#the show was still very good in the father and daughter department.

[sugugasm]

. ༉‧₊ 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

✧ synopsis : after almost a decade of a healthy marriage, four kids, and a stressful bakery opening, you and toji have learned to take your alone time very seriously.

✧ tags : firefighter! toji + baker! reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, blk fem reader ofc, mentions of alcohol, public sex ?? in the car, mentions of vaginal penetration, cowgirl, pet names like bby, love, pretty, mama bc yall already know etc, excuse any errors. i wrote this in a few different povs at first so — 𝟓.𝟖𝐊 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 smiles as he pulls into his driveway, the familiar cacophony of squeals and thuds greeting him before he’d even opened the door - the kiddos must’ve been riding the after dinner sugar high. cheerfully shaking his head, he braced himself for the chaos and noise that awaited inside your now shared, cozy little place the two of you have grown to call home.

it’d been nearly six years since that fateful summer when you’d quite literally swept into his life like a swirl of sunshine and baked goods. six years of dizzying ups and downs, laughter and tears, the most intense love he’d ever known to face. sometimes it still didn’t feel real, even now - this life you’d built from the spark of simple flirting over sweets n’ crème brulee.

so much had happened in that span of adventures : you, graduating at the top of your culinary class, your desserts and pastries that you’d stressed so hard about being the toast of the competition circuit. toji retiring as lieutenant of the fire department after over a decade of service, not daring to miss out on any more milestones as the two of you started your family. not to mention the whirlwind of wedding plans, and then the magical day itself where you vowed forever to each other in front of family and friends.

then the true blessings had come along, one right after the other - megumi, who was still adjusting to the new family dynamic of it all, but was yet so proud of his father. little rascally rose, a firecracker just like her mama with the same bright eyes and full curls. goofy, tender-hearted kenji who practically worshipped his big brother and sister, wanting nothing more than to mimic their every move and be just like his papa. and finally malachai, the happy surprise baby who seemed to have inherited the best of both his parents’ feisty personalities.

toji wouldn’t trade this beautiful chaos for anything in the world. but he’d be lying if he said the constant juggling act of family life wasn’t difficult - for the both of you. it was rare for you guys to get a real moment alone together, just the two of you. your intimacy had cooled down amidst all the lovely distractions, as had the simple art of conversation beyond trading information about grocery lists and pediatrician appointments.

date nights had become a long forgotten luxury, almost seemingly impossible to coordinate when your trusted babysitters were your siblings with families of their own. but tonight, uncle satoru had stepped up and volunteered his services, giving toji and you a well overdue opportunity to reconnect.

toji unbuckles his seatbelt and exited the truck, tamping down a flutter of nerves. what if the easy rhythm and sizzling chemistry you’d once shared was gone for good? a victim of sleep deprivation and chicken nugget overdoses? what if it was too late to rekindle that spark?

pushing open the front door, he was immediately swamped by a tiny army of squirming, chattering bodies. “papa, papa, papa!” rose seized his hand and tugged insistently. “you gotta’ see the cool fort we built! kenji made it super big this time!”

“we’ll show ya, dad!” kenji crowed, already streaking towards the living room, malachai hot on his heels with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hold up there, you lil’ tornados,” toji called in vain, being unceremoniously dragged by his giggling daughter into the chaos. every available pillow, cushion, and blanket had been appropriated to create an elaborate tent city surrounded by toys and stuffed animals . . and gojo sat smack in the middle of it all, long legs splayed out as he played some kind of intricate make believe game with the two boys.

“baby, you’re home!” you swept in from the kitchen, wisps of hair escaping your messy bun and face flushed from exertion. you were wearing a cute pink sundress that struck a nostalgic chord in toji’s memory - you’ve had it for years, one of his favorite things to slowly peel off of your shoulders after a night out to be exact. “thank goodness. i was startin’ to think i’d have to call backup.”

you stand on your tippy toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and just like that, his weariness evaporated as if by magic. your familiar floral scent, your soft warmth, the kids’ laughter surrounding him - this moment of serenipity in the midst of routinely chaos bringing a lump to his throat.

“not a chance,” he rumbled, sliding an arm around your waist. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world.” downy goosebumps erupted down your arms at his words, flustering deeply. awe, his voice still got you going after all this time. good to know. very good to know. “y’all holdin’ down the fort?”

“y’know how it is,” you reply with a gentle squeeze of his hand, watching in fond exasperation as rose ordered poor gojo to lie down so kenji could perform his ‘very important surgery.’ “satoru took his role a lil’ too seriously this time and got lost in their games.”

you stood together watching for a few moments, the kids pausing just long enough to acknowledge toji’s presence again before diving back into their shenanigans. it was all so beautifully vibrant and alive, the little people you created and who brought such joy, such richness and meaning to your lives. but still . . . toji felt the undeniable tug of wanting you all to himself. just for a few hours at least. he wanted to bask in your undivided attention. to remember what it felt like to not share you with anyone else.

you must have picked up on his restlessness, your eyelids drifting shut as he stroked the sensitive skin of your inner wrist. “soon as we get back, m’ cravin’ some peace n’ quiet. maybe a hot soak in the tub after all this madness.” your tone was light and casual, but the smoldering undertone was unmistakable.

toji found himself swallowing reflexively as his skin prickled with awakening interest. “is that a promise, mama?” he murmured gruffly, not even trying to hide the roughness in his voice.

you peeked up at him through long lashes, a smile curving on your lips. “mm . . . you should know this by now. m’ a girl who keeps her promises.” burying any further suggestive replies, you cleared your throat and turned to gojo, who’d been buried under a pile of stuffed teddy bears. “alright babies, mama n’ daddy gotta’ go for a bit. gumi’s at a friend’s place, and there’s dinner in the fridge if you guys get hungry — so pretty please be good for your uncle gojo, y’hear?”

a chorus of whines follow after your words, but the kids were quickly distracted again by the siren song of more roughhousing. rose blew toji an exaggerated kiss while kenji and malachai paid both of you absolutely no mind whatsoever, already wrestling in a tangle of small limbs. gojo simply shot you a weary thumbs up from beneath his plush prison, glasses askew and hair wild as toji fought the urge to chuckle, “have fun you two. keep me posted, and please for the love of god - quit knockin’ her up, toji. i’m being attacked by three little rascals and it’s just absolutely absurd,” he jokes.

“i don’t make promises i can’t keep, satoru.”

you fished your purse and sweater from the hall closet while toji hovered close, drinking in every detail of you. suddenly he was struck by the profound urge to pull you in close and just breathe nothing but you, to lose himself in the familiar softness and strength of your embrace. but he restrained himself with an effort. all too soon they’d be able to indulge that craving for closeness, he reminded himself as you linked your fingers through his.

with a final wave to the kids and fond shake of his head at gojo’s predicament, toji guided you to the car. the simple act of opening your door and helping you in was enough to set his pulse racing, anticipation crackling in the air as your fingers tangled briefly together. electric from even the most innocent of contact.

by the time he’d slid behind the wheel, he felt ten years younger, energized by the promise of this evening alone with the woman he loved. as toji pulled out of the driveway, you were already reaching for the radio to cue up one of your old playlists, humming along contentedly as warm twilight spilled through the windows. toji cuts you an affectionate glance and reaches over to squeeze your knee - a brief, cherished moment before the magic began.

he couldn’t wait to see where it all would lead.

“so where we headed, hot stuff?” you asked, eyes sparkling with mischief as she toyed with the ends of her hair. “hopefully somewhere without a soft play area and a kids meal if y’know what i mean.”

toji snorted, distracted for a second by the way the skirt of her sundress rode up her thighs as she shifted in the passenger seat. “nah, no funzones tonight. but i can think of a few things i’d like to play with though.”

his suggestive drawl was rewarded with a scandalized laugh and playful swat to his shoulder. “you’re so gross, babe.” your eyes twinkle with amusement before flickering to the darkening sky outside. “seriously though . . . surprise me? i wanna’ be wooed. s’ been too long since you’ve had the chance to take me out. we used to do it all the time.”

kissing away the pout on your lips and squeezing your knee again, toji grinned crookedly. “i know, baby. tonight will be one to remember - i swear.”

true to his word, he bypassed all the usual dining spots they frequented as a family, instead guiding you to a cozy trattoria tucked away on a quiet cobblestone street you didn’t even know existed. he pulled up in front and turned to gauge your reaction, smile widening at the look of surprise and delight on your lovely face.

“bambolino’s?” you exclaimed, craning your neck to peer through the warmly lit windows. “toji, this place is famous! i swear geto raves about their stuffed shells every time he comes over . . like they’re life changing or something!”

“nothin’s better than your cookin’ so we’ll see. m’ a tough crowd to please.” chuckling, he cut the engine and climbed out to open your door, and you hopped out with a charming little shimmy of your hips, curls bouncing around your shoulders now. toji quite literally had to bite back a groan as images of sweeping you up onto the hood and hiking that dress up around your waist flooded his mind unbidden.

jesus, dude. maybe he felt a little too hot n’ bothered. this was a night to reconnect emotionally, not just physically. ‘keep it together, man,’ he mumbles to himself.

threading your arm through his, you allowed him to lead you to the heavy oak door. “well well, aren’t you just the sweetest.”

toji leaned over to murmur in her ear, voice low and intimate. “like i said . . . a night to remember. and m’ just gettin’ started, lovely.” he felt you shiver and had to quickly resist the urge to press an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind you ear — the spot he knew drove you crazy. but he reined himself in, offering you his arm instead. you slanted him an arch look from beneath your lashes as you took his elbow, well aware of the charged energy in the room. “you’re such smooth talker,” you teased. “but m’ callin’ you out - you gotta’ keep deliverin’ now.”

the inside of the restaurant was every bit as quaint and charming as the exterior, all warm golden lighting and rustic decor like something plucked from a cozy little italian village. your table of choice nestled in a babylon themed area, made for discreet intimacy. along with linen napkins and sparkling wine already waiting along with a single garden rose in a low vase.

as toji held out your chair for you, you leaned up to brush a soft kiss to his cheek. “this lovely, t,” you murmured, fingers trailing over the pristine white tablecloth. “really, baby . . . jus’ lovely.”

he hummed, momentarily distracted by the alluring fragrance of your signature perfume mixed with the lingering scent of baked goodies in your hair from a hectic day’s work at the bakery. “you deserve it,” he rumbled once he’d found his voice again. “. . . i know how crazy swamped you been with the kids and workin’ on side projects for the shop. tonight is strictly about you, mama. no responsibilities, no worries. just you n’ me enjoyin’ each other. like we used to do.”

your smile softened at the corners as you regarded him with open adoration. “when did all your charm come back?” you teased gently, though . . that tone was genuine. “feels like we haven’t had a moment alone in ages. hard to remember the last time you wooed me like this.”

“tonight’s special. couldn’t let another moment go by without remindin’ you exactly why you chose to put up with me.”

your expression turned impish once more. “coulda’ fooled me - i seem to recall it was you who was pushin’ lil’ ol’ me away, no?”

he formed his features into his best look of faux offense, tone full of lofty dignity. “can a man not get nervous anymore? you were stunning i was terrified — as megumi would say, your aura was just . . .” beneath the table, you could start to feel him sliding his foot forward to glide his ankle over yours, naughtiness giving him away even before your muffled squeak of surprise. toji just grinned that stupid grin at you innocently, as though not at all aware of the toe he was trailing up the delicate skin of your inner calf, “out of this world, sweetheart.”

you had to clear your throat before replying, voice husky with a mixture of amusement and something darker. “oh shut up. jus’ admit you loved me before you even knew it yet.” but despite the humor, you lashes had lowered invitingly as you let your calves part further, granting him unrestricted access.

his gaze snagged on the glimpse of your skin revealed as his foot inched higher and higher to skim the sensitive crease behind your knee. already, his blood was pounding with renewed interest, awakened by the heady combination of your pheromones and just being within your space. hmph. it was like suddenly the intimate, flickering candles and red wine he'd scoffed at earlier as a cheesy cliche seemed perfectly fitting, matching the frisson of sexual heat enkindling within him.

you spent the first part of dinner treading familiar ground - teasing n’ flirting, punctuated by conversations and easy silences that felt almost novel in your peacefulness these days. there was an ease to it, a bond between you both that couldn’t be so easily broken by the stress of soccer practices, ballet recitals or piles of laundry.

an intimacy beyond the aspects of physical that toji clung to . . . even as his vixen urges stirred elsewhere.

once appetizers had been polished off and the main courses brought out, toji leaned back in his chair and leveled you with a heavy lidded stare. slowly, he scooped up his cloth napkin and tossed it onto the table as though throwing down a gauntlet. your eyebrows rose in polite question even as a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.

“y’know . .” toji began, voice pitched low and rough like buttered rum. “you look absolutely stunning tonight, yn. i couldn’t be more proud of the woman you are n’ i jus’ uh . .” he pauses for a moment. wow, even after six years you still found a way to steal the words right out of his mouth, “i jus’ love you — you’re the mother of my children, my heart, my everyth - ”

your breath caught audibly, lashes fluttering as you struggled not to squirm under the potent weight of his stare. still, you rallied with a sassy arch of one brow. “if we weren’t already married, i’d say you were attempting at proposing to me right now, toji.”

“aye, m’ tryin’ t’be sentimental here, lady,” toji chuckled, the sound impossibly intimate amidst the hushed ambiance of the cozy trattoria. reaching across the table, he traced a feather-light path along your forearm with the very tips of his fingers, feeling the fine hairs there rise in gooseflesh, “y’know i’d marry you a thousand times over.”

the sleek black car purred through the dim streets, a monotonous swish of the windshield wipers being the only sound breaking the heavy silence within. in the passenger seat, you gazed out the rain streaked window, city lights smearing across your face in streaks of red and gold and neon blue. the night had been magical - champagne and oysters at bambolino’s, after that there was slow dancing cheek to cheek to smoky jazz at the club down the street, and last but not least — chocolate lava cake shared and savored at the tiny candle lit dessert boutique. all the romance and luxury toji knew his beautiful wife deserved.

but now, cocooned together in the warm confines of the car, the mood had shifted into something . . . more carnal. not sure how it couldn’t have become carnal with toji’s eyes constantly flicking away from the road to steal glimpses of you. in the dim glow of the dash, he drank in the way your clingy pink dress embraced every mouthwatering curve you had, the deep v neckline offering a tantalizing view of your collarbones. and oh, the silky chestnut curls tumbled over your bare shoulders, toji’s fingers itched to suken into them, to pull her close and breathe in the familiar sweet vanilla of her shampoo as he cruised.

he inhaled subtly, your delicate floral perfume underlaid with the warm, sleep-rumpled scent of your skin filling his head with sense memories. lazy sunlit mornings tangled in egyptian cotton sheets, your hair spilled across the pillow. sweaty afternoons grappling on the living room rug like lovestruck college kids. languid twilight baths with your slippery curves pressed back against his chest. he shifted in his seat as his blood began to simmer.

as if she could read his increasingly lurid thoughts, yn turned to meet his gaze. in the shadows, her eyes glittered like black diamonds, dark and fathomless, brimming with wicked promises. slowly, deliberately, she dragged her pink tongue across her bottom lip, leaving the glossed flesh glistening temptingly. toji swallowed hard.

suddenly, the air of the car felt suffocating, the rain misted air unbearably thick and hot. toji cranked the ac, but it did little to cool his overheated skin. he stared deadahead at the surging blades, trying to ignore the rising pressure in his groin.

without a word, you lifted a hand from your lap and slid it across the center console. toji sucked in a sharp breath as your palm skated up his thigh to rest just south of dangerous territory. even through the crisp fabric of his tailored slacks, her touch burned like a brand. as your nimble fingers began to trace idle whorls and spirals, you notice toji’s hands flex around the steering wheel.

“you better get us home safe, mr. we have kids to feed,” you purred, your dulcet voice flooding the charged air between them. “wouldn’t wanna’ have an accident now, would we?” your tone was pure filthy innuendo.

toji risked a glance sideways and instantly regretted it. you looked like a temptation, the old school femme fatale, all dangerous curves and scarlet lips and come-hither eyes. he could practically hear the harps and horns of the kill bill sirens blaring in his brain as he dragged his gaze forward again, locking it on the taillights winking mockingly through the rain smeared glass.

it would be so easy to pull the car over, to say fuck it to propriety and yank you into his lap. to ruck that sinful dress up around your waist and lose himself in your pussy until the windows were disgustingly fogged. so easy to let the inferno building in his veins consume you both right there in the goddamn car.

but toji prided himself on his discipline, his ironclad restraint. you couldn’t be a firefighter without grit, without the ability to stay focused and clear headed no matter what temptations beckoned. he knew that all too well. so he kept his ass planted firmly in the leather seat, even as his body screamed for more of his wife’s wicked touch.

even if his cock throbbed persistently against his fly, inflamed and aching.

you, however, seemed to have no such compunctions about maintaining composure. heedless of toji’s grip on the wheel, you unbuckled your seatbelt and twisted in your seat to face him. in a move that nearly short circuited his brain, you drew one endless leg up onto the seat, making the hem of your dress ride up to reveal the lacy edge of a sheer white thigh high.

toji’s mouth went dust dry. “what’re you doin’?”

“gettin’ comfortable,” you replied airly, but the devilish quirk of your painted lips gave away the game. slowly, you trailed a fingertip along the inside of your thigh, the back of your hand just barely grazing the tent in toji’s slacks as you did so — making him hiss out a breath between his teeth.

“quit playin’ wit’ me, yeah?”

you hummed, unconcerned, and continued her leisurely exploration, tracing idle patterns on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. “i’d rather you play with somethin’ else — i mean, you said it yourself.”

toji’s foot pressed down on the accelerator as if by it’s own volition, the car surging forward through the fuzzy soft darkness. toji's heart beat in time, a primal drum urging him to get the fuck home, where he could strip his vixen of a wife bare and remind you where teasin’ got you.

remind you how good he could make you burn.

your throaty chuckle broke him from his reverie. he glanced over to see you still caressing your own thighs, a wry twist to your lips. “you’re thinkin’ about fuckin’ me, aren’t you?” you mused casually, as if remarking on the weather. “how bad you wanna’ pull this car over, bend me over the hood n’ fuck me like i know you want to.”

liquid heat rolled down toji’s spine to pool in his groin, his cock jerking ravenously in the confines of his straining zipper. “goddammit,” he bit out, knuckles gone bloodless on the steering wheel.

you bit your lip on a smirk, shaky satisfaction in your exhale. “c’mon, daddy,” you coaxed, voice husky and sex-soaked. “i can feel you thinkin’ about it . . . those big hands spreading me open jus’ f’you?”

toji couldn't choke back his groan, pressure building to a rolling boil in his veins. his whole world narrowed down to the flex of his thighs, the strain of keeping the car on the road, and the siren song of your body, your scent, your dirty fuckin’ mouth.

“i’ve been so wet all night, t . .” you continued blithely, as if remarking on the weather. “since the second you walked in from work.” you reached over to smooth a proprietary hand along his thigh, thumb still skating dangerously close to his crotch. “i jus’ wanted to drop to my knees and worship you with my mouth right then n’ there.”

toji nearly swallowed his tongue, vivid images of your plush lips stretching around his cock flooding his brain. “c’mon, baby . .”

“ — but i was such a good girl,” you singsonged. “i was patient. i kept my hands to myself through dinner, even though all i could think about was how good you’d feel inside me.” your fingers creep higher to graze his zipper, “how deep i could take this big dick in my pretty little cunt.”

“don’t make me stop this car n’ —“

“pull over,” you murmured, voice molten and dark with promise. “anywhere. i don’t give a fuck - jus’ fuck me, toji. please . . s’ been too fuckin’ long.”

your words shot through him like an electric charge, heat searing down his spine to pool gravid and pulsing in his groin. “shit’,” he bit out, dizzy, nearly delirious with the force of his want. “ well, i know better than to argue with you. go ahead n’ tell me where, baby.”

“over there,” you pointed through the smeared windshield at an empty parking lot on the right, a black gulf set back from the glistening street. “that lot. pull in.” nearly shaking with the effort of holding himself in check, toji wrenched the wheel to the right, tires juddering over wet asphalt as he whipped into the vacant lot. the moment he threw the car into park, you were scrambling into his lap, sinuous as a snake, that tight dress rucking up around your hips completely now.

toji groaned gutturally as the heat of you settled over him, the damp crotch of your panties grinding right against his aching cock. you were like a furnace through the thin satin, searing him, branding him. he bucked helplessly under the pressure, too far gone for finesse.

“shit,” panted against the shell of his ear, nipping at the sensitive skin. your little hands scrabbling at his belt, desperate, graceless. “wan’ you s’bad. been drippin’ — it hurts, daddy . .”

toji made a wounded sound as you finally freed his straining erection, wrapping slim fingers around the thick root and pumping once, slowly. you let out a broken moan at the heavy heat of him pulsing in your grip, the way he jerked and kicked against the palm, already leaking from the flushed tip.

“look at you,” you purred, running a thumb through the slippery bead of precum. you brought the digit to your mouth, sucking it clean with a low hum that vibrated straight through him. “mm, so fuckin’ hard f’me.” toji’s hands flew to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight, a drowning man clutching a lifeline. the flimsy lace of your panties was no barrier - he ripped them aside, baring the slick folds of your cunt to the humid air. need pounded behind his eyes, turned his blood to quicksilver, his bones to molten steel.

“i missed you, mama,” he rasped, throat tight, voice scraped raw. “missed you so much.” his calloused hands roam your tummy, waist, and then chest — stopping when his palms grope the full plumpness of your titties, “awe baby . . they’re so heavy. have they gotten bigger?” the casual rubbing is soon interrupted when he pulls them out from their comfortable position in your sundress, your breasts flopping out in the prettiest way.

nipples hard n’ ready to just be absolutely tended to.

“i think so,” you reply, running your hands up and down his chest, “ever since i had rose . . they’ve gotten more n’ more swollen.” it was true. that girl had been your most painful birth ever — and keep in mind, this was coming from a mother of four. your back ached, you felt uncomfortable everywhere, and your tits well . . . let’s just say it felt like carrying around bags of sand attached to your sore chest.

but you’d do it again. anything for your sweet baby girl.

“do they hurt?”

“a little bit,” and on your word, toji leans forward, taking one of your exposed nipples into his mouth as he teased the other with his fingers. you could only moan as he sucked softly, almost as if he were trying to pry somethin’ out of em’, “aah — mmph! s’ sensitive, daddy . . so sensitive.”

with a needy cry, you wasted to time to pull your panties to the side and tap the tip of him against your slit, “put it in, t . . please,” you don’t even wait for his approval to notch the broad head of his cock against your opening as he worked. he didn’t mind - not one bit. if anything, he was more eager than you. you then wrap around him, gently sinking down, sheathing him in tight, and clinging on. his head cracked back against the headrest after letting go of your nipple with a pop! - fireworks exploding behind his eyes as your silky walls enveloped him, gripped him, fluttered sweetly around his aching length like you’d been waiting for his return.

“oh my god,” you whimpered, lip caught harshly between your teeth. you looked nearly pained, brow pinched, lashes fluttering as you fought to adjust to the invasion. after all, it’s been a while. “i missed you stretchin’ me out, daddy . . missed y’re dick s-so much.”

toji panted shallowly through his nose, every tendon in his body pulled bowstring tight as he fought the feral urge to surge up into you, to seize and take and claim. his fingers flexed convulsively on your hips, blunt nails biting into the plump flesh of your ass.

“i know, i know. i feel you mama. m’ so sorry, daddy’s been neglectin’ this pussy, huh? keep makin’ yourself f-feel good,” he encouraged gutturally, thumbs sweeping over the delicate skin of her inner thighs, smearing her arousal into the creases. “mm, tryin’ to take it all i see . . always so eager to make me proud, ain’t ya’?”

with a keening mewl as a reply, you began to move, rocking shallowly, finding a rhythm. your hands braced on his broad shoulders, using the leverage to grind down, to swivel your hips in maddening figure eights. pleasure sparkled up toji’s spine, gathered in his heavy balls, pulling them up tight and throbbing against his body.

“s-shit, yeah,” he hissed, head swimming, drowning in sensation. “that pussy’s fuckin’ good, yn — always so fuckin’ good. ride that dick jus’ like that.”

you made a desperate sound, head lolling on your neck, lush mouth falling open. each drag of your warm walls had his nerve endings sparking, a livewire of ecstasy. he could feel every clench, every ripple of your ass around him, could feel you growing wetter, slicker, easing the way for faster, harder thrusts.

soon enough you were bouncing feverishly in his lap, shameless, transported. your nails bit into his shoulders through his shirt as you slammed yourself down, the wet smack of sticky flesh and her breathless cries fogging the windows. each downstroke punched the breath from his lungs, until he was dizzy with it, drunk on the feel of you, the sweat and sex musk and some dark energy radiating off of you.

“c’mon,” he growled, palming your ass, spreading you open lewdly so he could watch himself disappear into your gleaming folds, over n’ over, creamy n’ noisy. “gonna’ nut on this dick, hm? gonna’ soak daddy with this greedy lil’ cunt? my greedy fuckin’ cunt — all mine, isn’t it? say that shit.”

“y-yess, s’ all yours, d-daddy,” you panted, back arching sharply as his pelvis pressed just right against your swollen clit. that and the feeling of his hardened head nuzzling against your gummy cervix was just enough to — “m’ close . . m’ so close, baby!” he could feel you starting to tighten, starting to talk and pulse around his hammering cock. with a choked off curse, he gripped the globes of your ass and slammed you down, grinding his hips in deep, filthy circles that had your voice breaking on a sob.

“cum on that dick,” he commanded, holding her steady even as she thrashed and writhed, impaled to the root on his steel-hard length. “give it to daddy — m-make a mess on me, nasty fuckin’ slut.”

he punctuated the words with one brutal thrust, and you had no choice but to cum with a ragged wail, clenching down on him so tight he lost his vision. your cunt rippled and gushed, rhythmic waves gracefully and sloppily milking his pulsing cock as ecstasy whited out behind your eyes.

“fuck, fuck, baby, i can’t — m’ bout to cum, m’ cummin’ - aw fuck!” he choked out, and then his own orgasm was crashing through him, a tidal wave of rapture searing through his veins. he spurted long and hard, painting your trembling walls with scorching ropes of cum that had you shuddering through the aftershocks.

for long moments they stayed locked together, panting into the thick air, pulses gradually slowing. finally you shifted with a shuddery exhale, and toji groaned low in his chest as he slipped free of you in a hot gush. she collapsed bonelessly against his chest, sweat cooling on your skin, looking thoroughly debauched.

toji caught your face between his palms, tipped it up to meet her blissed-out gaze. “holy fuck i love you,” he rasped, thumbs sweeping over your tear stained cheeks, “so fuckin’ much, man - fuck.”

“me too . . l-love you too, babe.” you finished, voice a satisfied husk. a slow grin spread over your face, catlike and smug. “i can’t believe you fucked me in a parking lot.”

“you didn’t give me much choice,” he growled playfully, nipping at your jaw once, twice, three times. “my lil’ cum bunny jus’ couldn’t wait till’ we got home.”

you shivered, squirming against the twitch of renewed interest between his legs. “guess we better head back then,” you murmured. “round two in our nice comfy bed sounds pretty perfect right about now.”

toji made a low sound of agreement, already envisioning peeling her out of that sinful dress and worshipping every inch of her properly. “i can make a thirty minute drive a fifteen — that work for you?”

“y’know you didn’t have to ask that.” you clambered off his lap and they hastily rearranged your clothing, giggling like you were being caught by some mall cop patrolling the area. and then, toji reversed, pulled back onto the glistening streets, one hand resting possessively high on your thigh as the lights of the city streaked by.

soon you were pulling into your familiar driveway. toji killed the engine and dashed around to open your door, ever the gentleman as usual even after tiring you and himself out so thoroughly. hand in hand, giddy and eager, you made you way up the front walk, your heels clicking on the wet concrete.

the door swung open on a scene of perfect domestic tranquility. there on the oversized couch lay satoru, sprawled out and snoring softly, the little ones curled up safe and sound on his chest. the sight filling toji’s heart with indescribable warmth.

gingerly, you both crept closer, not wanting to wake your peaceful babies. toji gazed down at their somber faces, so innocent in sleep, and felt his throat tighten with emotion. you then settled against his side and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“we made some damn cute kids,” you whispered with a contented sigh.

“absolutely we did,” toji agreed gruffly. he turned and pressed a kiss to your hair, soft and sweet. “i love our little family so much. and you . . i say it all the time, but god, i love you more than anything, yn. i wouldn’t have them without you.”

you tilted your face up to his, eyes liquid and luminous in the low light. “take me to bed n’ show me just how much you love me, lieutenant,” you murmured against his lips.

grinning, toji swept her into a bridal carry, careful not to jostle satoru and the kids. “roger that,” he whispered back playfully. “let’s go complete operation ‘welcome home.’”

and with that, he carried his gorgeous, giggling wife down the hall to their bedroom, ready to spend the rest of the night making good on the promise that had been building between them all evening long — a promise of passion, devotion, and a love that could set the whole world on fire.

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

Part 2 to this.

Thanks for the support guys, sending lots of love <3

It's been 2 years or so since you moved out of Gotham. Well. Not moved out moved out. You couldn't leave. Gotham was your home. And even with those painful memories of Jason demanding you to leave, he's still the same person who you shared those long-lasting kisses with, who texted you every 5 minutes while he was on patrol to make sure you were safe at home, who was able to give you the first, real experience of love and devotion for the first time in your life.

But now you feel numb. Every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection from puddles on the ground or the shine of a window, you saw that gut-wrenching, eerie grin of the Joker. The grin of your father who once killed your ex-boyfriend and your passionate love.

But you broke Jason's trust. Maybe if you told him sooner, he wouldn't have cast you out. Maybe he would've sat down for a second and realised you aren't the same person as your father.

Staying at the next town over beside Gotham wasn't a bad idea, however. You were able to reflect on yourself, realising that you had no power over your father, and there was physically nothing you could've done to save Robin. But you've repeated in your head over and over that you are not the Joker. You weren't the ones who committed those crimes. You weren't the ones who killed so many innocent people. The only guilt that would eat at you was that you were selfish and a coward to stand up to the Joker and at least attempt to save someone. Bht you didn't. And you hoped that if someone knew your name, who knew your story, that they'd understand. That they'd be scared, too.

You were able to buy a run down... apartment?..house? Whatever it was, it was, unfortunately, all you could've afforded at the moment. And worse, it reminded you too much of your room in the warehouse. Minus the dried blood. But it had a horrible stench of weed, which took you forever to get rid of.

Unlike the warehouse, however, you were at least able to make it a little more homey. You didn't have any furniture, but you did have a cleaner mattress plus bed sheets, knick knacks scattered across the floors, a fake plant, or two on the floor beside you bed. And lastly, though you really should move on, a framed picture of you and Jason. You put this directly beside your bed, where it would be the first thing you see in the morning.

You know that what Jason told you was cruel. You could never forget it. But you had the decency to understand him. He dated someone he trusted. And unfortunately that someone just happened to be the daughter of his murderer. Of course, he'd think you're working with the Joker. Especially if that camera footage showed that you showed no effort to help Robin.

So, what the hell have you been doing when you went away? Well, as said, you couldn't stay out of Gotham for very long. You always went in and out, just for the nostalgia. Just because you had bad memories in Gotham didn't mean you didn't have good ones either. You just assumed that since your leave, you've been fired from Bat Burgers, so you decided to avoid that vicinity for now.

The real reason, though, was the soup kitchen. You could never step foot inside ever again, in fear that Jason would still be volunteering there, and you wouldn't want him to have a breakdown. So you just anonymously dropped off bags of produce of whatever you could afford during the day and quickly departed without being seen. But you missed the kids. Yeah, Jason made you feel loved romantically, but those kids, they felt like family. And how you missed diane so much, too. She was like a mother to you.

It pained you that you couldn't go see the kids anymore, but as you heard them laugh and yell just from the other side of the entrance, you smiled. You always took quick glimpses of them, and some of them grew taller. Some of them formed freckles on their faces. But your smile would slightly falter when they mention how much they missed you. And by that time, you'd just drop off the bag and make your way back home.

You weren't proud of it, but when you found yourself completely broke, you decided, fuck it, and started nicking a things from grocery stores, just for you to survive. And in moments like them, you think to yourself... am I slowly becoming like...him? You shake your head, thinking that the Joker had committed the most heinous, unforgivable crimes, while vigilantes wouldn't really care for petty theft, and the cops wouldn't give two shits anyway, especially if it's only stores running on the poor side of Gotham being robbed.

God, how you hated the police system. They'd only help when the richies were being mugged. Even Batman neglected the poor. Sometimes, you'd smile when you'd see Jason helping the kids of Crime Alley. The memory warmed your heart. Too bad you couldn't make more memories similar to those ones.

You rushed your quick drop off of fruits and veggies to the soup kitchen. It wasn't much. You think an empolyee spotted you trying to conceal a small box of strawberries in your jacket.

You felt some familiarity when you turned to make a run for it when you ran into somethi- someone.

"oW- literally what the fuck-" You hiss, grabbing onto your scrunched up face, not noticing the person you walked into. "Watch where you're going, nit-" You looked up to glare at the person, but oh, how you could never forget those gorgeous green eyes. Those green eyes you fell too far in love with. The green eyes that would sparkle when its owner would rant about the new chapter he was reading in The Catcher in the Rye. The ones that used to look at you so lovingly. But now, it is replaced with burning resentment.

"You're the one not watching where they're going."

What a familiar setting. But instead of the joking tone of Jason correcting that you're the one not watching their step, he means it now. As if he was some stranger to you, annoyed that some rando foolishly walked into him and tried to blame him.

And suddenly, you're back at the Batcave. Suddenly, you're back on your knees, looking up at the hurt, screaming man who towered over you. Suddenly, you hear once more if I ever see you again, I'll end you.

You don't reply to his spiteful response. But you notice your breathing getting heavy. You try to make a run for it past him, but what he says next makes you stop.

"You're selfish for coming here," he grumbles, barely audible, but you hear it. You hear it so clearly. And it pisses you off. What the hell does that mean?

"I get you hurting me because I was Robin. Because I'm close to Batman. But coming here to hurt these kids?"

You turn to him, disbelief on your face. "Excuse me?" You spit.

"These kids did nothing wrong. So leave them alone. Leave Diane alone. Leave Gotham." He says, surprisingly pretty calm.

You already feel the tears brim your eyes. "Fuck you," you say quietly, choking out a sarcastic laugh as you turned to walk away. But before you can leave his line of sight, you turn to face him once more. "I didn't do shit, okay?! I made a mistake, but I didn't. Do. Shit,"you claimed as you walk away in a fast pace. And this makes Jason fume in anger. Yes, you did. You lied to him. He told you his secrets. You were about to give him up back to the Joker. You put his family that he worked so hard and long to make amends in jeopardy. Right?

Jason follows after you in anger, pulling you through a narrow alleyway. Luckily, the neighbourhood was quiet, and no one was around to see this private situation.

"Don't talk to me like you did nothing wrong," Jason hisses. And you yank yourself away from his grip.

"You never told me you were Arkham Knight. Why do I owe you who I was?!" You snarl at him.

"But I did!" He yells back. "At least I eventually told you because you were always nagging that I was out late! And you didn't even return the favour by telling me you're the daughter of someone I hate the most! You didn't commit any of the same crimes he did? Fine. But you're still an accessory. You stood there watching him torture me. And I bet you stood there with every other victim that he killed, feeling absolutely no remorse. That makes you just as disgusting as him."

By this time, tears were already rolling down your cheeks. Your cheeks burned red, and you could feel a headache forming.

"And the worst part," Jason continues quietly. "I still can't get you out of my head. A stupid itch at the back of my mind saying that I still love you," he says in shame.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. What the fuck? No. No, why the fuck would he say that. That's selfish of him.

"Fuck you!" You yell. "I'm sorry, Jason. I'm so fucking sorry, but I couldn't do anything! You saw it yourself! I was a kid, I couldn't do anything! I was scared! And I did NOT watch him torture you- I wasn't even aware you were there until he killed you! I didn't even remember it was you when I first met you!"

"BULLSHIT"

"IT'S NOT FUCKING BULLSHIT," you cried, panting, your adrenaline dying down. You rake your hair back, tangled between your fingers as your tears begin to dry up.

"I'm sorry, Jason," you sighed. "I really am, I- I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was but.. but not telling you was protecting you! The fewer people who knew who I was, the safer everyone would be, especially after you told me that you're Red Hood..." You took a breath. "I spent my whole childhood believing my dad when he told me that no one could love me. But then I met you. You taught me how to love and- and how to be loved! And I fucked this up, and I'm sorry. But I'm too tired to keep arguing. I finally accepted that I'm not the same person as my father and- and I'm not going to let you take that away from me because it's the only thing I have left.."

Jason stares down at you. You have no idea what's going through your head, and right now, you don't have the energy to find out what it is. So, you slightly shake your head in defeat and start to wall out of the cramped alley.

"Oh," you say before leaving. "And for your information, I already left gotham. Just stopping for a visit," you mutter before finally leaving Hason on his own.

He shouldn't believe you. How can he trust you?

You arrived back at your house. Your body went limp, laying on the mattress as a final tear soaked through your pillow.

You absolutely hate how you know that you still love Jason Todd. He was the first person to ever help you what love truly felt like but also showed you how fast such a strong bond can crumble in a few minutes.

As Jason is remained to be alone in the alley, he thinks to himself. It's crazy. You've been raised by the Joker. The Joker. How are you raised by such an abomination but still be the most angelic, beautiful person to cross the planet.

He walks out of the alley and goes towards the soup kitchen where he'd start his volunteer work. Before he walks in, he notices the small bag that you left behind. He picks it up and opens it to see fruits and vegetables inside. He shrugs, not trying to think so much about it and heads inside.

As soon as he steps in, he's greeted by the kids, and his gave brightens in delight. But he sees some of the expressions falter.

"Where's Y/n?" One of them asks. "You two are always together... we haven't seen her for a long, long, loooong time," they frown.

Jason was about to awkwardly answer when Diane came up to him. "Jason, my dear boy! How was your rest, honey?" She asks. Ever since he found out you were the Joker's daughter, he couldn't work, he couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. He didn't have the energy of volunteering, so he rang up Diane saying that he wasn't in the best spirits, in which she completely understood, saying that you would be around to help anyway. He was about to answer to say that he wasn't so sure about that, but Diane hung up, telling him to get a good rest, and that she'll see him soon.

Jason nods and sends her a sweet smile. "Yeah, thanks. Had a lot in my hands at the time," he explains, but Diane shakes her head.

"Don't even worry, sweetie. It's been calm the past few days," she says, looking down at Jason's hands, and a sad look reaches her eyes. "Is that from Y/n? She always left a bag of food outside, thinking she's slick. Tsk, foolish girl," she jokes. "She hasn't been around in a while. You two are dating, no? What happened? Of course, it's not my place to know. But I'm here if you need to talk, sweetheart," she says, placing a comforting hand to his cheek before walking back to the kitchen.

A little girl tugs on Jason's jacket.

"Jay-jay?" She calls out as Jason bends down to her eye level. "Is, N/n okay?" She asks, worry in her face. Jason attempts to send her a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she's fine," he responds. "She's a big girl, like you. I'll check up on her to make sure she's okay, if that'll make you feel better," he offers.

"You promise?" She asks, holding her tiny pinky out.

Jason sighs. "I promise," he says, intertwining his larger pinky around hers.

Unfortunately for Jason, he never breaks a pinky promise to the kids. And he would never lie to them. So, on Jason's next scheduled patrol, he'll ditch and find you to make sure you're safe. That's it. Nothing else. He doesn't need to speak to you. Just a quick glance to see if you're not doing anything stupid.

Wait.

God fucking damn it.

You told Jason you already left Gotham. How the hell was he supposed to find you??

Shit, right. Diane said you always leave bags of food outside their door. So you couldn't have lived far, right?

Okay, he'll do a quick sweep of the ourskirts of Gotham, then he'll check the edge of the next town over.

It's been a long, tiring night, to say the least. He started searching the outskirts of Gotham around 6 pm and started his search of the next town from 1am.

He was about to give up his search when he heard a man yelling. He looks down to see a figure running out of a 24 hour convenient store as a man in a uniform yells after you. Jason rolls his eyes, hopping down to the roof to stop you.

You run pretty far, but you look back to see if the store owner was chasing you. You smile to see that you weren't being followed, but as you face back forward, your head hits against an extremely hard, metalic surface.

"Fuck! No- why!" You yell, pressing a palm to to your forhead, where the impact was laid. And low and behild, you see the infamous Red Hood standing in front of you.

"You know I'm always not looking where I'm going! Can you at least have the decency not to be in my way!" You hiss, swerving past him. "Besides, I don't want to speak to you," you mutter, heading home, which wasn't that far.

"I'm not here to talk. Anna just wanted me to check if you're safe." He claims as you scoff.

"I'm alive, aren't I?" You sarcastically say, grabbing the keys for your door. Jason inspects your house.

"This is where you live?" He blurts out with clear concern.

"What of it," you mumble, stepping in. Neither of you really commented on the fact that Jason let's himself in, continuing to critique your humble abode.

"There's mould and cracks everywhere," Jason says, looking around.

"Great observation, sherlock. Guess what? I don't care. It's a roof over my head, and it's a 10 times upgrade compared to the warehouse. At least there isn't dried blood everywhere," you say.

"What? You didn't have a proper room?"

"Joker wasn't really a 'world's greatest dad mug' kind of guy." You say, laying on the mattress, keeping one leg bent upwards as the other lays flat. One arm is tucked under your head as the other is laid over your eyes.

Jason wanders around the run-down bulding, looking at your belongings scattered on the floor, which used to sit on the shelves and windowsill of his much more comfortable apartment.

But a shimmer catches the corner of his eyes. He sees a frame, the picture turned away from him, directly beside where your head lies.

He cautiously walks towards you, taking a peek of the picture. And he could already tell, by the smiling faces and puckered lips of the photo, that it was his favourite picture of the two of you. He had a copy of the photo stuck in his room somewhere in his apartment.

And the guilt slowly eats at him.

"I'm sorry," Jason quietly says.

"For what?" You mutter, obvious that you're exhausted.

"Everything I said." He replies, sitting on the floor beside you. "For telling you to leave Gotham, thinking you were anything like the Joker... saying I'd kill you if I saw you again.. I didn't mean it," he says, his voice getting raspier by the second. "It was horrible of me to say."

"It's whatever, Jay... Jason," you reply, shifting to turn away from him, your back facing him. "I'd probably think the same if I were you."

His heart sunk.

"I should've believed you," he says, his voice raising a little. All he needs is for you to say you forgive him for saying all that shit. Because of him, you think so lowly of yourself, and that you love in such a horrible state, where instead the two of you could be cosy, wrapped in softer blankets in his bed in what ysed to be your shared apartment. He doesn't think he can take it if you think so harshly of yourself.

"But you didn't. And... and that's okay. I mean.." You try to hide your sniffle by burying your face into your pillow, but you aren't as discreet as you think as Jason obviously catches you. "I don't think anyone in this world would trust the daughter of a psycho," you try to joke, sending a weak, pathetic laugh.

"But you proved to me so many times that you aren't him. And I completely ignored all those times and started labelling you for someone you're not! How are you not mad- how are you not yelling at me?" Jason says, almost in a desperate whine. He needs some sort of emotional reaction from you. But you look so... dead.

You sigh as you sit up, avoiding eye contact. "Because you were right, Jason. You had every right not to trust me. I broke your trust by not telling you- I couldn't even save you."

Jason shakes his head vigorously. "No- No, no, no. Sweetheart, no," he didn't mean for the nickname to slip out, but no one mentions it. He reaches for your hands, which fit so perfectly in his larger ones. He held your hands in his grasp, pulling them to his chest, making sure you're looking at him.

"I was wrong- It wasn't your responsibility to save me. You were a kid- we were both kids! There was nothing we could've done. We were both kids dragged into Batman and Joker's stupid game of theirs! This isn't either of our faults! And you didn't tell me you were Joker's daughter... and that's okay. I'm sorry it took so long for me to understand why you didn't tell me. The Joker is wrong, Y/n. You can be loved... You are loved. Because I love you so much that it hurts," he admits, brushing strands of your hair away from your face so that he can look into your eyes. And you can look back into his. His gorgeous green eyes that can finally see love again. "And I understand if you don't lo-"

"I love you so much, Jay," you sniffle, smiling at him. Jason's eyes soften as he smiles, his head leabing forward and his lips resting on your forhead. "I'm sorry," you say, and Jason just shushes you, but you continue. "And I forgive you for what you said to me," you quietly say, shifting to lean your head on his shoulder.

"I forgive you, too, my love," Jason replies, his hand reaching up to softly caress your cheek. "I'll stay the night. Okay? Then tomorrow, first thing, you pack your stuff and move back in with me, okay?"

You smile as you nod, your tears finally withering away as you lie down in your bed, watching Jason strip off his heavy armour, laying in with you in just his tactical pants and compression shirt on. He wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, and suddenly, you feel safe again. You feel warm again.

You feel loved again.

I'm so sorry if this is ass 😭. I really wanted this finished, and it's like 2am. But i really hope you'd still enjoy!! 🙏🙏

Taglist 🏷: @tyrone200 @pank0w @lorosette @havlindzk @achromaticerebus @demonicparalysis @fairyeoll

sorry if you requested part 2 and was not tagged, maybe because of mention priv settings? nonetheless, i hope you like it!

[carionto]

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

[dragoneyes618]

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if a Rivera besides Imelda had died first.

I think it can be presumed that Imelda died first and was very not pleased to see Héctor, so after being rejected by her a few times he gave up and focused all his efforts on getting over the bridge to see Coco. (The miscommunication here gives me a headache every time I think of it.) This was all probably before the other Riveras died, since they show no sign of recognizing him when they see him make a run for it. (The twins would know who he is, but that’s a different story.)

But what if Imelda hadn’t died first? What If someone else had?

Suppose it was, say, Victoria.

We don’t know anything about how Victoria died; all we know is that it was not of old age like her mother and grandmother; she must have died decades before Coco did, given how much younger than Elena she looks.

So suppose, whatever she died of, she died a few years earlier, even before Imelda, and was the first Rivera to enter the Land of the Dead except Héctor. She’s at the Department of Family Reunions, and they ask her for the names of her family so they can reunite her with anyone who’s dead, and so that they’ll have her on file to greet her living family whenever they arrive.

As far as Victoria knows, she doesn’t have any dead family members (unless there’s people from Julio’s side of the family), but she lists everyone she’s related to anyway, because of course she wants to be able to meet her mother and father and sister when they arrive, so they won’t arrive alone, not like she is. And they take all the names she’s written down and see if any of those names, or her own name, have appeared on any other list.

And lo and behold, someone notices that Victoria listed Socorro “Coco” Rivera as her mother and Imelda Rivera as her grandmother, and that Héctor Rivera who tries to jump the bridge every year listed Imelda as his wife and Coco as his daughter. So they send some people over to find Héctor wherever he is (since Imelda and the twins are still alive, and Coco’s still healthy, he’s probably not forgotten enough to be in Shantytown yet, even though he’s never had an ofrenda) and tell him that his recently deceased granddaughter is waiting to meet him.

Héctor is, well, shocked. He’s excited to find out that he has a granddaughter, he’s grieving to have that granddaughter join him before her time, and he’s shocked to have a granddaughter in the first place.

Logically, Héctor knows that it makes sense that he has a granddaughter. But he still pictures Coco as three or four years old, and he hasn’t seen her since. It’s one thing to know, in theory, “Oh yeah Coco’s probably married with kids by now,” and quite another thing to meet one of his daughter’s daughters. Especially when that granddaughter is older than he is. Especially when that granddaughter is older than he remembers his daughter being.

Victoria doesn’t have a very good opinion of her grandfather, of course. All she knows about him is that he’s the man who left his family behind for some stupid musical fantasy, breaking his wife’s and daughter’s hearts.

But she didn’t know he was dead. Her grandmother is still alive and well; why should her grandfather be any different?

And if he had died, well…he’d never bothered to contact any of them in life, but shouldn’t someone have contacted his family upon his death? Or, if he’d never deigned to even speak of them, well…if he was a famous musician, shouldn’t his death have been announced in newspapers and on the radio? Victoria was barely more than a toddler when the famous Ernesto de la Cruz died, but she remembered people talking about it in the shoe shop, before her grandmother had snapped at them to buy a pair of shoes or leave.

And he’s so young. It’s not immediately obvious at first, but as she sees him move around, movements at once awkward and excited, she realizes it. He has a full head of dark hair; his movements are spry and agile, and his voice is the strong voice of a young singing man.

“So you’re my…my granddaughter?” Héctor asks, stumbling over the words.

“Apparently,” Victoria says, folding her arms and glaring at him.

Surprisingly, he laughs. “Ay, you look just like mi vida when you do that!”

She blinks.

“Imelda,” he explains. “She used to give me just that look - never mind. Tell me, how is she? How is Coco? Are they all right?”

“They’re…fine,” Victoria says slowly, disconcerted by the intensity of his questioning.

“I was so worried,” he says. “I never got to see them, you know, they never put my photo up. I was worried that something happened to them, but they never came here, so I knew they must be all right…Do you know if something happened to my photo? We took one as a family when Coco was a baby, you know, and we took extra good care of it. I remember the boys were upset because we didn’t let them be in it.”

“The who?” Victoria asks. However she imagined her grandfather, she definitely didn’t imagine this man who asks earnestly about the welfare of his family, saying his worries and fond memories in one breath.

“The twins,” he explains. “Oscar and Felipe, your…wow, I guess they’re your great-uncles now. Wow. I can’t believe it. It’s been so long…”

His face falls.

“So Coco’s your mother?” he asks. “I can’t believe that too. Do you have any siblings? Wait, who did she marry? Who’s your father?” Without giving Victoria a chance to answer he rushes and rambles on. “I want you to tell me everything, please. About you, and your family, and how Imelda is - she’s nearly seventy by now, isn’t she? - and about your father and mother. I can’t believe Coco’s married. I wish I could’ve been there. I used to dream about what her wedding would be like. I still do sometimes. I never got to see her all grown up and beautiful - I know she has to be beautiful if she looks even a drop like Imelda - being courted by some young man - I know Imelda would never have let anyone but the best even consider marrying Coco - ay, I wish I could have been there. I died when Coco was only four, I never got to see any of this.”

“You what,” Victoria says.

No, I haven’t spent all day thinking of this. I’ve spent all of last week thinking of this.

I also have a scenario in mind with the twins but I’m not typing it now because this is quite long enough.

…I have a new fic idea now.

[inamindfarfaraway]

Here’s a sad thought about Princess Jasmine in Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, courtesy of listening to the soundtrack again and feeling the feelings about her and Ja’far: this version of the Sultan must be a really bad father.

We never see him interact with his stepdaughter. He already seems rather senile when he steals Scheherazade, and that’s sixteen years before the present day. His sanity may well have completely gone in that time. Even if it didn’t, he makes it clear in his one appearance that he considers everyone in his power to be objects defined entirely by how they can benefit him and remorselessly will torture, enslave and murder them on a whim. I doubt that he’d be sensitive or nurturing toward his child. Now, I think Scheherazade would be a great mother - but she never got to try.

The Sultan has evidently been very neglectful and distant, failing in his duties to teach the Princess how to be both a good person and a good member of royalty. Despite her being his only heir and old enough to marry and rule the kingdom, which apparently has no problem with a female sovereign, he’s let her grow up to be extremely sheltered and not at all adequately prepared for responsibility and politics. It doesn’t even occur to her that having her tiger assault a neighbouring country’s visiting prince might have consequences. The Sultan, and on his behalf the Captain of the Guard, don’t let her know important news and royal decrees: neither what a menace Aladdin is, leaving her vulnerable to him, nor the Sultan’s mass execution of the 2D Department, since for as insensitively egocentric as she is at the beginning, she’s still deeply sentimental and quick to empathize with the homeless peasant Aladdin, so I can’t believe that she wouldn’t be at least a little upset with the Sultan (or more likely Ja’far) over so many lost human lives.

More than that, her immaturity speaks to bad parenting on the most basic level. She hasn’t internalized the Sultan’s cruelty, but has learned his selfishness, entitlement, impulsiveness and poor emotional regulation. Her social skills are notably clumsy and underdeveloped (not picking up on Aladdin’s numerous red flags, “No high five”, “At least Abdul had a family who loved him!”, even cringing herself at the last one). The Sultan’s passed down absolutely zero wisdom of any kind.

Instead it’s Ja’far with whom she has a familiar father-daughter dynamic (“What’s up, are you mad at me?” “Where are you going?” “There she is!”). It’s him who shows concern when she runs away and gives the order to find her before all else, notices that she’s upset and talks her through her feelings, warns her about sexual predators, appreciates her idealism and effort. It’s him who provides the gentle but firm, healthy guidance and challenge that she needs to grow. Who sees her potential, respects and believes in her. Who loves her. However, he is ultimately in her service. Between the imbalanced power dynamic making him wary of treason (after all, the last time he had a stronger relationship than the Sultan with a woman the Sultan called his, it didn’t end well) and his other responsibilities taking away from their time together, he can’t be as influential a presence in his life as he’d like.

Maybe this why she’s initially so resentful of him. Subconsciously she does see him as a father all along, but he hurts her and lets her down sometimes. Like the Sultan, her only official parent, always has. That stings. The differences are that the Sultan hurts her much more, more consistently and without her best interests at heart… but Ja’far is the one she can lash out at and complain to and be a messy adolescent around, because firstly, he’s her subject instead of her ruler, and secondly, he’s actually involved in her life. He cares, and therefore yelling or halfheartedly trying to poison his wine will make an impact. The Sultan is untouchable. We know that she conflates the two in her head as unjust authority figures keeping her trapped and crushing her aspirations (“All the people who say I’m just dreaming, like Father and Ja’far”, one of the only times she mentions the Sultan). It’s easier to blame your problems on an employee everybody else hates than accept that your parent is a bad one.

Maybe this is the root of her discontentment as well, her yearning that she can’t articulate for something more than what the life she’s been given. The joke of “Everything and More” is that she doesn’t need anything besides what she has… but she does. She needs a competent, reliable parent. One who she can trusts loves her the person as her parent, not a servant of her bloodline, and she knows to love as such in turn.

No wonder she falls for “Orphaned at Thirty-Three” hook, line and sinker. She’s never known her mother. Her relationships with her paternal figures range from terrible to complicated. Having unconditionally loving, supportive parents and then suddenly losing them must be the worst thing she can imagine.

But in the end, the Sultan dies and her dad has to leave her. Although he found a way to live forever, it wasn’t enough to save her from the pain of being orphaned at sixteen.

[thesilverlady]

saw a post about Ryan Condal's take on Aegon's relationship with his son and I want to vent because I really don't think the man has even bothered re-watching s1 to recall what he made.

Quote:

This is the thing that Viserys never did for Aegon. And Aegon did not study at the feet of his father. His father had his male heir and then essentially said, “Well, that box is ticked,” he was ill. I think he enjoyed having a son but didn’t put in the work the way he did with Rhaenyra when he was a younger man. And I think Aegon resents that and feels that part of the reason that he’s not seen as being suited for the crown or the throne is because he didn’t get that training from his father. So now he’s going to make up for that tenfold with Jaehaerys.

Let's start with Viserys' parenting, shall we?

"Viserys never did for Aegon"

In ep2 we saw a then healthy Viserys parading baby Aegon with pride and joy. It has been the only "good" scene we had between them because it's also the only time we see Aegon as a child. It's safe to assume that he continued to dote on his son during his toddler years and only stopped when Viserys became too sick or when Aegon started developing a personality.

Viserys had no reason to bring Aegon to council meetings, had no reason to groom Aegon as heir because he wasn't. That's the entire point. We also never saw him putting any work on Rhaenyra besides her serving as a cupbearer in ep2.

"He enjoyed having a son but didn’t put in the work the way he did with Rhaenyra."

What kinda of work did he put exactly with Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra already felt inadequate in the first episode because her father desperately wanted a son, when he murdered his wife and his newborn died, he named her heir. In ep2 when Rhaenyra makes a suggestion about how to handle the situation with Daemon Viserys dismisses her and it's Corlys who supports and backs her up.

In ep3 when celebrating Aegon's birthday, it's established Rhaenyra has been once more isolated at court. Viserys never cared about the gap he created between her and alicent when he decided to take his daughter's friend for a bride and unlike Alicent, he didn't even reach out when she was lonely.

In fact, in the same episode we see he's in a hurry to marry Rhaenyra off and he publically berates, scolds and humiliates her in front of people at court. In private, he still doesn't understand her nor does he try to.

The only time viserys was "good" to Rhaenyra was a) in driftmark during the fight between the kids and b) when he spoke in favor for her against Vaemond.

And those scenes aren't even in character for show Viserys if we're gonna be honest. They only happen because they must. The plot couldn't move forward otherwise.

"He [....] didn’t put in the work the way he did with Rhaenyra [...] And I think Aegon resents that."

Except he doesn't.

Aegon doesn't resent that because the show has never established any feelings of rivalry or jealousy between Aegon & Rhaenyra and that's because we didn't have a single scene between the two.

In ep6, a very sick Viserys is seen watching fondly both Aemond & Aegon training with Jacaerys & Lucerys.

It's conveniently forgotten that in the context Viserys enjoys watching all boys together. And he takes their "fighting" as something boyish and playful. He visibly gets upset when Harwin and Criston throw punches at one another.

The only time Viserys is shown to be taking a side between his children is in the Driftmark episode when Aemond loses his eyes. And while in that context he's protecting his grandsons and to an extention Rhaenyra herself. There are more reasons to feel disdain towards Viserys; like how he particularly talks to alicent in that episode, how he's rough with Aegon himself etc. Viserys is incapable of handling the situation. Even when his daughter who is also his heir gets injured, his solution is for everyone to go to bed and for tomorrow to depart.

It makes sense that Aegon would become resentful of Viserys as he grew older but that resentment has to do more about how his father treated his side of the family rather than how he treated Rhaenyra (who he has history of treating like garbage as well btw)

"So now he’s going to make up for that tenfold with Jaehaerys."

Y'know... I gotta love how people rant about the show making both sides neutral in order to 'show depth' and then you get their interviews and you see that depth is merely fans headcanoning.

Let me explain. At first glance Aegon looks nice with Jaehaerys. it's the first time we (viewers) see the kid and it's the first time we see Aegon fully happy. it's nice. Out of context.

Now let's take the context, a joyful Aegon walks into the chamber, he asks where his son is, he goes to check the blond one that sits few feet apart from her mother because Aegon can't tell the twins apart. He quickly realizes that's his daughter so he asks again. Helaena informs him their son is at their library, doing his custom and gently reminds him Jaehaerys shouldn't be disturbed. Aegon ignores that. He tells her the reason he wants him is because he wants to take him in the council meeting and "start his training", Helaena poses a question; what if Jaehaerys doesn't even want to be king - like Aegon himself hadn't wanted to - Aegon acts as if he didn't hear and he still seeks the boy out, forcing his son to attend the meeting upon finding him.

In the council meeting, Aegon's attention is mostly on Jaehaerys who seems to be annoying Tyland. Aegon encourages that behavior and seems to take joy from it. To the point where he (rather stupidity) almost humiliates Lord Lannister by making him act as a pony for his son to ride.

This is not Aegon being affectionate to Jaehaerys. This is Aegon acting the way he probably wished Viserys had acted with him; encouraging of his rebellious/misbehaving attitude, dismissing his council and putting down important people in favor of his son.

He's not breaking the circle of neglect; he continued it in a similiar pattern. Jaehaerys is incredibly young and easy to entertain. The exactly way baby Aegon was in ep2. Aegon already ignored the possibility his heir might not be interested in his so called duties in the exact way his own mother had ignored and kept pressuring him to take a role she was molding him for.

So, similiar to Viserys, Aegon might have adopted a different attitude with his son as soon as he'd develop a persona of his own. The seeds were already there.

Saying that Aegon was simply trying to be a good dad because Viserys was shit and he was only good to Rhaenyra and Aegon felt jealous of that ignores every single time of Viserys was a walking human garbage to everyone.

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Pt. 7 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: We’re nearly at the end, if you’ve stayed this long, thank you so much, this being my first fan fiction, these characters mean a lot to me.

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), Elijah Kamski and his greasy man-pony, Hank’s insult towards Perkins (that scene still makes me laugh), 

Word Count: 5.3k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

You and Hank were standing side-by-side in the snow. It was the closest Connor had ever seen either of you, Hank’s phone was outstretched between you both while you leaned in to hear whoever was on the other side. 

Connor got out of the car and made his way over to you both. Your face was pale as you leaned against the car, disbelief streaking across your features. “Is everything okay?”

Stress levels were high for the both of you, Connor could only assume that whoever had been on the other side of that call hadn’t brought you good news. 

When it was clear you weren’t going to talk, Hank did, “Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants-”

“It was a peaceful protest,” you were glaring at Hank, you seemed more angry than concerned. 

“Well Chris was almost shot! Doesn’t sound very fucking peaceful to me!”

You scoffed and kicked off the car, “They shot first, and the deviants spared them. It sounds like the androids showed more humanity than the fucking humans did.”

“Chris just became a father, you want to be the one to tell his daughter that her daddy died so some robots-“

“That’s the thing, Hank, he didn’t die! They didn’t kill him, they spared him, have you ever taken your head out of your ass long enough to ask yourself if you’re on the right side of this war?” You gave Connor a long look before you started your way to Kamski’s house. 

Hank shook his head and kicked at the snow. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

“Judging off your diet and exercise habits, I’d say a heart attack is the most likely cause of death.” 

Hank slowly turned towards Connor, murder in his glare, “The fuck, Connor?”

“Are you coming?” You were already at the door, waiting for them both. 

“Yeah, yeah, just having all my life choices judged by a fucking android.”

Connor ignored Hank’s anger, as he’s gotten used to doing and focuses on a strange feeling in his core component. It felt twitchy, wrong. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

It was too late, you’d already rung the doorbell and the door had already been opened. An RT600 was standing there, hair up in a pony and barefoot on the carpet. “Hi,” this was the most polite Connor had seen Hank. “I’m, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department, I’m here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski.”

The android's face warmed immediately, “Please, come in.” You entered first, clearly eager to be out of the cold. “I’ll let Elijah know you’re here. But please, make yourself comfortable.” 

You took a look around the room at the art before throwing yourself down in a chair. “He’s so rich he has his own waiting room,” you scoffed and picked at the arm of the chair. Hank sat down in the chair next to yours, arms crossed and waiting. 

You turned slightly so you didn’t have to face him. 

Hank did the same. 

You both were behaving like children. Connor sometimes wished he had more mature humans. “Nice girl,” the comment seemed out of place for someone like the Lieutenant, who despised androids so much. 

“You’re right she’s really pretty,” and she was, but Connor found your features more appealing. He probably should have voiced the second part of his thought out loud because your stress level spiked immediately after his comment. 

“Gavin asked me out,” it was incredibly out of place in the conversation, but you were looking at Hank, not Connor. “Said he wanted to apologize for how much of a dick he had been lately.” Connor found his motivations suspicious, even when you two were arguing Gavin was highly aroused by your presence. 

“So he thinks schmoozing you with some cheap wine and a crappy Italian restaurant is gonna do that?”

You laughed and the previous irritation from your comment left Connor, slightly. What was this strange tight feeling in his chest?

“Jesus, how’d you know?”

“Please, I’ve been at this a lot longer than Reed has. I know all the moves.” 

You fake gagged and covered your ears, “I do not want to know about your ‘moves.’”

“Come on, you don’t want to hear how your old man used to be a lady killer?” There was an awkward stutter in his voice when he said ‘your old man,’ but Hank continued on. 

You were staring at Hank, heart beating faster and your eyes widened. You only allowed a moment to lull in between his sentence and yours. “Awkwardly calling the barista sweetheart, does not count as being a lady killer.” Your and Hank’s laughter filled the room after your comment, both of you smiling more than he had ever seen before. 

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Connor stopped in front of the portrait of Elijah Kamski, his creator. The laughter had stopped a few minutes ago, the tension from outside trailing off with it. You didn’t know why you had gotten so angry at Hank out at the car. 

Maybe you were still a little emotionally frail, after telling Connor everything that had happened between you and Hank, the other night. You hadn’t been able to go back to sleep so he had offered to hold you and tell you a story, apparently he had thousands on file. 

It was nice listening to his voice all night, you didn’t even feel that tired after not getting any sleep. 

“How’s it feel, to be meeting your creator, Connor?”

“Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It’ll be interesting to meet him in person.”

The light aura surrounding the three of you left at Hank’s voice, “Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face, I’d have a couple of things I’d wanna tell him.”

You’re not the only one.

Why had, whatever omnipotent presence watched over you, chosen to make you the way they had? Why give you trial after trial of hardship? Was it all to prepare you for moments like when you lost your legs, or Cole? Why even make you go through that in the first place?

Yes, you did come out stronger and more resilient. But you also became colder, lonelier, sadder than you had ever been before. You couldn’t open up to people, you couldn’t love people the right way. 

You’d rather put all your feelings into a machine rather than a human, because that would be easier. An android could never love you, and therefore never disappoint you. Your hopes would never be crushed under Connor’s feet because you had none. 

The girl chose the middle of your emotional crisis to call you back into another room. “Elijah will see you now.”

Two more RT600’s were talking together by the pool. Elijah was still swimming laps, you called out to him in case he hadn’t heard you come in. “Mister Kamski?”

“Just a moment, please.” Of course, rich bastards like him always had to flout their superiority over the lower class. You called us in here, asshole.

The RT600’s watched you carefully as you rounded the pool and waited for him by a set of chairs. Ew, is that a speedo? He took the robe from Chloe and wrapped his hair up in a pony. Double douche points. 

Hank seemed to be thinking the same thing, if his judgmental side-eye was anything to go by. 

Why were you even here?

“I’m Lieutenant Anderson, this is detective Y/L/N, and Connor.”

“What can I do for you, officers?”

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants, thought you might be the best person to ask about them,” Elijah gave you a look that reminded you a little too much of Gavin. 

“We know you left CyberLife years ago but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don't know.” Elijah didn’t seem to be interested in what Hank had to say, he was more curious about Connor. 

“Deviants,” he started, “fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall.” Jeehzus, this dude loves the sound of his own voice. “Isn't it ironic?”

Connor finally spoke up, he seemed to be the only one out of the three of you that really held Elijah’s eye.

His creator was… underwhelming. He didn’t seem much like a genius, more of a narcissist with enough money to feed all of Detroit. He also didn’t seem very concerned with the state of the world right now. 

“If a war breaks out between humans and deviants, millions could die, Mr. Kamski. It’s quite a serious matter.” He didn’t appreciate how flippant Elijah was being. 

“All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” It certainly wasn’t good. 

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution-”

You cut Hank off, “Peaceful, it still remains a peaceful revolution.”

Hank shoots you a look that keeps you quiet and he continues. “Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.”

Elijah was looking at you now, “Tell me, detective, do you empathize with the deviants?”

You straightened at his attention and held a defensive look on your features. “They haven’t hurt anyone, so far they’re the only ones being hurt. All I think is that perhaps people are twisting this story into something more evil than it is.”

Connor thought you were thinking with too much emotion, not enough logic. Androids didn’t get to disobey, they had one purpose and they carried it out, that’s all. 

The thought came unbidden and took him by surprise, that didn’t sound like his own thoughts. That seemed like something his programming was forcing onto him. 

Elijah nodded, “Empathy, it’s a tricky thing, give too much and it might hurt you, too little and it hurts others. What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?”

Whose side was he on?

Connor looked to you, he wanted you safe. 

“I’m on the human’s side, of course.” You were shaking your head beside him. He thought you would be happy, why were you so difficult to read? 

“Well, that’s what you’re programmed to say, but you,” Elijah stepped closer and both you and the Lieutenant leaned in.

What did you humans want from him?

“What do you really want?”

“Im sorry, but I don’t see what you’re getting at,” he was sick of this. Break his programming, follow his orders. No one was being clear with what he was supposed to do and it was messing with his software. 

“Chloe?” The RT600 walked over, “I’m sure you’re familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, simple questions of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it ‘the Kamski test,’ it’s very simple, you’ll see.” He faced the android, his hand trailing over her face and shoulders in a strange caress, and from the way your face was scrunching Connor could tell you felt uncomfortable by the display. 

“Magnificent, isn’t she? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young and beautiful forever.” He released her face with a slight push and she looked right at Connor, staring deep into his eyes, he straightened his tie.

“Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being,” Elijah bent down and pulled something out of the drawer between the two chairs. “With a soul,” he turned around hands in the air, and in one was a gun. He walked over to Connor and handed it to him, handle first, “It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” He gently pushed Chloe into a kneeling position. He took Connor’s hand in his own and pointed the gun at the center of the androids forehead. 

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here.”

You followed after Hank, “Come on, Connor. Let’s go.” 

Hank waved at Kamski, “Sorry to get you outta your pool,” you both we’re ready to leave, waiting for him. But he was stuck, gun in hand, staring at Chloe. 

“What’s more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine… Or a living being endowed with free will…”

Hank was insistent on leaving, “That’s enough! Connor, we’re leaving.” But you, you were just watching him, staring at him with equal amounts of curiosity and apprehension, waiting to see what he would choose. 

“Pull the trigger.”

“Connor, don’t!”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” 

Two conflicting orders, Connor wasn’t sure what to do. He was lost, his LED circling a steady yellow as he battled between the two orders, he looked to you. 

It all stilled, he couldn’t hear Elijah or Hank, he couldn’t feel the gun in his hand. You were just standing there, waiting for him. “It’s your choice, Connor.”

He looked down into Chloe’s eyes, his finger on the trigger, but he stopped. There was something there, she was innocent in all of this, she had no say in what was happening. There was something in her eyes that reminded him too much of you. 

He handed the gun back to Kamski. “Fascinating. CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity… is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” what? What was he? “I'm not a deviant.” Did he actually want to say that? Or was that just another program he was forced to follow?

“You preferred to spare a machine rather than accomplish your mission.” He helped Chloe up to her feet with a care that wasn’t there when he had shoved the gun into Connor’s hand. “You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy. A war is coming, you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?” 

Hank had wrapped an arm around you and was now wrapping one around Connor’s shoulders. “Let’s get outta here.” 

The three of you were at the door when Kamski spoke again, “By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know…”

He could feel the two of you watching him as he walked back towards the car. “Why didn’t you shoot?” Hank’s question caused him to think back to what he saw in Chloe’s eyes.

“I just saw that girl's eyes… and I couldn’t… that’s all.” Connor wasn’t sure if it was wise to tell you the exact reason he couldn’t, to tell you he saw you inside of her. Saw another version of himself leaving you behind to die on the rooftop. 

But you wouldn’t let up, “You’re always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go…” You and Hank were sharing another one of your irritating looks. 

“Yeah, I know what I should’ve done, I told you I couldn’t. I’m sorry, okay?”

Hank looked down at him, “Maybe you did the right thing.” You gave Connor a gentle pat on the shoulder as you followed Hank back to the car. Leaving Connor to wonder:

When did he start making his own choices?

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

TALK TO AMANDA

Something blue, in the distance, caught his eye. Connor walked away from the bridge that would lead him to Amanda and instead followed after the bright blue beacon. It was something that could almost mimic a shrine, a device sat in the middle, awaiting an android handprint. When Connor moved closer, the synthetic skin of his hand pulled back. The ground shook in the distance, but nothing else happened. 

He approached Amanda on the ice, it seemed to crack beneath his feet as he went. Logically, he knew he couldn’t fall through, but he was afraid of what the instability of the zen garden meant for him. 

“After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war.” The androids had led a peaceful demonstration in downtown Detroit, one that quickly turned violent when SWAT teams in raid gear had started attacking them. It was the first time androids had fought back. 

You had been raving all this morning about how the news was twisting it around to make them sound like terrorists when all it had been was self defense. 

“The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them.”

“I thought Kamski knew something, I was wrong.” 

“Maybe he did… But you chose not to ask.”

Connor chose not to needlessly take a life. 

But the fact that he chose at all is most likely what has Amanda staring at him so distrustfully. 

“I chose not to play his twisted little game! There was no reason to kill that android!” Kill, when did Connor start thinking that androids could feel death? “Wh- Why did Kamski leave CyberLife? What happened?” His mind went back to the RK200 model, what were they hiding from him?

“It’s an old story, Connor. It doesn’t pertain to your investigation.”

“I’m not a unique model, am I? How many Connors are there?”

“I expect you to find answers, not ask questions.” Her head tilted as she examined him. “Have you experienced anything unusual recently? Any doubts or conflicts? Do you feel anything for these deviants? Or for Lieutenant Anderson? Or perhaps, the detective. She seems to cause a lot of malfunctions in your system. Is she the cause of all this turmoil?”

“I’m beginning to have thoughts… that are not part of my program.” He didn’t care if she knew the truth, he wanted to leave. He wanted to leave her and go find you, because the sudden interest she held for you was concerning. “Maybe… Maybe I’ve been compromised too…” he didn’t wait for her to dismiss him, he left. 

“You’re off the case. The FBI is taking over.”

“What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“But we’re onto something!” Hank approached Fowler, more impassioned than Connor had ever seen him, “We- We just need more time. I’m sure we can-”

“Hank, you don’t get it. This isn’t just another investigation, it’s a fucking civil war!”

Your arms left their crossed position, you’d left the sling behind a few days ago. “So we’re gonna leave the fate of our country, our world, in the hands of some asshole like Perkins?! Fuck that!”

“Y/N, it's out of my hands! You think I don’t understand the enormity of this situation, we’re talking about national security!”

Both you and the Lieutenant were ganging up on him now, it was causing the captain's stress levels to rise as Hank approached. “Fuck that! You can’t just pull the plug now.” It was times like these that the similarities between you and Hank truly showed, perhaps not in looks, but he had clearly had a heavy hand in forming who you are as a person. 

“We’re so close!”

“Hank, you’re always saying you can’t stand androids! Jesus, make up your mind! I thought you’d be happy about this! And Y/N, you know the deal, you finished the case and you’d be transferred, shouldn’t you be happy about that?!”

Hank turned towards you, “Transferred?” It was clear he didn’t know about your plans on leaving. You winced as you looked away from him. 

Your voice was quieter than it had been the entire time you were in the office, “Gavin, would be taking over as your partner. I couldn’t do it anymore, Hank,” you turned towards him, “I just couldn't. It hurt the way you would look at me and not even see me. So, I requested a transfer.” You turned towards Fowler, stress levels at an all time high. “But that shit doesn’t matter anymore! So much has changed, I don’t want the transfer, okay? We’re about to crack this case!”

“For God’s sake, Jefferey, can’t you back me up this one time?”

Fowler shook his head, he seemed as disappointed as the both of you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’re back on homicide. And the android,” you moved defensively in front of Connor, “is to be sent back to CyberLife.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, when I’m cold and in the ground. Fuck that and fuck you.” You stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind you, Connor wanted to follow after you and check on you. But it would be smarter to finish the rest of the meeting. 

Fowler watched you go, a sad sigh leaving him. “I’m sorry Hank, I did everything I could, but it’s over.”

Hank pushed off the desk and followed behind you. Connor nodded a quiet goodbye to the captain.

TALK TO YOUR PARTNERS

He approached the desks where you and Hank were already in a heated conversation. “-Gavin! You were gonna abandon me to fucking Gavin?”

“What the fuck do you want from me, Hank? Look, you’ve changed, for the better, during this case. You- I feel like I can see my dad coming back to me, but before… Before, I hated coming to work everyday, knowing you would be waiting there for me. Waiting to hurt me and to blame me. How would you feel seeing the only person you have left blame you for the worst night of your life?” You didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. “I’ll tell you how you’d feel, hopeless and tired. I was tired, Hank, okay? But I don’t want that anymore, I want to stay your partner, Connor’s partner! I’m not letting this go!”

Hank didn’t say anything, he just stared at you for a long while before finally pulling you into a hug. It was awkward, and he seemed unsure where to put his arms. But Connor could see you squeezing him tightly against you, a desperation in your movements as it seemed all the stress you carried on your shoulders melted away. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You shook your head against Hank’s chest, holding onto him a little longer before you both finally stepped back. There was a lightness to the both of you that Connor hadn’t seen before. Hank slumped in his chair and you took a seat on the edge of Connor’s desk, he joined you there. “We’ll be talking about Gavin, later,” there was a nearly audible gulp as you nodded your head in agreement. 

Connor looked towards Fowler’s office. “We can’t just give up. I know we could have solved this case!” You were picking at your hands again in anxiety, it was instinct for Connor to slap your hands apart and intertwine your fingers. 

Hank eyed your joined hands, “We’ll be talking about that, too.” He turned towards Connor, “You’re going back to CyberLife?”

“I have no choice-”

“Connor, they’ll destroy you! I’m not letting you go back!”

He tried to give you a comforting smile, but he was starting to feel a strange pressure on his chest that stopped it from being convincing. “We don’t have a say in the matter, Y/N. I’ll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed…” Your hand grew tighter around his own.

Hank leaned forward in his chair, addressing the both of you. “What if we’re on the wrong side?”

You threw your free hand up in the air, “Now he gets it.”

Hank held up a hand, “Save the attitude. What if we’re fighting against people who just wanna be free?”

Connor understood where Hank was coming from, but this war was bigger than both of them. This was the fate of millions in their hands, this was your fate, in Connor’s hands. “When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could have stopped it. But now it’s too late…” 

“When you refused to kill that android at Kamski’s place… You put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor.”

Connor shook his head, “No, I saw Y/N,” your gaze turned towards him. “I looked into her eyes and I saw someone I-” You what, loved? You can’t love, you’re an android. “I saw someone to protect.”

You nudged his shoulder with your own, “That’s empathy Connor.”

Hank continued, “Empathy’s a human emotion.”

“I know it hasn’t always been easy… but I want you to know I really appreciated working with you,” he gave you a long look. “Both of you. That’s not just my Social Relations program talking,” you laughed, “I- I really mean that. At least, I think I do.” 

The doors opened and you all turned your heads to see Perkins walk into the station.  “Well, well, here comes Perkins-”

You cut Hank off in anger, “That motherfucker.”

“Sure don’t waste any time at the FBI.”

There was a new determination in Connor, he wasn’t ready to leave you and the Lieutenant. “We can’t give up. I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it’s all over.” He was getting worked up at the idea of getting one over on the FBI. His hands moving around as he spoke, taking your arm with him, unwilling to let go. 

“There’s no choice! You heard Fowler, we’re off the case.” 

You smiled at Hank, an insidious smile that held nothing but mischief behind it. “Unless… You could help us, Hank. All we need is five minutes. Five minutes to look at the evidence and get out, that’s all.”

“I know the solution is in there!”

“Connor-”

“If I don’t solve this case, CyberLIfe will destroy me.” That had the both of you tightening your hands around each other. “Five minutes. It’s all I ask.”

Hank looked between the two of you, anxiety pressing down upon Connor as he waited for a response from the Lieutenant. Finally he let out a long huff, slowly standing from his chair and moving towards both you and Connor. “The key to the basement is in my drawer. Get a move on! I can’t distract them forever.”

You moved forwards quickly grabbing a key out from one of the Lieutenants unorganized drawers. The both of you jumped in surprise at Hank’s next choice words, “Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!” Your head whipped around towards Hank, Connor was dragging you away as you tried to watch Hank beat up the FBI agent. 

“Y/N, we’re on a time limit!”

“Fine! You ruin all my fun! God I really wanted to be the one to beat that slimy motherfucker up.”

You led Connor towards the Archive Room, both of you checking over your shoulders. Just as you were at the door Gavin, of all people, walked in. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he stopped at the sight of your still intertwined hands. “What the fuck is this?” You both ignored him, your hand bringing the key towards the door. “I’m talking to you! Where’re you going?” There was satisfaction in Connor at the sound of the door slamming into Gavin’s face. 

You pulled Connor down the stairs, pulling the key out again as you were faced with a glass partition. Inside a large podium was waiting for you with a password. “Hank’s password, shit, I don’t know.”

Connor moved you aside and pulled up possible options, “What would a hard-boiled eccentric police Lieutenant choose?” Connor and you shared a look, “FUCKINPASSWORD.” Connor rolled his eyes, “Obviously.”

“I should have known, he uses it for everything, he’s got no sense of cyber security.” You released each other to examine each piece of evidence. Connor scanned the androids, the deviant from the rooftop with the hostage could be activated, but he wouldn’t tell him what he needed to know. The one that threw you off the roof could no longer be activated, nor Carlos Ortiz’s, it seemed the only chance he would have would be the one from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor replayed the clip from the interrogation with Carlos Ortiz’s android, The truth is inside. He looked on the wall of evidence. What was it trying to tell me? His eyes landed on the statuette next to the tablet. When he shook it, it sounded hollowed out, and like there was something inside of it. 

Inside there was a map of the Ferndale neighborhood, it was somewhere inside that area. 

He began focusing on the one android that would be useful to him, the security technician from the broadcasting tower. 

Connor instructed you on the parts to bring him while he worked on getting it repaired enough to be reactivated for longer than a minute. When it’s LED finally turned back on Connor began questioning it, unsure how long it would be working for. 

“It’s dark… Where- Where am I?” It’s optical processors must have been damaged when Connor shot it, it was staring at him from unseeing eyes.

“I’m a deviant, like you. I need your help, I want to go to Jericho.” You remained silent as you watched the two interact, going through other pieces of evidence on the wall. 

“I don’t recognize your voice. You’re not one of us. I’ll never tell you where Jericho is!” Connor sighed and reached up to deactivate the android again. 

You waited until he had done so to approach him with the tablet that contained Markus’s voice. “You can change your voice, right? Like you do in interrogations?”

He almost kissed you, maybe some humans were smart. He copied Markus’s voice, your eyes watching him in wonder. He reactivated the android, “You did good.”

“Markus?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re going to Jericho, I just need you to tell me where it is.”

“Of course,” the android offered his arm and Connor immediately took it, searching it’s memories for locations specifically in Ferndale. 

JERICHO LOCATION FOUND

“You’re not Markus!” Connor quickly deactivated the android, he turned towards you ready to share the good news when another voice rang out. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this since the first second I saw you…”

“Pretty pathetic, Gavin, sure you don’t have a crush on him?”

“Shut up, Y/N, don’t think you’re getting out of this by batting your eyelashes like you always do.” You rolled your eyes, but Connor could see your hand discreetly making its way towards your holster. 

“Don’t do it Gavin,” Connor’s hands were raised, hopefully placating Gavin. “I know how to stop the deviants!”

“You’re off the case. And now, it’s gonna be definitive.”

Connor ducked, yanking you down with him just as Gavin took his first shot. He managed to shoot him once before Connor disarmed him. He blocked his punches, striking Gavin in the face and knocking him down to the ground. But he wouldn’t give up, it seemed the only thing Gavin was willing to put effort into was taking Connor down. He slammed him against the podium, but Gavin managed to block his punch and shoved him back to the ground. 

Gavin had just managed to scoop his gun back up, but then he crumpled down onto the ground. You were standing over him, gun in hand, the handle facing Gavin. You’d pistol whipped him. “He was a bad lay and a worse cop. I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” You quickly helped Connor to his feet.

“So… You wanna go to Jericho?”

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[azertyrobaz]

Part 2 of this Comfortember The Last of Us Part II fix-it drabble. This time with Joel. Once again, don’t read if you want to avoid spoilers for the show. Also, I'm aware we're in December, but I only have a couple of prompts left! :D

As always, prompts are here if you want to have a look. And the ao3 collections is located there.

Enjoy!

************

“Are you sure you’re fine looking after Sammy today? Sorry to spring this on you on your birthday.”

Sarah was staring at him a bit strangely over her coffee cup – he had to force himself to look normal. But what did normal mean now exactly?

Apparently, the new “normal” was this: Sarah was alive. He was alive. The pandemic had never happened. He had a grandson called Sam. He still lived in the same house in Austin. And his watch still worked. Oh, and today was his 58th birthday and Sarah had made him pancakes, which he couldn’t make himself eat. What if everything was about to unravel all over again? What if the infection spread again? What if -

“Something wrong with your food? Did I mess up the recipe?”

“I’m just not hungry,” he pretended, and grabbed his coffee instead. The best coffee he had ever ever tasted. God, he had missed coffee. He didn’t care if this was just a dream, he would at least enjoy that.

Sarah still didn’t look convinced. He tried to smile to put her at ease, but that ended up backfiring – he was probably very rusty in that department.

“Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?” she asked, standing up from the table and raising her palm to his forehead to check if he had a fever. Joel sat very still, heart pounding like crazy. “I can ask a colleague to give you a check-up at the hospital.”

“I’m fine,” he replied in a breath. He’d forgotten the smell of her hair – either his mind was very good at recreating it, or in this strange reality she still used the same shampoo as when she was a teenager.

He’d just died. What the hell was he doing there? What was happening?

“Can we go to the park, Joel?”

Sam was six. With the biggest brown eyes and Sarah’s smile. He had been utterly unable to reject him as yet another figment of his overacting imagination. That child was real. He was too stupid to come up with something so detailed. Never in a million years.

“Sure,” he said immediately, and his own smile must have looked natural this time because the kid nodded enthusiastically before rushing out of the room again to watch his cartoons. On the flattest and biggest TV screen he had ever seen in his life. How the hell had he afforded it? Was this normal for 2023? And why were cellphones so massive now? Surely they should have gone smaller.

“I promise to call the realtor as soon as I have a break during my shift, we’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He’d grasped in the limited time he’d spent in that perfect universe – paradise? was that it? he didn’t believe in heaven, and he certainly didn’t deserve to be there if it was – that his daughter had recently moved back. He’d been too busy taking in everything to press for details. Might have something to do with Sam’s father, since he was nowhere around. Good.

“Don’t,” he said before he could stop himself. Sarah paused as she was loading the dishwasher. “I mean, there’s no rush, I like having you here.”

“I should make you breakfast more often,” she quipped.

Joel stared at her as she poured herself coffee in a thermos – once again, a massive one, what was this supersize thing all about? – he couldn’t stop himself. This would probably all disappear in an instant and he would be back to…wherever you were supposed to go when you died. Nothingness, most likely.

“I’ll be back around seven, don’t let Sammy have too much sugar, bye baby!” she yelled in the direction of the living room.

“Bye mommy!”

And she was off before Joel could hold her back. How much time did he have left? Shouldn’t he have said something? No, she was already pretty freaked out. And he had a job to do – looking after his grandson in a universe he had only experienced for a couple of hours. Should be simple, right?

As he poured himself more coffee – he’d be perfectly happy to just live on coffee for whatever time he’d been granted here, thank you very much – he looked at the calendar stuck to the fridge. September 26th, 2023. But this wasn’t right. His last memory in that other world – the real world – was in 2028. Why the hell had he be sent back 5 years? Was it a significant date, somehow? Apart from being his birthday?

Joel spun around in his kitchen, the cool air of the A/C he could somehow also afford in this reality grounding him.

Think.

September 26th, 2023.

And then it hit him, and he felt terrible for not having thought about her as he had been focusing on being with his daughter again.

Today was the day he had met Ellie for the first time. In the real world. Well, the other world. Who knew what was real anymore. But this had to mean something. If he was here to stay – and he really fucking hoped he was – then he had to find her. And perhaps save her again.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d been brought back here because there had only been one thought running through his mind as he took hit after hit from one vengeful daughter. If he’d been given the choice, he would still do it all over again. He would still choose Ellie.

In this life or the next.

[connoisseursdecomfort]

A mini character analysis on Twilight/Loid/[redacted]

As much as I am a tiny bit sad that Loid is still not having that reflection I want him to have after the last arc, I think I will have to remind myself something I posted somewhere else:

“The problem is, Twilight is inching towards his hidden self, [redacted], instead of running towards being ‘Loid’. As much as we want to believe that [redacted] is closer to ‘Loid’ in nature, and that he could have become ‘Loid’ if war didn’t happen, ‘Loid’ is still a work persona created by Twilight to complete Operation Strix. This persona allowed Twilight to ‘love’, but it is also a constant reminder that it is a facade. ‘Loid’ was a middle ground for Twilight to get back in touch with [redacted]. But now it has become a battleground where Twilight and [redacted] are having a standoff.”

I’ll be as patient as I can be.

(Manga spoilers ahead: and an analysis of ch.77)

I see people on twitter saying that everything we love about Loid has gone downhill since ch.62. I don’t necessarily think so because we have ch.68, but it is kinda true he doesn’t seem to get much development on the dad/husband department since the end of the cruise arc. To a point that people started to be angry at him and Endo since ch.75.

Loid has been in this utter confusion since the cruise arc. Before that, he doesn’t realise he has this confusion - he has been able to use the excuse, you know, Loid “for the mission” Forger, to justify everything. The cruise arc is really the first time he’s not on the mission. Basically it takes 50 chapters for Endo to finally ask Loid this important question, “What if it’s not for the mission?”

This poor man has been confused ever since, like in ch.76:

This is, of course, just this stupid man’s way of asking if he’s a good enough father for Anya for the mission. But it doesn’t go away easily. He has been a spy for more than a decade. And before that he was alone for years. Being a Forger for only three months is not going to reverse that many years of trauma.

But his true self is winning. Has been winning since ch.62. He still tries to rationalise everything using his spy radar, and somehow he ends up being absolutely genuine.

In ch. 62, right after this scene where he deliberately reminded himself that this is “Loid’s” house:

He somehow chose to be a real dad instead of being a good spy:

And the same thing happened again in ch.66:

Sandwiched between all the spy-talks he had in his head, there is this transparent bubble. This is also the bubble that convinces me that he knows she is keeping secrets, but somehow he doesn’t care. But this is for another day.

His head says spy, but his actions always speak otherwise.

Endo loves to play with the idea of misinformation. He blatantly said in the fanbook that the info Franky has on the Garden is an exaggerated version of it, and is not accurate. The more obvious example would be the Handler’s arc in Ch.63. This is a story about secrets and lies, but there is a grain of truth in all the lies these characters tell us. Especially Loid “for the mission” Forger. From day 1 we knew Twilight’s a liar and a very cool one. But somehow Endo also makes him to be this genuine and sincere man. And he also needs therapy.

So Endo shows us how much he really needs therapy, just look at all these similarities, like this:

Ch.77

Ch.62.3

Or this: Ch.77

Ch.22

Ch.67.1

But the real fear is always this: am I worthy for the family? Does she feel that I am worthy enough?

Ch. 77

For Loid “for the mission” Forger, this basically translates to, my wife and daughter are upset my mission is failing because I’m not good enough I’m a bad spy. He has hit himself with this “bad spy! bad spy!” mentality so many times, it’s basically a running gag now.

Ch.10

Ch.17.5

Ch.29

Okay I give up finding every single panel of him panicking because it’s too much. But I think you get it.

Mr. Austin is so obviously a foil for Loid. As the therapy unfolds, we were trying to figure Loid out just as Loid tried hard to figure Mr. Austin out.

Loid even asked the same question we want to ask him:

Isn’t that exactly why people are mad at him now? Is he lying to himself when he says for the mission, or is he just lying to us the whole damn time? 

I think the problem is that we are all expecting Loid to be his actual persona. And it could be. But Ch.62 is also reminding all of us that “Loid” is something invented by Twilight. Even Twilight is something invented. By [redacted]. We love Loid. We kinda like Twilight, mostly because he’s hot af. But do we like [redacted], the man with all the flaws and merits Loid and Twilight have?

You see, like father, like daughter. Anya and [redacted] really don’t know what normality is. In Ch. 76:

And in Ch. 77:

They really don’t know what it is like to be a normal family, although they are already in one, and they sure feel very loved.

Remember back in Ch.10/Ep.7, when he said this: “I wonder what it’d feel like to have a real family.” This really is Endo asking [redacted] the same question, “What if this is not for the mission? What if you are in a real family?”

And [redacted] still doesn’t know the answer, although the answer is really there right from the start. He is this stupid, stupid man, who’s also absolutely traumatised and utterly confused. But you know what? If this is a story about recovery and rediscovery, then:

[wndfsh]

a (brief) analysis of toxic masculinity and fatherhood in final fantasy x

something i have always loved about braska is that, although he doesn't have much of a canon personality, in what little we see of him, he is so clearly an extremely supportive and genuine person. in life, he was a loving husband, a good friend, and even from beyond the grave, a supportive father to yuna.

it's interesting to me, then, how much of his personality is in direct contrast to jecht, who, at the start of braska's pilgrimage, is none of those things. but it isn't that he and braska are opposites—when you think about it, they're actually pretty similar—it’s their respective ability/inability to express vulnerability that sets them apart. lemme explain:

in all that we see of braska, he never really seems to not be thinking of his family. jecht, from the very beginning, is shown to be the same way, but it takes him a long time to be able to express it—let alone admit it—without lashing out. braska, on the other hand, has no reservations about displaying his affection for his family, doing so pretty often.

both braska and jecht are famous, braska being a known basphemer and a summoner on pilgrimage, and jecht being a blitzball champion. fittingly, braska doesn't expect special treatment for his status. he’s appreciative and humble, and when the party arrives in besaid, he admires it. jecht, however, insults it for its quaintness, and impatiently demands food. similarly, when they first depart on braska's pilgrimage, he expects fanfare, and the celebrity treatment he received in zanarkand.

unlike braska, who outwardly treasures and humanizes the women in his life, in the nightmare tidus has in besaid, it seems like jecht (although it's obvious from watching cutscenes with his wife in them that they loved one another dearly) outwardly regards them as… almost conquests, mocking tidus for being unable to “get a woman.” he also only really mentions his wife in passing, whereas braska mentions his, and his daughter, quite often.

braska lovingly encourages yuna to choose her own path, and promises to support her wherever she decides to go.

jecht, however... i mean, there's a whole minigame about that, so… y’know.

everything i just described, however, as most figure out when they finish playing through the game, is not the “real” jecht. i said he and braska are similar for a reason; underneath his ego, he, too, possesses the capability to be every bit as genuine and supportive as braska, and there are moments where he almost lets his true feelings surface.

...but, in the end, he doesn't. while he and braska are indeed similar below the surface, he’s practically incapable of allowing himself to be emotionally vulnerable, and that, i believe, is what sets he and braska apart.

he tells auron to turn the sphere recorder off when he gets teary-eyed in luca. in macalania woods, he turns the sphere recorder off after trying to talk to tidus, because he's "no good at these things." tidus's entire life, jecht has ridiculed him for always crying—for showing his emotions. auron tells tidus that jecht loved him—"he just didn't know how to express it, he said."

even in jecht's final moments, he mocks tidus for crying (and even though it isn't genuine, it's still worth noting).

but… why? why is jecht almost allergic to vulnerability? and why isn’t braska? that may be where they differ, sure, but what is it that causes it in the first place?

i think final fantasy x, whether intentional or not, has a lot to say about masculinity. many have noticed this and discussed it at length, and i'd like to contribute my own (admittedly weird and kind of bullshit) two cents on the matter by examining each of them through the lens of jungian psychology (hence why i said it’s kind of bullshit—i’m not believer in jung's theories, i just find psychological archetypes interesting). more specifically, i believe jecht and braska each represent different stages of a jungian archetype known as the anima.

the anima is an archetype that is already present throughout the game’s narrative, anima being the name of seymour’s aeon—a fitting reference, given that anima is seymour’s mother. as it applies here, however, the anima not only represents a man’s perception of women, but it also represents a man's more "feminine" qualities (and while i don't agree with ascribing personality traits to gender, jung and all those other kooky old psychiatrists did, so we'll just have to roll with it for this analysis, unfortunately). more specifically, i think braska embodies a fully integrated anima, whereas jecht embodies a rejected anima.

what does that mean?

integrating one's anima, according to jung, means accepting and embracing the more traditionally feminine aspects of oneself (for instance, the ability to be nurturing, sensitive, emotional, etc.), as well as ridding oneself of the guilt associated with doing so. braska, being as shamelessly emotionally available, nurturing, and mature as he is, seems to have achieved just that. even his design borders on androgynous, his large, petaled robes concealing nearly all of his body.

jecht, however, very clearly has not. he rejects anything even remotely traditionally feminine within himself, even at the cost of his relationship with his son. as such, he is egotistical, lacks emotional maturity, and for a large part of braska’s pilgrimage, is incapable of taking responsibility—and, just as braska’s design reflects his relationship with femininity, jecht’s design reflects his own as well, putting his body (and his ego) on full display, emphasizing his muscles and scars.

(obviously, while not every aspect of the anima archetype and its stages of integration apply to jecht and braska, i do think they at least represent the aspects of the theory that affect one's self acceptance and emotional expression.)

as i said before, i think final fantasy x has a lot to say about masculinity—more specifically, toxic masculinity, and how it affects relationships.

the reason i brought up the anima archetype is because it’s relevant to the concept of toxic masculinity; men who aren’t ashamed of expressing traditionally feminine behaviors and characteristics are far less likely to idealize and aspire to toxic, performative masculinity, whereas men who do are more likely to do just that—braska being the former, and jecht being the latter.

jecht’s inability to express vulnerability as a result of how deeply rooted toxic masculinity is in his psyche is a large part of why he and tidus have such a negative relationship. for tidus’s entire life, jecht has ridiculed him for showing emotion (crying) and desiring closeness with him (wanting to learn how to play blitzball)—both of which are things that are often seen in men struggling with toxic masculinity. even ten years after jecht disappeared from zanarkand, tidus is never without that nagging voice in his head, telling him to “stop crying,” or, “you can’t do it, kid.”

similarly, braska’s masculinity also influences his relationship with yuna—unlike jecht, however, braska’s affects their reationship positively. this is because braska, in what little we see of him, is loving, supportive, and unafraid of expressing his emotions. he encourages yuna to live the way she wants to, and reminds her that he will always love her, even from beyond the grave. even ten years after his passing, she still holds him in very high regard, and his undying support is part of what motivates her to forge her own path in life—which is what leads to her and her party defeating yu yevon once and for all.

i don’t really have a conclusion, but i think this interaction between yuna and tidus illustrates just how each of them affected their children:

yuna, for a brief moment, can’t even fathom hating one’s father so, scolding tidus for doing so before she realizes it isn’t that simple. god, what a tell.

braska left such a positive impact on yuna that she went on to defeat the very source of spira’s suffering. jecht left such a negative impact on tidus that, until he sees jecht change for the better in the sphere recordings he finds around spira, is plagued by his memory until the day he fades away.

god. what fascinating and layered contrasts these two have!

[meangreennunseen]

Thinking about both of my Primarch daughters and their lives and the more I think about them, the more I am questioning who has shittier existence. Tho I guess in a way their existences mirror painful ones of their parents in specific way.

Medea in general did not deserve everything which now lays on her shoulders. She was a child when her planet was destroyed, her mother died, but not before using her psyker powers to transfer the vast knowledge accumulated over millenias only High Priestess was allowed to possess to her only child. The still fragile mind overcharged with insane amounts of information so much, Medea fainted, instead of dying, just because she has Primarch genes. After that child was laid down into special stasis sarcophagus which had to preserve the life of the last High Priestess of Prospero.

Even so, Medea was woken up once her stasis sarcophagus was found on random planet ravaged by war. Once cracked open back on Terra, Medea was hushed into fighting and yet no matter how much she done for Imperium in short span of time, she still was known as daughter of Traitor Primarch, Princess of Daemons or heretical mutant standing against doctrine of what Imperium now lived by. No matter how much hope Medea has or how much she tries it is never good enough, so Idk how long it is until that daughter turns to chaos worship...

Cornix has no less painful story. She was the most genetically accurate duplicate of her Primarch Father in comparison with rest of Primarch children, even to the point where rumors spread that Corvus had Cornix genetically engineered by his own image. Which wasn't true, but Primarch never revealing truth about mother of his child to anyone did not help to slow down the spread of misinformation.

Anyways, Cornix's life was harsh since she drew first breath. She has disease lots of Kiavahr-born children have, tho her case is lucky one just because of Primarch fast regeneration gene. Even so she came to this world through blood, death and pain and those feelings have stuck in her excellent, abnormal memory she also inherited. Nevertheless, maybe her Father knew of the fate Emperor already decided upon her and this is why he trained Cornix in ways of Primarch of XIXth legion, maybe he didn't and it was just a natural way how parenthood hit him, but Cornix grew prepared and very early showed abilities which could easily in time rival her own Father.

Tho no one is allowed happiness in the way how I develop stories, because Corvus took harsh decision to cast his daughter off to obscure planet. Some say such out of the character decision for Primarch, might have been due to Emperor's own conditions, but since that day forward Cornix' survival depended solely on her own abilities. Which she did succeed at, but with ton of mental and physical trauma. Also not to mention Cornix's apparent death added a lot of mental anguish towards already fragile mental state of her Father after his Astartes' mutations ravaged Raven Guard legion. News of his daughter dying in World Bearer's bombardment while they pulled back into the Eye after loss of Heresy, completely broke Corvus and he entered his one year seclusion, before departing into Eye of Terror to dedicate his life to hunt the traitors.

So yeah. I create innocent children OCs and fuck them up completely as adults. Fits Warhammer40k at least...

[catihere]

"Aelia "Ella" Carissa Jackson-Grace" Clarissa sounded annoyed as she gently placed the baby in Chris's arms. Chris gripped her tightly, trying a little awkwardly to hold her small head. His forehead seemed to be covered with perspiration, the girl was so warm and soft, fragile and for some reason her warmth seemed familiar… "I thought until the last moment that Prissy was joking when he said that he would name the baby after me," Clarissa smiled remembering how she and Percy, absorbing a kilograms of mint ice cream, half jokingly, half seriously went through the middle names for Aelia. Chris was half listening to his girlfriend [the bride-to-be, the velvet box in his pocket was heavy and so pleasant], his attention was completely stroked by Percy's newborn daughter - the folds of the blue department parted to reveal the baby's tiny face. She was angelically pretty and looked like Jason-blonde hair, face shape, nose, lips, but her forehead, chin and cheeks belonged to Percy. Chris wondered what her eyes were like, were they the color of sea waves or electric blue? As if he sensed his question, she opened her eyes and looked at him, Chris froze and he did not know if his face expressed his emotions. The girl's eyes were steel-blue, bright and calm, kind. And so familiar. He saw that look when Kore quickly kissed him on the forehead, covered herself with a veil and ascended into the palanquin. Then Alabaster and Ethan closed the silk curtains and Chris never saw her again. Chris exhaled, warmth spread in his heart and bending down, he pressed his lips to the girl's forehead. Her warmth was familiar and pleasant, the one he occasionally allowed himself to miss. "Bluebell lived a good and long life, she remembered you... she died basking in the sun and I burned her wrapped in your cardigan, the one you gave me for her". The girl cooed as if gratitude, Chris felt tears in his eyes. She really deserved a second life.

I finally gave her a full name :]

Aelia, which has Greek and Latin origin, means "sun", "sunlight", "solar heat". Her sunny name is symbolic and metaphorical - she is the sun of a new, happy and prosperous chapter in the life of her parents.

Carissa - Greek name for "belover" and "grace". It was given to her for two reasons, firstly, Jason and Percy love their daughter so much so that they even show it with her name, secondly, it is consonant with the name Clarissa - Clarissa is her godmother and Percy's close friend.

For her nickname Ella, I chose the meaning storm, and it is given to her in honor of the harpy Ella, because she is useful and valuable. Besides, she is a passionately loving aunt.

By the way, a small spoiler - part of the Delphic oracle is still with Kore/Aelia, she will begin to remember her past life and it will be Chris who will be with her and help her parents.

And you can send me questions about it :) even with small spoilers ;)

@kore-pythia-hayashi

AAAAAHHHH??

AAH?

My heart? My soul? 🥺

The level of detail in this and the word choice is amazing. I’m saying it genuinely. The build-up to Chris realizing that this was his old friend made me squeal and gasp and kick my feet like a little kid. You really are a great writer.

I love the idea of Chris and Clarisse being extremely close to Percy, Jason and their daughter even after all the time that had passed. How did you guess that I’m a sucker for Percy’s and Clarisse’s friendship? You’re in my brain by now, I swear-

I also absolutely love how Chris guides little Aelia as she grows up, mirroring the way Kore aided him in the war days. Their friendship is really special, so much so that it overcame death and fate itself. (Gotta thank Nico and Will for that) I love them so much.

Lastly, I see how much thought you put into choosing a name for her. Aelia Carissa is very meaningful and suits her well. You really love your girl and it shows :) (Are you Jason? Is her father writing this to me? /hj)

I love this AU, and I’d really be interested in finding out more about what happens to Aelia as she grows up, and how Alabaster might have ended up in the meantime how he dealt with grief, with the idea of Kore’s reincarnation being a mere promise to him. Should I message you with my questions, or can I send you asks related to this story?

[argentrenard]

Gif Source

@Junelezen 2024 4th Day Prompt: Departure

The caravan was about to leave. Argent wasn't on it.

Instead, the young Elezen, about 20 years old at this point in his life, was still in the field with the caravan leader's daughter.

"Why are you going to Limsa?" she asked, picking out a dry twig that had caught in the unruly lad's jet black hair.

He grunted, "For… work. I've been assigned to a ship. Have to meet the… Captain."

His fingers were tracing her back lazily as she lay on his chest.

"My…" she sounded in awe, and he felt a pang of sudden guilt that he had seduced her so readily. She seemed a bit innocent, and it had felt so easy. Then again, this was his first solo mission away from Master Riata and the Favor. He deserved a little freedom and fun, didn't he? She was her own person, and could make her own decisions, couldn't she?

“It will be so crazy to be married to a sailor! I can't wait to tell Papa!"

Uh oh.

"Stars! I forgot! We should be on the road already! He's going to be so mad!"

She started gathering up her clothes at a frantic pace, gave him a giant kiss and a hug that nearly took his breath away, told him they'd talk to her father together tonight when they made camp, and rushed off, flushed, exhilarated, and expectant.

Argent sat alone for a time, twirling the twig in his fingers.

He could… take the next caravan. He gathered up his own things and dressed more… slowly.

"A departure from your usual, isn't she?"

A familiar deep voice rolled across his back as he was bent over his pack. He tensed and whirled around.

The shaved head and dark skin of the highlander behind him seemed to soak up the sun, for the darkness around him wasn't going anywhere. This was Master Riata's usual approach to everything. Stand there until anyone resisting gave up and either acquiesced or went around him.

And it was very difficult to go around Master Dal Riata.

If his mentor and keeper was anything, he was unmovable. He looked so now, as well as entirely disapproving. It made the young Elezen tense. He hated when the Master was disapproving. Couldn't he just get mad and yell and throw things like normal people?

"What are you doing here, old man," Argent threw at him, using it like a stab that would hurt but knowing the man would not even twitch in reaction at the label. The man wore a black three piece suit to the Thanalan desert, after all. Nothing phased his view of reality and how things should be.

"This was to be your first mission. Alone. Did you honestly think we wouldn't have you watched?"

Argent caught the other shadows now, stepping out from behind trees, standing up from shrubs. He ground his teeth, his fury rising.

"Did you enjoy the show then? Take notes? Goodness knows you have no idea what pleasure sounds like. Hope you and the team had a fun spy on me. That poor girl would be mortified if she-"

Dal's hand raised up, palm flat and leveled in his direction. It was still enough to shut him up instantly. He seethed, but it was hard to break how he had been raised. Conditioned.

"This 'poor girl' you seem to care about so is already on the path to the mortification of the heart when she realizes you had no intention of anything but a fling. Besides. We kept a respectful distance during… that, and did not… watch you. Despite what your perverted mind may think. If you had paid more attention to your training you never would have thought of that about the Favor."

His hands bunched. Squeezed. Red marks from his nails were surely being left on the pads of his palms.

"Well, why the hells are you here?"

His mentor sighed, "You aren't ready. You won't be departing on the mission. You are staying here. Another six months of training."

Argent was livid, he sputtered, "WHAT? But I've been studying the Captain for weeks, I know just how to-"

It was Master Rita's turn to be angry now. However, his anger was cold. Unshakeable like everything about him. A slow-moving iceberg of righteous fury that would crush everything in its path.

"You will be silent."

The words from the older man even made the others glance nervously between each other and take a step back. Argent, his conditioning once again kicking in, swallowed back his outrage and frustration.

"You had a very specific mission. You were not to dilly dally, nor break any hearts, not draw attention to yourself. This simple action in a field has now not only delayed you, it has tipped the scales of what you do. You have hurt this girl, even though you are too immature and self-centered to realize it. Thus, you are not ready. Six more months of training. Come, kit."

His Jailor turned, and Argent seemed to snap.

"No," He said through gritted teeth.

Without turning around, Dal breathed out a curious and somewhat surprised, "What was that?"

"No. I'm done. I want to be free, live my own life! I'm done with all of this, and you and Balthazar can take your money and aaghhhh-"

Pain racked him. It was a familiar pain, one he had dealt with for years now, but it still always hurt. He could never make it stop hurting. It was pain that just knew where he was most vulnerable, and squeezed that. It made him feel like his heart was about to burst. It filled his lungs and made his eyes sing with agony. It was the pain of the soul. They had his, after all. He'd signed it away, thinking he could convince them to let him get away with whatever he wanted, eventually.

So far, it hadn't worked out quite as he'd planned.

He came out of it, panting, to hear himself saying, "Stop-please-alright whatever you say I'll do it just make it stop, I'll be good, just stop, please."

He was being held by Dal, who had a cool hand on his forehead. He was making quiet, soothing sounds, "I am sorry, my boy. I hate when your contract does that to your disobedience. It doesn't have to be this way if you would just stop fighting. Can you not just stop fighting me? Fighting us? For once? We have your own interests, everyone's own interests, at heart. Can you not see that, after everything I've tried to teach you?"

Argent looked at him through slitted and sullen eyes. Eyes that burned with frustrated hatred. He said nothing. He couldn't speak, still shaking and recovering from the pain that always hit when he was determined to run away. To leave. To disobey.

"Come. Let us depart. I should have known you wouldn't be ready anyway. This is really my fault. You just seemed so eager, I thought it would be good to finally get you out. Soon. But not… yet, it seems. Come on, son."

He helped lift him up. He was so strong, it was unnerving. However, the minute Argent was able to stand on his own two feet, he jerked away harshly.

The older man nodded, as if this was expected, and motioned to the team who fell into step around them.

Rubbing his elbow, Argent looked at the caravan just over the hill. He only really saw dust in the air. His one chance to finally get away on his own, and it had been stolen from him. All because he had… just been lonely.

He turned around and walked without looking where they were going, his head down. He had started the morning in ecstasy, but that feeling had long since departed. He was left with resignation, pain, and a burning desire to be finally free. He'd get there. He promised this to himself silently. It only caused a minor twitch of pain. It was what he was used to.

The group headed back to the city. Eventually, the caravan left, taking with it Argent's brief feeling of excitement. It only took a few hours for the crossroads to appear empty as if no one had ever been there. All traces of the travelers eventually completely departed.

[onestormeynight]

The Middle

B, Ricky and little Sam showed up shortly after Rosie. Lily was nowhere to be seen and no one seemed to feel the need to comment on it. Rosie shot her father a few looks hoping he could pick up on the question she was screaming in her mind. At first he was determinedly eating his dinner before accepting defeat and looking at his daughter.

"You have something you want to ask, Rosalie?" He said, a little annoyed.

"Where is Lily? This is the second holiday in a row you're with us and not her."

Ricky shot Penny a look. "She gets that from you, you know."

Penny shrugged. "There are worse qualities."

"You might as well answer, my dude," B said through a mouthful of food. "They'll never let it go and the vibe is weird. Just make it not weird, guy."

Blair poked around at her food, not saying anything with her mouth but everything with her face. She, too, wanted to know where Lily was.

"Lily and I are getting divorced and I moved back in with my parents." Ricky sighed, shoving an irritated bite into his face. "I really don't want to talk about it, if that's okay? Rosie, don't you have a boyfriend? Where is he?"

"Boyfriend only stops by if he has time at the end of the day," Penny said. Blair gave her wife a look over the table. "Robin, fine, Robin stops by."

"He's skiing with his family," Rosie said. "I'll see him in a few days."

"Blair, how's the painting going?" Rosie asked.

"Not terrible, I have show coming up in the new year in Henford-on-Bagley. A few of the pieces have already sold, but I still get to show them before they go to their new homes."

"You should come," Penny said. "All of you, it'll be fun. "

"I should be back from my programming convention by then," B said.

"How's that going, B?" Ricky asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine. I won the Norbert Wiener award last month."

Everyone at the table stopped. "What?" Penny choked out.

"I mean, like, yeah. I made this like, program for one thing, you know? I was just like, vibing with some filtering and search coding and when I finished it I thought it would do a lot of good for one or two of the departments at the FBI."

"Aunt B?" Rosie said.

"Yeah?"

"What do you do for work?"

"Oh, yeah, so like, I have a doctorate in computer sciences. I do freelance programming."

"Is this your first award?!" Penny gasped.

"No. It's wild, I think this is like, number three or something? It's pretty rad."

"AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME?!" Penny snapped, both happy for her best friend and entirely irritated she didn't share this information with her in the last 17 years. "Are we even friends!?"

Blair looked around the table at her friends and family. She had never really had much of a family. Children hadn't really occurred to her; meeting Rosie had showed her how much she enjoyed the idea. Or maybe she just loved Rosie. B had always been very welcoming of her and she'd even grown fond of Ricky over time. Her heart was so full of joy and love. She knew that she would die happy.

((prev)) ((next))

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 9)

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, discussions of trauma and mental illness; reader discretion advised.

18+ ONLY this chapter contains sexual content.

Part 8

Hermione and Ron’s daughter, Rose, Harry and Ginny’s son, Albus, and Rosanna and Draco’s son, Scorpius, are all born within three months of each other. Rose is the oldest, followed by Scorpius and finally Albus.

All of their children remain close growing up, their lives forever entwined. But the three of them are truly inseparable.

Years pass, Harry is head of the auror department, spending a fair share of time with Draco. His partner of sorts, after Ron left the ministry, to join Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione succeeded Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister for Magic.

For all intents and purposes, Rosanna still works interrogations. But truly she's a floater; she goes wherever they need her.

A twelve year old Rose, blows out her birthday candles, making a wish as everyone cheers. Hermione has a few tears in her eyes.

"Alright presents, presents for the birthday girl!" Molly takes her job as grandmother very seriously.

"We have loads to open. Ron, cut the cake for us, will you?" Hermione presses a hand to her husband's back.

"Yeah, Ron. Cut the cake for us!" Not two, but four voices sound in unison. Fred and George Weasley have always been especially fond of the Malfoy twins, and vice versa.

Molly eyes them fondly, yet in warning.

"This one's from me!" Hugo holds up the parcel, proudly. "And Mum and Dad."

Rose moves the present to her ear, shaking it with a smile.

"Sounds like-" Scorpius leans closer.

"We're here! We're late! We're sorry, Rose!" Leo rushes into the room, boyfriend Henry in tow. The blonde leans down, kissing Rose's head.

Rose reaches back and offers an awkward sort of hug. "Thanks for coming, Leo. I know you're busy."

"Never too busy for you." Leo is jet lagged, coming off a huge win, as seeker for the Holyhead Harpies. The all female team is headed for the Quiddich World Cup, for the first time in history.

"It's my fault, I'm always slowing her down. The muggle airports are a nightmare!" Leo’s boyfriend, Henry, is a rather tall, lanky man, with chestnut curls that spring freely about his head. As it turns out, squibs can't travel far by apparating with a witch or wizard. So when they travel long distance, it's by plane.

"Tell us about it." Helen, Hermione's mother understands completely.

"Anytime we go on holiday, security is barmy! They on flagged me because I forgot about my shoe buckle. They checked our luggage twice and we missed the entire flight." Hermione’s father, chimes in.

The conversation sparks Arthur's interest. In his humble opinion, muggle endeavors are more interesting than most magical ones.

Leo sets a large rectangular box near the growing pile at Rose's feet with a wink.

"What is it?" Albus inquires.

"You'll have to wait and see." Leo shrugs, ruffling his hair.

The Malfoy's are known for their extravagant gifts. This stems largely from Draco's upbringing. Gifting is his love language, Rosanna is showered in jewelry and clothing and handbags. Their children are no different, it is their father's way of showing just how much he adores them.

Rosanna accepts graciously and encourages others to do the same. This is particularly hard for Ron. Who for the longest time, thought Draco was just boasting about how wealthy he was.

The other children twiddle about, watching the gifts unwrap.

"Stop, James!" Polaris swats the boy's nagging hand away. He’s been tugging at her white blonde hair.

"Well if your big head weren't in the way." James remarks with wicked grin, giving another tug on her locks.

"Quit, James, I'm serious." Polaris pulls the end of her ponytail over one shoulder.

"No. I'm Sirius, James Sirius." He is a shameless flirt.

"That isn't funny, you must realize that." Vega scowls.

"Don't be so hard on him, he's trying." Roxanne, Angelina and George's daughter, remarks. "Can't all be blessed with the funny gene."

————————————————————————

When things are good, they’re good. But when it rains, it pours.

Rosanna stomps toward her husband's office. Fuming down the hallway, past her coworkers with the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, clenched in her first.

Draco's door opens for her, on command, "sweetheart." He greets, from behind his desk. A bit of green apple still trapped between his teeth. “What’s happened?"

Rosanna slams the paper down onto the desktop, hand trembling as she does. "He can't go in September."

Draco sighs, skimming the front page. 'Desperate for male heir, Draco Malfoy acquired a time turner to have wife impregnated by He Who Shall Not Be Named. Scorpius Malfoy, son of the dark lord and Rosanna Malfoy is set to attend Hogwarts this coming fall.”

"It's too wordy, Skeeter has lost her touch." Draco shrugs, brushing the paper aside.

"Scorpius can't go to Hogwarts." Rosanna wraps both arms around herself.

"Of course he's going. Come off it." Draco can feel a throb take up in his left temple.

"Did you read what she said?” Rosanna's tone verges on hysterical. "What she's implying-"

"Is as disgusting as it is far fetched." Draco says, dismissively. "No one's going to believe this rubbish."

"You don't understand." Rosanna shakes her head, making to leave.

Draco stops her, leaning his body heavily against the door, blocking her exit. "Enlighten me." He taps her temple twice, before resting his hand against the side of her neck.

She fills his mind with hushed whispers and sideways glances. The apologetic smiles from members of her department, snickers and sneers from the last man brought in for questioning.

"You'd never do it for him, you know?" The man scoffed, teeth rotting out of his foul mouth. "You reek of desperation and remorse. You're pretty poppet; but you're weak. The dark lord couldn't get up for you."

"That's just ridiculous," Draco mutters, as they finally break apart. "Any man could get up for you."

"This isn't a joke." She snaps. "What if the other kids, or their parents see this and think-"

"No one who's anyone is going to believe this." Draco says again, softly. "He's been waiting to attend Hogwarts for years. We can't keep him home."

"What are we going to tell him?" They can shelter him at the manor. In their small group of friends, but not forever.

"We're going to tell him what we've told him a thousand times. People say things about our family that are vile, and moreover untrue." Draco understands this is hard, he knows she's frustrated. But they're on the same side and he doesn't want to fight.

"Rita's been saying Scorpius wasn't yours since he was born. But this...is the worst. How could she think that he-"

"Hush, love." Draco draws her into his chest, swaying her gently. "Scorpius is a wonderful, loving, smart, compassionate boy. He's our boy, and he's good."

————————————————————————

The months leading up to their youngest child's departure are torturous. They speak about the war, the parts they played. How sometimes they worked with opposing forces, but truly they always fought for each other. A vague rundown of their prophecy, briefly touching on the blurred lines they'd crossed while Rosanna was under the imperius curse. They mention Hermione's torture, the final battle, how choosing Harry allowed him to win.

Presenting their son with his own copy of their autobiography. "Through Love And By Love" by Draco and Rosanna Malfoy, was on the required reading list for seventh years.

Although he wouldn’t be reading it for sometime; each of their children was given a copy with their dedication on the first page.

'For Leo Selene, our every dream, the light at the end of the tunnel, and inspiration to write this story.'

'For Arlo Cressida, our reason to seek healing, the hope for a better future, and inspiration to share this story.'

'For Vega Juniper, our next chapter, the first half of our double trouble, the world is a better place for having you in it.'

'For Polaris Athena, our moving forward and second half spitfire, you burn as brightly as the star for which you are named.'

'For Scorpius Hyperion, our proof that history does not always repeat itself, and that things will get better; no matter how impossible it seems.'

Scorpius runs his fingertips over the scripture, "I know why you're worried about me. But I'm your son," he says, proudly. "If you can survive all of that," he clears his throat, "I can survive being called names."

"Some people suck," Rosanna tells him, leaning forward to take his hands. "Don't let them get under your skin. Always remember who you are."

"You'll have Albus and Rose there with you." Draco tacks on, "Your sisters too, if you need them; James, Teddy-"

"I know Dad," Scorpius cuts off his father with a lopsided grin.

Rosanna pulls back, before she bursts into tears. "You want some tea?" She runs a hand over Draco's hair.

He turns, slightly, kissing the inside of her wrist. "Tea would be nice."

————————————————————————

"Did you get the talk too then?" Rose asks, aboard the Hogwarts Express, after their parents and the train station have disappeared from view.

"You mean the birds and the bees? Yes, I did. It was awful, thanks for reminding me." Scorpius frowns.

"No, not that talk." Rose rolls her eyes.

"You mean about the Wizarding war?" Albus asks his cousin.

"Exactly...you in particular, Scorpius. How are you doing?" She puts her hand over his.

"I'm fine, Rose." He stammers, "it's weird though, my looks favor my Dad. I'm surprised no one's said she's not my real Mum."

"Everybody knows Skeeter's a tosspot." Albus shrugs. "And that's besides the point, if any of you are fathered by you know who, it's Polaris." The girl is a nightmare in her own right.

"Then Vega too, by default." Rose says disapprovingly. "They are identical twins; that means one embryo divided during-"

"Don't you think he's suffered enough without thinking about his Mum's embryos?" Albus scolds his cousin.

Scorpius smiles, "thanks, Al. What'd you say we try our luck flagging down the trolley? I want to try the chocolates."

————————————————————————

Arlo leaves her train car and Ravenclaw roommates, to wander down and check on her brother. Peeking through the glass window at her youngest sibling, having a laugh with Rose and Albus. The seats around them full of empty sweet wrappers.

She's about to knock and get his attention, when someone startles her.

"Is he someone I should know?" A burly, dark haired, boy asks. His door pulled open behind her.

"Excuse me?" Arlo turns quickly, it's not a voice she recognizes, heavily accented and deep.

"You are the third one to look in." The boy motions to Scorpius. “Is he special?"

"I guess that depends on who you ask," she shrugs. "He's my kid brother. I have three sisters, two are still students, we're supposed to look out for him."

"He is special then." The stranger nods.

"You're not from here." Arlo says with a smile. It's a breath of fresh air, meeting someone who has no clue what sodding Rita Skeeter and the Daily Prophet, has been saying about their family for years.

"What gave me away?" He laughs, flashing her a blinding grin.

"Well for starters, you've got a smidge of an accent. Any relation to Bulgarian Bon Bon, Viktor Krum?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Bulgarian Bon Bon?" He's never heard the term.

"Never mind, it's just a thing-" she shakes her head.

He grins. "I am Marko Petrov."

"Arlo Malfoy." She extends her hand for a shake.

"Nice to meet you, my Arlo." The tall man takes her hand gently, pressing his lips to the back.

"Just Arlo," she stammers, breathlessly.

"I will learn." He takes a step back, bowing his head.

"Honest mistake." Arlo waves away his concern, "so what brings you to Hogwarts?"

"My mother passed away three years ago." Petrov explains.

"Oh, I’m sorry."

"My father’s new wife was teaching in Bulgaria. But her home is here." Marko tells his new found friend.

Arlo nods.

"Now we’re here." His voice is pleasant. The longer he speaks, the more Arlo wants to listen.

"I've gotta get back to my friends. But you can come sit with us, if you want." Arlo offers, waving him back toward her seat.

"What about your brother?" The transfer student asks.

"Scorpius is fine." Arlo assures him, he hasn't even noticed her standing in the doorway; for what was, at this point, an obscene amount of time.

"Scorpius?"

"We're all named after stars and constellations," Arlo explains. "It's kind of stupid, but it's a thing."

————————————————————————

Over the next few days, Draco and Rosanna receive daily letters from their children. Knowing from past experience, that they will die down after the first month.

"We have another Slytherin." Rosanna shakes the parchment at her husband as he lounges on the couch. Feet propped up on the coffee table, reading over a case file.

They had a Gryffindor, then a Ravenclaw, another Gryffindor and finally a Slytherin with Polaris, now again with Scorpius.

"Shall we head down to Diagon Ally and pick up him up a few robes?" The man is grinning at the news, taking the note to read for himself. "We can make a day of it."

"Sure, I'm gonna hop in the shower quick." She kisses the top of his head.

Rosanna loves his hair, she always has. So when he came to her, three years ago, and asked how she felt about him letting it grow out; Ro was all for it.

‘See if you like it, if not, cut it off, it's only hair.' She laughs, stopping him from agonizing over the prospect any longer.

Now it hangs well past his shoulders.

Draco sets the letter aside, venturing up the stairs to their washroom. He can hear the steady stream of the water, over Rosanna's singing. She has quite a pleasant voice, thick and sweet like honey.

He opens the door, stripping off his clothes. They haven't had a shag in the shower for years.

Rosanna hears rustling outside of the, sliding, glass door. Popping her head out. "Baby?"

"Who else?" He chuckles.

"Alright, smart ass, you wanna piece of me?" Rosanna arches a brow at him.

"Actually," Draco half smirks, "yes I do."

"You're a pervert, Malfoy, has anyone ever told you that?" She watches her husband step inside.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it, Malfoy." He slides the door closed behind him, trapping in the warm air.

Rosanna smiles, with a shake of her head. "What if I don't?"

Draco tips her chin up, her eyes locked on his; burning with desire. Swiping his thumb over her bottom lip. "Shall I go then? Since you don't appreciate my advances."

"No." Her breath grows shallow, as he backs her against the tile wall.

"Better choose your words more carefully, my darling. Someone might get their feelings hurt." The corners of his mouth turn upwards.

She nods, mouth suddenly dry.

Draco blinks at her expectantly. "Why don’t you tell me what it is you want?”

"You." The confession slips past her lips, easy as breathing. "I want you."

"Care to be a bit more specific?" He nuzzles his nose against hers. "Seeing as I already belong to you in every way imaginable."

"I want-"

He moves his leg between hers, pressing against the apex of her thighs. "What?" He pulls back, when her lips search for his.

She whines, squirming against him. "Draco."

"You're not very articulate today, sweetheart.” The man taunts. "Shall I go first?"

"Yeah, that'd be good." Ro says, lips parted, slightly.

"I want to fuck you, against this wall. I want your fingers twisted in my hair, tugging and releasing, because they can't decide which pleases them more.” His voice is hypnotic, intoxicating. "I want your lips against mine, when you can't be bothered with kisses and just whimper until you cum. I want you to remember what it feels like to have me so deep inside that your pretty little cunt is sore. I want you full with my child, again." Draco purrs against her ear.

Oh. She mulls over his proposition while sliding the elastic band down hair. Fanning it out to frame his face, as best she can. "Yes, please."

"Please, what?" He murmurs, over the warm spray of the water.

"Please, fuck me." The cheeky little thing guides his mouth to hers.

"And what of my other request?" Draco inquires, if she says no, he'll cast the sodding protection charm; he needs to be inside her.

"Do it.” She agrees, “now.”

"You've never been one for delayed gratification. I've loved that about you since I was a boy." Draco confesses, sealing his lips over hers and lifting her up so that soft legs wrap around his waist.

Rosanna moans into his mouth, as his length fills her. "Shit, baby," her head thunks against the shower wall.

Draco sucks bruises into the exposed skin of her neck. Moving to her nipples with the same suction, one hand pressed against her back, keeping her arched toward him.

"You are so lovely," he whispers. "All mine."

Rosanna tugs his hair, pulling him back up to her. "Yours," she sighs, contently, against his lips.

His hands grope her bum, greedily. Thrusting harder, brushing against the spot that drives her mad.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." She chants like a prayer, nails raking over his pale skin.

"I love you." Draco replies, because there's not a proper word for how he feels about her. So he settles for love. Making her cum twice and swallowing her breathy whines.

“Fuck,” she begins to protest as his nimble fingers snake between them, teasing her sensitive clit. “Draco.”

“Cum on my cock again,” he orders.

“Please,” she whimpers, not entirely sure what she’s pleading for. The coil in her lower belly tightens, the sensation almost painful.

“Hush, my sweetheart.” He doubles the speed of his ministrations, guiding her lips back to his. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

Colors explode behind her eyelids, release washing over her in searing waves, never seeming to wane.

Draco follows her over the edge. Where you go, I go.

————————————————————————

The paper’s headlines remain cruel. Granting no clemency.

'Bandaid baby to mend Rosanna and Draco Malfoy’s crumbling marriage."

'Leo Malfoy to wed squib, further besmirching bloodline.'

'Arlo Malfoy's suspected teen pregnancy with Bulgarian transfer student.’

'Vega Malfoy caught snogging roommate Arlene Fischer.'

'Polaris Malfoy attempts woo James Potter, nearly one year her junior.'

'Scorpius Malfoy, son of the Dark Lord and Rosanna Malfoy, sorted Slytherin.'

———————————————————————-

The children return home for Christmas. Rosanna pops in to say goodnight to each of them. Her second oldest daughter being the last stop. "Arlo, can we talk?"

She cuts her mother off. "I'm not pregnant."

"I know." Rosanna assures her. "I'm sure you're being safe."

Arlo sits up, motioning for Mum to join her on the bed. "We're not... doing that. I'm not ready. No offense, but I don't envy you. Having a kid right now- I don't think I could do it."

"You could, if you had to." Rosanna tells her, softly, "you think you can't. But somehow you just do."

Arlo offers her the brush, off of the bedside table. Turning so that her mother can braid her hair, like when she was a little girl. "Didn’t it ever piss you off? That you couldn’t finish school or do what you wanted?"

"Before I had Leo; I worried I wouldn't be able to bond with a child that I wasn't ready to have. But when she was born I understood. All those plans, goals, dreams, the things I wanted… didn't matter to me anymore. Because I was holding the entire world in my arms, she became my dream, she was everything I wanted. I felt the exact same way each and every time I held you. I wanted you, more than I wanted anything else." Rosanna begins weaving soft tresses into a fishtail braid.

"You're a good Mum." Arlo tells her, just in case she doesn't know.

Rosanna gives her shoulder a squeeze, "I'm trying."

Arlo relaxes into her mother's calming touch. "I'm meant to read the book this summer. It's on the required list."

"I can talk to Head Master McGonagall, if you need more time. I'm sure she will make an exception." It isn’t meant to be a burden on any of their children.

"I had Marko read it early. He said it was a good read. He didn't realize that you wrote it actually, I had to explain it to him." She’s become quite taken with her Bulgarian boyfriend. "Anyway, he has some questions. I think I probably will too. After I'm finished, do you think it’d be alright for us to sit down with you and Dad...and talk?"

"Yeah, of course, we can do that." Rosanna secures the elastic at the end of Arlo's strawberry blonde plat. She leans forward, kissing the back of her daughter's head.

"One more thing." Arlo catches Rosanna's wrist. "You said, in your dedication, that I was the reason to share your story. I think that's beautiful, but why me?"

"A lot of people expected different things after the war. They expected me to take Leo and leave your Dad. They expected me to press charges and send him to Azkaban. They expected me to lean heavily into my friends, because they were 'good' and the Malfoy's weren’t.” It's hard to think back to that dark time, after the war. When the world was quite literally in shambles.

“There was a moment of panic. How could we stop pretending like nothing happened; but at the same time let people know I was ok. I wasn't with your dad because of a curse, or a prophecy, or because he was the father of my child. I was with him because I love him. That was the story I wanted to tell; and I wanted to tell it for you. It never really stopped the media circus or the side ways glances. But you deserve to have all the facts in one place." Rosanna twists her hands in her lap, restlessly.

"Didn't you ever want the glory?" Arlo wonders, turning to search Rosanna's eyes.

"For a long time I thought I was going to die, that your dad was going to die. I thought I'd never see my parents again. Or my friends,” Rosanna tells her daughter. "Being here, married to your dad and getting to see my friends happy, with kids of their own, watching all of you grow up together. That is the glory for me."

"And your card comes inside the chocolate frog box." Arlo reminds her.

"That's pretty cool too." Rosanna laughs.

Part 10

[bohemian-nights]

Sorry if I derailed your post about Nettles I tend to be in a minority opinion about every possible ship-I’ve never even seen my personal take on Alyssmond. I do think that Daemon is fascinated by Nettles and is infatuated with her I just don’t think that he’s capable of loving her or anyone really. Maybe Viserys or Laena in the book. I realize that many people think Daemon is hot stuff but I just don’t get the appeal

No, you didn't derail since it was on topic. Yeah, I get having a problem with the ships of HOTD or not exactly shipping them completely. As far as Nettles and Daemon go I wouldn’t say that your opinion is a minority opinion. Most people in the fandom don’t believe that Daemon actually loved her.

They think he either used her for a good time, he groomed her, or she is somehow his child(adopted or biological which is weird because fathers don’t bathe with their grown daughters, but this fandom is weird and moronic at best). So the opinion that Daemon loves and legitimately cares for Nettles with no ulterior motive is actually the minority opinion.

The general consensus before the show was that he loved Laena the most out of all of his wives(her death scene is very touching in the book).

However, after they partially race-bent Laena, the people behind HOTD proceeded to crap all over her character and her importance to Daemon which gave Daemyra stans(who were also next to nonexistent before the show) the go-ahead to say Rhaenyra was the love of Daemons life despite choke gate and the lack of supporting evidence from the book🙃

Now as far as the Daemon being incapable of loving anyone besides Viserys and Laena in the books(and I guess because he never physically assaulted her she’s still technically his most beloved wife in the show) this is where I disagree with the majority of the fandom.

Daemon did love Nettles. I say this because when push came to shove and he would have defended her life at the expense of his own:

Daemon did not have to save her seeing how the orders in Rhaenyra’s letter only pertained to Nettles.

He could’ve easily told Maester Norren to call in the goons and do with Nettles as they wished. She’s a poor penniless girl. Her head is wanted by the queen, his wife. No one is going to miss her, and you said it yourself, Daemon is not a benevolent guy.

He has ordered the murder of a literal child who was his great-nephew. He murdered his second wife’s uncle in the books despite his love for her.

He could’ve abandoned Nettles the moment she became an inconvenience, but he chose to draw his sword and possibly facedown all of Lord Moonton’s men rather than abandon her to the wolves.

Of course you can counter and say that “well Nettles wouldn’t be in this situation if Daemon hadn’t slept with her in the first place so of course he spared her,” but a. You would be taking away her own agency(because despite what this fandom says according to GRRM she’s a grown woman) and b. Once again Daemon would not just save someone at the expense of his own life when he gain’s absolutely nothing from it.

Lastly, even the people at Maidenpool(Lord Moonton’s brother) make note of how much Daemon cares about her:

Not to mention Caraxes, who shares an emotional bond with Daemon, screams, when Nettles departs from him:

So going against fandom consensus, based on all the evidence, I do believe that Daemon genuinely loved Nettles. For that reason, while yes Nettles could do better, she is with a man who loves her to the point where he would lay down his life so that she can live.

I do have my theories on why people(not necessarily you because you yourself said that you have unpopular opinions on multiple ships) are so reluctant to admit that Daemon loved Nettles, but at this point, I feel like I’m repeating myself.

I’ll just end this by saying that it’s due to the fact that Daemon leaves their (white) Valyrian queen for a “lowly” Black woman. Aka misogynoir(anti-Black racism + sexism directed at Black women) once again rearing its ugly head.

I'd really like to say it's more complex than that, but this is the same fandom where you have people throwing a fit over Nettles being in the show:

Upset that she's being aged up because they wanted to see her being raped and groomed:

Upset that she's wearing a dress(if the woman in the blurry photo is her):

People are already calling her ugly even though we can barely see her face:

And even upset that people like Nettles in the first place:

This treatment happens a lot in fandoms when there are Black women involved with a male fave or even when she deigns to exists and be an actual character. By a lot, I mean every single time., Most recently with The Bear, but also with other media like Marvel, Sleepy Hollow, and Star Trek.

Stitches blog is a goldmine on fandom misogynoir so I’d highly suggest everyone check it out.

With Black women characters it’s always “They could do better” or “They don't need a romantic arc” if they can’t use the first excuse.

When you say these statements you are venturing into putting Black women back into a very narrow box of characterization that limits her because in shows, movies, books, etc. Black women traditionally are rarely positioned as the love interest. Not to mention how often times these statements are made by the very same people who ship white couples with the same dynamics as the ship with a Black woman

Case in point, I had someone get mad at me for shipping Shuri and Namor(from Black Panther), not because Namor kills Shuri’s mother Queen Ramonda, but because Namor, who is 500 years old and basically immortal, is “too old” for Shuri who is only in her early 20s:

They said this to me even though they shipped TenRose, a Doctor Who ship where the 10th Doctor is 900(sorta immortal) to Roses 19 🙃:

Are Daemon and Nettles perfect? No, but it's a nice change to see a Black woman in media being cared for which is why I find it irritating when people try to deny Nettles a full story arc and instead want to make her into Rhaenyra’s sidekick/sexless pet.