#it’s just blackmail fodder

[crazzberry]

Linked Universe as silly messages between me and my friends.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 10.4k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: eek series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

i mean, im not that surprised he’s sexy as hell

that’s actually crazy

imagine hiding your son for five years 😶😶 how can you be ashamed of that

doesn’t he literally have a girlfriend?? himari nakamura??

        ↳ yep for almost two years now

       ↳ wonder how she’s holding up i’d be pissed, unless she knew 

rich people are always shady as fuck

You don’t even know how many comments you’ve read. Staying up practically the entire night, busying yourself with the endless scrolling of people who have not a single clue of how your life actually is. Meddling in your business and acting like the shit they’re spouting on the internet is okay. 

They ranged from positive (sort of) to extremely personal and negative. 

i bet she just did it for the child support 

i wonder if he’s actually the dad, women like that lie and lie just cuz the dad is rich as fuck

i feel so bad for that boy

Bad? Why would they feel bad for him? You’ve given everything you can and then some to ensure Koji’s safety and innocence. You’ve never put him in harm’s way, difficult situations, hit him, nothing. Of course you’ve raised your voice, but every parent does. Why are these reasons suddenly acting like they know a fucking thing or two? This is insane. 

The only positive ones you see are praising your son for how cute he is, how much he looks like Satoru, and how he’ll probably get everything he wants. That’s not true, you’re not going to spoil your kid and you’re sure as hell not letting Satoru do it either; he’s humble, that’s how you want him to be. Still, you do feel uneasy at strangers on the internet for talking about your baby like this, in reference to a photo none of you knew was taken. 

And you still don’t know who took it. 

That’s what infuriates you the most. Because who in their right mind would do that? Who thinks they’re that fucking entitled to chime in on your personal business—your family. 

When you find them, you swear on everything you’re punching them. 

Your head hangs low, the hood of your sweatshirt pulled tight, shielding your face as you step into the café. You keep your gaze down, avoiding the eyes of the baristas and patrons scattered around. The familiar hum of the espresso machine feels deafening today.

Maybe no one will notice. Maybe no one cares.

But you know better.

That damn image, plastered across every TV screen and newsfeed yesterday, is still burned into your mind. Why do people even care this much? You’re beyond pissed off. Who in their right mind thinks they have the right to invade your personal life like that? To turn your family into fodder for the public?

Maybe no one will say anything. Who even watched the news anyway? 

More people than you think, actually. You keep moving, but Hana has other plans.

“Y/N!” Her voice cuts through the noise like a whip, and before you can react, she grabs your forearm, dragging you into the storage room in the back.

“Hey, what the—” you start to protest, wincing as her grip tightens, but she doesn’t care. She whirls around to face you, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell is going on?!” she demands, gesturing wildly with her hands. “You were on the news yesterday!”

Your stomach churns at the reminder, and your jaw clenches tightly. You pull your hood down, resigning yourself to the conversation you were hoping to avoid. “I know that already,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest.

“Koji’s father is multi-billionaire Satoru Gojo?!” Her voice rises in pitch, and she looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Is that for real? You’ve been hiding this?!”

You take a deep breath, counting to three in your head. “Yes, Hana. It’s real. Koji’s father is Satoru Gojo. Can we not do this right now?”

But Hana doesn’t back down, her wide eyes searching your face for answers. “Are you kidding me? Of course we’re doing this right now! You’ve been sitting on this—” she throws her hands up, “—while the rest of us thought you were just, like, a regular single mom? What the hell, Y/N?”

“Because it’s none of anyone’s business!” you hiss, your voice rising then lowering, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “Do you think I wanted this to come out? Do you think I wanted his world to invade mine?”

Hana softens slightly, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. “Okay, fair. But you should’ve told me, at least. I mean, I’m your friend.”

“I didn’t tell anyone for a reason and I don’t owe anyone anything,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair. “And now it’s everywhere. Do you know how terrifying that is? For me? For Koji?”

Hana sighs, leaning back against the wall. “Okay, okay. I get it. This whole thing’s a mess. But what are you going to do now? I mean, the story’s out. People are gonna talk, Y/N. A lot. Especially if it involves a man like him.”

You swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling. “I just want to protect my son.”

Hana nods, her expression softening further. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re gonna need a plan. And.”

“Hana, I—“ you’re really trying not to snap at her, really. But she’s pushing every button you have right now and your patience is running extremely low. Don’t snap, she’s just worried.  “I know what to do, thank you. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t meddle in my business too. We’re friends, yes, but understand right now that I’m going through a lot of shit and don’t need to be told what to do and when to do it. So get off my back.”

Hana blinks, a little caught off guard by your sudden announcement. Her mouth slightly agape, clearly not having expected your outburst. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, her expression shifting between hurt and something close to understanding. She straightens, her arms falling from where they’d been crossed over her chest. “Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—” she begins, her voice softer now, but you cut her off.

“I know,” you say, your voice quieter but still firm. “I know you’re trying to help, Hana. And I’m grateful, I am. But right now, I need to handle this on my own. I need space. Can you give me that?”

She nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I get it. I’ll back off. Just—if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. You know that, right?”

You exhale, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. I know.”

Hana offers you a small, tentative smile before stepping aside, giving you the room you so desperately need. As she moves to leave, she hesitates at the curtains, glancing back at you. “For what it’s worth, Y/N…I think you’re handling this a lot better than you think you are.”

You don’t respond, just nod in acknowledgment, and she disappears back into the front of the café. Alone in the small back room, you lean against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

Better than I think, huh? You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. It doesn’t feel that way. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said this probably won’t be that bad; not a big deal. But hell, it was huge. You hate unnecessary attention, especially attention from hundreds, if not thousands of random strangers. You’re recalling the incident from earlier when you dropped Koji off at school. Mr. Ito stopping you once more and confessing his surprise to you. In his words, “I didn’t know Koji had such an…esteemed father.”

You held back a slew of insults, keeping it classy, as always. But as the days go on and the more shit that seems to be happening to you, you’re getting this close to breaking that. It’s the way he, everyone else, and even Hana seems so…shocked. The lingering glances from other parents at drop-off, the whispers in the hallways. It’s the way their surprise feels so…palpable. You get it, in a way. Satoru Gojo is larger than life—powerful, wealthy, and untouchable in a way most people only dream of. But still, the shock in their eyes stings more than it should. Did they think you weren’t of caliber to bag a man like Satoru? Did they think a man like that wouldn’t even dream of having a child with a woman like you? It feels a tad bit insulting. Actually, scratch that—it feels like a slap in the face.

The implications gnaw at you, poking at insecurities you’d rather not acknowledge. This is exactly why you hate social media. You’re already growing too conscious of the comments people are making—caring too much and it was just revealed. And the worst part? You can’t even fully blame them. Satoru’s world is one you’ve never truly belonged to. You’re not the glossy, magazine-cover type, and you don’t have the pedigree or connections his circle would expect. But that doesn’t mean you’re less than, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean Koji is any less precious because of it.

 You sigh, rubbing at your temples. If only these people could see you for who you truly are—if they could see the strength it takes to raise a child on your own, to hold your head high even when the world tries to tear you down. But no, all they see is the scandal and the drama, their curiosity morphing into judgment. Sure, you made mistakes—big and bad ones. But you’re doing all this in order to make up for those mistakes. And sure, Satoru doesn’t 100% forgive you—you’re not sure he ever will—but you don’t think he would agree with these kinds of comments being made. Right? 

You huff. Let them talk, you think bitterly, though the tightness in your chest betrays the confidence you’re trying to muster. Let them all talk, they know nothing. 

The minutes feel like hours. Unsure of how long you’ve exactly been here. Equally nervous about looking at your phone to check.

“Oh my god, look. It’s her.”

“Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

“I wonder if she’ll give us pointers.”

“You’re insane.”

The conversation doesn’t fly over your head. t’s like they want you to hear, voices loud enough to penetrate the usual clatter of the café. You swear, they’re practically aiming their words right at you. Your grip tightens around the rag in your hand, knuckles going white as you scrub the already spotless table. The motion is a little too aggressive, the poor table bearing the brunt of your simmering frustration. Your jaw clenches, brows knitting together as you try—desperately—to keep your temper in check. Jaw clenching and brows knitting together, you’re counting down to ten and back.

One…two…three… you recite in your head, attempting to steady your breath. It’s an old habit—one you learned a while back from you’re therapist, one you’ve relied on in situations like this, but today it feels like it’s barely working. Four…five…six.

You glance up, just for a second, and immediately regret it. The group of girls sits near the window, leaning into each other as they giggle, their eyes darting your way. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. One of them, a blonde with an annoyingly perfect smile, nudges her friend and whispers something, sending the others into another fit of laughter. Your fingers flex around the rag, itching to throw it across the room. Breathe, you remind yourself. Just breathe. They’re not worth it. But it’s hard to ignore the knot tightening in your chest, the sting of humiliation creeping in despite your best efforts. Because you know exactly what they’re laughing about, what they’re whispering about. It’s not just idle curiosity—it’s judgment, plain and simple. And maybe, just maybe, if this were any other day, you’d let it roll off your back. But today? After everything that’s happened? After seeing your son’s face plastered on screens and hearing people dissect your life like it’s a soap opera? You toss the rag onto the table, standing up straighter as you look their way. They immediately quiet down, eyes widening like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“Can I help you?” you ask, voice calm but carrying just enough edge to make them squirm.

The blonde fidgets, her confidence faltering under your gaze. “Oh, um, no, we were just…”

“Enjoying your coffee?” you finish for her, forcing a tight smile. “Good. Let me know if you need anything else.” Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk behind the counter, the satisfaction of their stunned silence doing little to ease the weight in your chest. Nine…ten… You exhale slowly, trying to let it go, but the anger simmers just beneath the surface.

It’s going to be a long day.

—-

The walk back home with Koji feels like you never want to use your senses again. It feels like a marathon you never signed up for, every step heavier than the last. The pounding in your head has escalated into a full-blown migraine, the sharp pain clawing at the edges of your skull. You clench your teeth, trying to hold it together, willing the tears pricking at your eyes to stay put. Koji chatters beside you, his small hand in yours, his voice a muffled hum against the overwhelming throb in your head.

 So much has changed within just the span of a week and none of it feels good. You like change, but not like this. Not the kind of change that’s so spontaneous and out of nowhere that it makes you dread the littlest things. The kind of change where you feel like every way you turn, it’s a dead end. Every thought spiraling into another reminder of how much you’ve lost control, or of how much you never had it to begin with. The kind of change that you never fucking asked for in the first place. The kind of change where you feel like a ticking timebomb. A simple walk home feels like an obstacle course. The sound of Koji’s innocent laughter, once a balm to your soul, now feels like a weight pressing down on you, a reminder of how fragile your balance is.

This change doesn’t come with warnings or instructions. It doesn’t let you adjust, and doesn’t give you the chance to prepare. It just dumps its baggage on your doorstep and forces you to deal with it, whether you’re ready or not. And right now, you’re not.

The last thing you want to do is blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially your son. You glance down at him, his bright eyes scanning the world around him with that endless curiosity only a child can have. His tiny fingers grip yours with a trust that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand the storm brewing inside you. And he shouldn’t have to.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Koji’s voice is soft, his head tilted as he looks up at you with concern.

You force a smile, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” you manage, squeezing his hand gently. “Just tired.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer, and resumes his animated recount of the day’s events. You let him talk, his voice a small distraction from the noise in your head. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One breath at a time. For him, if not for yourself.

You wonder to yourself how many more times you can continue repeating that phrase to yourself, like a broken record spinning endlessly in your mind. Shouldn’t you be allowed to do some things on your own? Something that isn’t tied to the constant grind of making sure Koji has everything he needs, of shielding him from a world that feels more hostile every day? Everything you do is for him—every decision, every sacrifice, every moment of biting your tongue when you want to scream. It’s all for him. 

But what about you?

The thought is bitter, curling in your chest like smoke. It feels selfish even to entertain it, but the exhaustion is suffocating. How long has it been since you’ve done something just because you wanted to? Since you’ve allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about what you need, instead of what everyone else expects of you? Is it selfish? Is this not how a good mother thinks?

The doubt gnaws at you, persistent and sharp. 

Not like you’d know the answer to that question. Your mother—a woman you rarely ever want to think about—never gave you the guidance for situations like this. You have no inspiration, nothing. You’re doing everything free-handed. She didn’t leave you with blueprints for moments like these, no voice in your head to tell you what’s right, what’s wrong, or even what’s okay. She was a void, an absence, and that absence shaped you more than you’d like to admit.

And now here you are, trying to be everything for your son that she wasn’t for you. But it feels like you’re fumbling in the dark, building something fragile with trembling hands. There’s no instruction manual for this, no map to follow. You’re doing everything on the first try, improvising as you go. Every decision feels like a gamble. Did you do enough today? Did you do too much? Did you make the right call, or are you setting him up for something you can’t even see coming? The uncertainty is exhausting.

You glance at Koji, his small hand still tucked safely in yours, his voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. He’s so blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging inside you, and that’s how it should be. He deserves that innocence, that security. But the weight of always being the strong one, the reliable one, is starting to crush you. How much longer can I keep this up? The question whispers in your mind, and you hate it. You hate that you’re even asking it, hate that it makes you feel weak. But the truth is, you’re tired.

And you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that you’re not.

You focus on Koji again, his small frame silhouetted against the afternoon light of the day. He trusts you implicitly, and looks at you like you’re the answer to everything. And the weight of that trust makes you want to cry and scream in equal measure. How can I possibly live up to that?

They never said motherhood was easy. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. Maybe this is what being a mother really is—second-guessing everything, carrying the weight of your own past, and still showing up every day, trying your best. 

You don’t know if that’s enough. But it’s all you have.

It seems like you’re in for a surprise every second of the day.

Satoru, much to your own dismay and confusion, is perched against your apartment door; waiting for you again. Like a magnet, Koji runs into his lower half, hugging his father with all the strength his five-year-old body will allow. 

“Hey, little man. I’m happy to see you.” Satoru smiles wholeheartedly, patting Koji’s back with gentle ease.

“Hi, Papa! I missed you.” His voice is muffled by Satoru’s clothing.

The older man laughs, relishing in the moment for another second, before opening his light azures. His eyes look like they’re darting all around you, as if making sure you’re okay. Standing up, he shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you mutter, walking up closer. Arms crossing. 

He nods. “I know, I–I should’ve told you. But this was urgent and I knew you were busy at work.”

A hum is all you offer, unlocking your apartment door and stepping in. The semi-warmth envelops you like a worn blanket. Finally, in the comfort of my own home. Even if it is just for a little bit before you’re off again. 

“Call off his babysitter.”

You look back, watching him close your door and lock it. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Koji runs off to his room, presumably to play with his toy collection. Leaving the two adults alone. Biting your lip, attempting to come up with something to say—or what to say first. Luckily, he beats you to it. “I want you two to spend the night at mine, don’t go to work. I’ll pay you whatever you miss out on. I know you saw the leak and I’m working on figuring out who the hell did it. But until then, I’m a little concerned for your guys’ safety, so stay at mine until we figure things out long-term.”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the resolute earnestness in his voice. The Satoru you know isn’t usually this serious, this concerned. It’s disarming—attractive, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “This is my home, Satoru,” you finally say, your voice quiet but firm. “I can’t just up and leave because of a leak. And I can’t run every time something like this happens. That’s not a long-term solution either.”

“I get that,” he says, stepping closer. “But this isn’t just about you. It’s about Koji. Someone took that photo, and I don’t know who, or how, or what their intentions are. Until I do, I can’t take chances.”

“And I get that, but I can’t just—sleep at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just…weird.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he exhales out. “You think something’ll happen? It won’t. I'm doing this for Koji and you because I care. Not because reviving something that’s long-ended is my priority.” 

“It’s not about that,” you snap, your voice rising before you catch yourself. You close your eyes for a second, exhaling sharply, trying to rein in your frustration. “It’s just... complicated, Satoru. You showing up like this, offering to fix things with money, with solutions I didn’t ask for, for problems I never wanted—it’s overwhelming.”

He takes another step closer, his presence filling the small entryway. “You think I don’t understand that?” His voice softens but carries an edge of urgency. “Y/N, I’m not trying to make this harder for you. I know this is all... messy. But I can’t sit around and pretend I’m okay with you and Koji being here while someone out there is bold enough to invade your privacy like that. I’m trying to protect you. You can’t keep pushing me away like this, you said you wanted to make things better.”

“I know, but—”

“Then stop it. Stop arguing, complaining, whatever. You’re not going to keep me out of Koji’s life any longer, or yours. They already posted another damn picture of you today at work.”

What? You blink your eyes, widening them. You don’t even want to see the photo evidence, gulping down the weird lump that forms in your throat. What the fuck is going on with my life right now? You hesitate, biting your lip. His words chip away at your defenses, but the walls you’ve built don’t crumble that easily. “And what happens if we go to your place? What’s next? You swoop in, play hero, and then leave us when this blows over?”

His jaw tightens, the faint hurt flashing in his eyes almost imperceptible. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?” you counter, arms crossing tightly over your chest, a weak attempt to shield yourself from the weight of the conversation. “That’s what you always do, Satoru. You show up when it’s convenient for you, and when it’s not, you disappear.”

The words hang heavy in the air, stinging both of you. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not leaving you this time,” he says quietly, lifting his eyes back to yours. “Not until I know you two are safe. I’m not running, Y/N. Not from this. But you have to stop trying to keep me at arm's length, I’m trying my best to help.” His eyes lock onto yours, pleading yet determined. You hate how convincing he can be when he’s like this. How he makes you question your own resolve. “Please,” he adds, his voice dropping. “Just for a little while.”

The conviction in his voice is startling, and it makes something inside you waver. You’re tired, too tired to keep arguing, too tired to keep carrying everything on your shoulders. It’s true, you’re feeling yourself pushback on him. He deserves this—time with Koji, protecting him, and more. It’s just so hard breaking from the fragile bubble you built for your son and you. Satoru’s presence is like a sharp knife, waiting to just poke through it with ease, to get to his family.“Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight. Koji and I will come to your place for tonight.”

Relief washes over his features, but he doesn’t smile. He nods, stepping back to give you space. “That’s all I’m asking.”

As you turn away to gather what you need for the night, you catch a glimpse of Koji peeking out from his room, his eyes wide with curiosity. You put on a smile for his sake, but deep down, you can’t shake the unease settling in your chest. This isn’t just about staying at Satoru’s place. It’s about what this means—what it could mean—and the part of you that still isn’t sure you’re ready to face it.

The inside of Satoru’s Mercedes is spacious, but asphyxiating. Koji in his car seat in the back, watching something on his tablet. This is the first time you’ve been in the car with Satoru since way long ago. It’s nostalgia, but sickening at the same time. You remember how he would place his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Or how he likes to rest his hand on the gearstick, or his elbow on the middle console. 

Your skin prickles with goosebumps when he brushes against your arm as he reaches for the temperature controls, adjusting the heat. It’s a small, thoughtless gesture, but it sends an involuntary jolt through you. You glance out the window, pretending to admire the blurred city lights instead of acknowledging the memories flooding back. The hum of the car engine fills the silence, an uncomfortable contrast to the weight of everything left unsaid. Koji giggles at something on his tablet in the backseat, his innocence a stark reminder of why you’re here and why you can’t let your emotions take over.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice breaks the quiet, calm yet cautious.

“Fine,” you reply quickly, too quickly. You keep your eyes glued to the window, your arms crossed as if to shield yourself from the proximity.

He stops at a red light, leaning back in his sight. He’s a pro at side-eyeing you as you’re faced away. Seeing the way your hands ball into small fists. Nervous. Your foot is tapping on the floor. Thinking. And if he looks closer at your chest, he’ll notice how it’s rising up and down a little more quickly than normal. 

Oh. 

He clears his throat, looking forward as the light turns green. Focus on driving, focus on driving. He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze flickering toward you now and then, like he’s reading every shift in your posture, every flicker of hesitation. It’s infuriating how well he knows you, even now. You glance at Koji briefly before turning your gaze back to the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks as the car moves. The nostalgia you felt earlier morphs into a bitter taste in your mouth. You hate how easily Satoru slips into the role of a doting father, as if the years of his absence never happened.

You need to get a better hold of your jealousy. 

“You’re quiet,” Satoru says, breaking the silence.

“Just tired,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look at him.

He hums, his fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. “Long day, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

His gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the road. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. But I’m glad you’re coming with me. It’s the right thing to do.”

You let out a dry laugh, finally turning to face him. “The right thing to do? Since when have you ever cared about the right thing, Satoru?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Then he exhales deeply, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I care now. Now that you’ve granted me that option,” he says quietly.

You want to scoff, to throw his words back at him, but there’s something in his tone that makes you pause. Something raw, unguarded. The way he gets out those snark remarks angers you, but only further solidifies the weight of your actions, and the fact that things will never be the same. 

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When the car finally pulls into the underground garage of his penthouse building, Koji’s excitement is palpable.

“Wow! This place is huge!” Koji exclaims, his eyes wide as he looks around.

Satoru chuckles, stepping out of the car and opening the back door to unbuckle Koji. “Wait till you see the view, buddy.”

You follow them, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but feel like you’re being pulled back into a world you thought you’d left behind—one of complications and heartbreak. Satoru presses the button for his floor, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just for one night.”

You don’t respond, staring straight ahead as the elevator begins its ascent. But deep down, you know it’s never just one night with Satoru. 

“No running.”

“Sorry, Mama.”

You place Koji and your bags on one of the chairs in the kitchen, watching your son rush to his father’s living room. Satoru follows him, hands on his hips. “Hey buddy, bought some toys for you. Do you want to play with them? You like Spiderman, right?”

If possible, Koji’s eyes light up even more with excitement. Gasping and squealing, nodding his head furiously. “I love Spiderman! Mama threw me a Spiderman birthday last time.”

Satoru hums. “Wish I coulda seen that.”

You freeze at Satoru's words, your hand halfway to unpacking one of Koji’s bags. His tone is light, almost wistful, but it feels like a loaded statement—one that stings more than you’d like to admit. You glance over at him and Koji, your son practically bouncing on his toes as Satoru kneels to pull out a neatly wrapped box from a hidden cabinet. “Here you go,” Satoru says, handing it to Koji. “I think you’ll like what’s inside.”

Koji tears into the wrapping with glee, revealing a Spiderman action figure set. He gasps, clutching the box to his chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Papa! This is so cool!”

Your heart twists at how easily Koji has taken to calling him that. It’s like Satoru’s sudden presence is a gift he didn’t realize he’d been missing. And yet, for you, it’s a reminder of the years of absence—of the birthdays and milestones Satoru missed. “Please, don’t spoil him too much,” you mutter, finally unpacking Koji’s things and setting them on the counter.

Satoru looks over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s wrong with a little spoiling? He deserves it.”

You exhale sharply, not bothering to mask your irritation. “What he deserves is consistency.”

His smirk falters, standing back up to his full height and coming over to you. Keeping his voice level calm, in case Koji decides to listen in. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. 

Satoru narrows his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable as he watches you busy yourself with Koji’s things. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You let out a humorless laugh, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. Don’t read into it.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further—not yet. Instead, he leans against the counter, folding his arms as he observes you. “Y/N, you can’t be the angry one in this situation. I thought you understood that.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m just—” you let out a big breath, looking up at him once more. “I’m tired. Forgive me if I’m not overly happy right now.

Satoru’s gaze softens, his posture relaxing slightly, though the tension in the room lingers like a heavy fog. “I’m not trying to add onto that, I’m just trying to be here for my son.”

I know that. I don’t know why I’m snapping. All you can offer is a nod, reaching into your bag, and grabbing a change of clothes. “I…I’m gonna go shower, watch him please.”

Satoru nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before shifting to the living room where Koji is engrossed in his toys. “Of course. Take your time.”

You offer a small, tight-lipped smile before retreating down the hall, clutching the clothes in your hands like a lifeline. Once you’re inside the bathroom, the door clicks shut behind you, and the weight of everything crashes down. Leaning against the counter, you grip the edge tightly, your knuckles turning white as you take slow, measured breaths. The mirror reflects a version of yourself you hardly recognize—tired, frazzled, and barely holding it together. The faint hum of Koji’s laughter echoes down the hall, grounding you for a moment. At least he’s happy. That’s what matters.

The shower is a welcome escape. The hot water cascades over your skin, washing away the grime of the day and the lingering tension from your conversation with Satoru. You let your head fall forward, droplets sliding down your face, mingling with the tears you didn’t realize had started to fall. You didn’t mean to snap at him. He’s trying, you know that. But the past doesn’t let go so easily, and the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, fear, hope—leaves you feeling unsteady. And you feel angry at yourself for letting your emotions slip through, getting the best of you. You’re surprised Satoru hasn’t been more outwardly rude to you, short, or even snappy. It seems like he’s taking this all better than you are, and once again, that bitter jealousy of yours is shining through. How he can just handle things so smoothly—at least that’s what it seems like. But he’s used to all this: the spotlight, public eye, attention. You just wish things could’ve been handled…differently. 

Everything feels like a domino effect, starting all with that dreaded day at the grocery store. How so much has changed. 

 By the time you step out, you feel a fraction lighter, though the knot in your chest remains. You towel off, change into your clean clothes, and take a moment to steel yourself before heading back into the fray.

When you return to the living room, you find Satoru sitting cross-legged on the floor with Koji, holding up a miniature Spiderman figure. Koji is giggling, animatedly explaining an intricate story about how Spiderman saves the day. Satoru glances up as you walk in, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. We’re just working on a top-secret mission over here. No big deal.”

Koji looks up too, beaming. “Mama! Papa’s playing Spiderman with me! He’s really good at the voices.”

You can’t help the small smile that forms, even as your heart aches a little at the sight. “Sounds like you two are having fun.”

Satoru nods, his expression soft. “We’re a good team.”

You stand there for a moment, watching them, the weight of everything pressing down on your shoulders once more. Maybe this is what Koji needs. Maybe this is what you need. But trusting him again…that’s the hardest part.

That night, eating dinner at Satoru’s long dining table, the same one where you faced his parents, it all feels strange, to say the least. The clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates echoes faintly in the vast dining room, filling the silence between the three of you. Koji hums to himself as he picks at his plate, occasionally glancing at his father to tell him some small details about his day or ask about the toys he’d gotten earlier. Satoru engages him with ease, his tone light and playful, but you can see the flickers of something deeper behind his smiles—guilt, maybe, or a desperate need to make up for lost time.

And then there’s you, sitting stiffly at the other end of the table, your appetite wavering as your mind keeps drifting back to the last time you sat here. That memory is sharp and vivid, like an old wound that hasn’t quite healed.

But Koji’s laughter brings you back down to Earth. Looking up from your plate of food to the sight before you. Father and son, son and father, family. They look so alike, you don’t think you can ever get over the blatant resemblance. Satoru’s genes are just very strong. You wish Koji could’ve inherited a few more things from you. You place a hand on your lower stomach, as if a physical touch will make the strange abundance of butterflies flying around in there to go away. 

It’s strange, this setup. Domestic in a way you never thought you’d experience with him again. But it’s also…nice. 

It feels whole, like this is how things should be. Would’ve been had you not held your tongue for so long. And you’re starting to think to yourself how much you like this sight. How it’s making you feel at home.

But this isn’t your home. However, you think you can pretend for just one night. 

“You’re not eating much,” Satoru says, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of concern.

Your eyes widen at him, realizing you’ve been caught staring and quickly looking back down. “I’m fine,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Just sleepy, I guess.”

“I bet,” he says, and while his tone is conversational, his gaze lingers on you, searching for something beneath your calm facade.

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, stabbing at a piece of vegetable on your plate. You don’t want to talk about your day or your worries or the mounting anxiety sitting heavy in your chest. Not here, not now.

Koji interrupts before Satoru can press further, his voice bright and full of excitement. “Papa, can we watch a movie after dinner? Mama too!”

Satoru grins, lightly pinching his cheekbone. “Of course, buddy. What movie are we watching?”

Koji claps his hands together, listing off a couple of titles before settling on one of his favorites. You manage another smile, this one a little more genuine, as you watch the way Satoru effortlessly makes Koji light up. For a moment, the tension eases, and you let yourself focus on Koji’s joy. Maybe this is enough for now. Maybe that’s all you need to get through the evening.

But as you glance at Satoru across the table, his eyes catching yours for a brief second, you’re reminded of how fragile this truce feels. Of how much history lies between you, threatening to resurface at any moment.

Koji picks Spiderman, of course. You’ve watched this movie at least a hundred times now, maybe more. You can practically recite the lines perfectly. The movie plays on, the familiar dialogue flowing like background noise to your swirling thoughts. You’ve seen this scene so many times—the hero’s triumphant swing through the city, the bad guy’s dramatic monologue, the moments of comic relief Koji always laughs at—but tonight, it feels different. There’s an added layer of tension sitting heavy between you and Satoru.

The living room feels unusually cozy, the dimmed lighting casting a warm glow over the space. Koji wiggles in his spot, clutching a Spiderman plush as he stares at the screen with unblinking eyes, thoroughly engrossed. You, on the other hand, are trying not to let your exhaustion bubble over. Koji sits between you two, Satoru’s arm over his little shoulders. Satoru’s arm rests casually behind Koji, but every so often, as he adjusts his position, his fingers graze your shoulder—a light, fleeting touch that feels far too deliberate to be accidental. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems entirely focused on the movie, his face relaxed, a small smirk tugging at his lips during one of Koji’s excited reactions. So, you ignore it. But you do shift slightly, creating just enough distance to break the contact. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Koji laughs out loud at a particularly funny scene, leaning against Satoru’s side. “That’s so cool, Papa! I wanna do that someday!”

Satoru chuckles, ruffling Koji’s hair. “Maybe we’ll get you a Spiderman costume, and you can be the hero of the city.”

Koji beams at him, his excitement is contagious. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to appreciate this dynamic, the way Satoru fits so naturally into Koji’s world. You hate to admit it, but this is what Koji’s been missing—what you’ve been missing, too, in some small, buried way. Satoru’s hand once again brushes your shoulder during his next adjustment, that buried part of you is quickly overshadowed by the reminder of why this dynamic fell apart in the first place.

Luckily, Koji is already showered and dressed for bed in his matching red set. So as the movie progresses, nearing its end, so does his sleepiness. You along with him. Koji’s head begins to droop as the credits start to roll, his little body leaning further into Satoru’s side. His eyelids flutter with each blink, his earlier excitement now replaced by the slow pull of sleep. Satoru’s about to make a remark, before looking over at you and seeing your body slumped over on the other side. 

The scene feels peaceful in a way he hadn’t anticipated—a rare moment of quiet amidst the chaos that’s been your guys’ lives lately. Koji’s soft breathing grows steadier, his small body completely leaning into Satoru’s side now, one hand clutching his Spiderman plush while the other hangs limply at his side. Satoru glances down at his son with a faint smile, brushing Koji’s hair out of his face with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He looks over to you next, ready your head resting on your hand. Your expression is soft, lips parted slightly as you drift into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring. Satoru looks at the clock; 9:00pm.

For a moment, he just watches you both. Koji, who looks so much like him it’s almost uncanny, and you, the woman who’s somehow always managed to throw him off balance without even trying. He sighs softly, shaking his head at the scene before him. For a split second, he feels a shadow—a ghost from the past appears beside Koji. A baby girl who would’ve been seven by now.The baby girl who never got the chance to grow up. In that fleeting, haunting moment, he imagines her sitting there too, nestled beside her brother, giggling at Spiderman’s antics. He can imagine her features. She would’ve looked so much like you, it’s painful.

His chest tightens, and he has to look away, focusing on a random corner of the room as he fights to steady his breathing. It’s not fair—to her, to Koji, or to you. And yet, here he is, caught in the what-ifs and the might-have-beens, unable to let go of a past that feels like it happened both a lifetime ago and just yesterday. The glimpse is gone as soon as it comes, to which he’s thankful for because he is not crying right now. With a small grunt, he stands up and carefully moves Koji into his arms. Adjusting the boy and making sure he’s not waking up, he walks him over to the spare bedroom.

Satoru moves quietly, his footsteps soft against the floor as he cradles Koji in his arms. The boy’s head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his small body relaxed and completely unaware of the careful handling. The weight of his son in his arms, the warmth of Koji’s tiny form, is a stark reminder of everything he’s been missing. He pushes the door to the spare bedroom open gently, trying not to disturb the silence of the house. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a calm glow across the room. Satoru places Koji carefully on the bed, tucking him in with the same gentle movements he’s always used. He watches for a moment as the boy shifts slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips before settling back into a peaceful sleep.

For a second, Satoru just stands there, hands lingering at Koji’s side as if unsure of when to leave. It’s as if the past week—no, the past years—are catching up to him in this very moment. He never thought he'd be here, standing in a room like this, watching his son sleep under a roof that used to feel so distant. His chest tightens, but he refuses to let himself feel the weight of it. Not yet. Not with Koji so close. With one last look, he slowly pulls away, stepping back into the hallway and quietly closing the door behind him. The house feels colder as he moves through it, but this time, it’s not because of the empty spaces or the lingering tension. It’s because, for the first time in years, he’s truly trying to figure out where he fits in all of this.

And it’s a lot harder than he ever expected.

He walks back to the living room, your body now completely lying on your side. His lips purse as he stands before you, unsure if he should wake you or move you himself. Would that be okay? Is he crossing some boundary of yours if he touches you fully and intentionally?

Satoru stands there for a moment, studying you as you sleep. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your body curls slightly into the pillow, creates a sense of peace in the room, but also a sense of tension in him. The pull to reach out, to make sure you’re comfortable, is strong. But he hesitates, his mind racing with thoughts about boundaries, and the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable, especially when everything already feels so fragile between the two of you. He watches for a few more seconds, the quiet of the room making everything feel so... still. He doesn’t know how he got here, standing in the middle of the room, feeling so torn. Part of him wants to just go ahead and make sure you’re properly tucked in, like he did with Koji. But that other part of him continues to wonderf if that’s overstepping, if his presence, even now, feels intrusive. Satoru exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he decides to attempt to recreate his actions for Koji; it’s the least he can do.

He bends his knees slightly, hands reaching out. But just as his fingertips graze your bare arms, you’re jolting up and awake. Head swiveling around, eyes barely open and bleary. “What’s happening? Where’s Koji?”

Satoru freezes, his fingers hovering in the air as your voice cuts through the stillness. His eyes flick to you, wide and disoriented from the abruptness of your awakening. "Y/N?" He murmurs, his voice low and hesitant, almost as if he's unsure whether you’re fully awake. "Koji’s in the other room, he’s asleep."

You sit up, rubbing your eyes, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Your thoughts are jumbled, disoriented from the deep slumber you’d just woken from. “I— I didn’t hear him... when did he go to bed?”

Satoru, still crouched by your bedside, lets out a soft sigh, his expression softening. "I put him down a few minutes ago. He was out before the movie ended." He pauses for a second, watching you carefully, his hand still lingering awkwardly in the air as if unsure whether to touch you or not. "You were really tired, so I thought I'd handle it."

You blink, the fog in your mind barely beginning to clear. Slowly, you nod, still trying to process everything in the haze of your exhaustion. “Thank you.” The words come out quieter than you expect, but there’s something in your voice that surprises both of you.

Satoru’s gaze lingers for a moment, a mix of concern and relief flashing in his eyes. He stands up, backing away from the bed slowly. “I didn’t want to wake you,” he says softly, hands running through his hair as he takes a step toward the door. “But you should go to bed. You can sleep with Koji or um—in my bed if you want.”

You stare at his figure, the weight of the situation still pressing down on you. There’s so much 

happening, so much you didn’t expect, and yet… for some reason, having him here, like this, almost feels normal. You rub your temples, trying to stave off the headache forming. 

“I’ll sleep out here, of course,” he quickly adds on, realizing the small, but accidental hinting.

You raise an eyebrow at his quick backpedaling, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It's been a long time since you shared any sort of space with him—especially under these circumstances. But the way he’s stumbling over his words, trying so hard to make things comfortable, it makes you wonder if maybe he’s not as composed as he likes to act. “Thanks,” you murmur, rubbing your temples again. The migraine's intensity is growing, and it's all you can do to keep your emotions in check. You hadn’t expected this—any of it. Satoru’s presence here, offering you comfort in his own odd way, only complicates everything more. You never asked for this kind of help, but you can't deny the relief it brings. “I’ll sleep with Koji.”

Satoru’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer, his expression softening as if he’s weighing his words carefully, trying not to overstep. He knows you’re not the type to ask for help. Hell, you hardly ever accept it when it’s offered. But tonight is different. Tonight is full of a thousand unspoken things. The lingering tension, the awkwardness of it all, and the confusing emotions between you two. It’s all too much, too quickly, and yet you feel the pull of something familiar—a bond you haven’t felt in years. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low. Almost like he’s waiting for you to give him some kind of permission or reassurance, something that lets him know you’re okay. His presence, his concern for Koji, it’s all so overwhelming in its own way.

You hesitate, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens just having him this close, even if it is just in the same house. “I’ll be fine,” you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. The last thing you want to do is drag him back into your life fully. But he’s already here, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you're too tired to argue. "You don’t have to stay out here." The words hang in the air for a beat.

You take this moment to rise from the couch, wiping your eyes once more. “Where is he?”

“Spare room,” he points.

You nod, more to yourself than to him, and retreat to the spare room. The migraine pounds in the background of your mind. Mind still riddled with sleep, you accidentally bump your shoulder into the wall, footsteps faltering. He moves faster than you anticipated—expected, his hands finally making contact with your upper arms; stablizing you. His touch itself feels reminiscent.

His grip on your arms is steady, firm—just like it used to be. You catch your breath for a moment, not expecting the familiarity of his touch to feel so grounding. For a split second, you’re taken back to moments from the past, the memories of simpler days when his touch brought comfort instead of tension. You want to pull away, to remind yourself that things aren’t the same anymore. But you’re too tired, too worn out, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into the stability he’s offering without question.

"Careful," Satoru’s voice is quiet, but there's a soft edge to it, like he’s genuinely concerned. His hands stay on your arms, not pulling away immediately, as if waiting for you to give him a signal that you’re okay.

You blink, the haze of sleep making everything feel just a little more surreal. "I’m fine," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, but it lacks conviction. Your body feels heavier than it should, and your mind seems to be swimming in fog.

He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, his fingers give a slight squeeze, a small, unspoken reassurance. "You sure? You look like you’re about to fall over."

"I’m just... tired," you say, the words slipping from your lips before you even realize. You wince internally, but it’s too late to take them back now. There’s no point.

Satoru nods, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway, but the way his eyes linger on you makes something in your chest tighten. It’s like he’s still trying to figure you out, still trying to read you after all these years. He always was good at that. Without saying much more, he gently guides you to the door of the spare room, a hand hovering above the small of your back; his touch still light but firm. He’s not pushing you, just there, a quiet presence in the storm. "Get some rest. I’ll be nearby, just in case."

You nod, feeling a strange mixture of gratitude and frustration well up inside you. "Thanks," you murmur, finally able to pull away from his grip and step into the room.

Before you close the door, you glance over at him, standing there in the hallway, his figure outlined by the soft glow from the living room. "Good night," you add, your voice a little softer than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t respond immediately, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that you can’t quite place. After a beat, he says quietly, "Good night, Y/N."

And then, with one last look, he walks away, leaving you alone in the quiet darkness of the room. The door clicks softly behind you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small sense of peace—fragile, uncertain, but there all the same.

Satoru has taken the liberty of getting Koji dressed and ready for school. Shushing his son with quiet murmurs so you won’t wake up. He’s a little surprised, but you must be that tired. Satoru usually wakes up earlier than most, having went to go check on you two, but getting shocked to see his son using the bathroom instead and saying something about how “Mama’s still sleeping, I have school.”

He’s a smart kid—a very smart kid. He guided Satoru the entire ride, remembering the name of his school and which streets to use. You raised him well. He parks his car in the lot, it stands out like a sore thumb among the civics, corollas, and trucks.

Carrying Koji in his arms towards the boys classroom. “Excited, buddy?”

“Mhm!” 

Satoru smiles and kisses his cheek. “I’ll pick you up, okay?”

“Okay, Papa. Thank you.” Koji gratefully responds.

“No need to thank me, Koji. It’s my job.”

Satoru can feel the lingering stares and hushed whispers as he walks down the hallway to his son’s class. Ignoring it like a pro and focusing on one thing and one thing only. As they approach his room, Mr. Ito is standing outside like usual. As soon as the man sees the two, his eyes visibly widen before playing it off with a cough of his throat. “Good morning, Koji. Gojo.”

Satoru remembers the guy as the one from the cafe. That one. He nods in understanding, setting Koji down and crouching with him. “Have a fun day, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Papa.” Koji kisses his cheek and rushes inside happily. 

 "Morning," Satoru replies coolly, standing tall as he watches Koji run off to join his classmates. "I trust Koji’s been good?"

"Of course, of course," Mr. Ito replies quickly, his smile tight, the words coming out a little too fast. "He’s been a delight to have here. Very bright."

Satoru nods, but his eyes never leave Mr. Ito’s. "Glad to hear it."

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between them, but Satoru isn’t in the mood for small talk. He could read the teacher’s discomfort, and he’s not about to play into it. After all, it’s not like they’re friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Ito shifts on his feet, and Satoru can tell he’s trying to think of something to say, something that will smooth over whatever awkwardness hangs in the air. “So, where’s Ms. Y/N today?”

Satoru’s brows tick, arms crossing. “At home.”

Mr. Ito nods, clearly trying to gauge whether there’s more to the story, but Satoru doesn’t give him any openings. He’s not in the mood to entertain questions about you, not now, not here, especially not from someone like him. "Ah, I see," Mr. Ito mumbles, his voice trailing off as he shuffles his feet again. "I just thought... well, with everything that’s been going on, I expected to see her here, too."

Satoru’s eyes narrow, though his expression remains calm, just a hint of warning in his tone. "She’s handling things on her own. We’re both doing fine. You don’t need to worry about it. You have a class full of children to teach."

The other man hides his displeasure behind a stiff nod. “Right, right. Just wondering, that’s all.”

“Don’t have to, she already has a man for that.”

Satoru wonders why he’s being do damn weird right now. Possesive almost. You two aren’t together, but the way this guy is asking about you, it’s slightly setting him off. Who does he think he is worrying about you?

Mr. Ito falters, his smile fading as Satoru’s words hang heavy in the air. "Right, of course," he mumbles, clearly taken aback. He shifts on his feet, his eyes darting to the ground before locking back onto Satoru. "Just asking, I mean… it's just a lot going on, you know?"

Satoru’s gaze hardens, the protective instinct that rises within him catching him off guard. He takes a slight step closer to Mr. Ito, his tone deliberately neutral but carrying an edge. "You don’t need to worry about her. She’s got it covered."

There’s a flicker of something in Mr. Ito’s eyes—something that hints he’s about to say something else, but he swallows it down, nodding stiffly instead. "Yeah, of course." He quickly looks away, clearing his throat. "Well, I guess I’ll… I’ll get back to the class."

Satoru stands still for a moment, his posture rigid, a sharp edge in his expression as he watches Mr. Ito retreat. He doesn't know why it bothered him so much. The guy wasn’t even doing anything wrong, not really. But the way he was asking about you—like he had any right to—made something inside Satoru twist uncomfortably. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man didn’t belong in your world, that he had no place prying into your life.

Satoru finally exhales, shaking his head. Whatever. It was just a teacher.

With one last glance at the classroom door, he turns and heads back to the school doors. There's no reason to overthink this. It’s just… odd. He can’t let it get to him.

You wake up that day to a lone bed. Groaning to yourself as the sunbeams spray across your face and momentarily blind you. Hand reaching out for the space next to you. Instead, you see a note saying: dropped koji off, i’ll be back around noon to grab some lunch. sleep up

Instantly, your eyes widen, springing up out of bed. Reaching for your phone, the time reads 11:30pm. “Shit!” you curse to yourself, rushing out the door and to your bag still on the chair from last night. You dig in for your work clothes, changing right there and then and praying to the gods that Satoru doesn’t walk through this door. Brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, putting some moustirzer and sunscreen on, all of it takes way too long. By the time you’re done and messily putting your shoes on, it’s twelve. Four hours after you were supposed to be at work. Hana’s going to kill me.

Grabbing your bag with rough and rushed movements, you’re sprinting to the door at this point. Out of breath and already conjuring up a sorry apology for Hana. you reach the doorhandle, flinging it open. But as soon as you do, you come to an abrupt stop.

Because standing before you is a woman, a woman you’ve seen before on Satoru’s lock screen. The same woman who kissed the lips that you used to. Arms crossed and a nasty scowl forming on her face as she eyes you up and down in a criticizing way. 

Finally, she scoffs out. 

“Do you know who I am?”

a/n: they so cute

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[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Do you ever think about how Crowley treats Yuu like their disposable canon fodder and his blackmailing/neglectful behaviour is literally abusive?

And the fact that no one in NRC cares about them (and only started showing interest in them to satisfy their own means/once Yuu proves to be useful/only once Yuu nearly dies helping them) - and the fact that even the professors have failed them because they never once bring up the overblots or the mistreatment that Yuu faces even though they are adults whose job is to protect and care for Yuu and Yuu is just an actual child?

Because I do.

[fantastic-nonsense]

I think people who genuinely wanted Percy to rebel against the gods and overthrow the system kind of...miss the whole point of the series

The question is not whether or not the gods deserve to rule; the books are kind of unambiguous that they don't! That the gods are generally undeserving of their children's loyalty is the one thing that Percy and Luke both agree on! But PJO is less about divine right to rule vs. ruling via consent of the governed and more about improving dysfunctional family systems. It's not about whether unfair rulers deserve to continue ruling; it's about forcing the gods to be better, fairer rulers and a better, fairer family given limited alternatives.

Because what are the alternatives, as presented to us within the scope of the original PJO series?

Option 1: allow Kronos to topple Olympus and take over. Clearly not a viable alternative for all of the reasons the books show us.

Option 2: the demigods overthrow the Olympians and rule the world themselves. Okay. How's that going to work out long-term, given demigods are mortal and cannot control or protect their parents' domains? Demigods will die out within a generation or two, so that's potentially a one-generation short-term solution, and then everyone's right back where they started. Except worse, because now the world has been out of divine balance for a century and the gods have a completely legitimate bone to pick with all demigods. Materially worse outcome.

Option 3: demigods ignore the gods and their will entirely. They integrate into the mortal world, refuse to participate in quests or talk to their parents, and pretend prophecies don't exist. Except that's clearly not a viable option, since we see that demigods usually can't safely exist in the mortal world without monsters coming after them, the gods are cruel enough to use blackmail and engage in hostage situations to get demigods to act as heroes, and prophecies have a way of coming true regardless of everyone's best attempts to circumvent them. Again: materially worse outcome.

And for Percy, for the demigods at Camp Half-Blood, for Luke and for everyone else who defected....for the most part, they don't actually have an inherent problem with the gods ruling them. They just want to be acknowledged, valued, and loved by their families, to be treated as more than a tool for their parents to wield whenever their services are needed. That was the core thesis of the demigod rebellion, which was wholly separate from Kronos' specific motivations for overthrowing the Olympians, and it's why Percy's asks at the end of TLO were what they were.

The point was always that had Percy grown up in a slightly more dysfunctional family environment...had he grown up with Frederick Chase's seemingly conditional love or May Castellan's madness instead of Sally Jackson's steady, quiet, unconditional love...he could have turned out like Luke. Like Ethan. Like the dozens of demigods who defected from camp to join Luke's cause. Percy could have turned out just as a bitter and angry and vengeful. Just as ready to tear down the system. Just as willing to betray and kill his own family for the sake of making a point.

But instead, Percy openly reprimands the gods for abandoning their families and using them as cannon fodder in their own petty disagreements. He forces them to acknowledge and claim their children. He demands that everyone who is part of the godly family be recognized and accepted, not just those related to the Twelve Olympians. He asks for those unjustly punished (like Calypso) to be set free and accepted back into the family. Because that's the point at the end of the day: not forcing bad rulers to step down, but changing an insanely dysfunctional family system that the gods and demigods are all members of into a better, safer, and more accepting environment for demigods to grow up and live in.

Overthrowing the gods wouldn't solve the problem at the heart of the series, which is the gods' shitty parenting and family management skills. It would only exacerbate the massive familial fault-lines that Kronos exploited and leave the demigods open to more godly manipulation. Which is why the series ends as it does, with Percy using his wish to tangibly improve the lives of his family instead of selfishly improving his own life (via accepting immortality/godhood) or overthrowing the gods. Because the conflict isn't about the gods as rulers. It's about the gods as parents.

PJO's core thesis is Percy, who grew up knowing unconditional familial love, looking at this whole world of children who didn't and saying "that's not fair. Gods should be better than this!" But instead of destroying them the way Luke wants to, instead of overthrowing them and putting himself on the throne, he instead challenges them to be better parents and family members. To be part of the solution instead of the problem. And Percy's demands don't solve everything, but they were necessary first steps! Without forcing the gods to acknowledge a bare minimum floor of inclusion, the cycle would simply begin all over again the next time a major conflict popped up.

So that's the problem Percy solves and how he successfully fulfills the prophecy: by believing that the gods had the capacity to change and forcing them to break the cycle of familial abandonment, he preserves Olympus and takes the first steps towards a new status quo, one that is objectively better for demigods than the one he grew up in. That's why he succeeds, and it's why Percy overthrowing the gods would have made for a much less satisfying ending than what actually happened.

[olailamajnoon]

Barbara: *checking on the Batfamily's internet history*

Barbara: 🤮

Later, in the Clocktower:

Barbara, irritated: Why is everyone in this family a fucking pervert?

The Batkids: *look up and shrug their shoulders*

Cass and Steph (mumbling): I dunno.

Barbara: He's your father, dammit. And why the hell would you pay PHub to watch those videos when you can get them for free?

Everyone looks at Barbara.

Barbara: Ahem. *brushes lint off her shoulders* Not that I would know. *looks away*

Jason: Well, what do you think of my taste in flicks?

Barbara: Your taste is so disgustingly bad I don't judge. It's obviously some sort of residual trauma, from the time you were a...ghost.

Dick: Well I watch ethically sourced porn, so you can't blame me. By women for women.

Everyone looks at Dick.

Dick: *shrugs happily* What?

Tim, turning to Barbara: You know, Babula, you shouldn't have brought up something that was such a double-edged sword. *turns laptop to display something*

The rest of the Batfam, leaning forward: Ooooohhh

Steph: Really, Babula? Harlivy with Steppenwolf?

Barbara: *covers face with hands* It was that one time!

Dick: The judger hath becometh the judgee.

Jason: That's...somewhat English, I suppose.

Cassandra: Clearly we are none of us fit to be heroes. *looks at her immaculate nails*

Tim, high pitched: You can't generalize! I only watch Megatron with Optimus.

Steph and Cass: Ewwwww.

Dick: Please don't tell me anymore! *stands up* You all should be ashamed to even look Bruce in the eye! Ashamed, I say!

Barbara: You wouldn't say that if you knew the kind of stuff Bruce watches.

Everyone: *disbelieving face*

Dick: Well.

Jason: You can't just drop that kind of bomb and fuck off. Tell us!

Barbara: *turns laptop to reveal Superman x Wonder Woman porn*

Barbara: He used three VPNs. Not one, not two, three. Luckily I have an undetectable bug in his laptop.

The Batkids, looking at the screen with disbelief:

Dick: (sitting down and covering his face with his hands) Oh my effing god.

Jason: Swear like a man. Jesus. *looks away* Bruce always gave me power bottom vibes.

Steph: Glad that wasn't just me.

Tim, chuckling evilly and steepling his fingers: Guess what folks.

Steph, suspiciously: What.

Tim: Two words. Blackmail. Fodder. *cackles like a witch*

Cass: Blackmail for what.

Tim: The next time Bruce tries to remove me from a mission for supposedly being...

Tim, making air-quotes: ..."dehydrated" or "sleep deprived", guess what I'm gonna do.

Jason: Go on the mission anyway and get killed?

Tim, pointing at Jason with his arm extended: Bingo!

Dick, resolute, turning to Barbara: Delete the evidence, Babs.

Barbara, typing away: Already on it.

[inbarfink]

Okay, I’ve been considering it for quite a bit and I think that if Tumblr existed in Japanifornia… most of us would probably not be aware of the series’ main characters.

Like, lawyers just don’t tend to be high-profile publicly-known figures. Even within True Crime communities or the coverage of high-public-interest cases, people don’t tend to focus on the lawyers as much more than a representative of the defendant and the legal system as a whole. And yeah, you can say this is just because real-life lawyers are Boring and if they did the kind of Bonkers Shit AA Lawyers do we would pay attention to them… but we do actually have textual evidence that Japanifornia treats lawyers not-too-differently than real life.

Mia’s murder, and probably the uncovering of all of Bluecorp’s dirty dealing, was highly talked about, but Phoenix’s actions in court went kinda ignored. And note that this is the case where Phoenix literally defended himself and broke the Demon Prosecutor’s five years winning streak, and that wasn’t enough to draw eyes to his part in this whole case. 

And that’s also generally consistent with how characters treat Phoenix throughout the rest of the games. By the AJ Trilogy era, it’s clear that Phoenix has made quite a name for himself… in the legal world. If you are yourself a lawyer or another sort of legal professional or just unusually interested in court proceeding, you know the name ‘Phoenix Wright’ 

But if you’re just a regular person who cares about the law the Regular Amount, you probably have no idea who this is.

So I’d guess most of Japanifornian Tumblr would probably be aware of a lot of the cases in the games, especially considering how many of them concern, like, corporate corruption and organized crime and legal corruption and international politics and the entertainment industry and other such stuff that makes it likely to get national/international news coverage. And also so many of them are so bizarre and wacky and are thus prime meme fodder…

But most people wouldn’t necessarily know the name of the lawyer the Nickel Samurai blackmailed to defend him after he ordered an assassin to kill the Jammin’ Ninja, or even how involved that lawyer actually was in Matt Engarde’s downfall.

But there would probably be a small mini-fandom of Tumblrina Lawyers and other legal nerds who are ABSOLUTELY obsessed with the WAA, and trying to collect any piece of info they can find about their adventures. 

(That’s also another aspect to consider, the general public in Japanifornia does not have full knowledge of everything we get to see in the game. News coverage of the smaller cases would be extremely minimal and very regional - and even the bigger cases probably won’t give you a full line-by-line record of everything that happened in Court. Apollo Justice was, like, the Biggest Phoenix Wright Stan in the Universe and he had very choppy and partial knowledge of the Gramarye Trial. We have to consider that even folks who are trying to keep track of the AA Lawyers in-universe would not get the full picture from the media. And that’s before we get into fake news and rumors.)

And meanwhile, the rest of Tumblr would probably treat that Fandom the same sort of bemused delight we give to, like, the extremely dedicated gimmick blogs. Like, you’d probably see less posts about Phoenix and Co. as you’d see posts memeing about the fact there’s a Tumblr Fandom for ‘some random law agency in Japanifornia’, they’d be like five thousands people in the notes going “There’s a Tumblr Fandom for WHAT? WHY IS THIS THE FIRST TIME I’M HEARING ABOUT THIS??” and then one person from the WAA fandom going “NO YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS IS THE GUY WHO UNCOVERED THE PHANTOM HE’S JUMPED OFF A BURNING BRIDGE ONCE YOU LITERALLY TALKED ABOUT A TRIAL HE DID YESTERDAY YOU JUST DON’T KNOW HE WAS INVOLVED”. 

Now, that’s all for the Defense Attorneys. The Prosecutors have a bit more publicity. I mean, Phoenix literally heard about Prosecutor Edgeworth on the news.

But also… I do think this publicity is highly regional. Like, Phoenix ended up stumbling on newspaper coverage of Miles because he lives in the same city as him. I’m guessing that most of the series’ Prosecutors are at least casually known not just to Legal Folks, but also generally to people within Los Angetokyo and people involved in Japanifornian Politics… but also not much outside of that sphere either. Again, the series does establish that they are not that well-known amongst laypeople even when they are famous amongst other lawyers

And are generally recognized by fellow legal professionals and journalists and people involved in criminal activity. So the situation with them won’t be that different than with the WAA, they might be a tad more high-profile, depending on how many Tumblr users are specifically from Japaniforina and wanna make memes about the local politics… but those who will get really invested in their misadventures won’t be that different from the kind of people who’d get really into Phoenix Wright. 

Klavier is the obvious exception. Like most Famous Lawyers, he’s actually primarily famous for something other than law. It’s just that in his case, instead of politics, it’s being a world-famous rock star. There’s plenty of textual evidence that the Gavinners are an actual household name and they’d probably have a pretty sizable Tumblr Fandom, but… well… while I assume any casual Gavinner fan knows that Klavier is also a Prosecutor, I’d guess only the insanely dedicated fans and the Haters looking for something problematic would actually start digging into the records of the cases he worked on. But then again, Tumblr does have a lot of insanely dedicated fans and Haters, so maybe Legal Misadventures Involving Klavier would be kinda mainstream on Japanifornia Tumblr.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

.... well this noir Vaggie au edit got waaay out of hand ha ha!

self indulgent au lore under the cut bc WEEEE

Detective Vaggie finally got enough blackmail on Valentino for Charlie and Angel to pin him in a corner, but as Vaggie expected, Angel Dust ends up doing what almost every other Sinner has done after Vaggie hands the evidence over to them, and chooses to just accept Valentino’s renegotiated and seemingly better soul contract rather than break it and make a mortal enemy out of an Overlord

Of course the first thing Val does is force Angel Dust to destroy the evidence they’d used against him, just like every other Overlord Vaggie's worked against always has, leaving Angel at his mercy again

And also leaving Charlie devastated. She'd given Angel her promise of protection as soon to be crowned king of hell-

(long story) (Lucifer wanted to kill Vaggie for scarring Charlie a few years back and Charlie had to beat him up to stop him) (the Overlords, led by Velvette and the Vees, decided to flex their power by saying this invalidated Lucifer as king and made Charlie the new ruler of hell) (she reluctantly accepted because..)

-hoping it would be enough to counter any Overlord threat against Angel once he was free

Ironically though, Angel Dust having come to see her as a friend after all this and not wanting to put her in the line of fire ends up with him sticking with Val instead, who gloats about it, and tells Charlie to her face what he'll do to her friend and her pet P.I. if she (as soon to be king) doesn't back down and let the Vees do all the real running of hell (like they already have been)

Charlie the Pissed let's slip she's had enough of Val as she leaves his studio (both her and the studio being on fire)

No one takes her little threat seriously, except for Vaggie, who sees Charlie picking up and weighing Vaggie's spear in her hands when she thinks she's alone. Vaggie freaks out realizing Charlie is about to go do a murder

So Vaggie decides to break her own no-more-murder vow AGAIN for a girl AGAIN (last time was for Velvette) and she kills Valentino before Charlie can reach him, regaining her wings (kinda), absorbing his demonic energy (yuck), belatedly becoming one of the Vees like Velvette had once wanted (not in the way Velvette had wanted), and accepting all Val's soul contracts including Angel’s, which she breaks

She also breaks the truth of everything to Charlie on coronation day-

(maybe also breaking up with or getting dumped by her, even though they weren’t even dating)

-confessing to the murder and her exorcist past

Now that she’s an Overlord and Charlie’s about to be King of Hell, anything publicly personal between them (like Vaggie staying the basement of Charlie's abandoned hotel instead of sleeping in an alleyway next to a dumpster every night) would throw the other Overlords into a rage over the power imbalance with normal sinners caught in the crossfire or getting used as canon fodder, something neither Vaggie or Charlie can stomach

Besides which Vaggie feels 0% worthy of Charlie anymore after breaking her no-murder vow, and Charlie is feeling more things than she knows how to name about that and the exorcist thing, none of them good

Their last kiss (for now) leaves claw marks on Vaggie’s face to match the scar she gave Charlie all those years ago-

(which Charlie has finally also confessed to her about, to Vaggie's horror, Vaggie having blotted the memory out after binge drinking with Husk the following week)

-the scar from when Vaggie happened to still be holding her spear as Charlie reached out to help her, and ended up lashing out instead of flinching back, unintentionally driving away Charlie and their happy life together

(this shit luck is what pinged Overlord Husk's gambling powers and led him to Vaggie, meanwhile Angel dropped a paying client to go check on the random demon chick- Charlie- soon to be nicknamed Apple Slice by him- holding her bleeding face in her hands as she stumbled down the street in a daze)

Charlie and Vaggie made do with other friends when what they both most needed was each other

They’ve both been miserable and lonely since then, had only just started to build up what they should have had together all along while camping out at the old hotel working on Angel's case together, but the case is done and now…. this

This is NOT a good timeline for them (yet)

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet- Silly Man - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Nobody knows Silco like Jinx.

Even when she doesn't know him at all.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Secrecy was imprinted into Silco's DNA. The man's innermost self was a jerry-rigged contraption of switchbacks, misdirection, and paranoia. He kept stashed away blackmail fodder you couldn't pry loose with a crowbar. He hoarded facts and figures inside mental lockboxes. He sequenced the code to every scheme with a perfect combination of star-crossed betrayals and violent reprisals, unfulfilled grudges and future vendettas, plus whatever latest intrigue was stewing in his crockpot. 

Even Jinx couldn't keep pace with his constant conspiring, because that'd mean digging up skeletons buried under all three layers of Fissure strata.

Point being: Silco was a creature of intrigue. Jinx accepted it. She wouldn't be Daddy's Little Girl if she wasn't okay with a certain modicum of under-the-table fuckery. Hell, she enjoyed it. There was an exactitude to her old man's machinations that defied any human quantification.

But for all the craftiness, he was just that: human.

It took a lot to keep so much packed in a single skull, behind one scarred eye-socket. The rent alone must've been staggering. Not to mention the upkeep. Especially with such precious commodities.

You couldn't trust banks. Couldn't trust anyone.

And Silco, in keeping with this philosophy, didn't even trust himself.

[pumpkinmetaphor]

other thoughts about Ouran genderswap au where they're doing a zuka club

-the theatre performances all suck. varying effort is made by any of the participants

-it is technically a theatre troupe but most people are just regular attendees because they get to hang with their preferred host afterwards because Tamaki insists on hour long meet and greets. For a school theatre troupe.

-Kyoya is so much more deranged about her future because her sister is literally getting married off when she meets Tamaki for the first time and here's Tamaki like "oh what do you mean you won't inherit? I'm an only child so even though I'm a girl I'll get everything. Though actually maybe I won't even go to college, I always thought I'd make it as a model lalalala" and Kyoya is insane about it

-Hikaru and Kaoru are actually set to inherit their matrilineal family line and therefore are mommy's specialist little princesses and probably do not get almost killed by their nanny as children because they're not left to raise themselves as much. They're still Like That though because still no one can tell them apart and they're weird and off-putting

-Renge's fujo fantasies are all fantasies about thinly veiled ecchi bait harem fan service. It's extremely unpalatable. Parodies of this frequently happen.

-is it funnier for Tamaki to be entirely unaware she's created a bisexual harem or is it funnier for her to be like I am SO beautiful that even girls love me... sigh I wish I wasn't straight so I could share my beauty with more people <- deluded

-in ep five during the fake fight, Hikaru cuts her hair off and then Kaoru makes snide comments about her dumbass bob. Then obviously Kaoru has to cut her hair off afterwards too.

-ironically college Kaoru has the exact same haircut as canon college Kaoru in that she cuts it off again. That haircut is a universal constant on both sides of the gay community I'm afraid.

-Kyoya and the twins are using the zuka club to create blackmail fodder on half the student body. Kyoya is using it for future business endeavours, to always have something up her sleeve to get ahead. Hikaru and Kaoru are just contributing to it by tricking their regulars into various compromising situations for entertainment

-when the host club tries to steal Haruhi, their response is to host a performance of a shonen sports anime to show that girls can be guys too. Mori is actually really good at baseball and takes it super seriously. Hikaru and Kaoru spend the entire time speaking in sports analogies that get increasingly innunedo-ified

-Haruhi has to be exactly the same. The majority of his dialogue doesn't even change. None of his outfits even change. Literally same font.

[eldritch-spouse]

PFFT Pinnie I can just imagine Grimblys S/O finding all the cursed and horny pictures he has saved of his coworkers that he uses for blackmail, and shes just there like 👁👄👁

I would end up pretending I dont believe him when he says it's for blackmail just to fuck w him

Grimbly is only taking this seriously if he gets the feeling that you think he's cheating on you. To think you perceive him as such scum is downright nightmarish! Catch him somehow paling ten more shades.

Listen, please please please gods listen- He only has eyes for you, you know that right?! These pictures- They're nothing to him, they're fodder, they're a means to an end! He doesn't want to fuck his coworkers, they're all gross and shitty, oh my GODS stop looking at him like that!

Perhaps, if this were any other topic, Grimbly would have picked up on your little tactic...

[pinsque]

Not to be an alien but eating is such a fucked up concept if you really think about it...

What do you mean I have to keep stuffing the wet hole in my face with different substances every few hours?

And if I refuse, my body will start to whine & protest and blackmail me until I do it again. I can't even opt out of this bullshit subscription service or I will very slowly and painfully cease to exist.

On top of that, the substances need to be certain type of edible stuff, like I can't just eat turf & rocks I need to get some spesific ass fodder for my body. What the fuck. Whose idea was this???

Yea yea food is enjoyable too and eating can feel amazing BUT I just think it's fucked up that I NEED to do this on daily basis, it's not optional!!!

And some ppl think sex is somehow dirty & and the flesh is weak... I'd say that horniness is only a natural addition to a body that already fucking demands you to eat a.k.a "Bitch I need you to put something inside me right noww😭🤤🤤" Everyone does eating everywhere all the time and it's considered completely natural and even celebrated on some holidays. Wtf

[perfectlovevn]

im kinda curious about our resident canon fodder ryan

was he always a inherently bad person before he met eris? if ryan actually was in a healthy relationship, would he still be a decent person?

Oo, a rare Ryan ask. Actually two of my friends really like Ryan, which I was surprised by.

Like Eris, I didn’t give him too much of a backstory, but my general idea was that he’s kind of a rich kid frat bro kind of guy who just went with the wrong crowd. And by wrong crowd I mean he decided to date Eris. Still, I never really specially said this in game, so you can theorize how he came to be. Doc made a good one about him being an incel nerd that Eris ended up prettying up before he became too cocky. I kind of like this backstory too, so I’ll just leave Ryan’s backstory mostly up to interpretation. There is an extra scene I’ve made relating to the USB that Eris was blackmailing him with.

Hmm, tough to say. I will say it might be possible but it’ll be a LOT of work, whether it be reversing Eris’s damage or just fixing his attitude. He’s not too much of a lost cause, but if you do try be prepared to spend a lot of time on him.

[innerpalaces]

The Life of a Cannon Fodder Mother-in-Law - 4

Chapter 4: The Deceived Mother-in-Law 4

Zhao Zhenyan ignored the fragments on the ground and said resolutely: "Impossible." Liu Chanchan's face was pale and she didn't dare to look at her. Instead she turned to Liu Yuniang: "Madam, Hechen really said that."

"It doesn't matter what he said!" Zhao Zhenyan said, "I am his wife. He has to ask me first before taking a concubine. I will never agree to a woman like you who has an unknown origin and comes to the door on her own initiative." Liu Yuniang cleared her throat and said: "Zhenyan, Hechen mentioned her to me." Zhao Zhenyan looked over with a glare, as if to say, whose side are you on!? Mother-in-law and daughter-in-law meet almost every day. She knows that her mother-in-law is very protective of her and they usually get along well. But after seeing this woman today, her mother-in-law violated her wishes several times, and Zhao Zhenyan had already guessed in her heart that this time their thoughts were not aligned. But when she actually heard her mother-in-law's words which seemed to imply the intention to keep this woman, she still couldn't accept it. At the same time, Liu Chanchan's eyes lit up and she was moved: "Hechen really didn't lie to me." "He didn't mention it to me!" Zhao Zhenyan almost screamed. After she finished her sentence, she realized that she was too excited and took two deep breaths. Her tone slowed down: "Even if he brought it up, I won't agree. " Liu Chanchan lowered her head: "But we...we have..." Zhao Zhenyan couldn't listen any more, and she knew that she would feel uncomfortable hearing the next words, so she immediately raised her voice and ordered: "Someone, send her away." "I won't leave!" Liu Chanchan's voice became louder and she knelt down directly in front of Liu Yuniang: "Madam, I truly love Hechen. I will be Hechen's person for the rest of my life. I don't ask for status, I just want to be able to stay by his side. I'll be satisfied if I can just look at him every so often. I beg Madam to help me." Liu Yuniang knew from Liu Huixin's memory that she was a smart woman. As expected, seeing that Liu Yuniang was not so resistant to her, she stopped arguing with Zhao Zhenyan and came to beg her instead.

"I heard him mention you, but he asked me to give your parents some money..." At this point, she paused: "The intention seemed to be to add to your trousseau." Liu Chanchan's eyes widened in surprise. These words seemed to make it clear that Qi Hechen was fed up with her entanglement and wanted to send her away with money. At the same time, Zhao Zhenyan's heart relaxed. "He only mentioned the girl's surname was Liu, but he didn't say that the girl was you. I can't believe just your words alone." Liu Yuniang turned her head and looked at the maid by the door: "Go and invite the young master over."

"No!" The two women said almost in unison. Zhao Zhenyan believed that since this girl dared to come here, there must be an affair between the them. When the two people confront each other, they must find a way to resolve it. She was actually a bit evasive. Whether she brought this woman in or sent her away with money, Qi Hechen had betrayed her. Some things if they happened once would happen again, so it's best not to open this up. She didn't want to know the truth at all, she just wanted to send this girl away. After being sent away, it can be said that this girl came to blackmail them, and they could still be a loving couple. As for Liu Chanchan's unwillingness to meet Qi Hechen, it was because of a guilty conscience. He said that he had told his family what was going on between them, and he would choose an auspicious day to come to propose marriage. He asked her to wait obediently, but despite this, she couldn't wait and ran over. He might get angry if he found out. After the two of them finished yelling, they both looked away. "The matter has already happened, and I must get to the bottom of it." Liu Yuniang was in a very happy mood at this time. Liu Chanchan was a very difficult woman to handle. In her previous life, Liu Huixin had to deal with it alone, which made her physically and mentally exhausted, but she still couldn't stop her from entering the Qi household. After that, she was hated by everyone; a typical thankless job. Liu Chanchan hated her for trying to break up the couple, Zhao Zhenyan hated her for hiding Qi Hechen's cheating, Qi Hechen blamed her for not handling things well... Now, Liu Yuniang no longer allowed them to take advantage of her and let them handle it on their own. She urged again: "Quickly send someone to invite the young master." Hearing her instructions just now, the servant was about to leave, but was stopped by Zhao Zhenyan and stood hesitantly at the door. When the servant heard this, he didn't dare to stop anymore and ran away quickly. She smiled inwardly, raising the corners of her lips slightly, but quickly suppressed it, and turned around to meet Zhao Zhenyan's angry gaze. "Why are you looking at me like this?" Zhao Zhenyan's eyes were red with anger and she looked away. Qi Hechen came quickly. He really wanted to handle the matter quietly, but when an incident happened, hiding was not an option. As soon as he entered the door, he saw two beautiful women sitting and standing with tears in their eyes. His mother next to them, eating melon seeds happily with one hand, and holding tea in the other hand, looking particularly leisurely. At first glance, an uninformed outsider would think she was watching a show. Qi Hechen felt something strange. Before he could think about it, he heard his wife ask: "Who is this woman? Why does she want to give you something?" As for being a concubine, she did not mention it. She was also afraid that if she said anything, Qi Hechen or her mother-in-law would respond... Wouldn't she just be shooting herself in the foot?

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Zhao Zhenyan's tears fell uncontrollably. She stretched out her hand to wipe her face, her movements rough and without the elegance of the past. Seeing this, Qi Hechen felt pity in his heart and took out a silk handkerchief to wipe her tears: "Don't cry, I'm here." Zhao Zhenyan was comforted and glared at him angrily: "It's all your fault! You're so gentle to others for no reason. It's so easy for people to misunderstand."

"Yes, yes..." Qi Hechen coaxed patiently: "I will change it going forward." He actually did this on purpose, just to make Liu Chanchan give up. Liu Yuniang looked at Liu Chanchan expectantly, and saw that she was biting her lip with tears in her eyes, looking extremely sad. Just as she was about to look away, she saw her wiping away her tears, her eyes full of resentment, and her tone was leisurely: "Hechen, is the handkerchief I gave you useful?" Hearing this, Qi Hechen stiffened while wiping away tears. Zhao Zhenyan was stunned and subconsciously avoided his movement. Immediately, her tears fell even more fiercely. Although she said that Qi Hechen was too gentle and the girl fell in love with him and came to her door on her own based on wishful thinking, she knew deep down in her heart that if Liu Chanchan was really just dreaming, she would never dare to come alone. All her confidence was given by the man in front of her. Therefore, this handkerchief was definitely not bought. It was given by Liu Chanchan, and he accepted it. "Hechen used it so smoothly, which shows the usefulness of this handkerchief." Liu Chanchan stretched out her hand to wipe her tears again: "It's not in vain that I worked so hard to embroider it. Seeing you and your wife getting along today... I really feel..." She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eyes, and said decisively: "I hope you will have many children and grandchildren in the future, and that your life will be smooth and worry-free from now on." After saying this, she looked at Liu Yuniang and said, "Madam, just pretend that I have never been here. You don't have to worry when you hear about the funeral at the Liu family in the future." From her tone to her expression, she looked lifeless. Everyone could see that she was determined to die. Qi Hechen's expressions immediately changed: "Chanchan, don't do anything foolish." Liu Chanchan's eyes were full of tears, but she had a smile on her face: "Hechen, I have never been willing to embarrass you. Since I can't stay with you no matter what, then I can only die. I once said that in life I am your person, and in death... I am your ghost. I want to keep my promise." She smiled sadly, like a flower that is about to wither. "You don't have to feel guilty. This is all my own wish. There's no need to persuade me, I've already made up my mind. I'd rather die than marry someone else." Ever since Qi Hechen was a child, someone would give him what he wanted, and he had never been burdened with a human life. Especially when this woman was not in the wrong, and was willing to die for him. Zhao Zhenyan beside him also started to panic "Girl, it's so good to live, why think of dying for a man? "No need to persuade me." Liu Chanchan's face became more and more sad: "This is probably my ill fate, but I don't want to hide. " She turned around and walked out dejectedly. When she was about to cross the threshold, she was probably so lost that she couldn't see the way clearly. She tripped on the threshold and fell forward. Liu Yuniang was about to get snacks, thinking that she didn't need to eat dinner, when she saw a green figure running towards the door and taking the slender woman into his arms. The man was handsome and the woman was beautiful. The two looked at each other affectionately. The scene was as beautiful as a painting. Liu Yuniang turned to look at her daughter-in-law. At this time, Zhao Zhenyan's clenched hands and face turned pale. She had already guessed that there was affection between the two, but when she saw this scene, she still couldn't accept it. She stood up suddenly. She lost her voice and asked: "Husband, what are you doing? " Qi Hechen closed his eyes, feeling torn. He turned back to look at Liu Yuniang: "Mother, I want to take a concubine. Liu Yuniang nodded: "Have you thought carefully about it? "

"I have made up my mind. " His words were very serious. He was telling Liu Yuniang his determination, and he was also telling Zhao Zhenyan. Zhao Zhenyan felt her whole body go cold, and she slowly sank to the floor as if she had lost all strength: "Husband, you promised me." Qi Hechen had already made up his mind and slowed down his tone: "Yan'er, you once said that as long as it makes me happy, you are willing to do anything" Zhao Zhenyan was so angry that she was shaking: "Qi Hechen, you are such a scoundrel." She slapped her hand on the table. Her anger did not subside. On the contrary, it hurt her hand. The pain made her even more furious. She turned to look at her mother-in-law beside her. Seeing that she was watching silently as if it had nothing to do with her, she immediately clenched her teeth in anger. Realizing that there was nothing she could do to this mother and son, she stood up suddenly and said, "I don't agree to this." Qi Hechen said in a deep voice: "It's normal for a family to have three wives and four concubines. I promise you, except for Chanchan, I will never make things difficult for you again." When he said this, Zhao Zhenyan became even more angry. If a man really wants to have concubines, it would be better to have more rather than a few and let him treat them as a distraction. But he only wanted this one person, and she really didn't dare to think about what that meant. Seeing that she couldn't stop him, the only way was to bring in reinforcements, so she walked away with a flick of her sleeves: "I want to go back to my parents' house to stay for a few days." After her words fell, she disappeared out the door. Qi Hechen stretched out his hand to grab her, but only caught a corner of her clothes. He said in a panic: "Mom, quickly bring her back ." Liu Yuniang waved her hand: "I've been tired for the past two days and can't catch up. Besides, what can I say if I do catch up?" Qi Hechen's face was full of disbelief: "Mother, what should I do if the Zhao family comes to demand an explanation?" "Hechen, you are a married person. You should be sensible and learn to deal with all kinds of situations. I can't stay with you forever." Liu Yuniang stood up. "This time, you have to figure it out yourself." Qi Hechen: "..."

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[pigeonwhumps]

Memorial

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes @rainbowsandwhumperflies @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Gemma and Joseph attend a memorial for the victims of the boarding schools for powered kids.

Joseph and Pat belong to @i-eat-worlds

2.1k

CWs: past death and loss, grief, past minor whump, implication of past alcohol addiction, past institutional whump, intrusive journalists, past blackmail

Gemma leans against the back wall of the small room and breathes out a long, slow breath. She needs to keep it together. She can’t blast holes in the building without her goggles.

Not that she would. There’s innocents here.

But seriously. ‘Thoughts and prayers’ are not going to erase the fucking torture she went through at that place they called a school. Nor are they going to bring back the people she’s lost. And she cannot stand to be around people who either think that or are callously pretending it’s true for another second.

She desperately wants a proper drink. But that would be a stupidly bad idea.

She hears the sound of movement from just outside the room and tenses. If that's a journalist, looking for innocent victims to use as fodder for their puff pieces about memorials and thoughts and prayers and oh, aren't the politicians sorry, and they're trying so hard, she's going to…

Well. She's not sure what she'll do. But it won't be pretty.

Fortunately for everyone, the man who stumbles in looks nothing like a journalist. No press pass for starters. Red eyes, tripping over his own feet, he looks far too upset for that.

He stops dead upon noticing Gemma, a few steps after entering. He's white with brown hair, dressed in INSUPA formalwear that she's sure would've been less unkempt earlier. He narrows his eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorts. Just because he doesn't look like a journalist doesn't mean she's going to risk it.

“Joseph. No, wait, I… oh, fuck it.”

“Who are you here under?”

“INSUPA. You?”

“HAL.” Even after retirement, they still managed to drag her into this. “Fuck them.”

Joseph continues to stare. “Who’re you?”

“Gemma. Formerly Solar Flare, formerly a student of one of those fucking schools.”

“Fuck.”

That about sums it up, Gemma thinks.

“What about you? Why are you here? I assume you're not INSUPA’s official representative.”

“Whatever gave it away?” says Joseph dryly. Gemma snorts. “I… I'm not sure. Pat… she died. Six years ago. And she wouldn't have… but I don't know. INSUPA told me about it, I thought I should, but this place is just… what right do they have, to stand there and proclaim that the government is sorry, when the schools were partially run by them and they never would've shut if it wasn't for campaigners? What right do they have to talk about reparations and mourning when they killed people? Fuck!”

Gemma slides down the wall, clenching her fists. She needs to keep her anger inside. There's no training rooms or punching bag and she doesn't want to blind anyone by losing control.

But, damn.

She looks up at Joseph. “Pat. Tell me about her.”

Joseph sinks down and leans back against the opposite wall, closing his eyes. “She was brilliant. So alive. She was 17 when her school closed and she came to us, and she… she was amazing. Traumatised to hell, too. She was so young, y’know? She was so… you know. You must. Apologetic. Polite. Hurt. But she was incredible.” Tears are streaming down his cheeks, but he doesn't bother wiping them away. Maybe he knows there's not much point. “But her powers were dangerous. To herself most of all. And she pushed and INSUPA pushed and she… she had four years of freedom before INSUPA’s greed took her away.”

Gemma does a quick calculation. “21?”

“21,” Joseph confirms. “21 and she died because INSUPA wouldn't pull her out despite the knowledge that her next powers usage would likely be her last, because I couldn't save her, because nobody in authority cared enough about her, only her powers. She never got a childhood, she never got to be a teenager, her life was just getting started, and then she died and it's something no-one should've ever let happen. I should've done more.”

And, well. If Gemma knows about anything it's misplaced guilt. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Maybe not entirely. But she was my responsibility.”

“No. You did the best you could, I'm certain of it. It's the fault of the assholes who locked her up for seven– six years and then still never stopped using her. That's not you. I don't know how they even dare show their faces tonight.”

Joseph wipes his nose and looks at her blankly. “Because they're assholes. Assholes who have no shame.”

“Bet they think the schools should've stayed open too.”

“Some of them definitely do. Which is why I can't stay down there, because one more second around that counsellor who we know is working with the Costellos on that anonymous campaign to put more regulations in and fuck up more kids’ lives and I will be in prison for murder.” Gemma stares at him and he shrugs. “I have a friend monitoring the campaign. Just in case. They found out a few things.”

“We could blow up the building?” Gemma suggests. Joseph snorts wetly but she isn't joking. She could do it, she's sure.

“Maybe not. Maybe we leave the killing for another day.”

Gemma nods, barely able to see Joseph through her tears. Maybe.

“I should go back downstairs,” he croaks. “I should– oh, god, I need a drink.”

“Stay,” says Gemma, voice wet but calmer than she feels. “Fuck those assholes. They don't deserve any of your time.”

And Joseph doesn't move. Gemma can't see now but she doesn't need to to plot the brutal, bloody death of all the staff from her school and everyone else who's ever hurt someone she loves.

She doesn't know how long it is before she finishes that. There's a lot of them. But she breaks out of grieving for the scared and confused newly-enrolled 11-year-old inside her and the 21-year-old who died just as she was starting to become free and the childhood of the 14-year-old on the streets who'd had to hide so carefully to avoid being forcibly re-enrolled instead of being a teenager and Lian's dad –

Well, she breaks out of grieving all of them at once to Joseph's voice.

“I need to go. I can't stand it. This building, this memorial. I… I said I'd pop my head in, and I have. I can't stay for the unveiling. I don't want marble, or whatever the fuck that memorial is, I want Pat back.”

Gemma nods. She understands the sentiment. She'd rather have her childhood and her friends back than a memorial. They've apparently collaborated with ex-students for it, but that doesn't mean it's any good. She knows what the officials’ actions are worth. How much they actually listen.

“You have somewhere safe to go tonight?”

Joseph nods. “Aa– a friend, he's rented an apartment for a few nights. Get away from INSUPA for a bit.”

“Good.”

“What about you?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Staying with family. Let's get out of here.”

“Front entrance. The back's quieter but I'm not skulking out like I've done something wrong by actually grieving.”

“Okay. Okay.”

She lets Joseph pull her up and they head towards the sound of voices and clinking glasses. Typical politicians, schmoozing and networking during a damn memorial. She glances at Joseph and sees he's wearing the same disgusted look she imagines is on her own face right now.

For a moment, the sounds of glasses and obvious drinking remind her of her younger days, and– but she didn't drink it by the glass, did she? She drank it by the bottle, and–

No. No. She's been sober 22 years, she won't be derailed now.

They reach the door to the busy main hall and Gemma takes a deep breath.

“Ready?”

Joseph clenches his fists.

“Ready.”

And they head out into the crowd.

It's not that loud, but there's too many people. They're almost immediately identified, correctly, as some of those who lost people, probably due to their unkempt clothes and red-rimmed, puffy eyes. No-one here but survivors and relations (blood or otherwise) would look so upset. Maybe they should've taken a few seconds to tidy themselves up but she hadn't even thought about it. They're accosted from all sides, and somewhere in the midst of fending off politicians and journalists and the city’s ‘great and good’ she loses track of Joseph.

She stops, scanning the room. Where… ah. Over there. Attempting to fend off a journalist. But she can't get to him.

“Excuse me.” Gemma spins around, realising that in her search for Joseph she completely missed someone approaching. “Oh. Apologies for startling you. I just wanted to say sorry for your loss.”

Gemma looks the woman up and down scornfully. Well put-together, face set in a professionally upset expression, red and gold lanyard just like–

She squints at the ID card (why the fuck is the woman even still wearing it? It's not like a press pass) and her blood boils. She recognises that name, and even if she didn't she knows the logo, spent years working under its name. Fuck, no.

“HAL management, yeah?” The woman nods. “You found out that my friend's son was predisposed towards developing elemental powers and blackmailed him into going undercover in exchange for not getting his son sent to one of those fucking schools for having ‘dangerously unstable powers' as soon as he was old enough. You got him killed. More than that, you knew those schools were shitholes or you wouldn't have threatened him with one. So fuck you and your crocodile tears. Get the fuck away from me and don't come near me ever again or so help me.”

She takes one last, satisfied look at the woman's dumbstruck face and spins around, heading towards Joseph. She gets within earshot just in time to hear him say, “...and that's not a question you should ever be asking. Fuck you, you don't get to pry and find out who I've lost when you clearly don't care about the victims, you're just a predatory leech out for gossip, now get that camera and microphone out of my face.”

Gemma, unsticking her feet from the floor after listening to that satisfying answer, grabs Joseph's arm and tugs him towards the exit, barging past people as she goes.

“Come on. Let's just go. Before we get into any actual fights.”

They seem to have caused a bit of a scene, and people are hurriedly moving out of their way now. She drops Joseph's arm as soon as they get outside.

There's a bright flash from opposite the building. Joseph curses under his breath.

“More journalists.”

Gemma flips them off with both hands.

“I know where we can go,” mutters Joseph. “There's an alleyway to the side of the building, leading around the back. We can get to the surrounding roads from there.”

Gemma nods and follows him, the two of them walking briskly until he turns sharply into an alley, and then around another corner, and then onto a busy street. Her vision’s blurred with tears.

Fuck all of this. This isn't the memorial her friends would've wanted. It isn't much of a memorial at all, just a smokescreen to fool the public into thinking they care. Fuck all of them.

He stops, suddenly. “No-one will pay attention to us here. Trust me. Are you alright?” He pauses. “Stupid question. As alright as you can be.”

Gemma nods. “The woman… she blackmailed my friend and got him killed. That's all. It's…”

She doesn't know what to say, how to finish, but Joseph nods, like he understands anyway. “Reporter asked about who I'd lost. Like that's okay to ask, like I wasn't clearly distraught, like I'd ever spill the details of Pat’s life. They all just want juicy stories. It's disgusting.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, eyes glistening. “Still. At least it's all over for now, right? All the public shit anyway.”

She gives him as much of a smile as she can manage, not answering directly. They'll both be in deep shit for tonight, especially Joseph. He still works for INSUPA, he's wearing their uniform.

She guesses Joseph knows that though. So she goes with something else instead.

“My friends and I, we have a memorial garden. Well. Memorial allotment. If you ever want to plant something, or just sit there… let me know.”

Joseph nods, then clears his throat. “Thank you. I should… I need to… good luck.”

“And you.”

Gemma watches as he walks off into the night, shoulders hunched, definitely not in a straight line. He'll be okay.

And she needs to go back to her family. Aisling, Luiza. Her parents. People who she won't leave alone tonight, and who won't leave her. It's time to mourn away from prying eyes.

[lazlolullaby]

spy x family roleswap: Future Sight (Freelance) Yor, Assassin (in training) Anya, Telepath (Informant) Loid and Spy (unretired) Bond

i want to fully write this so bad but here have the premise + some ideas.

This starts with Yor. She was friends with the Garden, not officially an assassin. Her future sight was good for digging through rubble for people and supplies. Later it's good for dodging the SS and anyone she's avoiding. She ran smaller missions, researched targets, cleaned up, was partly but not fully trained like canon Yor.

McMahon picked up Anya. There was a splinter cell and they were training child assassins. This was considered unacceptable - any killing should be done by people who choose it, not ones raised with no choice but to follow orders. Never mind that they do this to keep vulnerable people out of harm, not use them as cannon fodder.

Yor could help because she was the only one who could dodge Anya's knives. It takes time but they get into a rhythm as mother and daughter. There are still Garden traitors out there but as long as Yor breathes she will not let Anya come to harm.

Anya doesn't really understand; Mama Yor does exercise with her, gently, enough that she can still feel good after they stop, that she doesn't collapse. She gets to sleep, and gets naps if she wants, she's woken softly. Anya gets to read and learn from books and ask Mama so many questions! Even if Yor doesn't know they go to the library and find out! And she gets to see kids and be nice to them instead of.instead of..instead!

The Shopkeeper finds this arrangement an opportunity, to grow fruit within a flower garden. "While beauty is needed, even valuable at points, it does not always sustain us."

Yor will infiltrate Eden academy as a mother, and get in with Melinda Desmond, the ex-prime minister's wife. She could get intel on their movements, if they would continue the war or not. Eden also has excellent security - it could trip up the Garden traitors that would try to steal Anya back from school.

Everything was going well - but now she needs a husband for the school interview! Where will she find one on such short notice! That wouldn't be suspicious of her and her daughter?

Enter Loid and his dog, Ozmund.

Loid was dug out of the rubble of his hometown and experimented on. He escaped as a teenager, tried to get back to his mother but she was dead when he made it to his extended families house. They were practically strangers to him, but encouraged him to enlist in the Army to "make something of himself" and "avenge her".

Loid couldn't stomach hearing the thoughts of people in a firefight. They all sounded the same, Westalian, Ostanian, they all wanted to survive. So he dodged the draft as well as he could. He got a scholarship and studied hard so he wouldn't be a foot soldier. Learned how to leverage blackmail to get supplies to where they were needed most, get messages to civilians for them to leave in time. Loid was considered for Secret Service training but he purposely failed some tests. For the past few years, he's been working as a trauma therapist and specializes in mute/deaf/other patients who are difficult to normally communicate with.

Fiona is his secretary, a WISE plant keeping an eye on a man with significant ability to get supplies and information from seemingly out to nowhere. She still has the same crush as canon Loid knows about her affection and is very much not interested. But since she doesn't say it ever outright he can't outright deny it so they're just stuck.

WISE knows about Loid, Loid knows about WISE. They're at an impasse, because he could blow the operation, but he chooses not to as long as he's not roped into full service. Loid takes on a few spies as his patients as well as allows himself to be used as an alibi - all to prevent another War, of course.

Franky was a soldier who ended up with a prosthetic leg and deaf in one ear. Loid helped him out of a depression and Franky works for WISE now as a top spy/equipment engineer. They work on a sign language together in their spare time.

Sylvia uncovered a secret dog training facility. Bond was nearly set to die, but Franky took him to Loid. Bond is named Ozmund, after the Wizard of Oz books. He's a therapy dog that's taken into the office a few days a week to work with the patients.

Then tons of WISE spies get taken out of commission, and suddenly Oz is needed for missions. The dog gets a combat outfit with pouches.

The outfit gets torn up and Loid has to take it to a tailor that won't ask questions. Yor is there, getting Anya's school clothes. Oz picks up that shes going to Eden Academy. The dog immediately puts together that if the child goes to Eden, they have a chance to meet with Donovan Desmond, a recluse that only goes to his children's school events.

Ozmund approaches Anya, and Anya reflexively smacks the dog's snout. Due to his spy training, Oz doesn't flinch. Anya apologizes, patting him softer, like Mama told her.

Loid sees it, hears from Yor's thoughts that she needs a husband for the Eden Academy interview. That Anya is great, but she can't help her alone. Loid can't ignore their thoughts, their worries and hopes about protecting each other.

Loid and Yor enter a fake marriage, juggling raising a child, their missions, and the slow, certain steps towards making a true family.

Misc:

Ozmund gets a new name, "Bond", after Anya's favorite show. Yor also wanted to pick a name, so now his full name is now Bond Ozmund Rudolf Forger. BORF.

Anya has a favorite knife that she keeps on her person. Loid and Yor were able to modify Mr. Chimera to have a secret pouch for her to store it. Anya also keeps peanuts in there.

Yor's future sight is a genetic gift. Her mother and grandmother had it and always warned her never to tell anyone. If she concentrates she can focus on events for one person and replay the vision. But she generally has 1 chance so she's very good at picking up small details at first glance.

Yor wears a different colored bracelet or ring for each day of the week. It's to help her figure out when her future vision happens. When Loid picks up on it he wears a matching tie or shirt.

Loid has a little more "edge" to him. More likely to stir the pot for fun, make gossip and push people into big reactions. Being able to hear all the hot gossip made him jaded and bored of people. Yor and Anya are more honest and open than what he's used to, and he's slowly starting to respond to their genuine feelings.

Loid's powers have developed enough for him to "speak" to others in their minds. It bypasses deafness and the language barrier as long as he's being clear. He explains it as some "ventriloquist tricks" to catch people off guard. He says he has a limited range of 30 feet (and leads WISE and the SS to believe the same) but his range goes up to 50 and if he focuses on a single person he can track to 75 feet.

Fiona believes that because Loid doesn't react to her declarations of love it means that she's immune to his telepathy and they are destined to be partners. Loid just has a very good poker face.

Possible side plot where Desmond was also experimented on by the same people that took Loid - he's a little older, probably volunteered and covered it up after to boot. I'm not sure if he's actually got powers or he didn't get powers and thus considered it a failure, feeding into his "people can never truly understand each other" philosophy.

Anya is being treated to a regimen of poisons to make her immune. The Garden splinter cell sneaks them into her kids snacks. It's why she likes peanuts so much. They taste the same no matter where she goes.

Loid being very up to date with fashion trends and helping Yor with her hair and makeup so that she can "fit in" with the Desmonds. Giving her a bit of polish to her natural style. Actually having a "girls styling day" where he disguises himself as a woman and they go shopping around town. (he says its for a psychological social study about how "women are perceived" but...nah he just thought it would be fun, and it was.)

When the roles are swapped like this, there's actually a psychological horror angle from Yor's POV about Loid.

(you know that your husband has secrets. To protect himself and this stitched up family. But every time it comes down to the wire he keeps saying the same lie: that he's a telepath. But why does he insist on it and try to prove it even when she doesn't ask? Why does he say that he knows about Anya he can't know he would have run if he really knew and wants to help them? No one helps, not without a price. She won't know the truth until it's too late to do anything. She can't trust him until he stops telling her that massive, insane lie.

...why does Loid look so sad?)

[calamitaswrath]

Lucia plays Fire Emblem Radiant Dawn: Part 3 Chapter 7

I've been going through like five and a half chapters since my last play journal (having a whole bunch of free time plus streaming for a friend til like 5 in the morning is gonna do that), so I'm gonna work through these in rapid-fire as I can write them out

You know, based on all the knowledge I had before going into this game, I somehow expected the fights between Ike's and Micaiah's to be something a bit more. . . I don't know, that both sides really believe in? But as things are presented now, this all really is a lot more of neither side really wanting to do it, but not having a choice but to do it. It makes for better storytelling, though - lord knows they would end up fumbling that sort of concept with Fates.

"his Maiden of Dawn is supposed to be the savior of Daein, whose miraculous powers freed their people from tyranny. In other words, her followers are fanatics who see her as a goddess." - not inaccurate, Soren, but damn what a hater line. But also can you blame the Daien soldiers? Because just look at Micaiah

Oh, so we're just reusing strategies now? With how the Daein forces got dragged into this as additional cannon fodder, I can see how this would work, though.

Base conversation! Singular. And. . . pfffft, Kysha and Lyre really are acting like a bunch of pet cats here, all while Ranulf comes off as either a parent or pet owner. It's a shame this game doesn't have traditional support conversations, because. . . I honestly barely have any idea of what Kysha is like as a character. Lyre at least has Lethe as her twin sister which helps, but he doesn't really have anything.

Now Micaiah wants to hear about Ike, hah. I'm near certain that she asked Sothe this through gritted teeth and while trying really hard not to roll her eyes.

There was a lot of dialogue this chapter that I could have gotten, so I didn't even bother going out of my way to read any specific conversations. I instead just read all of them on a wiki, just for the sake of my own sanity, and. . . ooph. Pain. There's some really heavy hitters in this one, with the likes of Brom and Meg standing out to me. They're really driving home that Daein shouldn't be here.

Oh yeah, and Micaiah and Soren recognized each others as branded. . . neat stuff there, though Soren is still too much of a hater.

I didn't actually end up deploying Reyson on this map simply because I forgot to, which meant that recruiting Janaff and Ulki was a bit of a bother since I had to do it with Ike who obviously had some trouble getting through the river. I carried him around with Haar a bunch to catch up to the two, but even that didn't work before Ulki got himself defeated. Eventually I just rescued Janaff with Haar instead and then plopped him down right next to Ike so I could recruit him. . . which however led to a weird glitch.

After Ulki was defeated and I recruited Janaff, I. . . somehow got control of Ulki. Who wasn't visible on the map, but I could still select and give orders to. Except when I did, it immediately froze my console, and I had to unplug it and restart it, though I thankfully had saved beforehand. But then when I restarted, Ulki was just back at full health, and working normally??

Not much more trouble in terms of gameplay though, so that's fine. I didn't really get to fight Micaiah, Sothe, or the Black Knight, but I think with the last one that's not too much of a missed opportunity.

The strategy goes off without a hitch, and the Daein forces don't manage to win. All about expected.

Pelleas talking with the Begnion senator. . . that's definitely some blackmail going on. (Mind you I have played far enough to know what's actually going on, but at the time this was still pretty clearly blackmail to me)