighting back tears. I can’t even say I’m about to lose him. I’m about to let him go. It’s up to him if he stays or decides that he deserves better.

No backing out, Y/N.

I grab the hem of my sweater and lift it up, revealing the many ink drawings on my skin. I discard the sweater on the floor, leaving me in only my bra meaning all my tattoos are on display. Not exactly all, I have some on my legs as well, but these are some of the most important ones. The ones which reveal most about who I used to be.

Corpse takes my hands, tilting my arms so he can take a better look at the tattoos that go from my wrists to the bend of my arm. His thumbs caress the tattoo on each of my wrists. “This one... “ I nod to my left wrist, “I got on my friend’s birthday. We both did. They’re matching.“ The tattoo depicts a heart with a keyhole. “She got the key.“

“I thought I had the key.“ He says, smirking up at me.

“You do now.“ I feel the pang again but this time it doesn’t go away. It’s a constant pain - a constant fear. Being scared of something inevitable is the most nerve-wracking feeling. It makes you feel small, helpless, like you’re standing aside watching your life be controlled by a force you can’t see.

Before he can break me even more, I go on, nodding to my upper arm, a little below my shoulder where there’s a rope tattoo that bends around my arm, its ends connecting in a bow, “I got this one after my shoulder healed.”

His brows furrow in concern as he tilts my head for me to look at him, “Healed from what?”

Here we go. Let the cat out of the bag. “Um....well...” I instinctively reach up to touch my shoulder, running my fingertips over the inked rope. “My dad wasn’t a very nice guy.”

I can pinpoint the second his heart breaks. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, I know it will kill me, so I just continue, moving onto the one on my other wrist where the word ‘Shadow’ is written in cursive writing, “This was my nickname in my friend group. I was the only one to never get caught shoplifting.”

The tears are gonna start rolling at any moment so I deliver the final blow, moving onto the most traumatic event, aka the tattoo on my collarbone of a heartbeat turning into a dead line and kicking up again, “This one I got after I woke up from my almost overdose.”

As if on cue, a tear falls from my eye onto his hand that’s still holding mine. My voice remains still, to my surprise, but I know it won’t be long before it too gives and breaks. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see any sympathy or that look like he doesn’t recognize me. I feel like I’ve let both myself and him down.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?“ he asks me in a whisper. He sounds almost hurt. “You know you can tell me anything.“

I see another tear fall, “I know. I just...didn’t want you to think any less of me.“

Again, he lifts my head so he can look me straight in the eyes. He knows how much I struggle with eye contact and how much I hate crying in front of people, he knows how vulnerable I feel when someone’s looking me in the eyes or when someone sees me cry. He also knows that he’s the only exception to that rule. He knows I never feel out of place when he’s around. 

“Think less of you? Babe, you’re a fighter like no other. You picked you life back up. You did all that on your own. You’re a warrior, Y/N.“

I smile through the tears which are now ones of joy instead of fear and dread. “I was a dumb teenager, Corpse. I had no idea what I was doing. I just wanted to get a thrill and feel something other than pain. I know I went about it the wrong way but...” he gives my hand an encouraging squeeze, “And you’re wrong, I didn’t do it all on my own.” I release his hand so I can cup his cheek. His hand comes up to cover mine as I swipe my thumb on his cheekbone, “I met you a month after I left the hospital. The rest you know. I moved to a less druggie populated part of town and I repaired my relationship with my aunt. All that time, I was balancing between the need to relapse and the will to stay alive. After I met you, that balancing act was no longer a balancing act at all. I didn’t even think about my past anymore. I was more focused on what I could be. On what I have to be to deserve to have you by my side.” 

“You will always have me on your side, Y/N. Even when you don’t want or need me there.“ With both his hands holding mine he leans forward, connecting our lips. It’s a short kiss laced with nothing but love and adoration. 

As we lay on the couch, him asking about each individual tattoo I didn’t get to tell him about, everything just seems a lot easier. Like a big area that was previously dark has suddenly turned into the brightest point of our relationship.

“I need to get that key tattooed. It’s only appropriate.“ He says, his finger tracing the heart on my wrist.

“Or an ownership deal for it. That heart’s yours, you know.“ I laugh, lifting my arm to inspect the oldest painting on my body, “It’s your favorite one?”

“No.” he shakes his head, “This is my favorite one.” he leans down and kisses the heartbeat on my collar bone. “I’m so glad it started beating again.”

“I am too.“

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus

[stellocchia]

I really liked Wilbur's lore stream from yesterday, so you guys are getting a short stream analysis from me

As always dialogue is color-coded: Wilbur, Tubbo, Ranboo

And since I'm the least concise person ever everything is under the cut

The stream is (DSMP LORE) A Year Later

The stream starts with Wilbur singing the L'Manburg anthem to Ranboo. It is interesting to notice that, just like all the streams since he's been back he doesn't start off the stream by addressing chat in any way but already taking with someone in-universe.

"I'm a big big fan of the song (...) (Wilbur notices that Ranboo was muted) so sorry, let's try again: have you heard that song before?" "Yeah I have, I have. I have- I've had a friend that sings it quite a lot" “Good, good, and I was gonna say, it’s obviously based on Hallelujah right? But the thing is, the thing is Ranboo, right? But the thing is- the thing is Ranboo, right? Is that the reason we did it is because Tommy used to sing Hallelujah to the plants" "Oh, to the plants?" "Yeah! In- in the- around the- around the uhm... around the thing! You know the- the caravan? (...) so, my man, Tommy used to sing to the plants to make them grow better and that was the song he used to sing and so I thought what a way to honour Tommy, you know, one of the most- one of the most loyal members or of our fair nation than by naming the song after him, you know? And singing it based on his little- his little Muse. Tommy is a- Tommy is all of our Muse really I'd say"

I cut as much of this quote as I could while still leaving it well understandable and leaving in everything I wanted to talk about, but man is it long... So let's break it down a bit at a time:

1) The friend that Ranboo referenced that sings the anthem a lot is most likely Tubbo considering that they met him later on in this stream while he was singing that very song

2) The memory of the song seems to still be a particularly pleasant one for Wilbur, which probably explains why Ghostbur as well was so fond of it. He speaks about it positively throughout and it generally seems like an overall positive moment of reminiscence, probably because it's a callback to a simpler time when Wilbur too was, you know, happier overall. It's a reminder of a time before the worsening of his spiral.

3) Also interesting that they kept it in canon that Tommy singing to the plants was what inspired the anthem. Especially because I'm not entirely sure if that's the case considering that the actual anthem wasn't written by cc!Wilbur but by a fan upon his request (obviously this is outside the story).

4) Last thing I wanted to mention was Wilbur describing Tommy as a Muse. Muses in mythology are the inspirational goddesses of the arts, music, and science, Tommy aside from the anthem obviously isn't that. But it is interesting that Tommy does take a central role when it comes to motivating people. We could say that Techno's speech on the 16th was inspired by him since it was directed at him. Similarly, Niki and Jack had their arcs revolving around him. Tommy was able to rally the troops with ease multiple times. And Dream's obsession with him itself is the main motivator for, like, 90% of his actions. So, while he may not cover the role of a muse literally it's not a comparison that is too far off...

They headed to the museum afterward and took notice of the Ranboo poster being missing. And then they headed off to L'Manburg (which, by the way, looks amazing, thank you cc!Phil for that one).

"It goes by L'Manhole now apparently" "I- yeah it's kinda- ugh- I'm not a fan. It's kinda rude to L'Manburg's history, you know? It- it's called L'Manburg. It's called L'Manburg. NOT Manberg, not L'Crater or whatever. L'Manhole, I don't care, it's now L'Manburg, it's always L'Manburg, okay?"

It's interesting that not too long ago he was saying that even L'Manburg itself (with an emphasis on the name) wasn't what was actually important, the purpose of it was. He admits later on that he lied in that conversation, but it's impressive how quickly he trusted Ranboo enough to let him see how much he still cared about L'Manburg when he was so intent on lying about it not too long ago.

Wilbur's enthusiasm about seeing the flag is another nice confirmation about him still caring deeply for his old nation.

"Damn, I really went down to bedrock, didn't I? Holy shit I did- I did a number on this place" (I wonder why Ranboo didn't correct him on this, because Ranboo knows that Techno, Phil, and Dream are the ones who actually exploded the country down to bedrock...)

They end up seeing Tubbo on the other side of the crater and head over to him. While they're heading there Tubbo is singing the anthem himself in a very mournful tone.

One interesting thing that I noticed it's that it's Wilbur that heads towards Tubbo's location instead of having Tubbo go to him like he mostly did with Tommy for example. I suppose it could be because Tubbo having been a president himself is in less of a subordinate position to Wilbur than Tommy who's always been a simple soldier.

"It's like looking in a little mirror, look you're wearing my suit still? How long have you been wearing that?" "Oh I just put it on, just for today" (in a similar fashion to Jack bringing out the L'Manburg uniform to reminisce, Tubbo also brought out clothes he strongly attaches the memory of L'Manburg to)

"Ranboo have you met Tubbo?" "Yeah, yeah. I've- I've met him, I mean we've, uhm... we've been around" (Ranboo still minimizing his relationship with Tubbo to Wilbur. Of course, this is because he doesn't trust him but it's interesting that he isn't even honest about that)

After a bit of back and forth, Wilbur starts apologizing to Tubbo. At first, like most other times he's having a serious discussion he puts himself in an elevated position to tower over Tubbo. It's a neat way to show how his own desire for control affects him, having Wilbur literally elevate himself over others when speaking to them. Literally putting Tubbo down in this situation. Which does make the beginning of his apology very obviously feel insincere.

"I'm sorry for making you president specifically before blowing it up and I'm sorry for when I did this *pointing at the crater* and blew all this up and making this whole. I'm sorry that I uh- that I said that you were the president of a crater"

This is that first part of the apology I mentioned. Just to clarify, I don't actually think that it was entirely insincere. It just feels less impactful due to Wilbur putting himself in a position of superiority over Tubbo, especially because it's something we've seen him do before. It's also to be noted that this time, like others before, he seems to be apologizing less out of actual guilt and more out of a desire to earn forgiveness. Which is not a critique by the way. I just feel like that's a misconception Wilbur has, that apologies serve the purpose of confirming to him that he's doing a good job at changing more than to actually make amends for what he's done. The reason why I think that's the case for the beginning part of this apology as well it's because of how fast he went to ask tubbo if he forgave him, which did put a certain level of pressure on Tubbo in this situation.

"I mean it wasn't- this wasn't all you Wilbur" (thank you tubbo for finally dispelling some of those misunderstandings)

"Yeah so me and mainly Ghostbur honestly, like-" "Ghostbur" (some more of Wilbur not being too fond of Ghostbur)

"Right is he [Ghostbur] this obsidian crap then I take it and these- these fucking dumb lanterns up here" (a bit more)

To correct Wilbur's misconceptions Tubbo starts off asking if the other knew Dream, to which Wilbur responds with how much he appreciates Dream and how he's his hero, which makes Tubbo backtrack and blames most of Doomsday on Techno and Phil. Which, as we know, isn't actually accurate and I have a feeling that this misinformation will be harmful later on once Dream is out of prison (though I don't blame Tubbo for backtracking with how enthusiastic Wilbur is, that was the basic conflict-avoidant approach that Tubbo seems to prefer).

"They rained tnt for days" (if this is actually canon then Doomsday was even more of a tragedy than we previously saw it as. It was days filled with fighting and destruction. Then again, Tubbo has misremembered traumatizing events before)

"Techno and Phil, they hated the government. I mean it was partially my fault as well" "But you didn't blow it up" "No I didn't. I would never have wished or anything like this to happen" "So it was just Techno and Phil?" *long pause* "Y-yeees"

Two things to say here:

1) I appreciate someone in canon recognizing that it's not Tubbo's fault for what happened to L'Manburg and blaming the people who actually blew it up, similarly to how I appreciate Wilbur bringing up with Tommy that it was clearly Dream pulling the strings with his exile with Tubbo. It's nice having it stated plainly for people to hear

2) This is the misconception I mentioned. This is most certainly gonna backfire at some point.

After that Wilbur commends Tubbo quite a lot for rebuilding New L'Manburg (once again being dismissive towards Ghostbur) and is clearly enthusiastic about it, even going as far as to say that that mattered more to him than them building him a grave.

"I just, I feel lost without L'Manburg. All my core beliefs, everything died with it" "You feel lost without a nation..." "I have no purpose anymore" "I guess that's where anarchy fails" (I think this may be the first time someone admits it to someone else, even though that lack of purpose and feeling disoriented is very obviously a shared sentiment amongst the ex-citizens)

After that, it's when Wilbur invites Tubbo to join Paradise, the, supposedly burger van with a small house attached to it that wasn't supposed to become a nation. I have a feeling that the proposition coming right after that exchange may imply that Wilbur changed his mind on it. He does purposefully put himself again in an elevated position when making the proposition.

"Would you like to come join me in Paradise? Literally" "Hmmm, I'm not sure Wilbur. I'm not sure I trust you man, I need to- in order to follow someone I need to trust them" "Wait, wait but you- I thought you forgave me! I thought it was, you know it-" "Wilbur I forgive you because I like to hang on to the hope that people can change, but-"

This is what I mean when I say that Wilbur's apologies come with expectations for the person he's apologizing to. By asking Tubbo first if he forgave him when he originally apologized, he already made it harder for Tubbo to refute that. And now we learn that he expected trust to come along with forgiveness. He's not doing this maliciously of course, but he does seem to have some misconceptions on this.

"I know you had that- that at the festival? With Technoblade? I never spoke to you properly about this. I- I could have saved you" "But you didn't" (other people brought this up, but this is a neat little parallel to the one scene in exile where Ranboo was lamenting about how he should have gone with Tommy and Tommy shut him down pointing out that anyone could have gone but no one actually did)

There is a second round of apologies and Wilbur is still standing higher than Tubbo, BUT he does put himself on his same level after he did a bit more pushing and found that Tubbo was standing his ground. He finally puts himself on the same level as Tubbo and openly acknowledges his boundaries which is the first actual real effort to change that we've seen from Wilbur. Which I'd say is a pretty important step for him.

"Wilbur in order for you to gain my trust back you have to prove it, I can't just give it out anymore. I used to be able to but I just- I just can't" (acknowledgement of how Tubbo's trauma also affected him deeply)

"You know I still have dreams, right? Of the explosion. And- and of the fireworks. And- and all of it. I- I still- I vividly see all of it. Every day. It hurts. It hurts a lot Wilbur"

I want to commend Tubbo here for being able to open up like this, especially considering how much he generally leans into denial and how much he usually suppress. And on top of that this is Tubbo acknowledging that both Wilbur's actions (the explosion) and Techno's actions (the fireworks) have hurt him and STILL hurt him and affect him deeply. It's quite a big admission especially for him.

"Sorry feels like such a weak word. I feel like there's nothing stronger that I can say" (first time that he's standing on the same level of Tubbo while apologizing)

"You're so strong man. Genuinely. You just- just the fact that you proved to me just there that you have this memories, that you have this nightmares and you still find it in your heart to forgive me. That's... you're a fucking champion man. You- you're a hero"

It's interesting that the reason why he claims Tubbo to be strong here is because he forgave him. It's not something that's inherently about Tubbo, like the fact that he still found the strength to go on and rebuild after the events he mentioned, for example, no. What Wilbur brought up is the one thing that Tubbo did for him. Which tells me that he still clearly has a bit of way to go to learn how to make amends and how redemption actually works, but, you know, that's to be expected honestly.

Wilbur moves on by inviting Tubbo to at least come and see Paradise, just to see what they'd made and Tubbo refuses because he wanted to spend more time reminiscing. Wilbur this time respect Tubbo's boundaries with no pushing which is yet another step forward for him honestly. Wilbur also gives Tubbo a "lucky rabbit's foot" that Tommy gave him to cheer him up and assure him that he had no problems with him not going.

With this their conversation comes to a close and Wilbur and Ranboo head over to Paradise (though not before Ranboo has confirmed with Tubbo that he actually does want to be left alone).

"You know I was gonna say 'this is hard' but obviously it's hard. I mean, you know, I've..." (a bit of reflection on his actions for Wilbur, you love to see it!)

"It's gonna get better! It's gonna get better! And it's gonna be worth it when I see them smiling. All of them. Tubbo, Jack, Niki, Tommy, anyone!" (I'm pretty sure that this is a genuine sentiment right here. It really does seem that wilbur's Big Plan right now is just to make amends and change)

"Do you know who the original L'Manburg group were? Do you know who we were?" "I- I think most of them yeah... I think it was like: you, Jack, Niki, Fundy I believe as well" "Fundy was a bit after. Fundy was after we'd gotten independence"

I wonder if that's an actual misrememberance on Wilbur's part (c!Wilbur, not cc!Wilbur, I'm sure cc!Wilbur remembers this) or just him wanting to put some distance between his good memories of L'Manburg and Fundy. Because Jack and Niki weren't there for the independence war either and yet he singled out Fundy who was. And I doubt that he'd forget about his son being one of the people who lost their first life in the final control room. In addition to that Wilbur didn't mention Fundy before among those he wanted to make smile.

I really think that this was intentional and that it was because, well, Wilbur felt deeply betrayed by Fundy. And we as the audience know that Fundy only ever publicly stopped acknowledging him as his father to be able to stay undercover as a spy, but he doesn't. It wouldn't be so weird that he wanted to erase Fundy from his memories of the time when he was supposed to be happy.

"I try and keep this on the low because I don't want uh- I don't want people to use it against me is the main problem. I do wa- I didn't even tell Tommy, I lied to Tommy" "Yeah?" "I'll be honest I'm gonna tell him soon that I lied to him because if it- it kinda eats away at me. But I told- I told tommy that I didn't actually care about L'Manburg and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain, you know, power and stuff, but it's not- it's not true. L'Manburg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day"

Once again I'm surprised how little it took Wilbur to trust Ranboo with stuff he hasn't really told anyone else. Makes you really understand how low of an opinion of himself he has that when the first person that calls him "alright" out loud just gets his undying trust. Especially considering that Ranboo doesn't trust him back and hasn't been the most honset with him so far. It's also a nice spelled out admission for anyone who didn't get how much Wilbur cares about L'Manburg from the longing look he gave to the camaravan's replica in the stream where he said he never cared.

"I wanted history to live on, not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically took a big shit on the history books it feels like" (just another interesting little insight on Wilbur's view of the situation)

"I've heard about what's Tommy's, you know, moved on... and how jack's moved on, and how Niki's moved on and everyone's moved on from L'Manburg at least partially, but Tubbo man, he's still..." (he only thinks the rest of them moved on because he hasn't spoken almost at all with two of them and he never really listened to Tommy. Also, again, Fundy is not mentioned)

"I don't know where I'd be without you [Ranboo] here right now man, I mean T-Tommy's great and all and he's here but I- I feel like, you know, I don't wanna- I don't wanna string him along too much because he's- I- when I look at him. When I look at him when he's helping me out building things with me I see the same eyes that looked at me when... when... There were some- there weren't some fun times in the ravine of Pogtopia. I wasn't a very well man and I can just see Tommy from that day"

This one was one heck of a confession!

I don't know if this is me misremembering, but I'm fairly sure that this is the first time he's admitted to not being great to Tommy specifically. Again, Tommy is the one person he met with so far that he hasn't apologized to. Heck! He told Tommy to his face that him being sorry for his actions didn't mean he wouldn't do them again. It's a pretty damn big admission to acknowledge that that behaviour (which is the same now, if not worse when only related to Tommy) wasn't good. It also shows that he's at least a bit aware of Tommy's emotions which is rarely shown honestly. Though whether he cares because of Tommy or because being around Tommy makes him feel guilty (which is what you'd expect him to feel) and he doesn't like that is to be determined still, mostly just because the phrasing was a bit uncertain at the moment.

"I know what it's like to have no one- or at least feel like no one trusts you. Uhm, and I- I've realized that if- if no one's with you then how can anyone really know when you've redeemed yourself? So that's why I'm here I guess" (Ranboo's answer to why he trusts Wilbur. Which he doesn't, but still)

And the stream ends with Wilbur saying he hopes Tubbo comes around to try out one of the burgers (though he does repeat that he doesn't want Ranboo to pressure him to join) and complimenting Ranboo a bit more.

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 12

masterlist

Y/N froze, staring at Namjoon like a cornered animal while Namjoon had her pinned down like that sharp, dark gaze that reminded her so much of a predator. 

“What others, Y/N?” he growled, getting impatient with her silence. 

“Namjoon…” 

“What others.” he demanded, slamming a hand down on the table startling both Y/N and Moni, and yet she said nothing simply staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes while her fingers clutched the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white. Namjoon took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down even though his words still came out gruff and annoyed. “What others, Y/N?” 

“Don’t yell at me!” she snapped, standing up from her chair, chest heaving as she stared him down. 

“What others?” he growled, returning her harsh stare. 

“You don’t get to yell at me, not now.” 

He sighed, taking another deep breath. Despite the tension and high emotions, he knew she was right. He had no right to yell at her about things that happened before they met, and he knew that she had been through hell before him. Yelling at her and demanding answers wasn’t going to do either of them any good. It never did. 

“I shouldn’t have shouted.” his voice was softer now, an attempt on his part to be more soothing, especially as she looked like a frightened rabbit. “I need to know what others, jagi.”  he took one of her shaking hands gently in his, treating her like the fragile doll she seemed like in that moment. 

“Were there other pregnancies? Before?” she nodded slowly, eyeing him warily as he carefully steered her back into her chair. “When you were with Marcus, you were pregnant?” she nodded again. “Can you tell me about them, jagi?” 

“There were two.” she admitted staring down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. “The first didn’t get very far. I was only a few weeks along when I lost it.” 

“And the other?” Namjoon asked, almost scared of the answer he was going to receive.  

“I was five months along.” one of her arms came up to curl protectively around her belly. 

Namjoon could see the way her hands were shaking, the distant almost haunted look in her eye, and it pained him. “What happened, jagi?” 

“I was twenty one weeks. It was a boy” she smiled sadly “but there was so much blood, and I couldn’t get to the  hospital. Marcus wouldn’t…. He left. I shouldn’t have made him angry. I knew- I knew better.” she blinked back tears, and Namjoon had to tamp down his growing rage, not towards her but towards the man who had put her through this. “By the time I got to the hospital it was too late to do anything. There wasn’t much they could have done anyway.”  she shuddered at the memory. “The baby had been in distress for too long, and he came breech.  There was nothing they could do. He was… he was too little, and it was too early. He couldn’t...” 

Namjoon stopped her, pulling her into her arms as she trembled, gently stroking her hair as she began to cry. There was nothing he could say to make this better, nothing he could do no matter how much he wanted to. 

“You gave birth?” he asked, the horrible realization, the full extent of what she must have gone through sweeping over him. She hadn’t just been pregnant. She’d given birth to a child, traumatically, and the child hadn’t survived. From the sound of it, there was nothing she could have done, nor was the loss naturally occurring. Part of him regretted asking her, for making her relive this memory, but he needed to know, and knowing what she had been through, he only loved her more. She was so unbelievably strong.

She laughed tearily, a fond but terribly sad smile passing over her features. “He was alive for about twenty minutes. I held him until he passed.” 

“What was his name?” 

“Noah. His name was Noah. I buried him at the little cemetery just past the bridge.” 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, gathering her into his arms again. “I’m so sorry, jagi.” 

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t breath after it happened. I couldn’t look at him. That’s when I met Jackson.” she admitted a more rueful smile taking over her features. “He gave me an out, and I made them pay.” 

So many things made sense now. A missing piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, and suddenly it all made sense. He’d known she was in a bad situation with Marcus. He knew she had only entered the relationship to try to provide for herself and her sister, but it never made sense why she toppled a whole criminal organization to escape. Something about it just never seemed to fit with what he knew of her, but losing a child was just the sort of catalyst that would send her down that path. 

His poor sweet Y/N had been through more than he could have ever imagined, more than even he had been through, but that was part of the reason he loved her, part of the reason she was perfect for him. She had seen the same darkness he had been raised in, and yet she was nothing like the women he had known in his youth, nothing like his mother had been. 

Namjoon’s memory of his mother was vague. He was only a child the last time he’d seen her, but he could remember the drugs, the bottles of alcohol. He remembered the dingy half basement they lived in, how it always smelled faintly of mold. He remembered the men- lovers, loan sharks, dealers, and none of them had anything against knocking around a scrawny kid from the bad side of town. His mother had allowed it all. Nothing mattered to her except getting her next fix. Even as a child, Namjoon had known he was meant for more. He was so much smarter than the other children, so much better, and he wanted better for himself. It seemed impossible though. What could a child do to get himself out of the gutter? And then Si-Hyuk came. 

Namjoon had been only eight at the time, but he could remember that day so clearly. Si-Hyuk had come to their home looking for him and his mother. He hadn’t known that he had an uncle before that day. It had always just been him and his mother, but suddenly there was this man claiming to be his mother’s half brother. His mother was out most likely meeting her dealer or one of the loan sharks she owed money too, so it had just been Namjoon and Si-Hyuk in the apartment. 

Si-Hyuk was a wealthy man, a powerful man, but he lacked one thing, an heir. He needed a son to carry on the business, but his wife had failed to provide one before her untimely death. He could have simply adopted a child, but he wanted an heir of his own blood, someone with the blood of his father and his grandfather. It was a family business, and he wanted it to stay in the family, but Si-Hyuk had no siblings, no legitimate ones anyway, but there was one woman. 

His father had had a daughter with one of his mistresses. Both the woman and the child had left soon after. His father had had no use for an illegitimate daughter, but Si-Hyuk had use for her now. It was a long shot, but if there was any chance that his sister had had a son, he had to take it. So he’d gone looking for her, and lo and behold, there was indeed a son. They found the perfect solution for both of their problems within each other. Si-Hyuk wanted a son, and Namjoon wanted out of the gutter, to be away from the mess of a woman he called a mother. There was only one problem, the woman herself. She might not have cared about Namjoonj, but she was a greedy woman by nature, and if she had thought there was anything to be gained from her son, she would cling to him like a leech. Everything would have been fine if Namjoon and his uncle had been able to leave before she returned. She never would have known what had happened to her son nor would she have cared, but she had come stumbling home just as Si-Hyuk and Namjoon were preparing to leave.

Distaste was too mild of a word to describe how both Si-Hyuk and Namjoon had felt about the woman before them. She might have been a beauty once, but a life of bad habits had degraded that beauty until she was nothing but a shell of the woman she had been, rotted from the inside out. She wasn’t willing to let go of her son without ensuring a life of comfort and debauchery for herself, and Bang Si-Hyuk was not a man to be blackmailed, so he’d given young Namjoon a choice: him or his mother. Only one could live, and Namjoon was nothing if not a survivor.

 “Nothing will ever… I  promise nothing will ever happen to our baby. I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” He urged, holding her tight to his chest. 

She was a survivor too, but she didn’t have to be anymore. He was there to take care of her now. If only he’d found her sooner, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that she was here now. She was here in his arms, pregnant with his child, and nothing would happen to either of them. 

“You can’t promise that.” she shook her head, pushing on his chest so she could stare up at him with those fathomless eyes of hers. “You don’t know.” 

But he did know. This was his kingdom, and he made the decisions here.

“I promise you, jagiya, you will never lose another child. I won’t let that happen, not again.” she stared at him, brows furrowed in uncertainty. It was sweet in its own way. Logically, she knew there was no way for him to keep that promise. There was no real surety, but it was nice nonetheless. “As long as I’m beside you, nothing will happen.” he promised again, and she melted into his arms, too tired to fight both emotionally and physically, something Namjoon was quick to notice. 

“Why don’t we go inside, jagi?” he murmured, still holding her close. “You’re tired, and you shouldn’t overdo it.” 

“Okay.” 

Namjoon helped her up from her chair and led her back into the house with Moni trailing at their heels. Miss In stood guard just past the door waiting for the couple to come back inside. 

“We’ll take breakfast in the master bedroom. Y/N is tired and needs to rest. Another day of bed rest wouldn’t hurt.” she had a feeling that the last comment was directed more at her than it was his faithful housekeeper.  

“Of course, sajangnim.” 

Namjoon treated her like glass as he led her back to their room. One arm was wrapped around her waist to steady her while the other held her hand as though she was going to stumble and fall at any moment. She wasn’t, but she was grateful for the extra support. She didn’t talk about her other babies often, and each time it filled her with the same soul numbing sadness. 

Soon enough breakfast was over, and Y/N had been put back to bed with Namjoon beside her, keeping her tucked protectively into his side as he put on a movie for them to watch. Apparently, he had no plans to leave her today. 

As for Namjoon, he had always known that she was meant for him, ever since that first night. Everytime she challenged him, everytime he learned something new about her and her past, it only strengthened that conviction. She was perfect for him in every way. She was smart, beautiful, unbelievably strong, and she was his. They were both survivors, and what’s more, she was everything his mother wasn’t. Y/N would do anything to protect her family. She would fight for them till her last breath, sacrifice anything including herself. His mother had thrown away everything on drugs and liquor in a vain attempt to make her life better. He was happy the day she died. He’d been happy to be the one to shoot her.  The world was better off without her, but the same couldn’t be said for Y/N. 

She was light. She was music. She was everything, and he would tear the world to pieces for her. Anyone who hurt her, anyone who tried to take her from him would pay. Nothing was going to keep Namjoon from having his perfect family. 

part 13

[nakamoto-aesthetics]

Guardian Angel | Johnny

synopsis: on the way from a friends house you bump into a man who was trying to harm you but luckily a guy named johnny saves you before you were taken. from there you get to know him a bit and things get… interesting. (the synopsis makes the story sound boing but i promise it’s not :)

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, a lil smut

warning: something similar to human trafficking in the beginning (if you’re sensitive to that topic please don’t read this fic), heavy make out shesh, not proofread!, other than that there’s nothing i can think of

a/n: also remember that this is a FIC and not real life, please don’t welcome strangers into your home :))

word count: 4.1k

“where do you think you’re going in that cute little dress baby?” an unfamiliar voice is heard as you walk down the fairly dark street. you don’t say anything and continue to walk not paying any attention to the voice. there was no one else really around, barely any cars passing by, let alone people.

“I asked you a question, I expect an answer” the tone was firm, his footsteps getting faster and so do yours. you hurriedly pull out your phone, quickly forming a plan that involved some of your friends but that all crashed and burned once you saw the dead battery flashing on the screen. your heart sink and tears instantly pooled in your eyes, threatening to fall from your eyes. that was your only escape, what were you gonna do now?

you were just trying to get home that was all. maybe you should’ve let your friend drive you home but you didn’t because you didn’t want to cause your friend an inconvenience. you were beginning to regret that decision, all because of that small reason. at least you would’ve been home safe and sound but no, you decided to be the unselfish and independent person you are, and look where it got you.

“hey!” a hand grips your shoulder from behind and swings you around. “I asked you a question when I ask a question I expect an answer” the guy wasn’t a foreigner, he was most definitely korean. he seemed to be in his mid-30s, the age definitely showed. there were creases and wrinkles in some areas of his face and his clothes were all black including his shoes. you try to pull away from the grip but he only grips your shoulder harder, hurting you more than you would like to admit.

“maybe I need to refresh your short memory,” the guy chuckles lowly, his finger shifting your head up to meet his eyes. “where are you going in that cute little dress?” his eyes looked you up and down, his free hand gliding down your waist, slowly traveling to your ass. your face stayed straight the entire time even while tears fell down your face. you knew who had the upper hand power in the situation, you knew there was little you could do even if you didn’t dare say it aloud.

“still not talking? well maybe I should force it out of you huh?” he tilts his head. no, because the whole time you were creating a plan b in your head since plan a failed. there was no way you were going to allow yourself to be trafficked.

“well then, you made this choice for yourself. i’m sorry to do this sweetheart” his hands grope your ass and that's when you strike. you move your leg up to kick him in the balls but he’s faster than you, grabbing ahold of your leg before it collided with his area.

“is that what you were doing this whole time, creating that wack-ass plan? you didn’t think i’d see it coming that’s so cute,” he fake coos. “i’ve been doing this longer than you, i’m smarter and faster than you love” he throws down your leg and in the blink of an eye, you are turned around in his grip with an arm around your neck. your hand flies to his arm and you pull on it, not wanting to be choked to death.

“is there a problem over here miss?” another unfamiliar voice calls, making both you and the guy look over to where it came from. it was a tall guy with light brown hair. he had tan skin and different pieces of clothing put together that oddly worked. his eyes were a soft brown, not too harsh. he was… kinda cute if you were being honest. he was also In the process of taking his headphones out of his ears, for what reason? you didn’t know.

“there’s no problem here, keep on walking buddy” the male answered for you.

“I asked the lady not you” the new stranger spoke harshly to the trafficker and look at you once again. “are you okay?” he knitted his eyebrows. your eyes caught his, filling with tears, threatening to spill from your eyes. he nodded softly understanding how you were feeling through your eyes. he then looked at the male behind you.

“let her go, I don’t wanna hurt you” he said firmly.

“oh yeah, what can you do?” he looks him up and down and laughs at the guy, walking back to his original place, which was a block or two away.

“Im can do a lot” the stranger walks in front of you and the guy, making you both stop once again.

“listen man, this is my girlfriend. we’re just having a little disagreement aren’t we honey?” the guy tightens his hold around your neck. you open your mouth trying to suck in more air but his hold gets tighter. you tap on his arm in hopes that he’ll release you but he doesn’t. there was no way you were gonna agree with him.

the stranger doesn’t think furthermore and before either of you knew it, your head was being moved out the way carefully and a punch was thrown at the guy's face. you heard a crack of a bone and quickly moved away from the area, running out the man's hold.

it was like an action movie, the man was the villain and the stranger was the hero, and you were the one in need of help. the fight ended with the stranger still standing and the man now on the floor. he wasn’t moving but his chest was still rising and falling. he wasn’t dead although you weren’t sure what was gonna happen in the next few minutes but you weren’t gonna find out either.

“are you okay?” the stranger rushes over to you, sliding off his jacket and handing it to you.

“that won’t be necessary” you chuckle and wave your hand at his jacket.

“please, I insist” he places the jacket around you, not wanted to make you feel uncomfortable by touching you.

“thank you” you look down and smile softly.

“it’s no problem, I could never just walk by if I saw something like that” he smiles gently. “do you want me to walk you home? you know, to make sure you get there safe?”

“uhh… why not” you smile and begin to walk in the direction, he comes up beside you and walks along with you.

you pulled his jacket closer to your body for warmth as you kept your eyes glued to the sidewalk, scarred by what had just happened. you’ve never experienced something that traumatic before. you could’ve been snatched up a while ago if it hadn’t been for the guy walking beside you right now.

“thank you” your voice was quiet in a way it had never been before.

“anytime” he glances over to you, seeing your small frame wrapped in his jacket.

“I really do mean it, if you wouldn’t have been there I don’t know what I would've done”

“yeah, i’m glad I was there too. it hurts me to see things like that happen” he shakes his head. “I wish I could protect everyone around the world,” he breathily laughs. “that’s probably why I want to be a police officer” your ears perked up when you heard that. you looked up at him with surprised eyes and he looked at you nodding his head.

“it’s always been a dream of mine ever since I was a kid. when I read my first comic book I loved everything about it, I knew I wanted to be some kind of hero after that. I wanted my parents to buy me every single superhero costume so then I could feel like that character, with all the powers and stuff.” you breathily laugh at that, he notices and laughs with you. “anyways that’s enough about me, I wanna know about you” he looks attentively to you.

the conversation continues until you got home. you learned that his name was johnny and that he was 25. he grew up in his hometown chicago but his parents are both korean, and he moved to seoul for better job opportunities. you gotta admit, the guy was interesting and you wanted to know more about him, you thought he was pretty cool.

“so… this is it?” johnny stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the house.

“yep” you look at the house and back to him. it got quiet for a few seconds, neither of you wanted to say bye to each other. johnny wanted to get to know you more and you wanted to know him more also.

“listen, I don’t know if the feeling is mutual but I wanna talk to you some more so how about this, I give my number and you get to choose if you want to text me” he offers and you instantly take it up. he smiles softly and enters his number in your phone. once you receive it back you see the name option blank.

“you’re not gonna name yourself?” you cock your eyebrow at him and he lightheartedly chuckles.

“I want you to have free will and set it as whatever you want. I want you to always feel like you have a choice when you're with me y/n” a smile was blatant on his face, allowing the corners of your mouth to pull up also.

“well thank you very much johnny,” you say, staring into his eyes, which seemed to catch the light from the streetlights in a way you’d never seen before. would it be weird to say that you wanted to get to know the sweet guy in front of you more?

“um.. i guess i should get going, it was nice meeting you y/n” his hypnotizing but kind eyes still staring into your soul. you never wanted to part away from them, from him. johnny was captivating, too captivating to let slip through your fingers.

“it was nice meeting you too. see you later johnny” you dismiss him yet his feet don’t move, they stay in place and so does he, looking at you with eyes of fondness. this continues for about a minute before you break the silence/slight sexual tension.

“uh- actually, do you wanna come in? i’m not going to sleep right away, honestly might have some trouble falling asleep” you shake your head, looking down and pretend to find your nails interesting.

“a-are you sure? i wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable-” he seems caught off guard by your words, obviously snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“not at all, now come on. i’ll put on a movie and get some food and drinks. it’ll be good” you smile brightly, grabbing his hand without thinking and taking him up to your front door. you unlock it quickly and turn on the lights, stepping into your clean house.

“this is a very nice environment you have y/n” he looks around staying still in his place, nodding his head, seeming genuinely impressed with it.

“thank you, it took a bit of work to get to this point” you chuckle, taking off your shoes and then his jacket. “oh, here you go” you hold the piece of heavy fabric out to him. he utters a ‘thanks’ once he sees it and takes it.

“you can put your shoes there” you point to the shoe rack beside to door. “and your jacket can go there” you point to the coat racket right next to the shoe rack. he doesn’t say anything and does as you say.

“now make yourself comfortable i’ll be right back” you point to the couch and then walk away but not before you caught his eyes. damn those eyes..

“now why did she do that? i swear horror movie characters are so fucking dumb” you roll your eyes and johnny laughs, agreeing with you.

“i mean what would you do in her position” you look at him. the light from the tv illuminating him perfectly. it was dark everywhere else so the only light you had was from the tv.

“i would’ve saved the friend and then booked it not stand there like an idiot waiting for someone to kill me” he looked at you right back, giving you that same look from earlier but his eyes were a bit brighter, filled with joy.

“exactly! so why can’t she do the same?” you sigh.

“y/n it’s just a movie” he chuckles.

“i know, i know but they really irritate me yk? like why stand there knowing damn well a killer is in the house with you i mean it’s-“

“alright it’s time to turn this off” he backs out of the movie, returning to the netflix screen where you started.

“hey!” you look at him with confused eyes.

“you were way too into it, it‘s not good for your blood pressure.” he says and looks at the tv, going through the comedy section.

you kept your eyes on him watching the way his eyes watch the screen attentively. you nibble on your lip, beginning to get lost in your thoughts. he could be your friend, best friend, boyfriend... husband- too far y/n, too far. you just met the guy but you felt like you’ve known him for a long time. you could see him being a potential boyfriend honestly. it’s been a while since you’ve had a boyfriend, really only focused on work. it wouldn’t be a bad idea. johnny seemed nice and he was interesting in a way nobody has been before, you could stay up talking to him and it wouldn’t get boring ever. what if you guys-

“y/n?” his head turns toward you and he catches you staring back at him with your lip between your teeth. he smiles softly and that’s when you are dragged out of your thoughts.

“here” you say out of nowhere making johnny laugh harder than before, his head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, filling the atmosphere with his beautiful laughs. meanwhile, you sat there a little confused and startled, blinking multiple times.

“huh?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“nothing” he waves his hands continuing to laugh.

“yah!” you hit his arm playfully. “i was lost in my thoughts im sorry” you look down feeling your cheeks heat up.

“while staring at me? what were you thinking about?” he says after his laughter dies down.

“uh.. nothing important, what did you pick?” you look at the tv trying to change the subject and you’re thankful that it works.

“that was a great movie, what’d you think?” johnny looks over to you and you nod tiredly, letting out a yawn. “oh somebody’s tired” he says and you don’t know if it was because you were tired but you thought it was cute.

“i enjoyed it and yes i am tired” you lazily chuckle and rub your face.

“alright, i’ll leave-“ he goes to stand up.

“no-“ you say abruptly and grab his wrist and his eyes shift down to your hold on him. “i mean… no you don’t have to, it’s late and i don’t want you going home at this time of night” you checked your phone with your free hand, completely forgetting about your grip on his wrist.

‘4:08 am’

“damn it’s four already?” your eyes bulge out your head and look up at him, his eyes still watching the way your skin was touching his. “you mister aren’t going anywhere, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you” you move closer to him and he notices this. you take your hand off his wrist and interlock your arms, resting your head on his shoulder. maybe it was the sleepiness that put you in this position but you didn’t mind it one bit, too tired to care.

he seemed surprised tensing up almost immediately but relaxing once he realized what was really happening. you were like the little bear that found comfort in the big bear. johnny brushed the extra pieces of hair out the way, how was it that he’d just met you but he felt so connected to you as if you were a lifelong friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. he didn’t under but at the same time, he didn’t want to understand it. he’d rather just let whatever this was flow at its own pace.

“do you think we’re moving too fast?” you say out of nowhere, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“i was just thinking about that and i think we should just let it happen naturally. whatever happens, happens” he says in a sweet voice and caresses your arm gently with his free hand. “if it feels right then act on it right? anyways, that’s the motto”

you move your head to look up at him and nod, intending to catch his eyes and you do. you’re only inches away from each other’s faces, eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips and so do his before either of you knew it your lips collided. johnny holding your jaw between his index and thumb. you wrap your hands around his neck and sit up slowly shifting onto his lap. your heart began to race as you kissed him deeper, johnny too, feeling his heart pumping with adrenaline, moving his hands down to your waist and gripping it. you moan softly against his lips as his hands travel inside your shirt. he felt like pure ecstasy against you. his touch, his lips, his words, everything him felt so good with you.

his hands then slid down to your hips and he gripped them, continuing to kiss you like no tomorrow. he pulls away from your lips, you following his lips for more, and he chuckles; before you knew it his lips were on your neck, pressing soft kisses to it making you moan softly. when his lips found your sweet spot he attacked it, leaving a dark red hickey in that place. you began to move your hips against his, hungry for some type of stimulation down there. his hands fly to your hips and he rests his head in the crook of your neck, letting out soft grunts.

you bite your lip and pull him up to kiss his neck, one of his hands rest on your shoulder. once you find his sweet spot you do as he did and leave a dark red hickey. you pull back and look at it proudly.

“an eye for an eye” you wink at him.

“yeah, yeah” he smiles and pulls your face closer, kissing you again, this time using a bit of tongue. you moan instantly, letting him win and he explores your mouth as your hands glide down his chest, you could feel all of the contours and lines of his muscles and abs, letting you know he was fit. which only made him sexier. your hands slip under his shirt and you explore the area. he was too hot for you to handle, you could pounce on him again even though you kind of already pounced on him. he’s just too hot.

you pulled away abruptly and he looked at you with a confused expression. you smirked and stood up, him still looking at you, obviously confused. he reached for your wrist but you pulled it away and before he could say anything, with the help of his thighs you got on your knees. his confused expression was now gone as he watched the scene unfold, his jeans were so tight against him and you knew that. his hard-on wasn’t small either, it was actually pretty big, you could still see his print though it was dark and you wanted to help him out so you teased him by gliding your fingers up his thighs and then teased his dick by running your finger up and down his hard-on.

“stop t-teasing” he breathily moans, watching your every move.

you smirked, looking up at him and unzipped his jeans.

did you guys fuck? no. just oral sex, that was all you guys agreed to. johnny thought it would be a bad idea to have sex during the initial meet. he said it would be best to give it at least a few weeks. he truly did wanna get to know you some more as did you and that’s why you were okay with not going that far.

you slept in your room after you guys were done giving each other head. you’d given him a blanket to sleep with and a comfortable pillow instead of making him use one of the uncomfortable decor ones on your couch.

“thank you johnny,” you said as he grabbed his coat. you let him stay for breakfast, that you and him cooked together. (he wasn’t going to let you cook it by yourself)

“for what? i should be thanking you. i had fun” he says as he puts his coat on.

“because i had fun too. the most i’ve had in a long time so thank you for that”

“it’s nothing really, i’m glad i could reflect some light on” he laughs and slips his shoes on.

“i hope we could do that again” you hint your fondness toward him.

“of course we can you just gotta let me know. i’m always free” he looks at you with that look once again and you can’t help but let it slip out.

“why do you keep looking at me like that, you’ve been giving me the same look since you met me” you say softly so then it doesn’t one out harsh and you know it doesn’t when he responds.

“because...” he moves closer to you which makes your heart skip a beat. “i actually like you y/n, and i mean it. you’re so different from other girls i’ve met. i’m not just another handsome guy to you. you take an interest in the things i say and the stories i tell you, not many girls do and i thank you for that alone. thank you for listening to me.” he moves even closer to you, grabbing your hands which makes your heart begin to race. “so when i look at you like this, i’m thanking you.” he doesn’t say anything after that continuing to stare deeply into your eyes.

you felt so drunk in the moment, hypnotized by his eyes and soft words. you could already feel how head over heels you were gonna be for this guy, that's if you guys kept it up, which you think you will. the chemistry was way too strong for either of you to let go of.

“thank you” you whisper and he nods gently not breaking eye contact. “you should get going, i wouldn’t want you to be late for work. you still gotta get home in time to change out of these clothes... do you need a ride or?”

“kind of... only if it’s not too much trouble” he answers.

“of course it’s not, come on” you quickly get your stuff on and take him home.

“this is it” he says and you stop the car once you’re in front of the house.

“okay, i’ll see you later” you look over to him and he’s already looking at you. nothing happens for a few seconds but then johnny leans over to you and kisses you. you sigh into the kiss and grab ahold of his neck and kiss him back as his hand rests on your neck, he kisses you just as deep as last night but before anything serious happens he pulls away and lets a ‘text me’ roll of his tongue before he exits the vehicle and walks to his front door, unlocking it and walking inside. all without looking back.

you however, were in complete awe. he kissed you like that and then left. damn was he a good kisser, you could still feel the sensation of his lips on yours even after he was gone. you touched your lips and then smiled, pulling off.

bonus: later that day; the evening

you decide to pick up your phone and do exactly what he said earlier.

you: what was that all about earlier? - y/n

johnny🥰😫: so you decided to finally text me😊

johnny🥰😫: and what was what about👀

you: you know what i talking about. the kiss in the car

johnny🥰😫: you know, it was just a see you later kiss

you: mhm, okay mr. suh

johnny🥰😫: what?😂

you: imma give your ass a ‘see you later’ kiss and then walk away. see how it makes you feel

johnny🥰😫: bring it on then sexy, let’s see what you got

you: oh i’ll show you what i got👀

johnny🥰😫: are we still talking about kissing?😳

you: maybe, maybe not🤷‍♀️👀

NCT Masterlist

[jelzorz]

holiday prompts!!

#8 or #11? Or maybe some combination??

8. Christmas shopping AND 11. “I’m a grown adult. I don’t want to take a picture with Santa Claus.”

Two weeks out from Christmas, Callum drags Rayla to the local mall to do some last minute shopping, and Rayla hates him for it.

All right, not really. She's grown pretty fond of him over the time she's gotten to know him, but the crowds are awful this time of year, and she's not a Grinch by any definition but the Christmas rush is, literally, the worst. The expectation to buy stuff for people is stupid, especially considering a lot of it is for people she doesn't even like.

But Callum had insisted because he's nice like that, and he'll go out of his way to find something for even the stuffiest people at work, and, Rayla supposes, that's why she likes him. No one's that thoughtful anymore, and he's a breath of fresh air amidst the corporate, capitalist bullshit that rears its ugly head during the Christmas season.

In all honesty, it's going pretty well—mostly he'd wanted to stock up on supplies so be could draw personalised Christmas cards for everyone at work (bless him), but then they pass by the Santa photography stand in the middle of the mall, and a grin splits his face.

"Let's stop here for a bit," he says cheerfully.

Rayla grimaces because she doesn't like that look. There's something cheeky about it, even as he cranes his neck over the line of parents and their excited children. "Why?" she deadpans, shoulders tensing a little.

"Ez is working today," he says, jabbing a finger at the photographers behind the counter. "Thought it'd be nice to say hi."

"Okay," says Rayla, "but why are we in line?"

Callum's grin widens more. "Ez gets three free photos while he's working here and he very kindly donated one each to me and Dad."

The implication is obvious. The line shuffles forward. Rayla scowls. "I'm not taking a picture with Santa."

"Aw, Rayla, come on—"

"No," she snaps. "I'm a grown adult. I don't want—"

"Oh, hey guys!"

"Hey Ez!" Callum waves over the crowd, his smile warm and annoyingly infectious. Ezran grins back and ushers the next family along.

"Come to get your photo?"

"If Rayla's into it," says Callum. "If not, that's okay, I guess. You and I can just get one."

"I'm always keen," chuckles Ezran.

Rayla furrows her brow at them both. "Aren't you both human adults?"

"We're not all that jaded," snorts Callum, nudging her elbow. "Santa photos are cute and this one costs us nothing."

"Except our dignity," grumbles Rayla, and Callum laughs. "You know this just plays into the gross corporate Christmas gimmick, right? Santa photos are overpriced for what they are, and people will pay it without thinking twice."

"Spoken like someone who used to have to do this herself," says Callum drily.

Well, it's true. Rayla shudders at the memory—the pushy parents, the screaming kids, the shitty pop renditions of Christmas carols over the mall speakers. That was years ago now, but Rayla remembers it like some sort of traumatic flashback. Even then, it was twenty-two whole dollars for a single 6x8 print. She doesn't even want to know what it is now.

"This one's not so bad," Callum is saying. He points at a sign by the counter which is just too far away for Rayla to make out clearly. "On my honour. Half of the funds they make here go to the homeless shelter down the road. The Santas are volunteers."

Rayla blinks at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," says Callum, nodding. "Ez had a hand in organising it. His good deed for Christmas, he says."

God, they're so nice. Ez and Callum both. Rayla bristles, but she swallows her irritation because... Well...

How can she be grumpy about it knowing that?

"One photo," she concedes. "One. And I'm only doing this because you're both such goody-two-shoes."

"I'll take it," laughs Callum, and maybe it's because she likes him so much, or because his laugh is so catching, or because he and Ez shouldn't be allowed to be so Good, but Rayla sighs and lets her shoulders drop.

Maybe it's not all corporate bullshit. Maybe Callum and Ezran are the Christmas miracles she'd forgotten could exist.

[midnightsconspiracy]

Public Opinion

Public Opinion - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: Being a public defender made you rather unpopular, especially with your new boyfriend's co-workers

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1443

Requested: Yes!!

‘This might be a bit random but I was thinking one for Mouse where the reader is like a successful, powerful lawyer and is secretly dating mouse, but when the team finds out they judge her until they meet her? Sorry if it’s too specific I’m in love with your fics.’

A/N: I am on a creative roll tonight! 4 fics in one night!!! Requests are still open

Masterlist

When you had met Mouse you knew things might be have been a little rocky, considering your jobs were notorious for hating each other, you working as a public defender and him working within the police force. But that had not stopped the both of you from entering a relationship, deciding that it didn’t bother you, both loving what you did and each other, neither wanting to compromise. You had met him at a Rangers reunion, your brother having served alongside Mouse in Afghanistan. You two had instantly hit it off, both keeping each other company, having your original partners blow you off. He had told you of his friend Jay, who he’d originally meant to have gone with, but being abandoned last minutes for his girlfriend instead. That had worked out in both of your favours, allowing you to have the time of your life, talking for hours getting buzzed whilst drinking the free drinks the event offered. After that night you had lost contact for a couple of months before he reached out asking you to go on a date. You were sceptical at first, why was he just reaching out now and not in the three months he’d had your number? But you had said yes anyway, remembering how good you had felt when you were with him.

That evening he had told you how he was meaning to call but had been going through some stuff at work that kept him from doing so. The date had bought back memories of how much you enjoyed spending time with Mouse, eventually leading to more and more dates each month, until finally, you started formally dating. Mouse was not the easiest boyfriend, having problems with his PTSD and anxiety, but that didn’t make him any less loveable in your eyes, in fact, it made him more so. It bought you both closer together, he relied on the fact that you were willing to help him, encouraging him to seek help each time he felt as though he was spiralling out of control. After six months of seeing you, he already felt as though he was a better person, he had started therapy to help deal with his trauma caused by the Rangers, going out to socialise with his friends more and was just generally happier with his daily life. The one thing he didn’t understand though is why you chose to become a public defender. You knew it was his police and military background talking, but it didn’t bother you too much knowing not many people understood why you did what you did, being a public defender, and a good one, was an extremely controversial job. Explaining to him that you liked to help the underdog, he stared at you like you were mad, as you realised he would never understand why. Once you had felt as though you trusted him enough, you decided that you wanted to meet the other important people in his life, his co-workers. You finally wanted to meet the notorious Jay Halstead, the one he had told you so much about on that faithful day. But he had been hesitant when you bought the topic up, knowing how they had reacted when he had told them originally.

The team had noticed a difference in Mouse, being much happier, even being more talkative than usual. They had questioned him extensively, wanting to get to bottom of what or who was causing Mouse to act differently. Whilst at Molly’s, he had decided to reveal all over a couple of beers, informing the team that he had met a girl a couple of months ago, and had only recently become official with her. The team had been happy at first, congratulating him on finding someone, despite his traumatic past and the consequences of that. But things had turned sour when then had pried more on who this mysterious person was. He’d told them that you were a public defender, and they might have known who you were considering you had defended some high profile criminals that they had worked on. That had changed things dramatically, all of them knowing exactly who you were, disliking you over the fact you had gotten off or lessened the sentence of people who had done awful things and they had spent a long time trying to find. Jay's reaction had been the harshest blow to Mouse, being his best friend, he just wanting the man's approval. This recent disapproval of your relationship made Mouse really question what he wanted, you or Jay? Determined that he wanted to keep both of you, he devised a plan, maybe if Jay met you, he would change his opinion on you. So he decided that he would bring you along to when they would next all meet up at the infamous bar.

Mouse had been telling you for the past week that you two were going out on Friday evening to meet his friends, so you were excited, not knowing what had happened with him and his co-workers last time they had drunk there. Getting ready, you put on a nice outfit, waiting for Mouse to be ready so you could finally leave. A few minutes past and Mouse still had not emerged from the bedroom, despite seemingly already being ready as you were getting changed. Walking into the bedroom you found him on the bed, head in his hands, silent and unwavering. Calling his name out, he looked up, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, walking towards you to plant a slight kiss on your forehead. Asking if he was ok, he shrugged it off, giving you a small ‘yes’, proceeding to walk out of the room to grab his keys and wallet. The car ride over was silent, as tension filled the air, a tension that you didn’t understand. Walking into the bar and over to the booth, Mouse introduced you nervously, bringing down your excitement a couple of notches in the process due to his strange disposition. Following your boyfriend, you greeted everyone, noticing all of the grim faces staring back at you. The first to speak up was Jay, introducing himself with an awkward smile, the table falling into silence afterwards. You knew something was off but that didn’t stop you from being your normal, kind self.

“Mouse talks very highly of you all, I especially appreciate all the work you guys do,” you said, trying to create conversation to cut the tension.

“Yeah, sure you do,” Jay sarcastically commented, verbally disagreeing with your line of work

“I know you guys don’t like the work I do, but I have a reason for it, just as you have yours for becoming police officers.” Trying to reason with them was going to be hard, having gone in a totally opposite direction career-wise to them, having a fixed outlook on your job. But you were determined, loving Mouse so much that you would fight as hard as you could to be in their good books.

“It's not the same though, we catch criminals, you release them.” Adam piped up, adding more fuel to the fire of hatred, directed towards you.

“Maybe we should leave,” Mouse said, knowing you were probably extremely uncomfortable with the situation.

“No,” you replied, wanting to stand your ground and explain yourself to these people.

“I do it because no one else is routing for the underdog, they’re thrown into the system and spit out into a life of more crime. I help them have a chance at life, a chance of justice, even if sometimes they don’t deserve it.” Raising your voice, you started getting angry, these people weren’t even giving you a chance, not only hurting yourself but also Mouse in the process.

“Ok.” Jay followed up.

“Plus you should be happy for your friend that he’s happy and found someone that he likes, not hating on me and trying to sabotage this relationship-” you exclaimed, pissed at the fact his friends would do this to him.

“I like you.” Jay butted in. Confusion bounded onto your face at the sudden expression of fondness. Why had they changed their minds so quickly? The conversation continued as normal as if that argument had never even happened, not only chatting as usual but including you in them as well. Little did you know your outburst had changed his mind completely, deciding that maybe you weren’t so bad, that your fiery self would stand up for you and Mouse no matter what, and that was just what he needed. So maybe you were good for Mouse after all.

----------

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[frostfireft]

Can we have more Bickslow headcannons? And maybe Evergreen, Freed, and Lexus too?

Fuck yeah you can! I’m gonna start with a lot of angst and then move into their dynamics as a team. (this got REALLY long but I’m not sorry)

-I gave you all my HC for Freed’s backstory in my last post and mentioned that Freed is the reason that Bickslow and Evergreen joined the guild, so have both their backstories too! 

-Bickslow grew up in a travelling circus with several other child performers. It wasn’t exactly a nice environment. There were lots of issues and safety hazards and abuse going on behind the scenes, but they were forced to keep smiling and performing through it all. 

-Bickslow was especially targeted by the ringmaster because of his magic allowing him to look into people’s souls. The ringmaster is the one who forced him to wear a helmet when he wasn’t using his ability on the crowd for money. 

-Because of that, he only had five friends back then, all children younger than he was, who looked up to him both for his tricks and the fact that no matter how upset he was, he had a smile for them.

-one day the tent caught fire during a practice. Bickslow was the only one to make it out alive. 

-but considering all the traumatic events they went through, most of the children kept there weren’t able to move on, and their spirits lingered in the area... Except for the five kids who were most fond of Bickslow. They stayed near him and talked to him all the time, especially once they realized he could see them. You still have a soul as a spirit after all. 

-the town he was in began to think he was crazy because he was “talking to the air” all the time, and they would continuously call child services to try and take him to an orphanage. The five spirits however, would warn him before they could, and Bickslow used his years of acrobatics skills to stay away from anyone who tried to move him away from where the circus burned down. It may have been a place of trauma, but there were good memories too, and it’s all he had. 

-So the town tried one last gamble. Who better to adopt a child with mysterious magic that Fairy Tail? 

-And Makarov, in an attempt to get Laxus to be more social, decided to send him and Freed. 

-It went about as well as you’d expect. Laxus tried to fight him while Freed did research on the area and what happened to him. 

-Laxus didn’t have as much control over his magic as he thought he did at that age, and Bickslow was kicking his ass before Freed showed up and trapped him so they could talk.

-Freed shared his story with him and offered the same thing Laxus once offered him: a home. 

-Bickslow cracked soon after that, and told them everything after Freed started asking questions about the town thinking he’s crazy while they were on the train back to magnolia. 

-While many members of Fairy Tail were unnerved by him, those around their age did their best to make him feel at home. Natsu listened to all his stories about the circus and about the five ghosts who followed him, and Bickslow listened to his stories about the dragons. 

-Freed used this time to research Seith magic extensively, and he eventually came across the idea of putting the souls into objects. He and Bickslow worked for weeks to figure out how to do it, and the five spirits became his five main “dolls.” 

-He of course, asked them if they were okay with being alongside him before putting them inside the tiki dolls, and if he cried when they said there was nowhere else they’d rather be? Well Freed and Laxus weren’t going to tell anyone about it. 

-Evergreen was both harder and easier to get back to Fairy Tail. 

-Like Freed, She was once a part of the noble class, but under a name she never wants to use again. 

-When she gained her eye magic, she accidentally turned her mother to stone, and it was all downhill from there. Her father tried to keep her locked in a room, and it worked for a long time. 

-Eventually though, she had decided she’d had enough, and snuck out and ran as far away as she could. She kept a ribbon tied around her eyes any time she had to go into town, and learned how to walk while completely blind. This did some damage to her eyesight after several years of doing it. 

-it felt like it was too good to be true. She was free and she did odd little jobs in a town far from her original home to earn money for food. it was all she needed..... Until a child tore the ribbon from her face. 

-the second she made eye contact, the little boy turned to stone. There was nothing she could do about it except cover her face up again and run. 

-her father, however, had notified several guilds about her disappearance and claimed she was dangerous if left alone, so when stories spread about a homeless child turning a boy to stone, it became their first lead in months. 

-there was a lull in fighting missions at the time, and something about her magic intrigued Freed. It was an eye magic like his and Bickslow’s first magics, and they aren’t exactly common. Freed, Laxus, and Bickslow took it upon themselves to take the mission to bring her home.

-She very quickly figured out how to hide herself in the woods and away from people. Freed had to trap the entire area and make it so that eye magics don’t work within his barriers before they could even get close to her. It took almost a month. 

-And much to their surprise, she was nothing like what they were expecting. After all, they were supposed to be hunting down a nobleman’s son, not a daughter.

-Bickslow almost immediately asks her about why she ran away, and Ever looks up at him- then panics as she slams her eyes shut- but he doesn’t turn to stone because of Freed’s runes, and he explains as such. 

-They have a long conversation about why she ran away, and she tells them everything her father did to her, from being locked in her room to being terrified to tell him she’s his daughter and not his son because of his anger issues.

-They realize then and there they can’t give her back to him, and Freed comes up with the plan to tell him that they didn’t find his son, but rather a random girl with a similar magic, and she can join Fairy Tail instead of staying on the run. 

-The only reason she doesn’t agree immediatly is because of her eye magic. She couldn’t control it, and the idea of turning someone to stone again scared her.

-Freed sent Laxus to buy a pair of glasses without a prescription and a nice dress for her to wear, and he etches runes into the glasses to block her eye magic when they’re on.

-She’s sold from that moment on, and the raijinshuu’s friendship is sealed with that secret. 

-Laxus helps her chose her name before they get onto the train, and they solidify the story before then too  

-Makarov Accepts the story without question, even though they have a sneaking suspicion he knows. 

-They become a tight knit group in no time. 

-Then they learn about Ivan and all he did to Laxus, and they start to jokingly refer to themselves as the Laxus protection squad. It’s a lot less of a joke when Ivan’s actually around though, and the guild definitely notices. Makarov even starts to officially call them that in some reports. 

-No one remembers who suggested the name “raijinshuu,” but they all privately agree it’s dumb. Especially since  it insinuates that Laxus is the team leader. Freed’s the captain of their team for a reason.

-Dispite the fact that Bickslow is the tallest of them, both Laxus and Freed are both physically stronger than him. That’s not to say he isn’t strong, but Laxus can carry freakish amounts of weight due to his slayer biology, and Freed does the same due to his demon biology. 

-Freed can carry all of them at once. No one knows how. 

-Freed puts new runes on Ever’s glasses every time she gets new frames or a new prescription. He knows she doesn’t need it anymore, but she’s always grateful for the option. 

-if they share a bed, Freed and Ever cannot sleep next to each other. Their hair tangles together and they’ve only had to make that mistake once. 

-Ever and Bickslow are not under any circumstances allowed to cook, Freed can make fancy meals, and Laxus makes homemade stuff that would make your mouth water. He also stress bakes in secret at four am. 

-That’s how they always know he’s stressed when he doesn’t tell them. It’s kind of hard to miss 6 batches of cookies that spontaneously appeared overnight

-Freed has an unsharpened rapier that feels like getting hit with a slap bracelet at full speed. Naturally, this is the sword he chases Bickslow with when he pisses him off. 

-Laxus likes to pretend he’s one of the smartest members of the guild, but the raijinshuu knows he’s actually kind of a himbo. 

-Bickslow is really close friends with Loke, and when he noticed the man was dying slowly, the others comforted him despite not knowing what was going on.

-Bickslow often helps ghosts pass on from the mortal plane. 

-Evergreen keeps up with all the latest fashion, but she still considers Freed to be more fashionable. Because of this she always double checks her outfits with him. 

-Evergreen’s always the first to sass someone when they’re being rude to her team. It’s earned her her reputation as a “bitch” but she’s far too proud of it to be offended.

-One Laxus was open about his dragon slayer magic, they pushed him to talk to the other slayers to learn about himself and his magic. Freed and Bickslow pushed the hardest though, since they’re friends with Natsu and knew that he would be all too willing to drag Laxus into his little family of dragon slayers.

-Laxus was much happier oncce he accepted that he was more dragon that human anyways, and the more he learned, the happier he was. 

-In case it wasn’t clear: mtf Trans!Ever (she/her exclusively), he/they Freed, and  wtf is gender, is it a food?” Laxus and Bickslow (any pronouns). 

[cappymightwrite]

Jon Snow, Manfred & The Byronic Hero: Part 2

Previous Posts: PART 1

Hopefully Part 1 served as a good introduction on the topic and characteristics of the Byronic Hero, as well as how Jon Snow in particular is likely an iteration of this figure. But now we come to the real meat of this meta series — a closer look at Byron's dramatic poem Manfred (1816–1817), and more importantly, its titular character in comparison to Jon Snow. I was originally going to do an analysis and comparison of two key episodes in Manfred and A Storm of Swords, Jon VI, but have since decided to give that its own post... that's right kids, there will be a part 3!

(Detail from Lord Byron, Thomas Phillips, 1813)

So... why Manfred? Why not Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, or The Corsair, or Don Juan, or any other work by Lord Byron? Well, I'll tell you why, my sweet summer children. It's because of THIS:

Manfred/Manfryds and Byrons in ASOIAF, by order of first appearance and publication:

Ser Manfred Swann (ASOS, Jaime VIII)

Ser Manfred Dondarrion (The Hedge Knight)

Manfred Lothston (The Sworn Sword)

Manfryd o' the Black Hood (AFFC, Brienne I)

Manfryd Yew (AFFC, Jaime V)

Ser Byron the Beautiful (AFFC, Alayne II, TWOW, Alayne I)

Ser Byron Swann (ADWD, Tyrion III)

Manfryd Merlyn of Kite (ADWD, Victarion I)

Manfryd Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool (The Princess and the Queen, TWOIAF)

Manfred Hightower, Lord of the Hightower (TWOIAF)

Manfred Hightower, Lord of the Hightower (Fire and Blood)

Like... what the hell, George?

I find this very interesting, very interesting indeed! *cough* intentional, very intentional *cough* And I have to thank @agentrouka-blog for reminding me of the existence of these Manfreds/Manfryds, and thus pointing me in this particular direction. This evidence is, for me, my smoking gun, it's why I feel justified in exploring this specific work. In my opinion, it really strongly confirms that GRRM is aware of Manfred, he is aware of its author — as a literary name, it is pretty much exclusively connected to Byron, it's like Hamlet to Shakespeare, or Heathcliff to Emily Brontë. In fact, GRRM likes it enough to use this name several times in fact, its frequency of use aided by a slight variation on its spelling.

So, as we can see, there are a striking number of Manfred/Manfryds (9!!) featured in the ASOIAF universe, whereas Byron (2) is used a bit more sparingly — perhaps because the latter, if more liberally used, would become far more recognisable as an overt literary reference? Interestingly, though, we can see a direct link between the two names as both bear the surname Swann: Ser Manfred Swann and Ser Byron Swann (note the exact spelling of Manfred here, as opposed to Manfryd). Ser Byron was alive during the Dance of Dragons and died trying to kill the dragon Syrax, whereas Ser Manfred was alive during Aegon V's reign and had a young Ser Barristan as his squire. So, in terms of ancestry, Byron came before Manfred, which makes sense since Lord Byron created the character of Manfred; he is his authorial/literary progenitor, if you will.

But why Swann, though? Is there any significance to that surname? Well, I did a little bit of digging and turned up something very interesting, at least in my opinion. In Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem Lines written among the Euganean Hills (1818), in its sixth stanza, the poet addresses the city of Venice... the “tempest-cleaving Swan” in the eighth line is clearly meant to be his friend and contemporary, Lord Byron, that city’s most famous expatriate:

That a tempest-cleaving Swan Of the songs of Albion, Driven from his ancestral streams By the might of evil dreams, Found a nest in thee;

(st. 6, l. 8-12)

Ah ha! But let's not forget that the Swanns are also a house from the stormlands — stormlander Swanns vs. "tempest-cleaving Swan." It seems a nice little homage, doesn't it? You could also argue that the battling swans of House Swann's sigil are a possible reference to Byron's fondness for boxing (he apparently received "pugilistic tuition" at a club in Bond Street, London). But to make the references to Byron too overt would ruin the subtly, so it isn't necessary, in my opinion, for the Swanns to be completely steeped in Byronisms.

All in all, it would be very neat of GRRM if the reasoning behind Byron and Manfred Swann is because of this reference to Lord Byron by Shelley. How these names and the characters that bear them might further reference Byron and Manfred is a possible discussion for another day! It's all just very interesting, very noteworthy, and highlights how careful GRRM is at choosing the names of his characters, even very minor, seemingly insignificant ones.

(Illustration of Villa Diodati from Finden's Illustrations of the Life and Works of Lord Byron, Edward Finden, 1833)

Now onto the actual poem, and the ways in which Jon Snow could being referencing/paralleling Manfred. First things first, a bit of biographical context. Take my hand, and let's travel back in time, way back when, to 1816, the year in which Lord Byron left England forever, his reputation in tatters due to the collapse of his marriage and the rumours of an affair with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh (plus he was hugely in debt). No doubt, most of us are familiar with the story, but in 1816 Byron travelled to Switzerland, to a villa on Lake Geneva, where he met the Shelleys and suggested that they all pass the time by writing ghost stories.

The most famous story produced by them was, of course, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1818) — which may have served as the partial inspiration behind Qyburn and Robert Strong! Byron himself did begin a story but soon gave it up (yesss, we love an unproductive king); it was completed, however, by his personal physician, John William Polidori, and eventually published, under Byron's name, as The Vampyre (1819). But Byron didn't completely abandon the ghost story project, as later that summer, after a visit by the Gothic novelist M. G. Lewis, he wrote his "supernatural" tragedy, Manfred (1817).*

*I've seen it dated as 1816-17, but the crucial thing to rememeber, in terms of Byron's own biography, is that unlike The Bride of Abydos, he wrote it after his departure from England... this theme of exile will come up later.

Manfred is what is called a "closet drama", so is structured much like a play, with acts and scenes, though it wouldn't have actually been intended to be performed on stage. Indeed, Lord Byron first described Manfred to his publisher as "a kind of poem in dialogue... but of a very wild—metaphysical—and inexplicable kind": "Almost all the persons—but two or three—are Spirits... the hero [is] a kind of magician who is tormented by a species of remorse—the cause of which is left half unexplained—he wanders about invoking these spirits—which appear to him—& are of no use—he at last goes to the very abode of the Evil principle in propria persona [i.e. in person]—to evocate a ghost—which appears—& gives him an ambiguous & disagreeable answer..."*

*As in Part 1, more academic references will be listed in a bibliography at the end of this post.

To sum up the narrative for you, Manfred is a nobleman living in the Bernese Alps, "tormented by a species of remorse", which is never fully explained, but is clearly connected to the death of his beloved Astarte. Through his mastery of poetic language and spell-casting, he is able to summon seven "spirits", from whom he seeks the gift of forgetfulness, but this plea cannot be granted — he cannot escape from his past. He is also prevented from escaping his mysterious guilt by taking his own life, but in the end, Manfred does die, thus defying religious temptations of redemption from sin. He therefore stands outside of societal expectations, a Romantic rebel who succeeds in challenging all of the authoritative powers he faces, ultimately choosing death over submission to the powerful spirits.

According to Lara Assaad, the character of Manfred is the "Byronic hero par excellence", as he shares its typical characteristics found in Byron's other work (as discussed in Part 1), "yet pushed to the extreme." As noted above, there is a defiance to Manfred's character, which is arguable also found in Jon. Certainly though, in all of Byron's works, the Byronic Hero appears as "a negative Romantic protagonist" to a certain extent, a being who is "filled with guilt, despair, and cosmic and social alienation," observes James B. Twitchell. I'll come back to those characteristics presently.

As noted by Assaad, "Byron scholars seem to agree on this definition of the Byronic Hero, however they focus mainly, if not exclusively, on the dynamics of guilt and remorse." Indeed, it is only in more recent years that the incest motif, as well as the influence of Byron's own biography, have been more widely discussed. But perhaps the most compelling aspect of the Byronic Hero is his complex psychology. Although trauma theory only really started to flourish during the 1990s, thus providing deeper insight into the symptoms that follow a traumatic experience, it nevertheless seems, at least to Assaad, that "Byron was familiar with it well before it was first discussed by professionals and diagnosed." As we know, GRRM began writing his series, A Song of Ice and Fire, during the 1990s, and character trauma and its effects feature heavily in his work, most notably in the case of Theon Greyjoy, but also in the memory editing of Sansa Stark in terms of the infamous "Unkiss".*

*The editing, or supressing, of memories is not exclusive to Sansa, however. E.g @agentrouka-blog has theorised a possible memory edit with regards to Tyrion and his first wife Tysha.

But if we return back to that original quote, in which GRRM makes the comparison between Jon and the Byronic Hero, his following statement is also very interesting:

The character I’m probably most like in real life is Samwell Tarly. Good old Sam. And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Theon [Greyjoy] is the one I’d fear becoming. Theon wants to be Jon Snow, but he can’t do it. He keeps making the wrong decisions. He keeps giving into his own selfish, worst impulses. [source]

As noted by @princess-in-a-tower, there is a close correspondence between Jon and Theon, with each acting as the other's foil in many respects. In fact, Theon does sort of tick off a few of the Byronic qualities I discussed last time, most notably standing apart from society, that "society" being the Starks in Winterfell, due to him essentially being a hostage. Later on, we see him develop a sense of deep misery as well due to his horrific treatment at the hands of Ramsey Snow. Like Theon, his narrative foil, Jon is also a character deeply informed by trauma (being raised a bastard), but the way they ultimately process and express that specific displacement trauma differs profoundly — Theon expresses it outwardly through his sacking of Winterfell, whereas Jon turns his trauma notably inwards.*

*Obviously, I'm not a medical professional — I'm more looking at this from a literary angle, but the articles I've read for this post do include reference to real medical definitions etc.

Previously, I observed how being "deeply jaded" and having "misery in his heart" were key characteristics of the Byronic Hero, as well as Jon Snow — this trauma theory is a continuation of that. Indeed, to bring it back to Manfred, Assaad goes as far as stating that the poem's titular hero "suffers from what is now widely recognised as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)." I am purposely holding off on discussing what the origin of that trauma is, in relation to Manfred specifically, because, well... it needs a bit of forewarning before I get into it fully. Instead, let's look at the emotions it exacerabates or gives rise to, as detailed by Twitchell, and how they might be evident in Jon and his feelings regarding his bastard status.

(Jonny Lee Miller as Byron in the two part BBC series Byron, 2003)

Guilt

Does Jon suffer guilt due to him being a bastard and secretly wanting to "steal" his siblings' birthright? I'd say a strong yes:

When Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand. Even then he had known it was only a child's folly; no bastard could ever hope to wield a father's sword. Even the memory shamed him. What kind of man stole his own brother's birthright? I have no right to this, he thought, no more than to Ice. – AGOT, Jon VIII He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. – ASOS, Jon XII

But I think Jon's sense of guilt also extends to the high expectations he sets for himself, his "moral superiority" in the face of his bastard status, as discussed in Part 1. He feels guilt pulling him in two different directions, in regards to Ygritte: guilt for loving her, for breaking his vows, and potentially risking a bastard, but also guilt for leaving her, for abandoning her, and potentially leaving her unprotected:

His guilt came back afterward, but weaker than before. If this is so wrong, he wondered, why did the gods make it feel so good? – ASOS, Jon III Ygritte was much in his thoughts as well. He remembered the smell of her hair, the warmth of her body... and the look on her face as she slit the old man's throat. You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted. He wondered if his father had been torn the same way, when he'd left Jon's mother to return to Lady Catelyn. He was pledged to Lady Stark, and I am pledged to the Night's Watch. – ASOS, Jon VI "I broke my vows with her. I never meant to, but..." It was wrong. Wrong to love her, wrong to leave her..."I wasn't strong enough. The Halfhand commanded me, ride with them, watch, I must not balk, I..." His head felt as if it were packed with wet wool. – ASOS, Jon VI

This guilt surrounding leaving the women/girls he cares about unprotected also extends to Arya. Yet it was his need to prove himself as something more than just a bastard, by joining the Watch, which initially prevents him from acting, and which also makes him feel guilt for being a hyprocrite:

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard's heart. – ADWD, Jon VI

I think there is a lack of reconciliation between Jon and his bastard status, between what being a bastard implies in their society: lustful, deceitful, treacherous, more "worldly" etc. Deep down, subconsciously, Jon really rebels against it. You can see that rebellion more clearly in his memories as a younger child, less inhibited:

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool." Or Robb would say, "I'm the Young Dragon," and Jon would reply, "I'm Ser Ryam Redwyne." That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell." I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken. – ASOS, Jon XII

But Jon knows this truth about himself, he knows that he has "always wanted it", and that causes him so much guilt because he can't allow himself to be selfish in that regard, because to do so would confirm for him his worst fears... that he truly is a bastard in nature as well as birth — treacherous, covetous, dishonourable.

Despair

As he grows up, learning to curb his emotional outbursts from AGOT, Jon appears more and more stoic upon the surface. But beneath that, buried in his subconscious in the form of dreams, you have this undyling feeling of despair, this trauma connected to his bastard status, his partially unknown heritage:

Not my mother, Jon thought stubbornly. He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. – AGOT, Jon III

These recurring dreams, sometimes explicitly involving his unknown mother, sometimes not, represent a clear gap, a gaping blank in Jon's personal history and his perception of his identity:

"Sometimes I dream about it," he said. "I'm walking down this long empty hall. My voice echoes all around, but no one answers, so I walk faster, opening doors, shouting names. I don't even know who I'm looking for. Most nights it's my father, but sometimes it's Robb instead, or my little sister Arya, or my uncle." [...]

"Do you ever find anyone in your dream?" Sam asked.

Jon shook his head. "No one. The castle is always empty." He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. "Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream." He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. "That's when I always wake." His skin cold and clammy, shivering in the darkness of his cell. Ghost would leap up beside him, his warmth as comforting as daybreak. He would go back to sleep with his face pressed into the direwolf's shaggy white fur. – AGOT, Jon IV

"That always scares me", he says quite tellingly. From this key passage, in particular, we can see that Jon feels a deep rooted despair at essentially being unclaimed, unwanted... being without a solid (Stark) identity around which to draw strength and mould himself. He's afraid of being a lone wolf, because as we all know, "the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," (AGOT, Arya II).

This dream points him in the direction of the crypts — "somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to" — which actually does have the answers he seeks because that is where Lyanna Stark is buried. Yet Jon is "afraid of what might be waiting for [him]", and wants to "scream" with dispair because of the darkness. So, this need for a confirmed identity is a double edged sword, which will no doubt be further complicated when his true parentage is revealed.

Elsewhere, Jon's dreams continue to have this despairing quality to them, often involving Winterfell, the Starks, and especially Ned, which is very interesting on a psychological level:

The grey walls of Winterfell might still haunt his dreams, but Castle Black was his life now, and his brothers were Sam and Grenn and Halder and Pyp and the other cast-outs who wore the black of the Night's Watch. – AGOT, Jon IV

Last night he had dreamt the Winterfell dream again. He was wandering the empty castle, searching for his father, descending into the crypts. Only this time the dream had gone further than before. In the dark he'd heard the scrape of stone on stone. When he turned he saw that the vaults were opening, one after the other. As the dead kings came stumbling from their cold black graves, Jon had woken in pitch-dark, his heart hammering. Even when Ghost leapt up on the bed to nuzzle at his face, he could not shake his deep sense of terror. He dared not go back to sleep. Instead he had climbed the Wall and walked, restless, until he saw the light of the dawn off to the east. It was only a dream. I am a brother of the Night's Watch now, not a frightened boy. – AGOT, Jon VII

But it is never "only a dream", is it?

And when at last he did sleep, he dreamt, and that was even worse. In the dream, the corpse he fought had blue eyes, black hands, and his father's face, but he dared not tell Mormont that. – AGOT, Jon VIII

Even Jon's conscious daydreams in AGOT revolve around his dispairing search for a solid identity:

When Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand. Even then he had known it was only a child's folly; no bastard could ever hope to wield a father's sword. Even the memory shamed him. What kind of man stole his own brother's birthright? I have no right to this, he thought, no more than to Ice. – AGOT, Jon VIII

A lot of these early dreams occur in A Game of Thrones, probably in response to his removal from Winterfell... his self exile. But later on in the series Jon continues to have dreams that tie him to the Starks and to Winterfell, ominous and sometimes despairing too. There's honestly too many instances to list, but if you want to understand the root of Jon's existential despair... it's in his dreams.

Cosmic Alienation

Cosmic alienation, now that's an interesting one in regards to Jon, since he definitely hasn't reached this state... yet. Life and his belief in the divine (the old gods) still hold meaning for him, but then he gets murdered by his black brothers. In the show, the writers hint at some cosmic alienation through Jon stating that he saw "nothing" whilst dead, but then they take it no further and generally do a piss poor job of post-res Jon. This characteristic of Manfred coming to the fore in Jon depends on what happens in The Winds of Winter, but I don't think it is at all that far fetched to assume that Jon will return to his body with a darker, altered perception of things.

Social Alienation

In Part 1, I discussed how Jon, like Byron's heroes, could be read as a "a rebel who stands apart from society and societal expectations." On a more psychological level, we can see how this Otherness, stemming from his bastard status, deeply affects Jon and his perception of himself and the world:

Benjen Stark gave Jon a long look. "Don't you usually eat at table with your brothers?"

"Most times," Jon answered in a flat voice. "But tonight Lady Stark thought it might give insult to the royal family to seat a bastard among them." – AGOT, Jon I

In his very first chapter, we see him quite literally alienated from the rest of his siblings, made to sit apart from them, an apparent necessity he seems fairly resigned to. Also in Part 1, I gave examples of instances in which Jon is mockingly called "Lord Snow," as well as a "rebel", "turncloak", "half-wildling", all of which serve to alienate him from the rest of the brothers of the Night's Watch.

Stannis gave a curt nod. "Your father was a man of honor. He was no friend to me, but I saw his worth. Your brother was a rebel and a traitor who meant to steal half my kingdom, but no man can question his courage. What of you?" – ASOS, Jon XI

The above interaction may seem on the surface to be about one thing — whether or not Jon will be of help to Stannis, offer him loyalty etc. — but tagged onto the end we have quite a poignant question: "what of you?" What are you, essentially. Who are you? The truth of his parentage may, in part, solve these questions... but it may also serve to alienate Jon from his perception of himself further. Ultimately, who exactly he is — what he believes in, who and what he fights for, etc. — will be solely his decision to make going forward.

So, the Byronic Hero, certainly in Manfred's case, but also in later iterations, is arguably traumatised by his own past. But regardless as to whether his trauma is related to a mysterious past, a secret sin, an unnamed crime, or incest, aka "secret knowledge", what is clear in Assaad's interpretation, is that the Byronic Hero is "living with the traumatic consequences of his own past and so suffers from PTSD." But why is Manfred traumatised, what is the specific cause of this trauma, or how might it reveal something deeper about Jon's own trauma? Now, here we come to the unavoidable... I'm going to start talking about Byronic incest and the pre-canon crush/kiss theory, and how it potentially parallels certain aspects of Manfred.

I should preface this by stating that I don't think Jon is suppressing trauma because he committed intentional incest with Sansa, but I do think (or at least somewhat theorise that) Byronic incest does come into play regarding his intense feelings of guilt and existential despair.

But still, stop reading now if are opposed to discussions of the pre-canon crush/kiss theory and the literary incest motif as a whole!

(Detail from The Funeral of Shelley, Louis Édouard Fournier, 1889)

Hey there to the depraved! If you aren't already familiar with the theory, here are some previous discussions/metas on the subject:

Full Blown Meta:

A Hidden and Forbidden Love by @princess-in-a-tower

Ask Answers (Long):

Jonsa as a more positive mirror to Jaime and Cersei? by @princess-in-a-tower, with additional comment by @jonsameta

Discussing the theory by @jonsameta

Evidence for pre-canon Jonsa? by @agentrouka-blog

Kissing in the godswood? by @agentrouka-blog

Why don't we read about Jon's reaction to Sansa and Tyrion? by @agentrouka-blog

More on Jon's supposed non-reaction by @agentrouka-blog, with additional comment made by @sherlokiness

A Jonsa "Unkiss"? by @fedonciadale

A hidden memory? by @fedonciadale

Sansa's misremembering by @fedonciadale

Descriptive parallels between A Song for Lya and Jonsa by @butterflies-dragons

Ask Answers (Short) & Briefer Mentions:

Jealous Jon by @princess-in-a-tower

Your new boyfriend looks like a girl by @butterflies-dragons

Like in Part 1, I've tried to cite as much as I could find, but as always, if anyone feels like I've missed someone important or that they should be included in the above list, please just drop me a line!

Now, it's a controversial theory, and not everyone's cup of tea — I think that's worth acknowledging! I myself am not wholly married to it, I'd be fine if it wasn't the case, but that being said, I can't in good faith ignore it when considering Lord Byron and the Byronic Hero. The incest is, unfortunately, very hard to ignore, both in his work and in his personal life. It's pretty hard to ignore in Manfred, for that matter, which is why I've held off talking about it... until now!

All aboard the Manfred incest train *choo choo* !!

First stop, Act II, scene one. Oh, wait, an annoucement from your conductor... apologies everyone, I purposely neglected to mention quite a key detail. Remember "Astarte! [Manfred's] beloved!", (II, iv, 136)? Yeah... it's heavily implied that Astarte is in fact Manfred's half-sister. *shoots finger guns* Classic Byron! *facepalms*

Oh, and that's not all! Let's consider the context surrounding the writing of this work for a moment, shall we? Unlike The Bride of Abydos (1813),* Manfred was written notably after the fallout of his incestuous affair with his half-sister, Augusta Leigh, composed whilst in a self-imposed exile. *spits out drink* Woah, woah there cowboy... what in tarnation?! EXILE?!

*As referenced in Part 1, @rose-of-red-lake has written an excellent meta on the influence of Lord Byron's work (and personal life) on Jonsa, paying special attention to the half-siblings turned cousins in The Bride of Abydos.

Although, as noted by rose-of-red-lake, The Bride of Abydos bears strong parallels to the potential romance of Jon and Sansa, as well as Byron’s own angst regarding his relationship with Augusta Leigh, the context surrounding Manfred seems... dare I say it, even more autobiographical. Because like Byron himself, Manfred wanders around the Bernese Alps, solitary and guilt ridden, in a state of exile heavily evocative of Byron's own — as I mentioned earlier, the beginnings of Manfred occured whilst Byron was staying at a villa on Lake Geneva, in Switzerland... the Bernese Alps are located in western Switzerland. In light of this, I think it's very understandable that some critics consider Manfred to be autobiographical, or even confessional. The unnamed but forbidden nature of Manfred's relationship to Astarte is believed to represent Byron's relationship with his half-sister Augusta. But what has that got to do with Jon?

Look, I don't know how else to put this:

Byron self-exiles in 1816, first to Switzerland, to Lake Geneva, where it is unseasonably cold and stormy — his departure from England is due to the collaspe of his marriage to Annabella Milbanke, unquestionably as a result of the rumours surrounding his incestuous affair with his half-sister.

Displaced nobleman Manfred wanders the Bernese Alps, in a kind of moral exile, where "the wind / Was faint and gusty, and the mountain snows / Began to glitter with the climbing moon" (III, iii, 46-48), traversing "on snows, where never human foot / Of common mortal trod" (II, iii, 4-5), surrounded by a "glassy ocean of the mountain ice" (II, iii, 7). He feels extreme, but unexplained guilt surrounding the death of his "beloved" Astarte, who is heavily implied to also be his half-sister.

In A Game of Thrones, Jon Snow chooses to join the Night's Watch, with the reminder that "once you have taken the black, there is no turning back" (AGOT, Jon VI). By taking the black, Jon arguably exiles himself from the rest of the Starks, from Winterfell, to a place that "looked like nothing more than a handful of toy blocks scattered on the snow, beneath the vast wall of ice" (AGOT, Jon III). But we aren't given any indication that he does this due to incestuous feelings regarding a "radiant" half-sister, akin to Byron/Manfred, are we? And it's not like we have several Manfreds/Manfryds AND Byrons namedropped within the text, is it? Oh wait... we do. *grabs GRRM in a chokehold*

What the hell, George?!

(Lord Byron on His Deathbed, Joseph Denis Odevaere, c. 1826)

But lets get back on track here and take a closer look at that section of Manfred I mentioned at the beginning — Act II, scene one, aka the part where all the incest and supressed trauma really JUMPS out.

So, early in Act II, in the chamois hunter's abode (a chamois is a type of goat?), according Assaad's analysis, Manfred is "hyper-aroused by a cup of wine." The wine is offered in an attempt to calm Manfred; however, to the chamois hunter's great dismay, it instead agitates him and makes him utter words which are "strange" (II, i, 35). Rather than wine, Manfred sees "blood on the brim" (II, i, 25). His sudden agitation and erratic behaviour confound the chamois hunter, who observes that Manfred is losing his mind: "thy senses wander from thee" (II, i, 27). Assaad's analysis of this scene, which she believes "is the most revelatory in the entire play" discloses "a bitter truth: Manfred's traumatic past informs his present life."

We might compare this with Jon, in particular, how his dreams reveal certain bitter truths to do with his past, now subconsciously informing his present. I've already looked a bit at his crypt dream from AGOT, Jon IV, but we see a sort of recurrence of this dream again in ASOS, Jon VIII. The imagery of being in a crypt, somewhere underground, buried, in the dark, a place of ghosts and spirits, is extremely evocative. Indeed, to go back to Byron's own description of Manfred, the setting of a crypt is extremely suggestive of certain bitter truths "left half unexplained", of secrets buried... and we know that's true because the secret of Jon's parentage is hidden down there, in the form of Lyanna Stark.

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. "Father?" he called. "Bran? Rickon?" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. "Uncle?" he called. "Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me." Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. "Ygritte?" he whispered. "Forgive me. Please." But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark... – ASOS, Jon VIII

I don't think it's outlandish to state that, unquestionably, Jon's bastard identity is a source of ongoing pain for him. I talked about the theme of despair in Jon's characterisation and it is very evident in the above, and it stems from this "bitter truth" of not being a trueborn Stark, of not being "welcome", or having a true place. The emotions/mindset this trauma, concerning his birth and identity, evokes in Jon is arguably what brings him, on first glance, so closely in line with the Byronic Hero:

Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed / The crypts were growing darker = A mysterious past / secret sin(s)

You are no Stark / I am no Stark = Deeply jaded

There is no place for you here / I am not welcome there / This is not my place = standing apart from society and societal expectations / social alienation

He dreamt he was back in Winterfell / He walked deeper into the darkness = Moody / misery in his heart

He fell to his knees / Forgive me = Guilt

He walked deeper into the darkness / Please, Father, help me / He fell to his knees = Despair

These aren't all the Byronic characteristics I've addressed in relation to Jon, but it is a substantial percentage of them, all encapsulated, in one way or another, within this singular dream passage. As far as what is fairly explicit in the text, being a bastard is Jon's "bitter truth", it is the "traumatic past inform[ing] his present life." But what is Manfred's "bitter truth", what past trauma is informing his present? And can it reveal a bit more about another layer to Jon's trauma? Because there is a key distinction — Manfred's trauma, his PTSD, stems from a specific event, notably triggered by the (imagined) "blood on the brim" of his wine, whereas for Jon, we have no singular event, we have no momentus experience, we just have this "truth."

As mentioned previously, Assaad has recognised the character of Manfred as displaying symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). In Assaad's article, she remarks that "an experience is denoted as traumatic if it completely overwhelms the individual, rendering him or her helpless," and this is quite evident in the interaction between Manfred and the chamois hunter. Sharon Stanley, an educator and clinical psychotherapist, writes that "the word trauma has been used to describe a variety of aversive, overwhelming experiences with long-term, destructive effects on individuals and communities."

So, if trauma is related to an experience, or experiences, is it still accurate to say that Jon experiences trauma, connected to being a bastard? Because there is seemingly no singular or defining root experience, or event that it stems from, it just is… it is a compellation of several moments, revealed to the reader through Jon’s memories and/or dreams. What is being "left half unexplained” here?

Assaad makes reference to the American Psychiatric Association's definition of PTSD, in which it observes that for an individual to be diagnosed with PTSD, they have to suffer from one or more intrustion symptoms, one or more avoidance symptoms, two or more negative alterations, and two or more hyperarousal symptoms. The dreams Jon has certainly suggest something, but it seems like a stretch to say that, like Manfred, he is suffering from PTSD, right? We and Jon are very much aware that he is "no Stark", at least not in the sense that he is Ned's trueborn son, this isn’t something Jon is actively suppressing. By comparison, it is incontrovertible that Manfred committed something in the past, which he deeply wishes to forget and disassociate from:

Man. I say ’tis blood—my blood! the pure warm stream Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours When we were in our youth, and had one heart, And loved each other as we should not love, And this was shed: but still it rises up, Colouring the clouds, that shut me out from heaven, Where thou art not—and I shall never be. C. Hun. Man of strange words, and some half—maddening sin

(II, i, 28-35)

However, we cannot be sure what this traumatic point of origin is, though we know that it is related to something he has done to his beloved Astarte, which subsequently led to her death. Many critics have suggested that his sin is that of incest, and as I noted earlier, that Manfred as a whole is more than just a bit autobiographical and/or confessional in nature. Manfred's incestuous sin therefore re-enacts Byron's incest with his half-sister Augusta. But regardless of the true cause, Manfred is traumatised by his past and cannot overcome it. Is there something in Jon’s past, that may have subconsciously, or consciously, influenced his departure to the Wall — his self exile — which he cannot overcome, and which is closely tied to the issue of and pain he feels due to being a bastard, not just the illegitimacy, but also the negative characteristics it assigns? Is there an event, or experience, we can pinpoint as the origin of Jon’s trauma and potential PTSD?

To circle back to Jonsa, there is some, not unfounded, debate amongst us concerning the validity of the pre-canon crush/kiss theory. I've always found it an interesting theory, but until now, I haven't really given it too much thought. In light of the Byron connection, however, as well as the textual analysis I have for Part 3, I think this scenario, as detailed by agentrouka-blog, seems more and more likely. And I don't say that lightly, I really don't. It is a somewhat uncomfortable speculation to make, even if the interaction was more innocent rather than explicit (this is the side I firmly fall down on), however, it’s ambiguity does potentially parallel Byron’s Manfred and Astarte. This post would be even longer if I included my side-by-side text comparisons, so you may have to trust me for the moment that there are some very striking similarities between Act II, scene I of Manfred, and Jon's milk of the poppy induced dream in ASOS, Jon VI, as well as the actual buildup to that vision.

But, that sounds frankly terrible doesn't it? And it doesn't bode well for his future relationship with Sansa, does it? And what does it mean if Jon is suffering from PTSD due to an incestuous encounter with Sansa? What does that mean for Sansa, Sansa who is doggedly abused and mistreated by men within the present narrative? This is awful, why would GRRM root their romance in something traumatic? Oh I hear you, and these are questions I needed to ask myself whilst compiling this. But you see... now bear with me here... it isn't the actual encounter itself that was traumatic, for either Jon or Sansa, and that is reflected in both their POVs, because, though they think about each other sparingly (explicitly at least), it is never done so negatively. No, the potential PTSD Jon suffers from this experience isn't connected to Sansa, to whatever occured between them. Rather, I believe, it's connected to either the fear, or the reality, that Ned, his assumed father, saw and/or caught him (either Sansa had left at this point, or didn't fully grasp the issue), and this fear, this guilt, this sense of despair, is made evident in this passage:

When the dreams took him, he found himself back home once more, splashing in the hot pools beneath a huge white weirwood that had his father’s face. Ygritte was with him, laughing at him, shedding her skins till she was naked as her name day, trying to kiss him, but he couldn’t, not with his father watching. He was the blood of Winterfell, a man of the Night’s Watch. I will not father a bastard, he told her. I will not. I will not. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered, her skin dissolving in the hot water, the flesh beneath sloughing off her bones until only skull and skeleton remained, and the pool bubbled thick and red. – ASOS, Jon VI

That's the traumatic experience, I believe, not the kiss — yep, I strongly suspect there was a kiss. Moreover, Jon's recurring assertion, throughout the series, that he "will not father a bastard" is tied to this in some way, it’s tied to Ned, it’s tied to some sense of guilt and shame. It’s not tied to Sansa. But we'll look at this passage, what it means, what it parallels, and what directly precedes it, in comparison to Manfred, a lot more closely next time.

I'll leave you with a slight teaser though — the parallel that made me really sit up and take notice:

C. Hun. Well, sir, pardon me the question, And be of better cheer. Come, taste my wine; 'Tis of an ancient vintage; many a day 'T has thaw’d my veins among our glaciers, now Let it do thus for thine. Come, pledge me fairly. Man. Away, away! there’s blood upon the brim! Will it then never—never sink in the earth?

(II, i, 21-26)

Note this imagery!!!

Maester Aemon poured it full. "Drink this."

Jon had bitten his lip in his struggles. He could taste blood mingled with the thick, chalky potion. It was all he could do not to retch it back up. – ASOS, Jon VI

In both instances, a drink is offered, with "blood upon the brim", and "blood mingled". In Manfred's case, this is an explicit trigger for him, whereas for Jon? Well, it bit more hidden, a bit more buried, but this moment is, to my mind, the catalyst, because its imagery strongly evokes the colours of the weirwood tree — "blood" red and "chalky" white — you know, the "huge white weirwood" he later on envisions.

*spits out drink*

Maybe the magnitude of this parallel isn't completely evident as of yet, but it will be... or at least I hope it will be, so stay tuned for Part 3!

(Starting to run out of Byron pics so... I dunno, here's Rupert Everret, from The Scandalous Adventures of Lord Byron, 2009)

In Conclusion

To summarise, why is the Manfred connection so monumental to me? Why do I find the pre-canon kiss theory, specifically the scenario detailed by agentrouka-blog, now very hard to dismiss? Because:

The nine (!) Manfreds/Manfryds included within the text, as well as the two Byrons, one of which, the first mentioned in fact, first appears in Sansa's POV. But crucicially the direct link made by GRRM between Byron Swann and Manfred Swann.

The strength of the similarities that can be observed between Jon and the Byronic Hero, but also notably to Byron's Manfred, the "Byronic hero par excellence", according to Assaad. Especially the recurring emotions of guilt and despair, the latter exemplified perhaps most clearly in Jon's dreams.

The prominent theme of self-exile to escape something, something that perhaps cannot be openly stated, present in Manfred, Byron's own life, and Jon's narrative.

Those pesky half-sisters: Augusta, Astarte, and Sansa.

The PTSD symptoms clearly present in Manfred, but left "half unexplained", and seemingly not explained at all in Jon's POV — I'll dig more into this in Part 3.

The "blood upon the brim", and "blood mingled" — more on that in Part 3, I hope you guys like in depth imagery analysis!

Obviously, this is all still just speculation on my part, and it's speculation in connection to a theory that is understandably controversial. I'd be happy to dismiss it... if it weren't for the above. So, I suppose I'm in two minds about it. On the one hand, however you look at it, it's more trauma in an already traumatic series... which is *sighs* not what you want for the characters you care strongly about. But on the other hand, that literary connection to Manfred (and by extension to actual Lord Byron), the way it's lining up, plus that comparison GRRM himself made between Jon and the Byronic Hero... that's all very compelling and interesting to me as a reader, as a former English literature student. So, I don't want it to be true because... incest hell. But then, I also want it to be true because then it makes me feel smart for guessing correctly.

But anyway, we're going to be descending into incest hell in Part 3, so... we'll just have to grapple with that when we come to it. I hope, if you stuck with it till the incesty end, that you enjoyed this post!

Stay tuned ;)

Bibliography of Academic Sources:

American Psychiatric Association, Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th edn (Arlington, VA: American Psychiatric Publishing, 2013); online edition at www.dsm5.org

Assaad, Lara, "'My slumbers—if I slumber—are not sleep': The Byronic Hero’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder", The Byron Journal 47, no. 2 (2019): 153–163.

Byron, George Gordon Noel, Byron’s Letters and Journals. Ed. Leslie A. Marchand. 12 vols. London: Murray, 1973–82.

Holland, Tom, "Undead Byron", in Byromania: Portraits of the Artist in Nineteenth- and Twentieth- Century Culture, ed. by Frances Wilson (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2000).

MacDonald, D. L. "Narcissism and Demonality in Byron’s 'Manfred'", Mosaic: An Interdisciplinary Critical Journal 25, no. 2 (1992): 25–38.

Stanley, Sharon, Relational and Body-Centered Practices for Healing Trauma: Lifting the Burdens of the Past (London: Routledge, 2016)

Twitchell, James B., The Living Dead: A Study of the Vampire in Romantic Literature (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1981).

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi! Do you do emergency requests? If so, could I get the Miya twins, Oikawa, and Suga with an S/o with PTSD? Feel free to do whatever, I love your works <3

Hello love! I'm writing this as soon as I can because this is such an important request and I'm really honoured you trust me with it. If you ever want to talk, my DMs are open so don't hesitate to drop me a message, okay? 💖 I love you.

Haikyuu boys and their s/o's with ptsd.

Characters: Tooru Oikawa, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu, Koushi Sugawara

Warnings: mentions of dark themes, anxiety, depression, etc.

Tooru Oikawa

Oikawa would be the type of person to love you fiercely and deeply, and that involves accepting all parts of you. He's not the type to get easily frustrated or give up, so when he realizes he loves you? You bet he's going to always be by your side.

He's very vocal about his love, and he understands that sometimes you need lots of reassurance, so you can often hear him talking to you in a calm and soft voice, and telling you how much you mean to him.

“I'm fond of Shakespeare because he says all the things I want to, but better. So I'll quote him. I will love you, y/n, till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.”

He promises to love you forever, and when you look into his soulful chocolate brown eyes, you know deep in your heart, that he's never been more serious.

Whenever he's sleeping with you, he's always embracing you, and holding you close to him in a protective position. Sometimes, the nightmares come back and you shake uncontrollably, but he's always there to soothe you and rub comforting circles on your back.

Makes you tea, and although he wasn't very good at it at first, he now makes the best and most fragrant chamomile tea.

He's a light sleeper, which means even if you don't realise it yourself, he's ready to rock you back and kiss you back to sleep gently.

But Oikawa isn't Oikawa if he isn't playful, so he does his best to always make the situation a bright and optimistic one. He understands some things are beyond his control, but your smile? He's gonna do his best to make sure it remains.

The corniest of pickup lines, (all of which he means), and simple but heart-warming romantic gestures because he wants you to know he cares. He really does, and he wants you to always remember that he's there for you.

Small dates when the stress gets too much, or ice cream together in a local convenience store because he knows how much you love it, this man will go the extra mile to make you happy.

You love showering together. Not in a sexual way, but because sometimes, you just like feeling his gentle fingers shampoo your hair as he hums softly, or his warm embrace as the water washes your troubles away.

Oikawa will love you more than he loves himself, because he's finally found someone who helps him feel like he's more than what he thought he was.

Miya Osamu

Osamu is your home, and your comfort place. He is as steadfast as a rock, and loyal and warm, and everything about him soothes you.

The way his soft hands always find yours and gently hold them, rubbing small circles on your palm has been an action that greatly comforts you when you're feeling overwhelmed, and he always knows when to do it.

Osamu loves showing his love through food. He wants you to know that his warmth will be with you, even when he is not, and you find signs of his love in the granola and porridge he makes you in the morning before work, and in the onigiri bentos you have for lunch. It serves as a constant reminder of him, and that he cares for you.

When he thinks you aren't looking, he stares at you with the most lovestruck expression on his face, eyes glazed and lips curled into a smile.

Although not as vocal about his love for you, since Osamu prefers showing it through actions, he likes hearing you talk. He is quiet, and will listen if you ever have traumatic flashbacks.

While you're talking, and letting it all out, he makes the warmest hot chocolate, and holds you in his arms when you are done, repeatedly telling you how proud he is of you.

“I'm so proud of ya, angel. So proud. Yer safe with me now, and I'm never leaving you.”

He loves having physical contact with you whenever you are out, and whether it be in the forms of his hand on your back, or his knees touching yours, he wants you to know he's there for you.

He realises he likes gardening, after seeing your happy face smiling at a flower, and makes it a point to grow the sweetest smelling blooms, only to shyly gift it to you when they're blossomed. The smile on your face was worth it all, and due to that, you start gardening alongside him too.

Likes tucking the flowers in your hair every once in a while, and blushing at how nice you look.

Osamu is your favourite cup of warm tea, and his arms your constant home, safe from the cruelties of the world, and he loves you more than you'll ever know, and more than he can ever hope to express.

Miya Atsumu

For his whole life, Atsumu has been taken care of. But when he meets you, he finally experiences the joy of having someone else depend on him.

Atsumu could never understand why someone would ever hurt a person as precision as you. Because when the world sees his gruff persona, his inner character is soft and gentle, and reserved only for you.

If you have scars, Atsumu kisses them each night. His lips gently press against places which were once reminders of pain, but now are replaced with sensations of his soft lips. He wants you to know that every part of you, is worth loving, even if you might not know it yourself.

Atsumu has large hands, and although most people think he's not good with them, he's suprisingly very good at making delicate braids with your with. It calms you down, having him play with your hair, and it makes him feel really satisfied when he sees how well your braids turn out.

If you ever think lowly of yourself, Atsumu can never stand it. He hates it when you don't see what he does, and although it takes some time to convince you, he does it earnestly, wanting you to genuinely understand why you're so special.

“Don't say that about yerself. Yer perfect. Yer beautiful, and smart, and amazing, so please stop doubting yourself. If only ya could see what I see.”

Atsumu loves buying you things that remind him of you. Whether it be a small teapot in your favourite colour, or your favourite chocolate when you're out to get groceries, he's never not thinking of you.

He also definitely gets you a cute stuffed animal to hug at night, because he had one as a child, and on nights when he couldn't sleep, hugging his helped him immensely, which is why he thinks it might work with you too.

Atsumu thinks life is too short to be high strung, and wants you to relax as much as possible. He's never making tight plans, and prefers to instead go with the flow.

Sometimes, you stir in your sleep, getting nightmares and unbearable images flashing through your head, but Atsumu always places you on him, your head on his chest, and soothes you to sleep with the sound of his steadily beating heart.

He reminds you it beats for you, and only you, and that the nightmares may be there, but they'll disappear soon, while he, will not. He will be by your side forever.

Koushi Sugawara

Suga is no stranger to helping people pick themselves up. With his kind and caring personality, you really can't help but find yourself drawn to him.

It's in the smallest things he does, like reads you the paper every morning in his clear and sweet voice, or sends you texts every afternoon without fail, he makes you feel secure.

The small kisses he peppers on your face, or the way he lovingly wraps his arms tighter around you every night when you shiver from the cold, or the nightmares, are testament to the undying adoration he has for you.

He's always attentive to details, which means he knows you better than yourself. He knows going to places with crowds might trigger your memories, so he chooses a quieter place for dinner. He knows the slight tremble in your hand means you're not okay, and so he's gently soothing you, and taking you home.

Suga is your best friend, and the one constantly there for you, to be your biggest supporter along every step of the journey. Dealing with things like these, are messy, but he knows that, and you know he'll never judge.

He thinks you're perfect, and he wants you to start looking at the world the way you used to, with hope and wonder.

And that starts with you having a safe place, a comfortable one which you can associate with him, which is why he often brings you out to enjoy nature.

Small picnics in the woods, quiet hikes up scenic trails, and dates overlooking waterfalls or streams, Suga wants you to love nature because it is beautiful, just like you

“It is beautiful, just like you, but majestic, and grand, and strong, and those things are just like you too.”

And slowly, his eyes gaze at you fondly as you stroke the tiny bird which has landed on your finger, because you're finding the beauty in life again.

And he will fight, and go to the ends of the earth to stop anyone, who dares take that happiness and healing away from you, because you deserve to love the world again.

Taglist: @raychii @dai-tsukki-desu @k-sakusa-old @pocket-of-anxiety @sunasthing @osamusriceballs

[promoxie]

Mikoto's

PTSD✨😌

So, it's been a single episode of Salaryman's Club. And though the show is clearly already fond of foreshadowing (two times this episode, Mikoto has had some kind of traumatic reaction), nothing about these character's backgrounds have yet been explicitly revealed. And while I think I've got an idea about Tatsuru, I'm pretty sure I've got Mikoto's entire ptsd reasoning down. What happened at the Inter-high? Why does Mikoto blame himself? Here we go.

The most we get of this scene is at the start, I'm assuming this is the Inter-high championship. And when we first see this scene, a dented racket hitting the floor, Mikoto's doubles partner on the collapsed and clutching his arm, of course, everyone is going to assume that Mikoto likely hit his partner during a rally, resulting in some sort of serious injury. This would explain why he refuses to do doubles, perhaps he is too assertive or prideful to "stay in his lane" so to speak, and thus hurt his previous doubles partner on accident.

However, I'm here to say "No", because in the very next frame, we see Mikoto holding a racket. His own racket, assumedly, and it is not dented or damaged from what we can see. So what happened?

I think that Mikoto's partner injured himself, or more specifically, overly exerted himself in training until he collapsed in pain during a rally. The damaged racket has to be his own racket, and he threw it or dropped it mid-swing because of some worsening injury in his arm. "But wait," I hear you cry, "then why would Mikoto feel guilty about that? That's not his fault then." And for that I turn you to this.

Mikoto is a "prodigy". Look at Mikoto's partner, that smile looks forced doesn't it? And he's not holding the cup as high as Mikoto is. I think he's bothered. Bothered by Mikoto's skill, feels inadequate by comparison.

And lets say that you are Mikoto. You are good at the sport, kick ass really, and you play with your best friend and everything's good and dandy until suddenly, you find out that he has been destroying his body out of feelings of inadequacy, feelings of inadequacy towards you. That doesn't feel very nice. And I'm willing to bet that that's why Mikoto refuses to play doubles, because he's afraid of having a partner who envies him because of his skill, and as result, injures themselves in order to keep up with him in games. And that's not all, I've got one more spot of proof for my theory and it involves our lovely himbo.

Oh boy would you look at that.

No wonder that rises a reaction out of Mikoto. No wonder he asks Tatsuru if he really needs to play that hard. Because to Mikoto, the idea of people injuring themselves in anything concerning himself brings back bad memories.

Once Mikoto sees Tatsuru's skill, skill that I'm willing to bet his old friend did not have, he wonders "What if he really was my partner?" Only to immediately refute that idea, because what if it were to happen again? He can't take the risk.

That's why he's so insistent on singles. It's to protect himself. Now they're gonna end up playing together lmao, we all know this. However, I'm gonna make one more prediction...

Y'all. Tatsuru is 32. That's not old, that's not what I'm saying, but 32 is really pushing athletic prime. If he ends up hurting himself, how is Mikoto going to react? Will he be able to keep playing with Tatsuru? Or keep playing at all? I just feel like that's gonna happen... I mean everyone says that your 30s are great until the Injury... We'll see I suppose...