#it's the. we jump around points in his timeline for these two and time Does mean he shifts and it's also

[ruvviks]

it's been a hot sec since i've talked about cyberpunk and i was initially working on a fic that would tell the story of this whole thing, but i've abandoned it many months ago and cannot say when i'll be picking it up again SO! i've decided to instead make this timeline. sorry in advance for how much information is in this thing the cyberpunk extended blorboverse essentially refers to the story parallel to the in-game events of cyberpunk 2077 that @mojaves and i came up with. we don't really have a better name for it but at this point the term has been used so many times that i feel like everyone here knows what it is by now, but at the same time we've never really explained the full scope of what the story is by now (it's a lot sorry). so in an attempt to get you guys a little bit more up to date with it all, here's a semi coherent timeline that describes the core events of the story and every branching story that came out of it! for additional background information, you can check out the following posts (timeline 1 / timeline 2 / timeline 3) to catch up with the continuation of the in-game storyline that's referenced in this timeline, but it's mostly irrelevant to everything here save for a couple of referenced events that cross over between the stories. it all ties together very intricately sorry about that. don't worry too much about it i've included my taglist down below to make sure people who are interested won't miss this post, but feel free to skip over this if it's not your thing! won't be doing a lot of this kind of stuff in the future but i'm trying to get back to the cyberpunk roots so this is kind of like, a good starting point and reference point for later posts!

The story starts in early 2077 and is centered around Sebastian Vidal, gang leader of the Cobras and previous test subject of Arasaka Special Programs (the linked page is a lot of information but gives the most coherent overview of what the branch actually is). The current director of the SERPENT projects, Andrew Colton, and Dr. Alana Cartier, both want him dead, to tie up their last loose end before the rest of Arasaka can find out and shut down Special Programs once and for all.

Over the past months they’ve been hiring various assassins in secret, to try and get Seb killed; however, these assassins keep failing, and their latest attempt lies in the hands of Cassidy Shaffer, an ex-corpo turned assassin with a strong moral code and plenty of experience to his name. With little to work with, as his mysterious client doesn’t give out much information, Cassidy starts with what he thinks is gonna be a quick and easy job– but he ends up hunting after Seb for essentially a year.

During this year, the two men have a series of wild encounters that get more and more insane the longer it goes on; it includes, but is unfortunately not limited to, Cassidy biting off a chunk of Seb’s ear, the two of them running over the highway, the two of them getting handcuffed together and chased by the NCPD then hit by a car right in front of the hospital, and Seb sensually licking blood off Cassidy’s face after having stabbed him when Cassidy wanted to strike at a concert Seb is visiting.

All of it comes to a sudden stop when Cassidy learns his client has been lying to him the whole time, and since he does not appreciate lying clients he ends up jumping sides and teams up with the Cobras to do some cleanup duty in Arasaka Special Programs. He and Seb work together to go after a list of targets to get the still ongoing projects mostly to a halt, while remaining in the shadows themselves as to not draw too much attention their way; and during this collaboration they meet several people from their past, bringing back both good and bad memories.

One of these people is Hanan Chisaka, the Head of Security at Special Programs. She ends up becoming the next test subject of Project Cobra after the last successful subjects, Xavier and Gabriel Mason, end up escaping in the midst of the chaos of Hanako Arasaka’s capture in mid-2077. Once Seb’s best friend and Cassidy’s mentor, she’s now forced to hunt the both of them down; but in their final confrontation she snaps out of the controlled mode Arasaka keeps her in and runs away with them, effectively leaving Special Programs without any test subjects. Another one of these people is Reid Bennett, Cassidy’s ex and ex-coworker back at MaxTac. He still works for the corporation and has been on an ongoing investigation into Arasaka Special Programs; seeing Cassidy alive and well, working together with Seb no less, piques his interest and he continues to look further into the case, which will cause him to make a very big mistake later on in the timeline.

By September 2078, Seb and Cassidy have successfully taken down all their planned targets and retreat back into the shadows, leaving Special Programs with many losses and no test subjects. With the APEX program discontinued a month earlier (incident discussed in this fic, which is a continuation of the in-game events), and Hanako Arasaka recovered and ready to take the corporation back from the hands of her corrupt brother, Special Programs ends up having to retreat for the time being, and cook up a new plan in the background.

Special Programs by this point is run by Andrew Colton, Alana Cartier, and Kaida Akiyama, three players who have been in the game for a long time already in the SERPENT projects’ runtime. Colton and Cartier are married– Cartier used to be married to Seb and cheated on him for a good amount of time when he was still at Arasaka– but their marriage is starting to fall apart. Akiyama has had to watch over Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne for a while during his chase after the Mason twins, which ended up with the twins dead and Hawthorne going into early retirement (Arasaka doesn’t know the twins faked their death and Ambrose is now dating one of them lol), and xe is now determined to help Colton and Cartier get Seb back into Arasaka so the projects can continue.

Cassidy’s initial plan was to leave as soon as the collaboration would come to an end, but he has found his place with the Cobras and instead ends up officially joining them.The next chapter in the story is a more laid-back and easygoing chapter, in which Cassidy learns to be part of real life again, and in which Seb learns to let people get close to him again after spending years trying to convince himself he doesn’t need any help. Over the course of a little over a year (all the way to November 2079), the two grow even closer than they had already done, going on gigs together and, you guessed it, slowly but surely falling in love until they inevitably end up together at the end of it.

Not long after the two get together, Reid returns into Cassidy’s life. He wants to try and be friends again and Cassidy gives him a second chance, though this soon enough turns out to have been a mistake, with Reid trying to create distance between Seb and Cassidy and then going as far as trying to sell Cassidy to Kang Tao (one of the few corporations that have been hunting Cassidy down for a while now) in exchange for his own freedom from MaxTac (where he would have otherwise been stuck at for probably the rest of his life). Naturally, Reid can’t watch Cassidy get tortured for long and leaks his location to the Cobras, who find and free Cassidy and take Reid into captivity instead– he does not get killed, but instead has to sit out some time at a safehouse somewhere in solitude, where he gets to decide what kind of person he wants to be in the future.

This brings us to Elysium; a gorgeous spaceship which was supposed to be a relatively cheap escape from reality for everyone who wanted a refreshing break from Earth, but through Arasaka sponsorship has become just another cash-grab project to compete with the Crystal Palace– and considering the megacorporation has its greasy hands all over it, the secret labs in the spaceship are used for a series of very unethical experiments. Naturally so, it would be the perfect place for Colton to continue his SERPENT projects without the risk of Hanako Arasaka finding out and shutting the place down. He sends forces up to Elysium (obviously after his other attempts at relocating the project to space have failed tremendously, having lost contact with every single crew in the smaller Arasaka stations in orbit around the planet), but since he’s not there himself his cousin (one of the CEOs of Elysium), Maxwell Crane, unbeknownst to Colton, takes control of the SERPENT projects in space instead. From the earlier linked Special Programs page: “Project Eryx used the technology of previous projects, but took a completely new approach in the hosts it used; rather than focusing on the human psyche it attempted to create a new type of cyborg which would lack the humanity that caused previous projects to fail. The Cobra chips were no longer used and the software was instead installed directly onto the host’s mainframe. The flexibility of the new hosts– more robot than human, and in some cases the entire human aspect was lacking altogether– allowed for experimentation with highly advanced cybernetic enhancements and military grade tech and upgrades, turning the test subjects– dubbed ‘prototypes’– into dangerous, unstoppable killing machines.”

Things settle down for Seb and Cassidy, but this moment of peace does not last long. In January 2081 the two find themselves traveling to the spaceship Elysium, to investigate a curious situation in the laboratories– they’ve been hired by Arasaka without their knowledge and it’s a setup to get Cassidy killed and Seb back in Cartier’s control.

While in space, they learn that the secret labs have suffered an outbreak of the above mentioned prototypes. They quickly connect the dots and realize Special Programs is back in the game, and they work together with security guards Aubrey Valentine and Leon dello Russo to try and fix the situation before it gets out of hand. Obviously this fails tremendously and Elysium ends up on a complete lockdown after a ship-wide outbreak, which is eventually contained in late March of that year, with CEO Maxwell Crane dead, leaving only his wife Kinsley Osborn behind.

Elysium continues to exist and is rebuilt after the crisis, and Kinsley Osborn can now finally turn it into the retreat it was always meant to be. Previously, most Elysium employees were to be stuck in space for the rest of their lives; however, with Arasaka out of the picture they are free to leave as they please, which results in a gigantic cut in total employee count in the months that follow.

Seb and Cassidy return to Night City and take Aubrey and Leon with them. Aubrey reunites with his sisters; Becca, James, and Rikki, and soon after his return to the city he opens an LGBTQ+ nightclub called Bodytalk with them, found Downtown, City Center, in June 2081. Not only is it a fun place to hang out at, it’s also his main hub as a fixer, and he starts a collaboration with the Cobras to get business going between the gang and the club; and soon enough it grows into a large and powerful network of connections, which is the foundation on which the rest of the stories are built.

After this point in time, many many more things happen but it would take me another hour or ten to go into full detail of all of that, so instead here’s a quick rundown of some of the other things that Bodytalk gets involved in:

Reid Bennett is handed over to Aubrey and he starts working at the club, and he becomes a very valued employee as well as a good friend to many now that he’s no longer fucking insane

Kaida Akiyama returns from Elysium and shows up to Hanan’s doorstep, to ask for her help with getting out of Arasaka for good; much later on, xe starts working for Bodytalk as well, in an attempt to put xyr past behind xem and become a better person

Urban Dynamite starts performing at the club regularly, and it becomes their home base

Luna Serratos, Cassidy’s ripperdoc friend from all the way back to killing era, gets involved in the Harbinger case from Maelstrom (one of the gang’s most feared members); turns out the Harbinger is in fact Reuben de la Rosa, a by then 22-year-old kid who has ended up in Luna’s care with his friend Noah Telavera after the two got caught up in an explosion. She requests the Cobras’ help with getting Maelstrom to let Reuben go

Officer Michele Diaz from Militech (who used to be Cassidy’s boss) is demoted following the lawsuits after the Elysium incident, and her investigation into the incident in hopes to get her job back leads her to Bodytalk; she begins threatening them and sends the whole club and their allies into uncertain times

Many people get married. There’s so many fucking guys here we went a little insane with the numbers but there’s several weddings and there’s a whole polycule going on too feel free to send asks about this if you’re interested

Cobra Cybernetics releases a new line of cyberware, which is incredibly buggy and dangerous to the public; it’s brought to the club’s attention and it makes them realize that Luiza Vidal (Seb’s sister), who not that long ago asked them to kill her husband (William Colton (Andrew’s brother), CEO of Cobra Cybernetics), has gone missing; they now need to get involved without getting the news out that they actually didn’t kill William and that he is still alive somewhere, while also balancing out dynamics between Biotechnica (angry at Cobra Cybernetics for stealing their designs) and Arasaka (the actual reason why Cobra Cybernetics’ designs look like Biotechnica’s designs, because William stole designs from Special Programs after halting their partnership after the Elysium incident, but these designs had been stolen by Arthur Jenkins from Biotechnica even BEFORE that to be able to hijack the European Space Council’s cybernetics following the Frankfurt incident. Are you still with me)

Vitali Dobrynin (fixer and main character from the in-game events storyline and the continuation of it; Vincent “V” Mayer’s boyfriend) ends up visiting Bodytalk after meeting Aubrey at a Fixer Council meeting, which happens in late 2083; this essentially ties the two main storylines together, which means that yes, a lot of the characters from the two separate storylines end up meeting :]

Officer Ulysses Dimakos (used to work with Reid at MaxTac) is sent to investigate Bodytalk following the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and ends up teaming up with the club to get MaxTac on a dead trail in exchange for his freedom of the corporation

On top of the Bodytalk / Cobras centered storyline, there’s a couple of side stories that are still connected to the whole thing but are more of a standalone thing with only a few touching points to the rest of it all:

This obviously takes place a lot earlier because it’s already mentioned above, but Special Ops agent Ambrose Hawthorne is tasked with chasing after the escaped Mason twins; naturally he lets them go and ends up going into retirement, and Xavier Mason later on ends up becoming Bodytalk’s part-time repair guy on account of knowing Kaida

Gabriel Mason ends up in a car crash with retired security specialist Ames Ortega, who was also in Elysium during the incidents there, and the two end up babysitting Ambrose and Xavier’s kids together while those two are helping Hanan with getting Kaida out of Arasaka (Are you still with me. Blink if you can hear me)

Mercenary Frankie Sayyad gets a promotion from his fixer, Vulture (real name Diana Crane, Maxwell Crane’s older sister and cousin of the Coltons), and becomes one of her Bloodhounds; he works together with Evelyn Harris, Nimue Nkuna, and Beckett Rydel, the latter being one of the very first test subjects of Arasaka Special Programs, and the four accidentally get themselves mixed into a mystery concerning their secretive fixer

Caleb Harris, ex-security at Biotechnica, ends up back at Club Bodytalk not long after the conclusion of the Cobra Cybernetics scandal, and starts working for Aubrey; he is partnered up with Ramiel Al-Masri, a mercenary who has been working for Vitali Dobrynin for a while and has recently joined Aubrey’s mercenary roster too, and together they dive into a series of gigs neither of them had expected

Journalist Bodhi Shankar has finally found more evidence and information surrounding the mysterious cult gang Umbra and its so-called Prophet, Thiago Salazar; however, his antics have led to him accidentally becoming part of the gang himself, and he has to figure out a way to get Thiago to stop listening to the supposed deity that the gang worships known as Scintilla, before she makes him do things that will get many people killed

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel, @aezyrraeshh, @carlosoliveiraa

[lil-frenchfri77]

Begin Again

Summary: Ever since Bella came back to Forks things between y/n and her boys have been different. Embry and Quil stopped answering phone calls and texts, they’ve even been avoiding her everytime she shows up at their house. So y/n does the only thing she can think to do, she latches onto Jacob just like Bella, and when he starts acting like Embry and Quil did, she makes the decision to not put so much effort into a friendship that is clearly one sided. But what happens one day when Sam’s pack is in town at the same time as y/n and her new friends and two certain boys imprint on their former best friend? And what happens when a former best friend doesn’t feel the same way?

Author’s Note: Hello to everyone that is reading this! This is my first ever time writing a fanfic, so (if you’re reading this) go easy on me. I would love to hear any feedback anyone might have in the comments. Super excited to be writing this Twilight fic, I’ve been inspired by others authors on here to take my own spin with Stephaine Myers characters, none of which I have any ownership to. This doesn’t really follow the Eclipse movie timeline, I'm making things up and stretching the timeline. So this is basically my own story just using Stephanie’s characters and some of her themes. There are also some other characters in here that I don’t have any rights to, I just thought it would be fun to put them in this story. I don’t know how long or short this is going to be, I might be able to get my ideas across quickly or this might turn into a few chapters. If you’ve read this far I love you and I really hope you like this!

(Also not beta read cause I can’t afford that)(Dividers from @enchanthings here on Tumblr)

Y/n/n means your nickname 

Embry Call x Fem!Swan!Reader x Quil Ateara

Slight Stiles Stlinski x Reader

Chapter 1 | Master list | Chapter 2

Things had been weird lately, with Bella back in Forks, the Cullens, and your friends on the reservation. It seemed like everyday more and more of your friends were leaving to go hang out with Sam Uley and his pack of assholes. Now it was just down to you, Embry, Quil, and Jacob. It’s not like you’re not fine with that, Embry and Quil were your best friends ever. So you were fine with just the four of you hanging out all the time. But they got so hostile of you whenever Edward or one of his siblings came around to talk to you or Bella. 

It was getting absolutely exhausting trying to mediate things between them. You didn’t want to have to choose between your boys or Bella, but if it came down to it, your choice would always be your family and by extension, the Cullens. Although it seemed like you wouldn’t be getting a choice anyways when Embry and Quil stopped answering your texts and calls. They were never home when you came to visit and see what was happening to them. You had even tried asking Jacob if he knew anything but he swore up and down that he had no idea. 

You never expected to see them hanging out with Sam and his pack, jumping off that stupid cliff. You had never felt more betrayed. They could do whatever they wanted to but it hurt that they felt the need to drop you, without any kind of explanation and go hang out with the few people (at least you thought) you mutually disliked. It was obvious that they weren’t going to talk to you anymore so you did the only thing you could think of, you left them one last voicemail in hopes to get through to them. 

“Hey, it’s me. Um, I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I still miss you guys. I saw you the other day, hanging out with Sam and his boys. It’s fine, I guess. I just thought that we were better friends than that. I mean, we’ve been inseparable since we were 6 but that’s not really the point of why I called.” You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from rambling some more. “I don’t really understand why you started hanging out with Sam but you have free will so I can’t stop you. But I miss you guys, and I still want to be friends. I don’t want to permanently lose you both because I can’t get over this petty dislike I have. So, call me back. Please. I want to talk about everything, but if you truly want nothing to do with me anymore then I won’t bother you again. This is goodbye, then.” 

2 months later

Life wasn’t the easiest thing anymore. The boys never called you back, which you expected but it still stung. You still had Jacob, but it wasn’t the same. Jacob knew how much Embry and Quil’s choice had affected you, but there wasn’t much he could do to help you. He couldn’t just tell you that they were werewolves. So he did his best to try and raise your spirits. You were wholeheartedly grateful you had him during this time. 

Bella wasn’t much help either, she had just been broken up with and she was rotting away in her room. It appeared as though life was hating the Swan girls right now. As much as you wanted to wallow in your own pity you knew you had to be there for Bella. It’s not like the kids from school were going to help her, and honestly Bella wouldn’t want them to. So you spent months trying to help Bella, you didn’t want to lose your sister too. 

“Please, Bells. Just talk to me, tell me what’s going on in your head. I’ll do anything to help you, you just have to tell me. Tell me what I can do for you, I want to take all this pain away. I know this isn’t about me or dad but we’re so scared for you Bells. We love you so much.” You plead  with her. Tears welled up in your eyes when she turned away from you and went back to looking out of her window. You walked out of her room before she could see or hear you start to cry. 

“Whoa, slow down there kid. What’s happening?” Charlie stopped you in the hallway. His hands gripped your shoulders as they shook with silent sobs. 

“I can’t watch her wither away like that dad. She’s changing so much, and I don’t know how to help her. I hate Edward for what he’s putting her through and he’s not even here.” You spoke through your tears. Hiccuping in between every breath you took. 

“Y/n,” Charlie whispered, cupping your cheeks and making you look up at him, “We will get her through all of this okay kid? You and me will bring our Bella back. I know it.” He assured you as genuinely as he could. Truth be told, he had no idea if he would be able to get his daughters back to the girls they were before all this happened. He was grateful that you seemed to be okay so soon after the Embry and Quil situation. He didn’t know what he would do if both of his kids were nervous wrecks he couldn’t console. 

You nodded at him instead of answering back. You knew he was just trying to make you feel better. As much as you wanted to stay and keep trying with Bella you had to go to school. You couldn’t miss any more days this week or you would fall too far behind. 

After getting dressed you head downstairs where you say goodbye to your dad and meet Jacob who’s waiting for you outside. Lately he has taken to riding with you to school and then walking back to the reservation afterwards so you weren’t alone in the mornings. It was also a way for him to keep an eye on you and Bella. 

“You know, you don’t have to keep doing this Jake, I’m perfectly okay with getting to school by myself.” You told him today. It has been on your mind for a little while now. 

“I know,” he chuckles, “but I like to. Sometimes I don’t want to be alone in the morning so I make you suffer and force my presence on you. You’re going to have to get used to it.” Jacob simply shrugged. 

You get quiet after that and it worries him, but before he can ask you what’s wrong you beat him to it

“If you ever want to be friends with Sam and everyone else, please don’t cut me off too. I don’t think I could handle that.” Your hands grip the steering wheel tighter as you pull up to a red light. You can’t bring yourself to look over at him, as you not so patiently wait for his answer. 

“Y/n/n, I will never abandon you to be friends with Sam and his pack of douchebags. Okay? It's you and me against the world now.” He says in such a loving tone that it brings tears to your eyes for the second time that day. “Oh god, please don’t cry. I totally didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

Watching him panic while he tries to get you to stop crying does the trick, and you start to giggle at him. The rest of the drive to your school is silent with the occasional sing along moment to whatever is playing on the radio. When you finally arrive at school you're in a much better mood. 

You say goodbye to Jacob and head into the building, putting on your headphones and turning the volume all the way up. Someone knocks into you from the side sending your phone and headphones sliding across the floor. 

“Oh my god. I’m so freaking sorry!” Apologizes spill from the mystery boy's mouth as his friend, the one who pushed him into you, hurries to gather your things. He turns around to his friend on the floor and hisses out “Dude. What the hell??” 

It wasn’t surprising that you had to clue who these boys were. When you were friends with Embry and Quil you didn't really talk to the people you go to school with. “It’s fine.” You shrugged it off, not wanting to create a problem with these two. 

“No, its not fine. I totally didn't mean to smash into you. Scott’s just an asshole.” The boy throws his friend, Scott, under the bus. “I’m Stiles by the way.” 

“I didn't mean to push him into you miss, I didn't even see you there.” Scott pipes in, before quickly realizing what he said. “OH! I didn't mean I didn't see you at all, like you're just hard to see. Cause you’re not hard to miss. Not that you're always in the way! I've never seen you before so… I'm going to stop talking now.” Scott sheepishly tugs at the collar of his shirt. He seems to be sweating now. The incredulous look on your face seems to shut him up well enough for his friend, Stiles, to get a word in. 

“Wow dude, that was bad.” He’s trying to hold back his laughter now. “I think what he's trying to say is that he was so preoccupied with being an asshat that he wasn't paying attention to our surroundings.” Stiles says it a lot more eloquently than Scott had and it makes you giggle. 

They both stare at you like you've grown a second head. “That was the worst apology I have ever heard in my entire life.” You state after getting ahold of your laughter. “I’m y/n. I accept your terrible apology, and it's okay that you haven't seen me around before, because to be honest. I've never seen either of you around before either.” 

They let out a breath of relief and apologize one more time, sounding more coherent and sincere this go around. Scott proceeds to ask you what you have for the first period and surprisingly you have the same class as them, so you all walk to your class talking and getting to know each other. When you get to class you part ways to your seats with plans to meet after class. 

Your class schedules were pretty similar, especially yours and Stiles. In the classes you and Stiles shared you decided to move seats and sit next to each other, getting in trouble a few times for talking too much. You were getting along with him so well that he invited you to sit with him and his friends at lunch. And since you didn't have any other plans you took him up on his offer. 

When lunch time rolls around Stiles follows you to your locker where you get your food before heading to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. The table quiets down when the two of you approach. “Y/n these are my friends: Lydia, Allison, Issac, Liam, Malia, Kira, and you've already met Scott.” One by one his friends say hello and introduce themselves to you. This wasn’t at all how you thought it was going to go. You assumed that they would only give you a cursory hi and go back to their conversations, but they seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

[skrunksthatwunk]

not my dad not liking moral orel season 3 🤭🤭🤭that's so embarrassing for him (<- he's not wrong for feeling that way but i think it's like 60% because he doesn't like it when art gets weird and that's so so tragic for him)

[libraryofloveletters]

Find Your Way Home

Daniel Ricciardo x Engineer!Fem!Reader

Warnings: the curse that is mclaren racing, < mclaren/zak slander, the highs and lows of Danny's career, monaco 2016, horner warning lmao, a few bitter words, angst, unspoken feelings, sadness, 2022 silly season and a few swear words.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: after plotting this, i realized that The Red String Of Me And You follows a similar timeline but this one is more detailed and sooo much sexier of me so enjoy it :)

---

RedBull Racing - 2014; Montreal, Canada.

Under-qualified crossed your mind every time you got into your chair on the pit wall.

You had recently graduated and you were lucky enough to snag a job with Red Bull Racing. You were told it would be a job at the factory, that you would be handling the reviews from the races from an engineering point of view.

Now you were sitting on the pit wall in Montreal, your driver in your ear. "Are we set?" His voice came through.

Your eyes scanned over the screens, pressing the button. "We're all set, Daniel."

Daniel was gunning for his first race win and you've been hoping and praying every weekend that he'd win. It was your first time as a race engineer and you were starting to think you two hadn't fully clicked yet, hence why you've yet to get a win.

He starts in P6 and his teammate Sebastian, was in P3 this weekend. There's a lot of pressure when your teammate is a 4 time world champion and you're sure Daniel felt it, especially on weekends like this.

You sat patiently, buzzing into him once more before they started the countdown. "Be safe."

"Safe is my middle name, y/n."

"Whatever you say, Joseph." The use of his actual middle name earned you a laugh. The radio falls silent; three, two, one, lights out.

It's a gruesome 70 laps, there's overtaking left and right, Daniel fights his way up to P3 and you're praying he can do what he does best. You watch as the laps count down towards the final one.

67, 68, 69, and into the final corner. The navy car crossed the line and it takes you a second to catch yourself. Christian squeezes your arm from next to you, a massive grin on his face when you register what just happened.

"YOU DID IT!!" You shouted into the radio, Daniel's laughter and hollering filled your ears and your heart with love and happiness, "we did it!" he shouts, correcting you.

Everyone's running, you're following the mechanics to under the podium, all of you squished up against the fence like sardines as the navy team awaited their two drivers.

Daniel had won, followed by Nico in P2 for Mercedes and Sebastian in P3 for RedBull.

Seb runs over to his half of the garage, there's a sea of navy and everyone is mixed up together but when Daniel gets out of his car, he's looking for one person and one person only. He spots you, a big smile on your face and even though he knows you'd never admit it, there are tears in your eyes.

The driver jumps straight into your arms, putting all of his weight on you and the fence. A few of the mechanics squeeze into the hug, holding Daniel so he doesn't crush you.

Your hands cup his face, well what would be his face under the helmet. His visor is lifted, brown eyes meet yours; the crinkles by his eyes signalling to the massive smile under the helmet.

"We fucking did it!" His shout comes out muffled.

You smile, nodding. Daniel is standing again, still holding onto you. He leans into you, arms wrapped around you with his face buried in your shoulder. You kiss the side of his helmet, hand reaching down to rub the top of his back. You internally gag at the dampness that meets your hand but that was the least of your concerns.

Daniel just won his first race.

Proud was an understatement.

--

RedBull Racing - 2016; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

He could taste the victory.

The win was reaching out to him, the finish line on the tips of his fingers and he could feel it slipping away from him.

"Pit now," you called to him, Daniel was confused by your sudden decision. "Tyres are good, y/n."

"Team decision, please pull into the pit lane."

Daniel groans letting you know he'll be there in a few seconds.

You saw when he pulled into the pits, watching as the mechanics scrabbled to get the tyres ready in time. They had Daniel sitting there, his position falling with each wasted second.

"What the fuck!" His radio was still on, you weren't even sure what you could tell him in that moment to make him feel better. He pulls out with a sense of speed you'd never seen before. He finds himself racing to beat Lewis coming out of the pit lane but the Mercedes turns into the corner before he gets the chance too, overtaking him.

"Why did we pit?" He asks you, you pretend not to hear him as you look over at Christian. The older man gives you a look, urging you to answer the driver.

Daniel calls your name once again, his voice making you want to cry; all of the horrible emotions mixed in with the guilt of the horrible pit stop made you sick.

You finally answer; "team decision."

He scoffs, it's like you can feel the tension over the radio, see the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel as he goes into the tunnel. "Bullshit, y/n."

"I'm sorry Dan-" "Stop, nothing you could say will make this better."

And with that, the radio fell silent. The nauseous feeling builds with each passing second, your leg shaking and your eyes staying fixed to the screen until Daniel crosses the finish line in P2.

It was better than nothing but you knew he could have won the race, you knew he would blame the team, blame the crew, blame you for this loss.

Christian squeezes your shoulder as he gets up, a smile on his face - his quiet way of telling you good job. He knows how difficult drivers can be, especially when things like this happen. The race engineers are the first to take the blame, you called him into the pit so you'd take the brunt of the anger.

You nod, hearing Daniel's voice over the radio, "place?"

"P2. Well done, Daniel."

"Okay."

Daniel stood next to Lewis, Checo on the other side of the Mercedes driver. It was quiet as you watched Daniel shake the champagne bottle, spraying over his fellow drivers. He had a smile on his face but you knew he wasn't happy. You knew him like the back of your hand and once again, the nauseous feeling creeped up the back of your throat, the feeling strangling the life out of you with each passing second. You had to go, you couldn't stand there and watch him like that, knowing you were the one he was blaming.

And that he did; not in so many words but the bitterness in his voice and way he spoke was enough to tell you he did not want to be there.

The interview replayed in the debrief that afternoon, the press officers wanting to go over something he had said.

"It hurts, this one hurts a lot. More than any other."

His words hurt you.

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him, let alone be in the same room as him. There was a sense of despair, you couldn't shake it.

It wasn't until you were about to leave that you found yourself turning back, walking in the direction of his driver's room. You stopped outside the door; D. Ricciardo, 3 - with an Australian flag beside it. As you were about to knock, Michael opens the door, a bit shocked to see you.

"Is he in there?" You asked quietly and he nodded, stepping aside to let you in. Michael shuts the door on his way out, leaving the two of you alone.

Daniel's yet to turn around or yet to realize you were there. "I'm sorry," you speak, your quiet voice startling him. "I'm not sure what went wrong."

"Everything did."

"It wasn't my decision."

"You're my engineer; when I'm out there, it's me and you. It was your decision, y/n. Only yours."

"I'm sorry, Daniel. I really am."

"Nothing you can say will fix it, and I know you're sorry but right now, I don't want your sorry."

You nod, taking a step back. "Then what can I say? Or do?"

"You can leave," his arms fold over his chest. "Because if you stay, I might say some things I can't take back. I know we aren't cool right now but I don't want to hurt you, y/n."

"You already have," you give him a tight lipped smile, the sadness clear across your face. "Goodnight Daniel."

--

RedBull Racing - 2018; Monte Carlo, Monaco.

It was off to a good start, Daniel had managed to give it his all and snag pole position on Saturday. He was in a good mood, there's a smile on his face and the sun was shining down on Monaco which was a nice change from the rain that was setting up in the morning.

The cars on the grid, the drivers counting down the seconds to lights out. You buzz into him, waiting to hear the little click. Daniel's breathing comes through from his side.

“50% done, remember?” You tell him. 

“50% done.” He says, the radio goes quiet as he waits for lights out.

Daniel drove amazingly, despite the issues the car was giving him. He finds himself aggravated half way through the race, the car giving out on him and losing power; thus losing hope in himself. The win was slipping through his fingers all over again with each passing corner and turn.

The weight was lifted off his shoulders when you watched him cross the finish line as the winner.

"P1 baby!!!!" You shout into the radio, Daniel's hollering fills the line and a big smile on both of your faces. "We fucking did it!!" He laughed, driving his cool down lap.

You were by the fence, watching as he climbed onto the halo of his car. Daniel's hand in a fist, placed on his chest as the team cheered. You're sure you've got the goofiest grin on your face, squished between Christian and Adrian.

Much like he did after his first race win, he makes a beeline straight for you, his arms open as he jumps into yours. Once again, you find yourself struggling to hold the man up but you try your best, arms wrapped around him.

Daniel's squished against you, your hands on his helmet, holding where his jaw would be. "Got that other 50%."

"Redemption day baby!" He shouts, giving you one last squeeze.

The rest of the afternoon was like heaven on earth; the smell of champagne, RedBull and chlorine covered everyone, you all watched as Daniel dived into the pool of the energy station.

"Come on!" He shouts to you but you shake your head, "I'm not getting in there."

Daniel pulls himself out of the pool, running over to you. "Dan, no." Your finger stuck out to warn him, the man comes closer. "Stop it," you get up, about to run away. He grabs you before you get the chance to run away, his arms wrapped tightly around you before he jumps into the pool.

"Daniel!" You scream when you get back up to the surface, "oh my god!" You laughed, your hand passed over your face to wipe away the water. He laughs, swimming - more like blobbing his way over to you, his race suit was weighing him down.

He grabs your arm, pulling you to him. The team photographer takes a photo of the two of you; arms wrapped around each other, covered in disgusting pool water with the world's biggest million watt smiles on your face.

You smile at the man next to you, "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," he smiles, hugging you once more. "I couldn't have done it without you."

--

RedBull Racing - 2018; Abu Dhabi.

The announcement over the summer break threw everyone for a loop.

Breaking News: Daniel Ricciardo set to join Renault Racing for the 2019 season.

You weren't sure how to handle it or what prompted it.

Well that's not entirely true; after Monaco, things went downhill fast. There was bad result after bad result and it was weighing heavily on him.

When he returned from the summer break, you didn't say anything to him about the departure from the team. You knew he must have thought about it, you don't just up and leave a team just like that. It was a hard decision for him to make.

The last thing you wanted to do was make him feel worse.

It was his last day, the race was over and Daniel had made his rounds to say goodbye to everyone. You had been busy when he made his way around the garage and hospitality but you felt like a general goodbye wasn't enough for the man who you have spent almost every day with for the last 4 years of your life.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, Michael smiles when he opens the door. "Come in, y/n."

Daniel turns when he hears your name. "I uh, I forgot something in the garage, I'll be back." Micheal says, announcing that he's leaving so you'd get a moment of privacy.

The two of you were quiet, looking at each other for a moment before you spoke.

You break the silence. “So this is it?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, shifting from one foot to the other. You hum, lips pressed together as you look around. You'd never seen the room so empty. “Do you really have to go ?” 

Daniel smiles, “afraid so, bags are packed.” 

“You could always unpack.” 

He smiled, his heart aching at the sight of you. You reached out, your hand placed on his warm cheek. “But you’ll come back, right?” 

A sad smile on his face, bringing his own hand up to rest on yours. “In another life, maybe.” 

“You promise?” You stuck your pinky out towards him. 

He nods, interlocking his pinky with yours like you were children. “I promise.” 

--

Renault Racing - 2020; Imola, Italy.

The rain poured down, the night sky as dark as it could possibly get as you pulled your hood over your head; the race hadn't gone as well as you'd like but you were no longer needed for the night, on your way back to your hotel for some sleep and then home before you head off to Turkey.

You could barely see where you were going let alone hear anything over the rain. The sudden shelter over you caused you to look up; an umbrella, a black and yellow one to be precise.

The man next to you smiles when you turn to see who was next to you. "Hello stranger," he grinned, the big smile on his face.

"Hello Daniel," you smiled.

The two of you hadn't spoken much since he left RedBull, it was a hi and a hello here and there in passing but you've yet to have a proper conversation. Frankly, you aren't sure what to say without it being awkward.

"Need a ride?" He asks, his arm over your shoulder to pull you away from the rain. "If it's not too much trouble." You pull the hood off of your head, flattening a few fly aways.

Daniel leads you towards the parking lot, holding the umbrella over your head until you get into the car. The man backed out of the parking spot, the sound of the rain on the windshield filled the silence, you translated the road signs in your head as he passed them by.

"You looked good up there today," you say quietly, Daniel glanced at you when he came to a stop. "You were always suited for the podium."

"Top step though," he smiles and you nod in agreement. "I'm sorry.. about the race. Sucks for Max and Alex."

You shrugged; A DNF for Max and P15 for Alex, so all in all, a shit weekend. "That's racing, what can you do?"

"The good and the bad." He pulls off when the light turns green. "You know how it is," you smiled, picking at the chipped nail polish on your index finger.

"Daniel, can I ask you something?"

"Oh full name, you've got me shakin' in my boots, y/n; but yes you can."

You shift in the leather seat, smooth and expensive and suddenly you're aware of how wet your hoodie is. The question you wanted to ask slips away momentarily as you think of how much this must be damaging the seat.

"Y/n," he calls out to you, glancing over to make sure you were alright after you had gone quiet. "What did you want to ask me?"

"Why are you running, Daniel ?"

The question catches him off guard, the car comes to a stop as he pulls into the parking lot of your hotel. His jaw hung open a bit as if he was unsure how to answer you; which he was. You watched as he blinked, trying to gather the thoughts in his head into a cohesive sentence.

"I'm not."

You can't help but chuckle; those who are running never seem to realize that they are, in fact, running.

"You are. You have a habit of doing that, Daniel."

You reach over, your hand rests atop of his; Daniel's skin is warm in comparison to yours that's still ice cold from the rain. His free hand moves, his index finger tracing up and down your hands, from your knuckles down to your wrist; another habit of his. He would distract himself during boring debriefs, his fingers pinching at yours under the table.

He's quiet, still unsure how to answer the statement that he knows in his heart was true. His fingers wandering over your hand, the raised skin by your thumb felt out a pattern identical to his; a rose in the same spot only slightly smaller in size.

Daniel had talked you into it. Another habit of his, getting you to do things you'd never do otherwise.

You were scared, you thought it would hurt but somehow he managed to talk you into it. There you were in his hotel room, Daniel's hand in your free one as you two got matching tattoos.

It felt like a million years ago - so much has changed since then.

You speak again, breaking the silence. "I hope you find what you're looking for at McLaren. You deserve some peace, Dan. You and I both know it."

--

McLaren Racing - 2021; Monza, Italy.

Back where he belongs.

A hell of a drive, something only Daniel could have pulled off after the horrendous start that was McLaren. You knew it was the car, not him; if anyone asked you, the car was always at fault. Daniel was one of the most talented drivers you had ever come across and had the pleasure of working with. You'd tell anyone who asked, anyone who'd listen to you.

It was a lacklustre weekend for the team; Checo was in P5 and Max had a DNF after an accident with Lewis, which caused both drivers to lose out on points that were needed for the championship.

Despite RedBull not having a driver on the podium, you and a few of the mechanics that used to work on Daniel's side of the garage went to watch the podium to cheer him on.

You watched as he and Lando did a shoey, your face twisting into disgust much like the younger McLaren driver. Valtteri watched in a bit of confusion and disgust, shaking his head as he took a swing of champagne from the bottle like a normal person.

The champagne bottle in one hand and the other on the railing as he climbed up. Daniel shouts, a big grin on his face as he lifts the bottle above his head. Everyone cheers for him, clapping and shouting for the winner. You were needed back in the garage for a meeting so you couldn't stick around long but you made sure to text Daniel.

To Daniel Ricciardo: Congrats winner! Back on the top step.

You got caught up in the meetings, back to back that felt never ending. Eventually you have a chance to check your phone but when you feel your pocket, it's not there.

You must have put it down somewhere. You find yourself retracing your steps, asking each person you saw as you passed by.

"Y/n!" GP calls for you, getting your attention. "Looking for this?" He holds up a phone with a navy blue case, your initials inscribed in gold on the bottom.

You let out a breath, "how'd you know?"

He hands the phone over to you, shrugging. "You know I always know." You roll your eyes at your co-worker's theatrics and thank him for your phone before walking off. You see you've missed a few messages so you scroll through. One in particular catches your eye.

From Daniel Ricciardo: Thanks boss lady! Congrats to you too, you helped make me the man I am today.

The message pulled on your heart strings; it was true. You and Daniel were so young when you got paired up together. You learnt a lot about life and yourselves, how to be a good person and what you wanted from life, and most importantly, how to get it.

You grew up together and Daniel would always hold a special place in your heart.

--

McLaren Racing - 2022; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

You couldn't believe it.

After everything he's done for the team, he'd hurt him like that. What could you expect from a team when their CEO was a walking snake?

It was a chain reaction.

Sebastian had thrown everyone for a loop in Hungary, announcing that he would be retiring at the end of the 2022 season. That left Aston looking for a replacement that came from Fernando. There was an opening at Alpine now which they just assumed they'd fill with their reserve driver, Oscar.

Safe to say Oscar wasn't a fan of that plan, actually he wasn't even aware of that plan.

While all of this was going on, Daniel had publicly committed to McLaren for the next season and McLaren was giving away his seat to different drivers behind his back, including none other than Alpine's reserve driver, Oscar.

Eventually it did come out that Daniel would be leaving McLaren at the end of the 2022 season to no fault of his own.

Returning from the summer break, everyone is left to face the music; particularly Daniel.

His music shuts off when he pulls the key from the ignition. You had forgotten your pass in the car, walking all the way back to the parking lot to get it.

"Morning, y/n!" Daniel grins, stepping out of the car.

You smiled at him, knowing you can't show the anger you were feeling to that wretched team he has to work with for the rest of the season. "Morning, Danny. How are you?"

He laughs.

The question feels so stupid, he feels so stupid. Obviously there's the obvious, he's angry, upset, sad, mad; at who was the question. There's so many thoughts in his head, he isn't sure how to answer your question.

"Daniel, c'mon. Seriously. "

"I'll be okay, y/n. Life works in weird ways."

A huff slips past your lips, arms folded across your chest much like a disapproving mother. "Life working in weird ways is finding something you thought you lost years ago, not you getting sold out of your seat without your knowledge."

He gives you a sad smile, nodding in agreement. "I know."

You can't help but reach out, a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be okay."

"I always am, aren't I?"

--

Red Bull Racing - 2022; Abu Dhabi.

Headphones covered your ears, legs folded under you as you went over the last set of race footage.

You hadn't heard the door open, your eyes glued to the screen only looking away to scribbling something down on the page next to your laptop.

You barely get a second to look back before someone's hands over your eyes, startling you. Instinctively, you brought your own hands up, grabbing the person. The raised skin along the wrist and the arms was enough to signal who it was but the smell of his cologne filled the room. You let go of his arms, pulling the headphones off your ears.

Daniel smiles, his hands on your shoulders before you stand up and turn to face him. “Miss me, miss me, now you gotta-“ 

“Gotta what, Dan?” 

“Kiss me,” he says, his signature cheeky grin on his face. You can’t help but smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. You smooth the wrinkles on his navy blue shirt, admiring him in the colours that meant home to him, to you.

Your hands held his face, “you came back.” 

“Pinky promises are sacred.” 

“That they are.” 

--

Scuderia AlphaTauri - 2023; Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium.

He's back on the grid, his focus was on racing.

Daniel's excited to be back, it felt good to be back. Racing wasn't a burden anymore. Yuki was happy to have him, his new teammate welcoming him with a smile and a hug as did the rest of the Alpha Tauri team before he made his way to his driver's room.

The door was unlocked, left ajar slightly. Daniel just assumed the team was doing a last check, making sure things were in order.

He wasn't expecting a person to be in there. He found a woman, her back turned to him as she scribbled down something on the board.

He knows that handwriting from anywhere. The words let's fucking go written in all caps in bright blue.

"Hello," he calls, you turn with the marker still in hand. "Hello," you smiled.

Daniel can't help but laugh, "what are you doing here? Come to welcome me back ?"

"Something like that."

At that moment, Daniel noticed you weren't wearing your usual navy blue uniform. Today was different; a different logo, a different cut.

"What are you wearing? Why are you wearing that?" He points to the Alpha Tauri logo on your shirt.

Your brows furrow, a bit confused by his reaction. You thought he'd be happy to see you. "Do you not need a race engineer or.. you're just gonna wing it? Maybe you could borrow Michael to do it?"

"Don't be a smart ass," he rolled his eyes, dropping his bags as he walked over to you. "Thank you," he whispers, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You pat his back, trying to wiggle away from him. "No need to thank me, we have a lot of work to do."

"I've barely been here for 5 minutes and you're already hassling me."

"Someone's gotta do it," you smiled, leaving him there to settle in.

It wasn't until it was time for practice that you saw the man again, you're across from him on the pit wall, looking over the stats before you hear the radio buzz.

“We all set?” He asks. 

You look over the screens. “All set. Be safe.”

“Safe is my middle name, Y/n.” The words remind you of the path you walked along many many years ago. 

You smiled, waving to him as he pulled out of the garage. “Whatever you say, Joseph.”

--

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[ivvyela]

imagine with me, if you will, a nwh potential fix-it involving none other than the multiverse saving duo deadpool and wolverine.

i know, i know - but please, let me cook.

wade and logan now jump across timelines to "fix" things aka travel the multiverse for funsies and deal with the consequences later and somehow end up in a universe where peter parker doesn't exist, but spider-man does. and wade, blessed with the power of "i know this for the plot", immediately knows that is bull. shit. and sure enough, they find one very depressed, very lonely, and very jaded peter parker.

after much annoyance, light stalking, and following spider-man while he's on patrol, they get peter to spill how he ended up in this situation. and after hearing everything, logan breaks the silence with a simple, yet effective: "shit, kid. that... shit."

"yeah, well... now you know, so you can, like, leave me alone."

"nope, not gonna happen." wade shakes his head and tactfully ignores logan's imploring look of what-the-fuck-are-you-getting-us-into-now "i take my job as marvel jesus very, very seriously, so frankly, this is my job to fix your sorry little life, buddy. and if flat-out telling them you exist didn't work, then - "

"oh, i actually... i never told them."

"...come again?"

"i tried to tell them, but i couldn't. so..."

"i'm sorry... your best friend and girlfriend were crying, telling you to come find them and remind them of you, and you chose not to?"

"they're happy and safe without me! i wasn't going to ruin - "

"oh my god. you sweet, self sacrificial, idiot spider-baby. okay! we can fix this! we're no tony stark, but consider us your pseudo daddies for the time being, kid. let's get you your life back."

which is how one very emotional and determined deadpool, followed by a stoic, nonchalant wolverine (who, in all honesty, probably should be completely against this, but once wade commits to something, he can't be talked out of it, and the sooner he gets his fix from this the sooner he can go home, so fuck it we ball), end up in a certain cafe, all up in a poor barista and her friend's face with a cut-out yearbook photo of some kid, yelling "LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT THIS BOY! HE'S SO LONELY! LIKE A SMALL, FORLORN, VICTORIAN CHILD! REMEMBER HIM, GODDAMMIT!"

(their efforts result in two confused and scared teens, and getting kicked out of said cafe.)

peter practically begs them to just leave him alone, that this was his choice, and he's fine with it, but both wade and logan know a lie when they hear one. they both know what being alone can do to a person, and peter is just a kid who got dealt the shittiest cards in life and at this point, it just feels wrong to leave him here without trying to do something. and maybe they both have a small soft spot for the teen, so what?

and peter knows both men can see through his broody, teenage angst front he's been putting up since the spell, and he's tried so hard to hate the two of them, get them to hate him so they would leave, but they're not budging, so really, there's no point in trying to push them away, right?

and so, he lets them in. he learns that while logan is stoic and intense and kinda terrifying, he's also someone who just wants to do the right thing for the people he cares about. he's also lost people, and he blames himself, but he's come out on the other side. he would tell peter about his daughter, laura, who wouldn't let him wallow in self pity because she is good, better than he has ever been. he never saw himself as a father, but she's still around, so he must be doing alright.

and at first hearing it would result in a pang in his chest, memories of thai food after walking into a smoke-filled kitchen, assurances that things will work out when everything feels hopeless, a tombstone that can never convey everything she was, but now... it's nice to hear that logan still had someone after losing everyone.

so, peter listens to logan's stories. in return, peter tells logan all about his mom.

and wade was brash and loud and conceded and really, really annoying, but he's... no, that's it. he's all of those things, but in a weird way, it's like all those bad qualities merge together to make him a good guy. and yeah, he can walk away at any point, he has absolutely no obligation to help peter, but he does it anyway.

("nonono, don't you dare make me some selfless hero type, kid. i know for a fact that every deadpool has a peter. i'm doing this for the me in your world."

"you're... huh?"

"bottom line, i'm a selfish bastard. i'm doing this for me, 'kay?")

peter didn't fight it. he's had experience with seemingly self-absorbed, deflecting type heroes.

wade doesn't replace him, not even close, but... still.

maybe peter will never get back what he lost. but, for the first time, peter sees a light at the end of the tunnel. that, maybe, he can stop being just spider-man, and he can start being peter parker again, too.

(and if there's a barista talking to her friend about how it's weird that two guys would show up holding a photo of an odd customer from weeks ago, demanding they remember him, and despite not knowing him she felt something, and her friend couldn't help but agree, well... that's neither here nor there.)

[laylarevengers]

dancing with our hands tied. manjiro sano x fem! reader. bonten timeline. established relationship (marriage). established biological son. changes like emma, shinichiro, izana are around alongside most ‘dead’ characters in this arc. overall fluff!

“hey, don’t do that. you’ll get hurt.” manjiro mumbled, stretching his arms and pushing his son back from the table he was gladly going to walk into. it was weird, having two people that he loves this dearly, that is. y/n and his son. every time he watched the three-year-old kid play around in his office, ruin papers and invade executives meetings with his barely audible words; it made manjiro’s heart flutter. fuck, he loved that kid to hell and back.

he wanted to leave. get away and ensure that this kid won’t be tied to him, have him have a normal life without any fear, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t leave. he left y/n once and it was the worst time of his life, what will happen when he leaves her and his son again? the light of his life? the only ones that make him laugh that boyish smile he used to have in his toman days.

“dad!” a whiney voice snapped manjiro and out of his thoughts. he sat one of the meeting rooms with the executives, all waiting for some snobby people to have a dumb finance meeting with, all with the child running around the room. y/n had work, manjiro does not trust babysitters, and the executives are here so he had no choice but to have him attend with him.

‘teach them young,’ manjiro chuckled when he remembered y/n’s words at the decision to take the kid. little fingers pointed at the haitani brothers, “ran, candy!” mikey’s full attention was on the broken, mumbled words spoken. he hummed, “yeah? ran toke your candy?” he couldn’t help but smile at the desperate nods from the little boy and how he crossed his arms with a small pout, glaring at ran and rindou who couldn’t control their laughter anymore.

it was crazy, manjiro thought, how much of a carbon copy of him this kid was. the same silky black hair that y/n insisted on letting grow, similar to how mikey had it in his toman days. the same big, black eyes but unlike his own, the boy’s was full of light and sparkles whenever he looked at his dad. he stood there, small and arms-crossed, wearing the cardigan auntie emma had crocheted him with the sweatpants and snickers that he bought with uncle izana and uncle shinichiro after motorcycle rides.

manjiro bent down and picked the little boy, sitting him on his lap. small arms immediately wrapped themselves around mikey’s neck, “did ran and rin make you sad?” manjiro mumbled, patting the boys back. he heard a small sniff then a muttered, “yes.” it was times like these where the executives saw the real manjiro. when he was around his son or his wife, soft and gentle and happy.

manjiro turned boy around, “sanzu is right there. go tell ‘em.” he pointed at the pink haired man who just walked into the room. ran and rindou groaned in fake fear as the little boy smiled widely and rubbed the tears away with his sleeve. he quickly got off mikey’s lap and ran towards sanzu who almost immediately put the cigarette he had in hand when he heard the small call of his name, “san-zoo! ran-rin, candy!”

mikey watched as the boy jumped in anticipation in front of sanzu. “oh, yeah? you want me to take care of them?” sanzu bent down so he was face to face with the boy. “yes! can we, dad?!” manjiro noted how clearer his words were becoming now, he had to tell y/n later tonight. he nodded, giving the boy permission which immediately made him burst into laughter and giggles as he ran towards the haitanis with screams and hit them with small fists to which they pretended to get hurt by with fake groans and cries of pain.

manjiro audibly laughed. “the assholes are here,” koko told him. mikey hummed, “hey. no cursing.” god, he’s such a dad. manjiro called the boy by his nickname which immediately caught his attention. it was always like that. the boy admired his dad so much. “come on. you gonna sit with dad as he listen to some assholes?” koko could only roll his eyes. the boy ran excitedly towards his dad, climbing onto his lap while refusing any help with the task until he sat completely and placed his small hands on the table with a small serious face.

the bonten executives all let out small chuckles as manjiro ruffled the boy’s hair, “good job. ‘always making dad proud.” the boy rested his back onto mikey’s chest and holding his wrist with a small shy smile.

manjiro sighed heavily as he locked the front door after coming in. he toke off his shoes, making sure the boy sleeping in his arms would not be disturbed. he glanced at the shoe wardrobe they have by the door and could not find y/n’s shoes placed outside the wardrobe indicating she came come. weird. it’s really late.

he continued into the penthouse until he reached the living room closest to the master bedroom where he placed the small boy on the sofa, slowly taking off his white sneakers. “jiro,” mikey turned around and saw her. he could not help but smile, “hey.” he replied lowly as she made her way towards both her boys, placing a small kiss on each of their forehead.

she was still in her work clothes, mikey noticed. they both sat on the floor, leaning on the couch where their boy laid, heavily sleeping. “how was today?” she asked with a whisper, brushing strands of black hair away from the small face of the sleeping boy. mikey shrugged, “practically spent all day in the meeting. we got cupcakes after we were done. that’s it really.” y/n looked up at manjiro with a small smile, “cupcakes?”

he lowered his eyes from hers. ‘kinda want cupcakes… anyway, where is ___’s white sneakers?’ words uttered by y/n this morning as all three of them got ready. manjiro always did that; made sure neither of his two stars went to bed without having anything they wanted. he has money, he’s not using it and he loves seeing the small giggles and laughter erupted after he gets things as small as cupcakes or a lollipop.

“he asked to come to work with me again,” manjiro said. y/n smiled, “yeah? are you going to take with you?” her fingers stopped playing with long black hair and turned to play with much shorter black hair. “i’ll take him with me when it’s boring days like these.” y/n understands he means when he doesn’t have to use guns and get chased by the authorities. she was a worrier, especially when it came to her little boy, but she doesn’t trust anyone more than she does manjiro sano.

“you’re thinking.” she mumbled, eyes not wandering away from mikey’s face. he remained looking in front of him, tangling his fingers with hers, “‘saw a normal company, business man with his little daughter at the bakery. made me think. fuck, i’m a mess.” he chuckled, his un-intertwined hand coming to push his hair back from his face. y/n cupped his face with her free hand, “well, you’re the mess that i want. that we both want.”

“y/n, people will talk. put us in our place. threaten. they will—“

“manjiro sano. you think i don’t know? i knew no one in the world could take it, but…”

“but you,” mikey finished her sentence immediately. silence fell again before y/n spoke up once more, “you know we won’t be able to do anything without you. ‘need you, jiro, both of us do. always will do.” before manjiro could muster up a reply, a small yawn caught their attention. “mama..!” tired excitement erupted from the boy as he stretched his arms towards y/n. “hi, baby. had fun with dad?”

“always!”

manjiro’s eyes widened slightly at the boy’s reply. y/n’s small chuckled alongside the tired giggles of his son made him feel warm. tracing everything, they were making him a better man. giving up alcohol and cigarettes, rarely forcing anger out and using rationality because his little boy could always be around and looking at dad.

“i love you,” manjiro suddenly said to the both of them. “love dad!” the boy replied without hesitation, hugging both his parents. y/n rested her head on manjiro’s shoulders, “i love you more.” she whispered softly, helping their boy comfortably lay on the both of them and drift back to sleep.

they will wake up with the worst back pain, but manjiro wanted it that way if it meant having this. having them. because he knows he needs them more than they will ever need him and he was way more than okay with that.

[sharkneto]

So. Season 4.

Let’s start with the good. In no particular order -

The road trip. Loved the energy of them all together again and suffering mildly and looking terrible. I appreciate we didn’t waste a bunch of time with them without their powers.

Gene and Jean were great. Loved their energy, the right level of weird. Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally were perfectly cast for the roles.

Liked the idea of the Keepers, the consequence of all the timeline meddling leaking through.

Loved the concept of the subway-between-timelines. That aesthetic slaps for the map alone.

 The Truman Show Christmas Town. They nailed the creepy energy, I liked how ridiculously well-armed it was, I liked that they all died badly, I liked that the Umbrellas got to flex their powers. Diego’s flipping and bullet-mancy was fun, as was him cheating at the axe game to win his kids toys. Luther finally being properly bulletproof was also nice.

Ben Doc-Ock-ing around on the Horror. And the Horror dragging behind him while powers were booting back up. Silly fun.

Loved that Viktor dated and was unable to hold on to every eligible woman in Halifax. Daddy Issues strike again and again, poor guy.

It makes no sense for the level of tech in the show, but I did laugh at Ben being a Crypto Bro. That is the exact way in which his personality sucks.

Jerome and Nancy. If they had left Diego being suspicious of Lila seeing that “little Greek guy” as a “haha it’s just Five!” joke, it is very funny. But they didn’t. Alas.

I didn’t hate the ending! I will always think redemption through living is a better and more powerful conclusion, but them all dying to save the world because they’re the force causing repeat apocalypses was always on the table as an option. I thought they did a good job hitting emotions, them all snarking together until the end felt in character and heartfelt; if other writing choices didn’t happen before it, I think they could have really stuck that landing. I thought the easter eggs of characters from earlier seasons was fun, I hope the Handler still sucks as a regular person.

Overall, I was vibing for the first four episodes. Was it perfect? No. It was never going to be, but I could overlook the usual UA cringe and plotholes because my favorite guys were back on the screen and having good character moments together and fumbling along to save the world. I don’t usually care about spoilers, but I worked hard to avoid S4 spoilers specifically because I didn’t want expectations. The show was going to do what it was going to do, and I didn’t want to judge it for things it was never going to be. And that strat worked well for the first half of the season! It was on par with S3, which I’m an apologist for – had stuff I liked and stuff I was going to be happy to ignore, but overall we’re having a good time! My favorite dysfunctional family is here, I had missed them!

Then Ep5 hit. And we’re onto the problems and things I would change (under the cut --)

The biggest problem of the season is that the pacing was wack, in both an internal time-frame and technical-writing frame.

Internally, media for some reason has no idea how long a year is. Some of the Hargreeves’ problems at the beginning of the season would have worked much better if we were jumping in at year two or three of being in the new timeline, six years is a long time. Diego and Lila’s growing pains at being parents and living a domestic life, how to balance having kids makes more sense to be at this point. And the first couple years of adapting to no-powers-new-universe is way more interesting that hopping in once they’re all settled into mostly-sad patterns (which is in character for them all, they’re disasters). Why not an opening montage of them in their active struggle? Why are we picking up six years later? Unfortunately, because of Ep5, it does feel like the whole point of such a long time jump was to get Five’s body to a legal age and not just so Aidan wouldn’t have to pretend he’s physically a teen anymore (even though we have 30-year-olds playing teens all over other TV shows).

From a technical writing standpoint, for a show that only has six episodes to bring about a satisfying conclusion to a plot as convoluted and bonkers as UA has, they squandered Episode 5. The first four episodes we were moving along, finding plot points, getting Umbrellas in position to move things forward, and then Ep5 hits and is anyone except Viktor and Ben doing something for the plot??? The show is at its strongest with the Umbrellas are together, and it went out of its way to split them up. I also usually love character time, but we had no time to spare! We spend most of the episode either with Five and Lila in the subway, or with Klaus in the world’s most fucked-up situation. And neither do anything to build meaningfully towards the final episode! A weird choice to have your show screech to a halt in its penultimate episode.

Usually, Klaus’ side adventures loop in some important detail that pushes things forward in an unexpected way – he destroys Hazel and ChaCha’s briefcase because of Vietnam, he finds the Kugelblitz, he puts Reggie in position to use Oblivion. This time? He’s getting used and abused by a gang and buried alive to be reunited with Allison so that we… gain nothing? Except Klaus and Allison have made up from their fight? Why did I have to watch Klaus get possessed and fucked for that to happen? Why did they do that to him and me. I don’t mind angst and the incredible fucked-up situations, but it has to be earned and the story didn’t gain anything from it. Klaus just had a horrific time because that’s what he gets, I guess.

And now we get to Five and Lila. Five and Lila, Five and Lila, Five and Lila. The thing is – I don’t hate the idea of them. Obviously, it’s not anything I was ever going to ship on my own, but if they’re going to do it, I can see how and why. They even set it up in a way that I go “yeah I get it.” The thing is, after setting it up, they completely forgot what makes either character themselves or compelling so that they could be shoehorned into Cottagecore Bliss in the greenhouse and the most boring romance possible. If we're committed to doing this, I wish they’d had a weird trauma-bonded relationship in the rat pits of the subway, I would have understood that. Supported it even, tbh. Let them be weird and feral together, yelling and emoting at each other over eastbound vs westbound trains. Instead, Five, who for the past three seasons has been driven by his need to save his family, is happy to delay returning and give up on them to keep very quietly playing house with Lila. What the fuck. Lila, who cannot handle domestic life with Diego and her three children, can handle being a housewife with Five and wear soft sweaters and dresses. They didn’t try to kill each other once! I said way back after S3 aired that I didn’t like Lila’s pregnancy plot because it was going to tie her down in weird ways, and lo and behold! UA writers cannot write women, and it sucks that Lila was yet another casualty of that.

And then the whole thing shafts Diego. I know Diego and Lila don’t have a particularly healthy relationship, but he’s an Umbrella and Lila’s mom is the Handler. I think they do pretty well for what they’re working with, they have a fun chemistry, and it seemed (before this season) they really loved each other. Why did Steve write them off instead of letting their arc be them falling back in love (well, I guess that was Diego’s arc. Wasn’t Lila’s)? Now the three of them get to spend the final episode of the entire show in an unhappy, unnecessary love triangle instead of us getting to watch the Umbrella Academy fully join together to save the world one last time.

After all of that, the rest of my complaints feel like small potatoes. Why don’t we do another numbered list to round out this essay. In no particular order –

It sucks Ben was the plot driver of the season and then doesn’t even get to die with his family, just melted and turned into mindless Cleanse Goo. I was excited for him to get to do more, was excited for a payoff for Viktor trying to return the favor of Umbrella Ben sacrificing himself for him. I wish the Cleanse was more squiddy because it was made out of the two squiddiest characters.

UA has gotten more and more flexible with powers as the seasons have gone, but I straight up do not know what Allison’s power was at the end. Was she telekinetic? Was she Rumoring reality? Why did we have to use that to graphically crush a man’s balls in front of Claire? I liked that the powers got an upgrade and a twist, for the most part, but that only works if we know what they are. Lila has laser eyes and I thought that was it until they needed her to mimic powers again in the last episode. Five can’t blink anymore because he now just goes to the subway (still an aesthetic that is cool, and a cool way to have it tied in a different way to time), unless he’s doing it with Lila? Viktor just has energy now, I guess, sound doesn’t seem to be part of it.

Abigail. I did not fully follow what her motivation was. I wanted her to be comically evil, worse than Reggie, but – again- UA writers can’t write women so I guess she was just a good guy benevolently taking skin suits so she could get the world to end to save the world. Boring. Reggie also should have recognized his wife even if she was wearing Gene and kissed Nick Offerman.

Why didn’t Five have a reaction to his Apocalypse? He had PTSD flashbacks in S1! He was trapped there for four decades! It’s been six years but it’s not like he was working on his mental health during that time. No reaction???? Don’t even get me started on Delores and his “Good thing I’ve never been married” comment.

I’m not usually for fan service, but it felt like the season was actively trying to avoid fan service. Was Gene and Jean’s dance really the only dance party of the season? Five doesn’t have a single fight scene to fun music? Five doesn’t kill anyone all season??? What the fuck.

I wish the Fives in the Five Diner were Sean Sullivan. Bring back Old Five, why would Five fuck up his jump back in every timeline.

The gratuitous fat shaming. It’s always been bad with Luther, but absolutely ridiculous the comments made about Diego.

I don’t particularly like Sloane but where the fuck was Sloane. And I hope Ray not being in the show was a scheduling conflict, because that was tragic that he off-screen left Allison with no further explanation or context. Didn’t feel very Ray.  

A lot of character arcs from over the whole show stagnate or go backwards. Luther is back at the Academy after working to build his own identity. Klaus I guess has to be on drugs if he has his powers. I don’t know what’s going on with Allison and Claire’s relationship – it seems bad at the beginning but just sort of fixes itself when they go rescue Klaus? Diego tries to have an arc to understand how much good he has with his family, but the writers won’t let Lila be part of that. Don't get me started on Five.

I wish the writing team cared enough to actually know the characters. Luther’s powers aren’t tied to him being gorilla’d – that was a separate event, why would the marigolds re-gorilla him. Lila likes bracelets, one of the very first things she did in the show was take and keep the one Diego made. It’s little things, but they go a long way in making us know the creative team cares, rather than just jerking around these characters because they have an idea the think is funny or shocking and requires characters to go against their established personalities and motivations to pull off.

Overall – it was fine, which is not the energy you want when finishing one of the most popular shows on one of the biggest streaming platforms. I get why people are upset, I get a lot of mourning is happening, but I hope we can find a spot where we can enjoy what we have and play in the space again.

It was always going to be a rough goodbye. This show, as cliché as it is, changed my life. I started writing because of it. I’ve made some incredible friends because of it. It helped me figure out I was trans, because of Elliot Page. I’m going to miss it. I’m going to keep hanging around here having fun with the characters, but I’ll miss the fandom, too, as people move on to whatever the next new thing is.

It's been a ride, everyone!

[motianz]

19 days Timeline - He Tian's departure

Ok so, lately I've had a few people asking me about when does HT come back after leaving, and why is everyone assuming he goes away for years, so I'm making this post to explain the time-line for anyone who's confused about it.

First of all, 19 Days is mainly told through 2 timelines. The first one (1) is the present, when the boys are in college. The second one (2) where most of the story takes place, is in the past, when the boys are in middle school.

The story starts in time-line 1, with Zhang Zheng Xi talking about how Jian Yi used to be with him all the time, disappeared in high school and then came back, (remember, high school and middle school work differently in different countries) then he starts to think about the time before all of that happened, during middle school (timeline 2). So the main story in 19 Days is actually a flashback, where Zzx of time-line one is thinking about time-line 2.

We mainly get timeline 1 during Christmas specials. And we know that timeline 1 is during college because after Jian Yi comes back, he talks about still being in high school while everyone else is in college (chapt 224), and because he talks about wanting to get into the same college as Zzx.

Now, in the same chapter (224) we see that while Zzx and Jy are having this conversation, Mo is working and He tian comes back for what is implied to be the first time. Here we see that 1 Mo and Ht haven't kept fully in contact, and 2 He tian was gone (and gone to another country on top of that)

Jumping ahead to the next Crishtmas special (chapter 271) (still in timeline 1) we get more proof that He tian has been gone for a long while:

1 - He tian doesn't know where Mo's living (so he's been away for at least as long as Mo has lived there) 2 - He quite literally says he has been gone for a long time.

So, we know He Tian only comes back after everyone is around 18 or older.

And why does everyone think he's leaving now?

We do know a little of what Ht was doing while being gone, and can get a a few hints on when he leaves because of that. In the most recent Christmas special confirms He tian was working to be able to take care of Mo.

Now, we have seen he tian struggle to become someone strong enough to protect the people he loves for a while now, and we know he wants to do it apart from his family, but recently we have seen him come face to face with the fact he still can't do that yet (chapter 406). So he is finally at a point where his mentality is "I can't do anything without my family, so I need to grow my own legs" aka, start his own business to support little Mo.

On top of that, currently He Cheng is chasing He tian so he can transfer schools (the boys are on the last year of middle school, about to go to high school) (we've seen Zzx and Jy talk about wich high school they want to go).

And we know He tian getting transferred has something to do with his father and the family business (chapter 348, timeline 2)

Wich means 1 He tian will be more involved with his family after the transfer, and 2 He tian will gain more power/influence because of that.

So if there ever was a time for He tian to dissappear, get his own business and stand on his own two legs, it's now.

So the status of the characters are:

Timeline 1

Zzx - College. JY- High school trying for college. Mgs - Working. Ht - Working/coming back to China.

Timeline 2

Zzx- middle school about to go to high school. Jy -middle school about to dissappear. Mgs - middle school about to go to high school. Ht - middle school about to be transferred and disappear (family business).

TLDR: He tian goes away now and only comes back during college years. Jian Yi goes away during the second day of high school and comes back during college years as well.

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk. 

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion. 

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim. 

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you. 

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing. 

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life. 

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness. 

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment. 

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery. 

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there. 

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently. 

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long. 

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now.  The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him. 

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees. 

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know. 

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie. 

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas. 

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together. 

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face. 

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there. 

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo– 

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe. 

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past. 

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water. 

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool. 

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach. 

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers. 

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been. 

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex. 

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing. 

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.  

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway. 

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light? 

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses. 

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not. 

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open. 

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls. 

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown. 

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging. 

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines. 

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now. 

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him. 

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains. 

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again. 

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you. 

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love. 

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - The Roots

I have been gone for a few days but i wanted to really mess with this tiny concept!

First Drabble (with special thanks to @spotaus For giving the first prompt) Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Technically timeline wise this is at the same ish time as the next drabble in the timeline, On the Other side. But we will just do this like this for now :D

As always, we have no beta and no edits. :D Also slight warning, I will be changing up the POVs in the drabble itself a bit. don't worry about it.

*---------------*

Nightmare looks around the corner and notices that all four are still asleep. That is good. Perfect even!

It isn't that he dislikes being with them. The oposite in matter of fact. it feels... Safe protected home calming nice. Many things but overal just nice.

It still confuses him sometimes. That they just... care. After everything. Even with them knowing just who he is.

It also does mean that Nightmare feels bad about leaving while they are asleep.

It is just that he isn't going to get another chance like this. They are very close to DreamTale and with how much magic Nightmare has in him now thanks to the many meals and sleeping a lot, he thinks he could make it all the way to DreamTale and back before being completely out of magic to use.

Which means he has his chance to do a small personal ritual he hasn't had the chance to do in a while.

It is something stupid. And Nightmare knows he should stop it.

It is just... After everything in Dreamtale happened. The deal with what he had caused and done, having been the cause of both his brother and mother dying... He had just made two graves.

He had been the point of returning there once in a while to maintain both graves and leave fresh flowers.

Nightmare just. Never stopped doing it. After seeing Dream again... He just kept doing it still. Something about the grave still showing that he still ended up losing Dream...

Or something like that.

He doesn't quite know anymore but it helps.

Nightmare manages to get to the garden of the small house they had claimed and takes a deep breath. He hadn't needed to make these jumps in a while and he had to be sure he aimed in the right direction. Just. Easy.

He holds up both hands and feels his magic start to flow out. A small sizzle as a small portal starts to take shape. His breathing gets heavier and heavier. He didn't think it would be this hard... why is it so much harder than before-

Two arms lock around him and he is lifted up. Nightmare's breath escapes in one go and he wiggles before stopping. Nightmare knows these arms by now and knows it is Killer before he even speaks.

"What you doing out here tiny boss?" a chuckle and nuzzle to the side of his skull "I thought we were passed this whole you trying to run away from us." Killer turns him aorund and Nightmare can now see the large pout on his face.

Nightmare looks to the side and wiggles but cant get free, he never can escape their hold. Instead he just crosses his arms and mutters "Just wanted to do something real quick."

Killer hums before Nightmare is pulled much closer and he is flush up agianst Killer. Killer hums much more contently before turning back to the house "So what did you want to do tiny boss? aside from using a lot of your just recovered magic that is."

Why does he feel bad? Why does he feel guilty? He wasn't doing anything bad?? Wait why is that how he thinks about it?

Nightmare tries to think it through but comes up blank. It doesn't help that being near Killer, or any of them really, calms him very quickly. He isn't used to this.

They get back to the house and Nightmare sees three more worried faces and feels worse. They had been sleeping... They shouldn't have noticed or been bothered by him not being there... How did they even notice? He... isn't used to people noticing stuff about him.

They sit him down and Nightmare considers his options... If he wants to use this one chance... maybe if he explains they will just let him do his thing for a bit?

Ngihtmare looks to the side and finds himself muttering "I just wanted to do a thing... it is honestly boring and would have been quick."

----

Horror doesn't like this place. It is the place that holds so much trauma for Nightmare. Where they thought that hurting and torturing a babybones was a good idea.

But Nightmare rarely asks them for anything anymore. And even before he became his true form he rarely asked anything for himself. If he wanted something he could just get it or do it. Now he doesn't have much of a choice and Horror knows this. They all know this.

And well, they are trying to get Nightmare to ask them when he wants things. So when he expressed he wanted something? of course they are gonna make it work.

Even if they have to come here.

Killer stands with his hands on his hips as he looks around the grey coloured forest "Wow! Lots of nothing..."

Cross sends him a glare and hisses "Killer."

Horror agrees, Killer could try to be a bit more sensitive. Normally none of them mind his brass and bolt nature but well.. They are here to visit two graves. Two graves that a six year old made to memorise his family which he thought he had killed.

This is not the time for Killer to be... well Killer.

Killer huffs and looks at Nightmare "Can you believe them?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds the two small bouquet of flowers close. "I didn't really... leave a lot..."

See? That is why they needed to try and be a bit more tactful. Killer luckily seems to notice as he rubs his neck as Cross shoots him a knowing look.

Dust remains by Nightmare's side as he looks around "A hill right?"

Nightmare seems to look all of them over before nodding "Yeah." He points into a random direction "It is that way." and he starts leading the way.

It is strange. The whole world is grey and colourless. Not the white space that Cross had had when his world was destroyed. but just, greyscale. Hell even Cross looks colourful compared to this place.

Cross frowns and takes a few quick steps to now walk on Nightmare's other side "was it always coloured like this?"

Nightmare shakes his skull and thinks for a bit. "I think... if i remember it right... the grey colour started to happen as soon as they cut mother down."

Horror almost wants to sigh in relieve. He keeps it in but this is good. It is something to help stop the guilt. At least that is what Horror is assuming why the graves are still there. guilt. But Horror won't assume.

They leave the forest and see a hill with further in the distance a village. They walk up the hill and find a cut down tree stump and two old and small graves.

Nightmare stands by them for a moment before glancing back at them with a suspicious look "No commentary?"

Horror gets it. They can be assholes.

Killer grins and leans closer "I can do one... but i doubt it adds anything." he pets the small skull before pointedly talking towards the side of the hill to overlook the forest, he pulls Cross allong with him.

Dust remains near Nightmare as a silent shadow and Horror leaves them to have room. Keeping an eye on their small charge as he looks around. Horror has no doubt that this used to be a beautiful place. some of the plants he sees may be grey now but he recognises them for eatable wild flowers.

He can see Nightmare slowly near the graves. He sits on his knees by the two and starts with cleaning both graves. Making sure no dirt or dust is on it and everything is still secure. Afterwards he removes old and, by now, dead flowers. He takes care that those aren't near the graves before returning and leaving new fresh flowers. They had picked up both colourful bouquets from another universe along the way.

At the end he just sits by the two graves as he touches the stone.

Killer and Cross had returned back to them at this point and Killer nudges Cross. Cross shoots him a questionable look before Killer just motiones over his shoulder back at the village before nodding at Nightmare. Horror cna see Cross just stare in utter confusion at Killer before Killer pulls him closer and whispers something to him.

Cross looks back before nodding as he walks over to Dust and whispers some stuff to him. Dust looks thoughtful before nodding as well.

Cross slowly walks over to Nightmare and speaks "Hey..." Nightmare looks up and tilts his skull. Cross smiles "If you want we can go into the village for a bit."

Nightmare frowns "Why would I?"

Cross looks a bit sheepish but Dust picks up "The book was general about what happened. But we figured that those people may have taken stuff or kept things that were yours from you."

Cross nods and grins "We are here now anyway. we can get it back."

Nightmare looks at the village and thinks it over before nodding "okay." he stands up and dusts his pants off of the dirt. Cross ends up softly nudging him towards the side and Dust easily takes his hand before the three walk off.

Horror shoots Killer a look "Why?"

Killer grins as he walks over to the stump "don't worry about it. Want to go with them?"

Horror continues to watch Killer before shaking his skull "I am fine being here."

Killer shrugs and turns to the stump. Staring at the dead tree.

"You wasted your chance."

Horror frowns as he just watches Killer. Killer meanwhile keeps looking at the dead tree.

Killer continues as if he is talking to an actual person "You were given a fucking miracle. We read your story you know. Know that you were only aiming for one child. Instead of being overjoyed and happy that you got two you took him for granted."

Horror sees the edges around Killer's soul waver away from their soul shape but it returns to the soul shape easily.

Killer doesn't stop speaking "You were suposed to be his mother and you failed your job. You never actually cared about him did you? Well." he glares down "You are not getting him back. Ever. He isn't yours anymore."

Horror frowns and studies Killer. No... Killer still doesn't know about the soul adoption, that Horror is sure about. Which means this all? Just Killer.

Killer holds his chin high as he stares down at the stump "I don't know what exactly is happening. But seeing as it is related to the apples it is related to you. So I am telling you now. Even if for some reason you return. Even if you are alive again. You are not getting Nightmare back. He is ours, not yours. You will never find him. You will never get the chance to hurt him."

Horror hears it in his voice. Killer, the one who hates promises more than any of them. Who had lost so much of his freedom and free will because of broken promises. Just made a promise, not even a promise. but a vow.

Horror can't say he is that surprised. After all. After everything in Horrortale and all the pressure from making sure his brother has food and is taken care of. Horror had thought he never wanted to take on a new responsibility ever again. And yet, here he was with a willing soul adoption writen into his very soul.

He also knows the other two aren't doing much better. Dust who hadn't wanted to emotionally or personally connect with anyone ever again. After having killed everyone he cared about he didn't want those relationships anymore. Yet he was the first to take this leap. Commit to Nightmare, and ironically to them all.

Cross who hadn't wanted to take any kind of oath or lifelong promise or mission after his past with the guard and XGaster. He didn't want to tie himself down. Give his all to something or some goal that just hurt him. And while it took him a while he still is devoted to this.

Horror knows they are all powerless against this. It happened but at least this time it was their choice. He thinks it is good, this way they all really knows what it means to do this. To commit to this and all it entails.

A crack of thunder and the three are suddenly on the hill with them again.

horror turns but freezes. Dust is holding a shaking Nightmare close as Cross is already cutting into the fabric of reality with his knife.

Killer and him share a look and are with the other three before they even have to say what happened. They can get an explanation later, for now they need to go.

----

They are back in the house they had been hidding in and Nightmare finally feels himself relax a tiny bit.

Thought that may also be becuase Dust is still holding him and the other's soul is steady and even. It makes his own franctic soul calm down.

Killer looks at them "Do we need to pack up and go?" he is already halfway to the bags.

Cross has closed the portal and watches as the universe patches itself fully closed again, not leaving a single mark, there is a reason Nightmare had worked so hard to get Cross XChara's knife. Aside from the fact that Cross liked fighting with it. It is a very powerful and amazing tool.

Cross sighs in relieve "We should still be good." he turns to the others and starts explaining right away "Nightmare saw Dream."

Killer curses loudly as he kciks the couch. Horror frowns and looks at him "did he see you?"

Nightmare pushes clsoer to Dust but nods.

Killer curses again but Horror frowns "Did he realise it was you?"

Nightmare thinks bakc to Dream staring at him. Awe and surprise clear on his face. The wishfullness had been obvious. The way he had moved towards him, a smile on his face that Ngihtmare hadn't seen since they were both small. Then again, the name he had called him had made it clear who he saw...

Nightmare shrugs.

Horror tilts his skull "Is that yes?"

Nightmare shakes his skull and mutters "yes and no..."

Horror nods as Killer frowns at him "both? How both?"

Nightmare shrugs again but Dust just nudges him gently with his skull nad Nightmare sighs as he quietly explains "I think he knew i was well me... but didn't know i was me me..." he toys with the fabric of the red scarf, Dust lets him. He searches for the right words "He called me Nighty.. and well he hasn't done that since before the apples. Since he still-" Since he still loved him. Nightmare doens't say it out loud but Dust must have figured out something as the hold around his tightens.

Nightmare pushes his face further into the scarf "He will probably think it means something bad... That is what everyone always said my appearance was... and he thinks I am an adult still so... yeah..." His mind is spinning but his soul is calm. in sync of Dust's. calm and slow pulses and beats. It honeslty makes him sleepy.

Dust nuzzles his skull and speaks "Well, He will not find anything and will have to learn to not just listen to rumours. As for even if he had caught you before you got to me, we would get you back." the certainty makes Nightmare pause.

Ngihtmare trries to shoot Dust a look but Dust just keeps rubbing his back and keeping him against him.

Cross nods "obviously. Just a matter of time before we would figure out where you were..." more thoughful "Next time we will have to scuot the universe first. We just didn't today because we figured no one would know about it. Srory for that. Next time you want to visit the graves we will make sure no one will interrupt. okay?"

Nightmare nods as he pushes closer to Dust.

He doesn't even understand why he still wants to visit those graves. Dream isn't even dead!

Even if... even if Dream doesn't...

Those graves shouldn't matter but Ngihtmare still wants to make sure btoh are fine. Maybe it is now just a symbol for the dead relationship between him and Dream. It just gives him a place where he can focus his grief and mourn for the family he lost.

The hand hasn't stopped petting his back and Nightmare feels himself finally fully relax.

At least he really isn't alone... His four are here now and they are still here after the close calls and learning about the graves.

It would be nice to not be alone anymore.

Nightmare lets the calming of his soul lure him to fall asleep. Knowing he is safe and cared for now.

*---------------*

So is anyone surprised i couldn't keep it short? I am not. I know myself. I have a problem and it is this whole AU that has my heart in a choke hold.

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[getvalentined]

I am so sick of people asserting that Cloud's father is some super special important person like it's some explanation for the fact that he was able to save the world. Superior bloodline stuff never sits well with me in the first place, but in this case it's just so antithetical to the actual thesis of FF7 and does such a huge disservice to multiple characters that it makes me white hot angry.

The most popular contender is President Shinra, because Cloud being a Shinra bastard would (somehow) explain why he's allowed into the company at such a young age (even though enlistment age appears to be 14 and Cloud left Nibelheim to enlist at 14) and how he wound up on so many important missions—because it can't possibly be that he's actually competent, he's so pretty, how could he possibly be competent? It's not as if we see him being staggeringly competent from jump in every title where he's featured, including those that start prior to him being forcibly mako enhanced by Hojo. Clearly this is nepotism.

After all, we know that President Shinra is always so supportive of his bastards! That's why Lazard hid his identity and worked his way up the ranks to become director of SOLDIER at the youngest possible age and then set about trying to orchestrate a hostile takeover of the company by allowing all three of his best operatives to defect in the middle of a war, a process that was only thrown off because one of them passed off every single mission where he would have had an opportunity to go AWOL.

This was clearly the result of nepotism. There's just so much nepotism going on there. Obviously.

The newest contender is Glenn Lodbrok, the lead character from the First SOLDIER section of Ever Crisis, because he's blond-haired and blue-eyed and presumably one of the first people in Project 0 to survive some level of the mako enhancement process. I guess this is supposed to mean that him being Cloud's father would be a perfect explanation for Cloud actually being capable of literally anything, since the only way for him to become the hero that was chosen by the planet to keep it alive would be if it's part of some bloodline destiny.

There are a whole host of issues with Glenn as an option here, not the least of which is the canonical lore about Cloud's father, namely that he was some nobody traveler who kinda passed through and got Claudia pregnant and then left; he may have died up in the mountains, but apparently all that was ever found was his pack, so there's no way to be sure. Further, Claudia was very young at this point—according to her original concept art declaring her to be 33 at the time of her death, she gave birth to Cloud at 16-17 years old.

Glenn is one of two possible age ranges: if he was active in the early stages of Project 0, being a character in the First SOLDIER battle royale game, then he was around 21 in 1985, meaning a 21 year old knocked up Claudia Strife when she was 15 and then walked out on her. If he's 21 during the events of Ever Crisis, which seems likely based on his character design, that would make him 14 at the oldest when Claudia got pregnant.

Okay, I know this kind of thing happens IRL, but I feel pretty confident in the statement that there is absolutely no way that that's the direction SE is taking this timeline and characterization. I'm not even sorry. That's not happening. Either he's giving "predator," or he's Deadbeat Dad: High School Freshman Edition.

But that's honestly not even the worst of it, the math not matching up is entirely irrelevant when the implications of this assertion are applied to the actual thesis of this series as a whole, to the characters we already know, to the actual lore. Claiming that Cloud is only special because of the sperm donation of a man who abandoned him literally removes any concept of his competence as a character, declaring that he's just the newest iteration in a line of "worthy" men. He can't be worth anything unless his father is worth something. He can't be good at anything unless his father is good at something.

Beyond that, it casts Claudia aside entirely, asserting that the fact that she raised Cloud doesn't matter—she may have brought him up entirely on her own, but that doesn't actually matter. She didn't instill values and morals and guidelines into him that would allow him to grow up into a man who could save the world, she was just an incubator, a nursemaid, a nanny, a cook. She was just a servant who kept him alive long enough for his father's bloodline to awaken within him and make him into the hero he was always meant to be.

Insisting that Cloud's value as a character hinges in any way on his father, a person who had no place in his life whatsoever and whom he doesn't even remember, takes away his agency and declares Claudia to be irrelevant. It says that a sperm donation matters more than an upbringing. It says that the place he started is the only thing that defines where Cloud will end up.

This is literally, 100 percent, the opposite of the thesis of this series. The entire concept of these games, of these storylines, is that the way you were made doesn't have to dictate what you can be, who you are, where you're going. Your genetics do not define you, and assumptions to the contrary are literally what make people into monsters. What matters is the people you love, the people who love you, and the person you are now as a result of those people.

And the fact of the matter is that regardless of timelines, regardless of characterizations, regardless of theories, Cloud Shinra and Cloud Lodbrok didn't save the world.

Cloud Strife did.

Claudia Strife's son did.

And I think people could stand to give both of them a hell of a lot more credit.

[northwestofinsanity]

About REO Speedwagon breaking up…

So, earlier this week, an announcement went out on the official REO Speedwagon social media pages that blindsided pretty much every REO fan… including the very small handful of REO fans here on Tumblr.  It’s been a rough week.

I’ve done some digging around for information, and have managed to get somewhat of a blurry picture of what happened from everything I’ve found, so here’s a post to hopefully help the small few of us here make sense of it all.  Due to the length, I’m keeping this under a read-more, and I’m going to try to (aside from where I must clarify) put the timeline of basic information I’ve gathered up top, and analysis down lower, so that those who don’t want to read further don’t have to sort through it. 

Two Disclaimers before jumping into it:

1 -While it is fair that anyone might have their opinions from the information here (as I do, too), this post is not an invitation to hate on the members of the band, and I do not condone the making hate comments toward any of the members on any social media pages with posts on the matter.  At this point, talking smack about Bruce Hall, Kevin Cronin, or Neal Doughty is not what’s going to change the situation -if anything will at all.

2 -For every Facebook post I mention, I do have screenshots, though I will not be posting them in the main post, as some social media screenshots have a way of being removed here.  Most of those pages are publicly viewable even to those not logged in, so I will link to REO’s official page and Bruce Hall’s official page to those who would like to look, and anyone who would rather not look there at all who would still like to see is welcome to request that I DM the screenshots.

Alright, let’s do this, starting with the Basic Timeline of Events:

Starting with the line of perspective given on the official REO Speedwagon Facebook Page (and I believe everything on there is cross-posted to their Instagram for anyone who has that). This Facebook page is viewable without an account. Kevin Cronin makes a lot of posts here himself in a blog-like format, so we can consider posts here as Kevin’s side of the story.

-Back on November 7th of 2023, it was announced by Kevin on social media that Bruce Hall, the longtime bassist of REO Speedwagon, would be off the road and replaced with a substitute to undergo back surgery and the subsequent recovery.  Matt Bissonette, who has been with multiple groups, was the bassist who took over touring duties while REO has been on tour with Train.  As Kevin’s post read, one line stated, “Bruce is our brother. And times like these test us all. We have faith that Bruce’s surgery will be successful, that he will make a complete recovery, and that he will be back to being the hard rocking bassist/singer that we all know. Bruce has our love and support, as we have encouraged him to take all the time he needs to get himself back to 100% strength.”

Very little information has been given there on Bruce since, up until recently, but going back through, I found:

-November 27th, 2023, at the end of Kevin’s “Happy Thanksgiving” journal entry, a PS note stating, “Received a photo of the newly repaired Bruce Hall, sitting up in his hospital bed and smiling. The nurse in the shot was all smiles and hands in the air, reacting favorably to Bruce making progress. I am giving him space, while my thoughts are with Bruce and wishing him a full recovery.”  So by this point, Bruce had undergone his procedure and was doing well in early recovery.

—June 1st, a post from Bruce on the Official REO Facebook Page, mentioning he had been featured on “A Fishing Story With Ronald Green”.  No telling if this was filmed before or after Bruce’s operation.  He does look good in the video, and is on his feet, though not holding anything of substantial weight.

—One of Kevin’s journal entry-like posts on July 12th, 2024, where Kevin was talking about the Milwaukee Summerfest performances, and mentioned, “Bruce told me he would love to be out here, but we both agreed that his health and recovery need to come first.”  So by Kevin’s account here, Bruce was not in condition to play.

……..

Nothing further came on the REO Speedwagon page until the recent unfolding of events within the last week -so let’s jump over to Bruce’s official Facebook page, Bruce Hall of REO Speedwagon, (also viewable without an account) and backtrack to get his side of the story:

-On November 7th, 2023, Bruce made his own announcement letting fans know he would be off the road, stating that he had been powering through a “traumatic back injury” for quite some time and was unable to do so any longer.  He assured fans that REO had a plan to find a good substitute while he was away.

-On November 20th, Bruce’s wife, Kimmie, made a post saying that Bruce had his surgery that morning.  She assured that “Everything went really well”, and that Bruce had “already gotten up and walked a couple of steps”.

-On December 10th, Bruce posted his first picture of himself with his then newborn grandchild.  He looks a bit rough (rightfully so), and is sitting on a couch, so unsure how steady he was at this time, but he was at home in recovery.  In his post, he stated “My surgery was a huge success, and I’m getting better everyday.” 

[I’m not going to list every one of Bruce’s posts, because there were a lot while he was home in recovery, but over the next month or so, there were several around the Holidays where Bruce was with his family, back on his feet and looking better, and even a few where Neal Doughty was visiting with him]

-Worth mentioning, on January 27th of 2024, Bruce mentioned in a post that he had been working on bass tracks for an album his daughter was recording over the last couple of days.  A post came the next day featuring a video of Bruce playing bass, if sitting down and leaned over, but playing as great as usual for him.

[Multiple posts continued of Bruce living life in recovery, including a trip to Disney World with his wife in February, his feature on Ronald Green’s fishing show in March, confirming that it was filmed at that time, and another family gathering with the Doughty’s in early April]

-On April 8th, Bruce made a post with pictures of an REO Speedwagon Make-A-Wish Benefit show, in which he did come onstage for one song and perform.  He excitedly mentions this as the first time he had performed since October.  Pictures show him playing standing up, if bent over.  (Very strangely, there are no posts about this show on the REO Facebook page, when they are typically very prolific with posts made about benefit shows).  The day prior, the 7th, Bruce had a video featuring him and Neal Doughty at soundcheck (Neal had also shown up and was playing Piano for “Can’t Fight This Feeling”)

[More posts follow, including ones where Bruce posted Facebook-generated “memory” posts of pictures with him performing with Kevin and Dave, stating how much he misses this, and pictures of being out and about fishing and golfing.]

On June 14th, Bruce made the first post directly addressing the length of his time absent, accompanied by a picture of playing bass while sitting down.  Within his statement, the most notable information is as follows: “I'm feeling better every day and have been cleared by my doctor to perform.  If it were up to just me, I'd be there rocking tonight...but it's unfortunately not.  The consensus feeling is that I don't have good enough posture to perform at the level expected by our fans.”  Amid assurances he was still undergoing physical therapy and training to continue recovery, he added, “Trust me, I have no intention of retiring or walking away from the band I have loved for almost 50 years.  I would never ever walk away.”

[More generalized Bruce living life and being physically active in recovery follow]

On September 5th, Bruce made a post with a picture of his wife that seems a bit cryptic, stating that he appreciates the support of fans and misses them.  It seems this coincided with an article that had come out on September 3rd by Ultimate Classic Rock, regarding Bruce’s absence, titled “Is Bad Posture Keeping REO Speedwagon’s Bruce Hall Off The Road?”  My guess is this is what began stirring up a lot of talk from fans, and led to the official statement eventually being made, and Bruce was answering to concern given by fans who might not have been following his page to be aware of his condition until this time.  Now, Ultimate Classic Rock is somewhat of a clickbait site (there’s no other way to get around putting it as such), and the article was quoting information from Bruce’s post made back in July, but in this case, it is true to Bruce’s post.  Anyone who is trying to avoid Facebook who would like to see it can find it here.

This ends anything relevant on any Facebook page up until everything unfolded within the last week, so the next part of the timeline that follows, I’m going to mix posts from the REO Speedwagon Facebook Page and Bruce’s page in chronological order, rather than separating them out.  I will also attempt to hot link the individual posts to the dates here (Tumblr tends to limit how many of these I can do, which is why I have saved that for the most pertinent posts).

-On September 14th, 2024, on the REO Speedwagon Facebook Page, Kevin made an announcement entry along with a performance video regarding the end of the Summer Road Trip Tour, and expressing gratitude for the good touring partners Train have been.  He then addressed REO Speedwagon having to miss the last two shows of the tour, revealing that he had emergency surgery, and suggested that he was making this post from the hospital.  Kevin then went on to leave this somewhat cryptic message, “I have so much more life to live, and have re-examined what I want to do with the rest of my time here, and who I want to be surrounded by while I do it. I need to be lifted by those around me, and in return, to lift them. I feel excited at the prospect of creating and playing the best music I have in me, with the best artists, musicians, and people who will have me.”

Many comments were left on the September 14th post, requesting clarification on what Kevin meant about this, as well as asking “What about Bruce?  When will he be back?”  

One person made a comment claiming that they had privately spoken to Kevin on Facebook, and that Kevin had said that Bruce had quit the band on his own.  Bruce himself came into the comments on his verified account to say that Kevin does not have his own Facebook page, and that it was a fake imposter account whom that person had spoken with, warning to look for blue checkmarks after the names.  In his first of two comments clarifying this, he noted, “I would NEVER leave the band.”  This was less than two days before major news came to light.

The speculation on this post inevitably led to the next…

-On September 16th, an announcement came up on the REO Speedwagon Facebook Page that most REO fans have seen by now -if not on the band’s socials, by many news articles featuring it.  This one was worded as if written by management.  It stated that if it were up to Bruce alone, Bruce would be back to touring, but “it’s not up to just him”, and stated that there was a consensus that Bruce could not perform up to expected standards.  It also stated that Kevin had never had any intentions of leaving the band, but then cited irreconcilable differences between Bruce and Kevin as cause that REO Speedwagon will stop touring at the end of this year.

Comments were disabled on this post, as well as the next couple that followed.  Many people still shared this post and commented on their own pages

—Bruce shared the post on his own page, expressing that he is heartbroken that it has ended this way, that he in no way expected this, and that he and Neal did everything to try and keep the band going after his recovery. (Should be noted that while Neal has retired from touring, he is still very much a member of the band with some background control).  Many fans commented on Bruce’s shared post, expressing anger toward Kevin, and some suggested that Bruce and Neal should find a singer who can do justice to Kevin’s voice, as well as a strong guitarist who can back them.  (To the effect of “Do what Journey did”, etc).  Bruce has said over and over again in responses to those comments that he believes Kevin is the voice of REO and that he will not tour as REO without Kevin, that he is protecting the legacy of the band and the wishes of Alan, Neal, and Gary’s family.  (Also, we don’t know if there’s some contractual agreement between Neal, Bruce, and Kevin as owning members where it’s a tiebreak situation, and Kevin can’t continue permanently by himself, and if Bruce and Neal refuse to do this.)  Even though he has been deemed healthy and ready to return by his doctor, he has said that if Kevin would rather “go solo”, he cannot stop him from doing so.  He has suggested through these comments that despite being upset, he does not want anybody talking disrespectfully about Kevin in his comments.

—A share that I will not be linking, but I have a screenshot of that anyone may request by DM, Eric Richrath, the son of late classic era guitarist, Gary Richrath, whom in the past has occasionally joined REO onstage for a couple of songs, shared the post, making some scathing comments about his feelings on the situation.  For the sake of keeping this part of the post neutral, and for the sake of his dignity, I will not repeat publicly what he said about Kevin.  The relevant point he makes is that he believes this is a sad way for the band to have gone out, that fans and the members deserved at least some proper farewell shows, and brought up the good point that Alan Gratzer and Neal Doughty may have wanted the opportunity to rejoin the band for a couple of songs at said shows to send off the band they founded in a good way.

…………………………………

Alright… phew.  That was already a lot.  Now, discussion, analysis, if anyone wishes to continue further:

From what I can understand from all this, is technically, Bruce is medically cleared to travel and perform, but he is under certain limits as to how he is allowed to perform.  For the sake of putting on a good show, is the show diminished somewhat if Bruce can’t jump around as he has in the past, or if he’s required to play sitting down for part of the show?  To a point, yes… However, this has been done before.  Members of various bands have sustained injuries before and have had to do this, and some found their ways to still make it fun.  (Actually, more recently, Bruce posted a throwback picture performing onstage, where Kevin was sitting down after injuring his foot, so this isn’t the first time REO has dealt with something like this… in the comments, when asked about Neal’s stance, Bruce stated that Neal is his best friend, and that Neal is “100% in [his] corner”).

And honestly, none of our aging rockers are able to jump around the way they used to.  That’s life, that’s fair whether anyone likes it or not, and that’s what’s going to happen.  Sure, I have more fun when I watch live videos of -say, let me pick on Heart, and compare just the videos from even the late 2000s/early 2010s to now.  Nancy Wilson isn’t kicking and jumping as high as she did less than a decade ago, but I still love her.  And she’s 70 -it’s lucky she was still doing that as long as she was, and that she can still kick at all.  I don’t see any reason to view Bruce any differently.  Now, maybe not ideal to continue for years like that, but for the sake of having some official farewell shows here and there, as many fans, and Gary’s son have suggested they would have liked to have, it would have probably been feasible.  It is worth mentioning that traveling for multiple shows in close proximity can be a little harder on the body (it’s ultimately why Neal chose to retire even though he can still play fine).  Bruce has traveled, per the timeline posts I went through, though there could be some valid risk.  Nobody’s necessarily saying that farewell shows would have to be close together, though -one a month in different locations could limit the toll of the traveling.

And then, the side of the issue with Kevin.  My intent here is to put this into an objective viewpoint, because some people who know me well may know I have some opinions about what happened in the past with Gary, and I’m not alone in that among REO fans -and I have seen it brought up in comments on Facebook.  Which is fair, and I especially find it fair for Eric Richrath to leave the comments on his share he did, after he had to witness the impact of that fallout on his father -but let’s put the situation with Gary aside and look at this as an isolated incident, because this is about Kevin and Bruce.  And while I’m not here to defend Kevin, I’m also not here to trash talk him -and I would discourage anyone who has decided to side against him to not go wild with negative comments, as Bruce’s Facebook comments have made it abundantly clear, he doesn’t want this.

Is it kind of cruddy for Kevin to just spring this on everyone suddenly the moment he decides he wants to do something else?  Yeah!  Could he have handled this better, and would it have been more fair of him to just agree to stick around to do even just a couple of official farewell shows?  Probably so.  But the reality is, while Kevin does share a great deal of what goes on in his life on REO’s official pages, there’s a lot we still don’t know about, because we don’t know Kevin.  We do know he recently had emergency surgery.  We don’t know what for.  We don’t know what’s going on in his life or his true health status, or whatever news he’s potentially been given.  Apparently, based on Bruce’s replies mentioning “going solo”, he’s decided he’s got other things he wants to do, and I hate saying it (because it breaks my heart), but we’re not going to have these guys around forever.  So again, while it would have been great for Kevin to stick with it for a farewell tour even just a week long, he’s got a need to do something else, and the reality is, there’s only but so much time he’s going to have to make that happen.  If that’s what he’s choosing to do with the remaining time he has where he is still able to perform, that’s a choice that has understandable and respectable merits, regardless of how much there might be to disagree over.

My advice to fans who have chosen to pick sides in this situation?  If you’ve sided with Kevin, keep your eyes out for whatever he’s going to do next.  It won’t be REO, but maybe it might just be something worthwhile -so give him a chance.  If you’ve sided with Bruce, and you feel the need to say anything, go show him some love on any of his socials, but please keep comments expressing frustration toward Kevin to yourself or to your own private posts away from him.  I cannot stress this enough (I’ll say it again), Bruce has politely suggested that he does not want that.  I imagine comments of such on his socials at this point are only serving to rub this in his face.  I can also imagine that if Kevin can see any comments like that, it’s only serving to fuel whatever animosity he might feel toward Bruce right now, and it’s making any small chance of reconciliation in the future smaller.  So please don’t do this. 

And for those neutral in the situation, let’s just stand back and watch this situation.  Give Kevin a chance, show Bruce some love…  Maybe Kevin will get whatever he feels he needs to do out of his system and will rethink things and decide maybe he wants to get together again for some farewells (situations in the past -including the fallout with Gary -have told that he doesn’t go back and change his mind after making a big change like this, but who knows… time will tell).  Hopefully, everyone will make good choices, and as the shock settles, “irreconcilable differences” may seem a bit less than they were in the moment.  We can only love these guys while we’ve still got them.  This situation is hard, and nasty thoughts aren’t going to make it any easier.  We know what’s said before every live performance of “Ridin’ the Storm Out”, and I think it holds true here as we process all this.

[sevensoulmates]

”deeper depths of his queer love” the realization that’s he’s been in love with his best friend for YEARS is going to hit him so hard I can only imagine how buck would react. Is he gonna laugh is he gonna cry is he gonna be scared is he gonna be happy is it all of the above?

Yeah, Oliver sees the vision. He seems to realize that Buck's relationship with Tommy is leading to something bigger, that there's more under the surface that needs to be discovered than just what he's found in these last two episodes, and I'm so excited to see it all come to fruition.

I personally think when Buck does finally realize he's gonna shut that shit DOWN. I don't think he's going to say shit for fear of losing Eddie and Chris. What I think could happen is Buck realizes in the season finale, it shakes him to his core, he keeps it to himself, the hiatus happens, we come back in season 8 and find out that Buck still hasn't said a word to Eddie but now people are starting to notice that Buck's acting a bit different around Eddie. Not enough for Eddie to notice (man is nothing if not oblivious to men who are in love with him), but enough that it draws the attention of the rest of the firefam. But there are subtle signs, such as a lot of staring, both jumping to spend extra time with Eddie but also holding himself back for fear of being too obvious.

Meanwhile, Eddie may or may not still be with Marisol. If he's still with Marisol, I want to see this being the continuation of his queer realization. I'd be okay with more issues popping up with Marisol and this time Eddie's got no excuses. Or regardless of if she's there or not, Eddie's back in therapy and trying to work through things. OR it could be fun to have Eddie AND Marisol in couples counseling, having the two of them trying to work their shit out, and have the culmination of that be Eddie realizing he's queer.

I just think if they don't have Eddie's queer realization arc in season 7, then a significant portion of it should be dealt with in season 8a. My timeline that I would love would be a mutual bucktommy break up in 7x10 + agreement to remain friends. Buck is pining for Eddie the whole of 8a, and Eddie figures out he's queer by the mid-season finale. A marisol breakup could be on or off screen at that point. As long as he FIGURES. IT. OUT. Then 8b could focus on Eddie coming to terms with his own queerness, now with Buck's conflict being "do I tell Eddie or do I not tell him?" Maybe even have BUCK shifting into TOMMY'S position, of sort of being a "guide" for Eddie, but worrying that he could be taking advantage of him. Meanwhile, Eddie's learning the freedom that comes along with finally being true to himself in 8b, and maybe he's seeing that everything he's ever wanted aligns exactly with what Buck gives him and their family. We could maybe even have Eddie bringing Shannon back, and worrying that realizing he's queer won't change a thing and maybe the issue really is him. Being scared that if he accepts the love Buck clearly wants to give him that he might ruin the best love he's ever had.

NOW. Depending on if the show wants to extend buddie out or they want to get them together, I could see the season 8 ending episodes going one of two ways: 1.) Buck confesses, Eddie accepts, they start their relationship, including first kiss and first date in s8 ending episodes. S9 sees them in a relationship for real OR 2.) Buck confesses to Eddie, Eddie rejects him not because he doesn't reciprocate but because he's afraid of destroying their relationship like he destroyed all the rest of his other relationships. Season 9 then starts with angst where they BOTH want each other badly but they can't take that final step. Season 9a ends with Eddie realizing that he can't waste time anymore, and their relationship starts for real in s9b.

Anyway, this got away from me. I think both of them are going to be more scared of their feelings than accepting right away. BUT I do have faith they'll find their way to each other eventually.

[tsukimefuku]

What if

A vision of a more forgiving world, where you and Nanami Kento never became jujutsu sorcerers.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, f!reader, Nanami x OC/f!reader, fluff.

WC: 680

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. This one takes place right before "Lover's Pass" (here). To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

You were running, and the white sandy shore extended far beyond what you could reach with your eyes. Giggling, you haphazardly escaped the blond haired little girl that was trying to playfully hunt you down, stepping inside the water in order to frustrate her attempts. She bounced, frolicking after you, swirls of honey-colored hair framing her emerald green eyes — eyes just like yours.

"Not fair!" She yelled, as you jumped and slow-motioned yourself inside the water, ivory blue and fresh, turning around to look at her.

You showed her your tongue in defiance, then smiled fondly. "Oh, come on, Sakura! You can try swimming. I promise I'll be here to help you."

She began pouting. "No! Last time you dropped me, and it was awful. Only uncle or dad!"

"Hey, come on, give me some credit!" You complained, starting to make your way back to her, who stood just where the sea and the sand met neatly, with every slushing wave.

It was a beautiful day.

"'Give you some credit?'" You heard, and looked at the direction the deep, smooth voice was coming from. He had a blue linen shirt open halfway through, and wore a set of khaki shorts that were knee-length. His signature blond hair was neatly slicked back, with just a few strands of golden locks giving in to the sea breeze. He was bringing two bottles of cold water, and had a book under his arm.

"Your daughter seems to think that I'll let her drown if I teach her how to swim!" You told him, holding your beach hat with your hand on your head, as you finally made your way out of the water. 

"Is that so?" He inquired, looking down at the girl, smiling.

You approached the two, and your daughter pointed at you, accusingly. "We were playing catch, and she went in the water! She definitely wants me to drown."

You and Kento exchanged looks, his lips pursed to conceal his own urge to let out a chuckle, mirrored in your expression, now mouth-covered with amused eyes. You gazed at each other for a second, relishing in this silly moment of togetherness.

Kento then put both bottles down on the sand, and took the book from under his arm, extending it to you. You took it in your hands, as he swiftly picked your daughter in his arms, gentle gaze on her face. "Your mother loves you. She'd never let you drown."

You giggled, and moved towards them, sandwiching her in between the two of you, nuzzling at her hair with the tip of your nose, hair that, much like yours, also smelled like flowers. Now, Kento had his two flowery girls in his arms.

"But mom, you're so distracted! It would be an accident" Sakura pointed out.

"Eh?! Excuse me?!" You said, surprised and slightly offended.

"Our daughter does have a point, my dear." Kento answered, as he gazed at you, amused and affectionate. "You forgot to bring the water that was by the door on our way out, and I just had to buy two new bottles if we're not to die because of dehydration."

You sighed before gazing back at him, and smiled, sweetly defeated. "Maybe I'm a little distracted, after all."

He pressed a soft, tender kiss on your lips, as the gentle breeze from the ocean enveloped the three of you under the irradiated warmth from the afternoon sun.

***

You woke up to the bright and loud ringing sound of your cellphone. Picking it up, you saw Nanami's name lit over the top.

"Hello?" You answered, still coming back to reality.

"Me and Ijichi are already on our way. I figured you might've still been asleep. We'll be there in twenty minutes, then we'll be on our way to our mission."

Yeah. The Lover's Pass curse. Ugh.

"Okay. I'll be ready soon." You replied, ending the call.

You looked around your room, filled with flowers, and stared for a moment at the cherry blossom illustration you hung on your wall the day you moved in. The sakura flowers.

You were a jujutsu sorcerer.

If only you weren't.

[angelsdean]

hi!! i've spent the better part of my morning browsing through some of your tags, and i just wanted to tell you how much i enjoy you posting about young dean / queer dean and how it makes me so genuinely happy to read your thoughts on the matter (that i generally completely agree with btw). dean being well aware of his sexuality from the start is one of the most important aspects of the show for me at the moment.

i don't want to write a whole poem in your inbox but i am having so many Thoughts! my personal interpretation is that dean had already pretty much come to terms with his sexuality pre stanford era, and was actively and deliberately seeking dudes in his late teens (esp when he was away from sam and john and maybe had a chance to feel more free and unrestrained). i completely understand why people look at him and think '🫵 repressed' (i did too) but to me its so much more interesting and compelling and it adds so much more to his character to imagine him growing into his queer identity so comfortably (i love to think that, despite eveything, there was a part of himself that he didn't completely hate or reject, does this make sense?). also as you said, being repressed is def not the only reason why a person might have to suppress/not be loud about their sexuality. we don't talk about this nearly enough!! i NEED to read headcanons and fics and metas and see art about young queer dean!

hi Mila! oh wow thank you so much 💖 young queer Dean is so important to me too!

I love Stanford Era so much because it's really this time where I see Dean being at his most free, but also most lonely. And I think he's trying to make connections, and trying new things, and really getting to be. And I also love the idea of teen Dean carving out these pockets for himself too, when John is away, or when Dean gets sent away :( :( :(

I think Dean started figuring out pretty early on that he was "different." I wrote this little fic a while back exploring some aspects of Dean's gender + sexuality throughout the years, I haven't revisited it in a while and I feel like some of my thoughts may have changed but it's still a really special fic to me.

Lately, I've also been working on another little fic set during the summer Dean is 14. He and Sam are staying at Bobby's and while the fic is centered around something else, there are small moments where we see Dean's budding awareness of his sexuality. (There's a cute boy at a produce stand and a hot lifeguard at the community pool and lots of magazine clippings of Harrison Ford and Patrick Swayze---he just wants to be like them, ok!) And it's like he's aware but he also can't really look at those feelings directly yet. (Also the art you made recently of young Dean "figuring it out" is so near and dear to my heart!!)

Then I have two Stanford Era time-travel WIPs (hiiii Cas!) And oh boy. This guy is SO GONE on Cas from the jump! And that's what I love so much about Stanford Era Dean (or well, my Stanford Era Dean), is that he's just in such a free point in his life, and so open to new experiences. He's not freaking out abt his immediate attraction and infatuation with Cas. In fact, where Older Dean (our Dean) is more...restrained, perhaps, in his feelings (not that he doesn't express them! i am team dean + his big feelings) but just that my personal interpretation re: the dean + his feelings for Cas timeline has him thinking / convincing himself that Cas doesn't feel the same way for him in the later seasons. So this Older Dean has kind of just, accepted that fact. And is trying not to wear his heart on his sleeve so much (and not really succeeding at all). But Stanford Era Dean? Oh no no no. He is a little shit stirrer and a smitten kitten and is both immediately clocking the situationship-and-mututal-feelings happening between Dean and Cas (it's so obvious to everyone on the outside looking in) AND he's actively flirting with Cas and just lighting up under any and all attention from him (because he's also so so lonely. and touch-starved. and craving affection).

Anyways, all this to say, I am always here to talk abt young queer Dean / Stanford Era Dean !!! I'd love to hear more of your headcanons too💞

[grapejuicegay]

I talked last week about how everyone freezes at the point of their lives that Kawi jumps from and stay stuck there in the future he sees (shoutout to @rocketturtle4). This week, we got confirmation through Pear and Kwan.

Kwan, who was in a no strings attached relationship with Not, knowing that he doesn't feel the same way, unable to say what she was feeling... where she stayed 12 years later up until Not and Pear's wedding.

And Pear, who was struggling with her relationship with her mother... @dribs-and-drabbles put it perfectly: "she wants to build the life for her own children that she never got herself. She wants to have the relationship her parents didn’t have, and wants to have the mother/daughter relationship she never got."

Pear, who knew how Not felt about her, who in the last timeline we saw went directly to him for what she needed when what she wanted was no longer working out for her.

And this week, within the little time Kawi spent not jumping ahead, they both got themselves unstuck. Kwan's feelings are out in the open and she has a definitive answer. Not is a terrible, terrible man, but it was a very similar conversation to the one between Pisaeng and Pear when Pisaeng finally let her down, giving her the chance to move on.

Pear, too, has finally said what she's feeling about her mother out loud

And realised it's not the best response. But with it out in the open now, she can also start to deal with it.

It's about catharsis. A good old fashioned 'let it all out and you'll feel better'. (@waitmyturtles I went down a little bit of a rabbit hole reading about Aristotelian catharsis and Hegel's preference of reconciliation and the overlap between the two to the point where I almost forgot what I wanted to say here. I'm going to leave the philosophers to you and read too deep into this episode instead - but like you mentioned here, another philosopher? potentially???)

And it's not the first time we're seeing this happen. It happens with Pisaeng.

I've been trying to figure out a way to talk about Pisaeng in episode 5 and how I don't think he went through an oh moment, but instead was making an effort to be truer to himself. He's said since the beginning

But how can he do that when he can't be open about himself, with himself, and around other people?

It's why there is so much of a focus on the "how are you feeling today?' sign and not just the rainbow flag. Because that is a question Pisaeng needs to be able to answer honestly. And when he's holding back so much of himself - largely due to his mother (see @bengiyo talk about Pisaeng's mom here) - he can't answer that question. Not until he talks to Max

Where his biggest hesitation comes when Max asks him what he shouldn't get the wrong idea about. Because Pisaeng's problem is that he can't say.

What's happening to him isn't that he's having a gay awakening - no, that happened a long time ago

What's happening to him now is that he likes someone and he's not sure when it happened. And him being unable to talk about it, being unable to let himself be in a gay club is not okay with him. Because if he can't be open with himself, how can he take care of someone else openly.

The moment he's able to say it to himself, he confesses to Kawi. And look at him at the club before and after

That's catharsis baybeeee.

And it also happens with Kawi - keeps happening with Kawi, actually. From the very beginning.

It starts with the first thing Kawi does when he sees his father again in what he thinks is a dream

He tells him he loves him (something they never used to do) and literally lets it all out, crying in his father's arms.

Kawi not being able to save his father isn't the biggest tragedy for me. Because he went back and didn't just tell his father that he loved him, he had a relationship with him. He showed him he loved him, apologised for the moments he regrets, looked out for him, made an effort to do something for him instead of just sitting there and letting him die - supported him.

It's still a tragedy, yes. But it's much less of one than we saw in the beginning.

Kawi doing things he always wanted to, just because he thinks it's a dream. That's catharsis too. Because for once he's actually letting out his thoughts and feelings.

When he calls his dad and apologises because he thinks he's a terrible person

There's a tragic sort of catharsis in there. Acknowledging what he doesn't like about himself because now he can move on from it, be a better person. And I think this scene was very carefully placed because it's immediately after this that Kawi goes and apologises to Pisaeng. It's after this that Kawi goes and begs Pear's dad for help. After this that Kawi convinces his father to be selfish for once and use his life savings for himself. (this scene should NOT have been deleted. but shoutout to @respectthepetty for finding it)

Talking about things, apologising, actually acknowledging what is wrong and making an effort to fix it, it's all catharsis. Especially for Kawi, when he spent all his time in the original timeline completely shut down, having done nothing with his life.

We even see a certain level of catharsis in Pear's mom. @dribs-and-drabbles pointed out the life and colour literally bursting out of her art. It's her expressing herself again - letting it all out - when that expression had disappeared from her life. It's a celebration where she had been struggling for so long.

And the culmination of it all so far is Kawi telling Pisaeng that he's worried about the negative effect he's having on other people's lives, for Pisaeng to come in and comfort him. Even when Kawi comes back from the last time jump, knowing he's coming back to his father's death, he comes back to Pisaeng's support.

It's about talking and letting it all out, and letting other people in.