#not the other two tho those are Not complicated

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

my favourite trilogy of video games is “games banned from r/nocontext bc regular gameplay in it is so fucking insane you could post the whole subreddit there” aka crusader kings 2 rimworld and dwarf fortress. crusader kings 2 is a medieval strategy game that focuses on maintaining your political dynasty most which leads to absolutely insane shit like repeated incest and murdering infants being literal routine gameplay bc. yeah kings back then married cousins and assassinated babies all the time. and it edges out it’s sequel bc you can do shit like make the pope a horse or take over the world as aztecs with the dlc. rimworld is a space colony simulator designed to basically be a story generator first and foremost and as such allows you to do wild shit like make human meat farms and give babies hard drugs on the off chance you’re either evil or desperate and the event ai is very good at making you consider some extremely vile shit out of desperation. and dwarf fortress is. honestly at this point it’s easier to list what dwarf fortress Isn’t than what it Is and what it Isn’t is anything remotely approaching sane and reasonable.

and like i love them bc they’re not, like, weird shock value shit. they’re extremely in depth simulation games that entirely through emergent gameplay very easily can lead to you doing extremely fucked shit bc there’s so many intersecting mechanics at play and they can be hard as shit. like there’s other games that are banned like isaac but that’s a game that inherently has unavoidable fucked shit everywhere (and it’s great, go play isaac) you Can theoretically play these three in a way that’s entirely moral and upstanding quite easily. but they’re so fucking wild you end up committing horrific atrocities and not even realising until like a hour later when you consider murdering babies is kinda messed up regardless of the gameplay benefit. 10/10 genre i get why there is like three main ones bc it’s an insanely complicated feat to pull off that needs both an extremely wide amount of content with an equal amount of depth which means you’re looking into decade long production cycles with inevitably messy ass code few are successful but the final result is so good. 10/10 would genuinely start to question my own morality after playing again.

[nostalgia-tblr]

What do English people call a close? You know, the stairwell bit where all the flats are in a tenement? If you go to visit someone at their flat, what do you call the bit where you wait for them to answer their door? That communal stairs… area?

("Modern AUs don't require research" MAYBE IF YOU'RE ENGLISH THEY DON'T 😭)

[haven-gum-rockrose]

going through it lately. and by it? i mean absolutely nothing actually.

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been having a rough few days, but I’ve been feeling a bit better so I decided to make some lil thingies for some spiraling upwards kitties :3

[helluvahotmess]

i hope this isnt the only millie-centric ep we're getting. like i hope she gets more eps and they arent just associated with her relationship with moxxie

[beggars-opera]

On the road leading into the center of Concord, Massachusetts, there sits a house.

It is a plain, colonial-style house, of which there are many along this road. It has sea green and buff paint, a historical plaque, and one of the most multi-layered stories I have ever encountered to showcase that history is continuous, complicated, and most importantly, fragmentary, unless you know where to look.

So, where to start? The plaque.

There's some usual information here: Benjamin Barron built the house in 1716, and years later it was a "witness house" to the start of the American Revolution. And then, something unusual: a note about an enslaved man named John Jack whose epitaph is "world famous."

Where is this epitaph? Right around the corner in the town center.

It reads:

God wills us free; man wills us slaves. I will as God wills; God’s will be done. Here lies the body of JOHN JACK a native of Africa who died March 1773 aged about 60 years Tho’ born in a land of slavery, He was born free. Tho’ he lived in a land of liberty, He lived a slave. Till by his honest, tho’ stolen labors, He acquired the source of slavery, Which gave him his freedom; Tho’ not long before Death, the grand tyrant Gave him his final emancipation, And set him on a footing with kings. Tho’ a slave to vice, He practised those virtues Without which kings are but slaves.

We don't know precisely when the man first known only as Jack was purchased by Benjamin Barron. We do know that he, along with an enslaved woman named Violet, were listed in Barron's estate upon his death in 1754. Assuming his gravestone is accurate, at that time Jack would have been about 40 and had apparently learned the shoemaking trade from his enslaver. With his "honest, though stolen labors" he was then able to earn enough money to eventually purchase his freedom from the remaining Barron family and change his name to John, keeping Jack as a last name rather than using his enslaver's.

John Jack died, poor but free, in 1773, just two years before the Revolutionary War started. Presumably as part of setting up his own estate, he became a client of local lawyer Daniel Bliss, brother-in-law to the minister, William Emerson. Bliss and Emerson were in a massive family feud that spilled into the rest of the town, as Bliss was notoriously loyal to the crown, eventually letting British soldiers stay in his home and giving them information about Patriot activities.

Daniel Bliss also had abolitionist leanings. And after hearing John's story, he was angry.

Here was a man who had been kidnapped from his home country, dragged across the ocean, and treated as an animal for decades. Countless others were being brutalized in the same way, in the same town that claimed to love liberty and freedom. Reverend Emerson railed against the British government from the pulpit, and he himself was an enslaver.

It wouldn't do. John Jack deserved so much more. So, when he died, Bliss personally paid for a large gravestone and wrote its epitaph to blast the town's hypocrisy from the top of Burial Hill. When the British soldiers trudged through the cemetery on April 19th, 1775, they were so struck that they wrote the words down and published them in the British newspapers, and that hypocrisy passed around Europe as well. And the stone is still there today.

You know whose stone doesn't survive in the burial ground?

Benjamin Barron's.

Or any of his family that I know of. Which is absolutely astonishing, because this story is about to get even more complicated.

Benjamin Barron was a middle-class shoemaker in a suburb that wouldn't become famous until decades after his death. He lived a simple life only made possible by chattel slavery, and he will never show up in a U.S. history textbook.

But he had a wife, and a family. His widow, Betty Barron, from whom John purchased his freedom, whose name does not appear on her home's plaque or anywhere else in town, does appear either by name or in passing in every single one of those textbooks.

Terrible colonial spelling of all names in their marriage record aside, you may have heard her maiden name before:

Betty Parris was born into a slaveholding family in 1683, in a time when it was fairly common for not only Black, but also Indigenous people to be enslaved. It was also a time of war, religious extremism, and severe paranoia in a pre-scientific frontier. And so it was that at the age of nine, Betty pointed a finger at the Arawak woman enslaved in her Salem home, named Titibe, and accused her of witchcraft.

Yes, that Betty Parris.

Her accusations may have started the Salem Witch trials, but unlike her peers, she did not stay in the action for long. As a minor, she was not allowed to testify at court, and as the minister's daughter, she was too high-profile to be allowed near the courtroom circus. Betty's parents sent her to live with relatives during the proceedings, at which point her "bewitchment" was cured, though we're still unsure if she had psychosomatic problems solved by being away from stress, if she stopped because the public stopped listening, or if she stopped because she no longer had adults prompting her.

Following the witch hysteria, the Parrises moved several times as her infamous father struggled to hold down a job and deal with his family's reputation. Eventually they landed in Concord, where Betty met Benjamin and married him at the age of 26, presumably having had no more encounters with Satan in the preceding seventeen years. She lived an undocumented life and died, obscure and forgotten, in 1760, just five years before the Stamp Act crisis plunged America into a revolution, a living bridge between the old world and the new.

I often wonder how much Betty's story followed her throughout her life. People must have talked. Did they whisper in the town square, "Do you know what she did when she was a girl?" Did John Jack hear the stories of how she had previously treated the enslaved people in her life? Did that hasten his desperation to get out? And what of Daniel Bliss; did he know this history as well, seeing the double indignity of it all? Did he stop and think about how much in the world had changed in less than a century since his neighbor was born?

We'll never know.

All that's left is a gravestone, and a house with an insufficient plaque.

[tom-hodges]

kuzmenko, quinn hughes, and matthew tkachuk

this answer does not surprise me lmao, im happy to be predictable <3

[synthshenanigans]

I wanted to give my ideas/interpretations into this cos i find yours very interesting :0

Tho mines on the opposite end with it a bit. [None of this is like, dissing your interp btw i just wanna also see how different ideas of Soul can be]

I agree that Soul doesn't like Heart & Mind, but that it's during most of TSE & The Bidding. I feel like they couldn't all ever be whole if any of them really hated the other or anything.

Most of his anger comes from the fact that throughout the first half of the album, Heart & Mind either push him to the side or only view him as a vessel or something to control. Which makes sense to be angry at the people that don't view you as your own person. Soul is especially hurt by it since he's all about the Self & Identity. “You must be so arrogant to think that either of you can control The Soul so wholly when to be one whole you can’t hold solely” rlly says that to me.

[This is from a different rant i was going on once but it also fits here]

And the only reason he ever wanted to kill either of them is when he starts to think that they're all never going to get better & he doesn't wanna be in this state of Cacophony anymore.

The entire stanza from “See how the brain plays around” to “Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me” is Soul admitting he has no idea what to do or how to fix this and it just keeps getting worse. And as he has that breakdown, Heart & Mind ignore him completely and still only care about proving the other wrong. Which is finally when Soul gives up completely and starts to think that there's no point to keep going anymore. [The line “Heart Mind Slay Soul” from Dream(OfC) also rlly shows how, although unintentionally, the two of them are pushing Soul too far and in turn killing him which gets him to the point of Tridential Regicide. Which the next lyric in Dream, “Blood falls Threefold” foreshadows]

The entire last three stanzas show how apathetic Souls become now & he more or less says that if we can't ever be whole then there's no point in us living. Which then goes into The Bidding. Soul gives the two one last chance to again state their problems & to have the other respond with some sorta feedback that isn't just them yelling an insult at the other [Even if the problem seems like an insult].

And when both of them still continue fighting, Souls lines are “Time is short, life even more yet you wage this silly war. Going twice, Going thrice. Guess this means we'll tie the rope today”. Him now having completely given up and, tho my interpretation, is likely about to die. Seeing that even when told that they have one last chance to live, Heart & Mind still refuse to fix anything.

Tho at that LAST SECOND do the two halves panic realizing how far everything's gotten do they finally talk about their problems properly, not fight back against the other, & actually sing in harmony.

I wish the album went into more of the fact that Souls' answer to everything was like…death. Which is not a good answer obviously. Tho it might just be due to the metaphor for the album & that Vol. 1 is mainly Heart & Mind centric [Soul technically wasn't a character still the upload of Two Wuv I believe so makes sense why he doesn't have as much as M&H. Sucks but it just happens when the story is actually made once almost half the album is out. Not CJs fault lol]. Tho its makes me very interested in what Vol. 2 could do since all characters & story will be brought into it fully now. But that's not happening till way way later.

Soul is a very interesting character to me tho & I like seeing others ideas of him, so I like yours a lot

Soul Hates Heart and Mind: A Message To The Chonny Jash Fandom (which dives into theory territory near the end)

Sorry guys, but I don’t see enough people talking about this, or enough fics that acknowledge this, so just in case I have to remind you:

You do remember that Soul… doesn’t like Heart or Mind, right?

No, seriously. He calls them parasites in The Soul Eclectic, is borderline forcing them to try and become Whole again (that one part of The Bidding), and he’s clearly only giving them the time of day because they’re the key to making him Whole: something that’s only important to him because it would basically kill them.

Not to mention, he also fucking sends death threats to them on a daily basis- death threats that he would absolutely carry out if doing so wouldn’t also kill him. Hell, at the end of The Soul Eclectic he plans to do it knowing it would also kill him.

If Heart’s problem is that he’s too emotional for his own good, and Mind’s is that he’s an arrogant jackass who bottles up all his emotions and judges people, then Soul’s is that he’s too obsessed with the past.

He doesn’t like what’s happened to his head, he wants things to go back to the way they used to, and he takes that anger out on Heart and Mind because it’s easy for him.

Hell, I’d say it’s not a bad theory that the only reason why Heart and Mind want to be Whole again is because Soul keeps telling them they have to.

And when Vol. 2 comes out… I think it’d be a pretty good plot twist that that obsession is what started the fighting in the first place.

So with that said… out of all three of them, who deserves it most? Who must pay the toll?

Not Heart, nor Mind, but the Soul.

[yuri-is-online]

I swear Ace is such a softie for Yuu.

Imagine Yuu gets lost in new cities so often that, when they go with Vil to that event where they go shopping (I forgot the name), Ace holds Yuu hand/blazer so they don’t get lost.

And it happens so often they don’t even bat an eye, they just let Ace guide them. It’s so cute.

Azul and Jamil are judging with their bombastic side eyes tho.

Jamil knows Ace is in DE-NILE.

BRO the Taipas Rogue event has such a slice of life shojou set up for all of the guys but especially aceyuu.

Jamil knows Ace is into Yuu because he sees how they interact, dating would be less complicated than whatever it is they have going on. It would make basketball practice that much more bearable for everyone involved if Ace just admitted he was Yuu's boyfriend. Hell Jamil probably thought they were actually dating and just keeping things secret from Riddle until he said something to that effect and got "corrected." I could see Jamil being somewhat sympathetic? assuming he takes the second to think about it. Being vulnerable sucks and if Ace really was dating Yuu that could bring the both of them a bunch of unwanted attention. What he doesn't get is the lying to yourself bit... not even he does that.

Azul has suspicions about Ace's feelings from his little time blackmailing having him under contract, and he did keep note of it. Love presents an excellent opportunity to the consultant, but in order for there to be an opportunity the person sort of needs to admit it? There's not much Azul can do to take advantage of Ace or Yuu when they're already so close they might as well be dating all the while lying to themselves and others. It's so beyond his understanding at this point... I could see him observing them as a sort of experiment.

The two of them might find it pathetic but I could see Vil being completely fine with it. There's nothing wrong with taking things slow and enjoying the way your relationship is for now. Good things come to those who wait, and Vil is angling for a seat at the wedding party table lol

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 4

Authors Note: I am personally loving this series, so I really hope you guys are too. Thank you for all the kind words about this series so far. LOVE YOU <33

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Y/n continues training with the first-years, while Gojo grows increasingly protective of her. In order to become more useful, y/n works hard at developing her cursed energy into a cursed technique. With this development comes more complications with those suspicious of y/n and the forest incident. 

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.1k

Warnings : Seggusal tension increasinggggg, nothing else yet tho hehe.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

There was darkness all around, an oppressive weight that felt like it was closing in. 

Your breaths came in short gasps as you ran, feet pounding against the wet earth, but no matter how fast you moved, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following you. It wasn’t a person—at least, not entirely. 

You were back in the forest.

You stood up, looking over your shoulder to see a man standing behind you. Dark and intense cursed energy oozed from him. You couldn’t breathe, as if there was something blocking your airway. 

Clawing at your throat—gasping for breath—you started running away from the mysterious man. 

Suddenly, your foot caught on something, and you fell hard into the mud. Then, a piercing pain immobilized you—it felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

When finally managed to open your eyes, you saw him again. But a bright light cast a shadow over his face. 

That's when you felt it. 

A dark manifestation of cursed energy. It crackled like electricity, twisting and coiling around your arms, burning through your skin.

You screamed, trying to shake it off, but it only grew stronger, surging through you with a force you couldn’t control. It was inside you, seeping out, and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t stop. 

Your eyes shot open.

You were back in your room at Jujutsu High, breathless and disoriented, heart still pounding in your chest. The nightmare clung to you for a few seconds before dissolving like smoke, leaving behind only the sensation of that cursed energy—the one you still didn’t fully understand. 

You sat up in bed, a cold layer of sweat coating your body. Who was that? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to remember anything from that nightmare. But it all faded away.

It was just a dream—but it felt real.

—

After a night of no sleep, you decided to head out and begin training. Gojo had mentioned he wanted you to begin training early today. Since your flare of cursed energy at the graveyard, you were both somewhat eager to see what else you could do. You had to figure out a way to gain some sort of control over your situation. 

The sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the outdoor training grounds with a soft, golden hue. 

You stood with your feet planted firmly on the dirt of the outdoor arena, eyes closed as you tried to focus. It was early, and the others were allowed to sleep in today because of their work last night on exorcising the curses at the graveyard, so it was just you and Gojo training for the next hour.

“Eventually, your cursed energy will manifest itself into a technique. Which will be the main way you can use it to fight curses.” Gojo explained as he typed something into his phone. 

You nodded, but at your core, you didn’t know if you could do this. 

You could feel his arrogant attitude from where you stood in the training arena. “Try not to blow up the place, alright?”

Rolling your eyes, you had scoffed at him. But, as you stood with cursed energy swirling aimlessly around your fingers, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated. 

It was still so unpredictable, and each time you tried to harness it, it either fizzled out or spiralled into chaos. 

You didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“Okay, come on,” you muttered to yourself, taking a deep breath and stretching out your fingers as you centred the energy into your palm. 

The cursed energy crackled like static against your skin, bright blue sparks shimmering along the edges. Your brow furrowed in concentration. But just as quickly as it flared up, the energy dispersed with a soft pop, leaving nothing but a faint tingle in its wake.

“Dammit,” you whispered under your breath. Your frustration beginning to grow.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Gojo’s voice floated over, his footsteps light as he approached. He had a knack for appearing at just the right (or wrong) moment, and it wasn’t surprising to see him standing a few feet away with that infuriatingly calm smile on his face. “Takes time to control it.”

You glanced at him, wiping the sweat off your brow. “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere with it.” 

You had been out here, trying to harness your cursed energy into something useful since sunrise, which must have been hours ago.

“You’re getting somewhere,” Gojo said easily, crossing his arms as his blindfold caught the glint of the sun. 

His voice dropped into that familiar teasing tone. “Besides, it’s not every day I get to see you all frustrated like this. Kind of cute, actually.”

You huffed, feeling a flush creep up your neck at his direct comment. Turning away to hide your embarrassment, you snapped, “You’re annoying, you know that?”

He chuckled, a low, amused sound that seemed to reverberate through the air. “I’ve been told that once or twice.”

He had this way of making everything seem effortless, yet there was a deeper, almost imperceptible layer of concern that you couldn’t quite understand. 

You caught him watching you more often now, his usual playful demeanour occasionally replaced by an intense seriousness that made you wonder what he was really thinking.

There were moments, fleeting and unexpected when you found yourself lost in thoughts about him.

His confident smile, the way he casually teased you, and even his serious side, all seemed to draw you in—and there is no denying he has got to be one of the most gorgeous men you’d ever se—What the hell am I thinking about right now, focus!

You quickly brushed these thoughts away, a mix of embarrassment and practicality pushing them to the back of your mind. 

Focus on the training, you reminded yourself. There was enough to worry about without adding complicated feelings into the mix.

The weight of needing to be useful, to prove yourself, was heavier than anything else on your mind right now. 

You took a deep breath, focusing your mind on the cursed energy swirling within you. Concentrate, you told yourself. Control it. Let it become strong.

With renewed determination, you concentrated the energy into your palms.

The familiar blue light began to glow, a vivid hue that seemed to dance around your hands. You lifted your arm, aiming towards the wooden target set up at the other end of the arena.

Gojo watched you intently, his usual smirk replaced by a look of genuine interest. You could feel his gaze on you, a silent encouragement that urged you to push through.

You narrowed your eyes at the target, summoning every ounce of concentration you had.

The cursed energy built up, a palpable force in your hand. When you felt ready, you released it.

A beam of cursed energy shot out from your palm, faster than a snap of your fingers. The beam struck the wooden target with explosive force. 

It shattered into splinters instantaneously, the impact sending debris scattering across the field. Blue flames erupted from the point of impact, scorching the ground and adding a dramatic flair to the display.

You watched with a mix of pride and relief as the target was blown to smithereens, the blue flames sizzling out quickly. The energy buzzed in your hands, a testament to the progress you had made.

“Wow, y/n…” Gojo said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine admiration. You smiled wide at his reaction. 

He walked over to you, playfully clapping his hands. But, your smile immediately fell into a tired frown when he spoke, “That was way stronger than I expected from you. Plus, I thought you’d miss.” 

“Well, aren’t you encouraging.” You replied harshly. “Glad you’re always rooting for me.” You said flatly as you turned away from him, setting yourself up to try again. 

As you caught your breath, still feeling the residual pulse of cursed energy, you heard footsteps approaching. Yuji, Nobara, and Maki—came into view, drawn by the commotion.

Yuji’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, his mouth dropping open in awe. “Whoa! What happened here?”

Nobara’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, her usual teasing demeanor replaced by genuine interest. “Looks like y/n’s been busy. What was that?”

Maki raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “That’s some impressive cursed energy control.”

Gojo took a step back, giving the group a sweeping gesture with a flourish. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present y/n’s newly developed technique. Quite the show, huh?”

Yuji bounded forward, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was amazing, y/n! I knew you had it in you!”

Nobara grinned and clapped her hands together. “Awesome! Now we can really go at you in training. Even Maki’s impressed, and that’s saying something.”

Maki gave you a nod of respect, her usual tough exterior softened by genuine admiration. “Nice work.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the lingering flush of satisfaction. “Just trying to keep up.”

The group continued to chatter, their enthusiasm and encouragement a welcome change from the tension you’d been feeling.

As you joined them, the atmosphere lightened, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax, enjoying the camaraderie of your peers. The fears that were previously stuck in your mind faded away. 

Gojo stayed close, his gaze lingering on you with an unreadable expression. Even amidst the laughter and conversation, there was an air of unspoken understanding between the two of you. 

That morning’s training had revealed more than just a new technique—it revealed that you could help, and that maybe, just maybe, everyone at this school wouldn’t see you as a burden.

—

Later that day, after you had spent hours training and sparring with Megumi and Nobara, you found yourself walking through the corridors of Jujutsu High, still thinking about your nightmare. You remembered that you had seen someone in your dream, but all details were blurred, like a lake on a windy day.

As you turned a corner, you almost collided with Nanami, who was making his way to the principal’s office.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered, stepping aside quickly.

Nanami glanced at you with his usual unreadable expression. “No worries, y/n. My fault.” He gave a small nod of acknowledgment before continuing on his way. 

You watched him go—you didn’t know much about Nanami, but the other students spoke very highly of him. 

Something about the atmosphere around the school felt off today. There was an underlying tension you couldn’t quite place.

Deciding to brush it off for now, you headed back to your room, where Gojo was patiently waiting, leaning against your doorframe. “I’m starting to think you’re stalking me,” you teased, crossing your arms as you walked down the hall.

He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I’ve been accused of worse things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I need to talk to you.” He looked serious for a moment, something unusual for him. “Okayy…” You responded awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“The higher-ups are paying more attention to you now." He said bluntly, his tone flatter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat, your body tensing at his words. “What do you mean, paying attention to me?”

Gojo let out a soft sigh. “Your cursed energy’s growing stronger. They’ve noticed. And when the higher-ups notice something they can’t explain, they don’t like to just let it slide. It’s quite annoying actually.” He threw his head back a bit in annoyance. “There’s this old bald guy who likes to hold grudges—mostly against me—and you’re my student.” 

You felt a lump form in your throat as his words settled in. The higher-ups were interested in you? 

"So... what does that mean for me?"

Gojo tilted his head a bit. "It means they're getting more suspicious. And if they can't figure you out, they’ll want to dig deeper.”

He hesitated for just a second before his smirk returned, “I gotta start bringing you on every mission. I kind of have a thing against these old folk, so I want to stay in between you and them.” 

You stared at him, your mind spinning. Going on missions with Gojo? The idea felt both thrilling and terrifying, and you weren’t sure if you should feel relieved or even more anxious. "You’re really serious about this?" you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Gojo held up a finger and put his other hand on his hip. "Yep! So you should definitely polish up your cursed techniques.” You rolled your eyes at him, but he spoke again before you could respond.

"Don’t forget though, I am the strongest—If the higher-ups want to watch, fine. But they’ll have to do it from a distance."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation settling on your shoulders. The idea of being watched, of being tested again—it made your skin crawl. 

But at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the strange comfort you felt knowing Gojo would be there.

—

The next day, you found yourself back at the training grounds with the rest of the group. The air felt heavy with the anticipation of something unspoken, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. Megumi and Yuji were already stretching out, and Nobara was talking loudly about some new shoes she had bought. 

Gojo was already there when you arrived, leaning against a tree with his usual lazy grin, but his posture was more rigid than usual. Something was clearly on his mind.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Gojo’s voice broke through the chatter, and the group gathered around, exchanging glances.

“Today’s focus is control.” Gojo’s smile widened as his eyes flicked to you, the challenge clear. 

“We’re going to see just how well y/n can manage her cursed energy while under pressure. And by pressure, I mean you guys.” He flashed a pair of finger guns towards you and the others. 

Your heart skipped a beat. It was no secret that you had struggled with control until recently, and Gojo had been pushing you harder lately. 

As the sparring matches began, you found yourself paired with Nobara. Her cursed tools were sharp and precise, and you knew she wouldn’t hold back. 

You summoned your cursed energy, focusing it into your palms. You had yet to figure out any way to use your cursed energy defensively, only on the offence. 

She was too quick for you—you couldn’t load up your technique, just dodge her nails. 

“Fuck,” You breathed, sweat now dripping down your forehead. 

You managed to get a single strike aimed in her direction. She blocked it, although not with ease. 

Quickly after this, Nobara lunged at you, and you couldn’t dodge it. You lifted a single hand in font of your face to block her, and a shimmering barrier of cursed energy appeared in front of you, freezing Nobara in the air. It held up for a few seconds but then broke apart—Nobara falling in front of you. 

“You’re getting better,” Nobara said, a grin pulling at her lips, as she stood up. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to beat me.”

You smirked, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins. “Oh, I plan to.”

For the next several minutes, the two of you exchanged blows, your cursed energy crackling and swirling around you. 

Each time Nobara attacked, you deflected with that shimmery barrier you created, feeling more in control of your abilities than ever before. 

But with each success came a growing sense of unease. 

The cursed energy wasn’t just responding to you—it was almost like it had a mind of its own, reacting to your emotions, amplifying with each surge of frustration or excitement.

From his vantage point, Gojo observed you with a mixture of amusement and admiration. It was impossible not to be drawn to the way you approached your training—there was a fierce determination in your eyes that spoke volumes. 

But it wasn’t just your training that captured his attention. There were moments, fleeting and unguarded, when you flashed him a smile—an expression of triumph or frustration. Those smiles, so rare and genuine, had a way of lighting up your face and sending a jolt of warmth through him. 

Sometimes, when you spoke to him, your voice had a certain edge that made his pulse quicken—a mix of sass and sincerity that he found both endearing and electrifying.

The way you carried yourself—your smile, your eyes, your voice—had an effect on him that went beyond mere admiration. 

Just as you were about to launch another attack, Gojo’s voice cut through the air.

“That’s enough.”

You and Nobara stopped, both panting heavily. You glanced over at Gojo, who had his arms crossed, his blindfold covering his eyes but not hiding the fact that he had been watching you intently the entire time.

Before you could respond, Yaga appeared at the edge of the training grounds, his face as stern as ever.

The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted. He hadn’t been around much since you’d arrived at Jujutsu High, but whenever he did show up, it was usually for something serious.

“Gojo, a word?” Yaga said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Gojo sighed, his usual lighthearted demeanour slipping. “Go on without me,” he said to the group, and then to you specifically, “Try not to burn the place down.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tightness in your chest remained as you watched Gojo and Yaga disappear into the main building.

Nobara nudged you lightly, breaking you from your thoughts. “What do you think that’s about?” she asked, her voice casual but her eyes glinting with curiosity.

You shrugged, trying to play it off, though your heart raced with unease. “Who knows? Maybe they’re finally realizing how much of a pain Gojo is,” you joked, earning a loud laugh from Nobara, though your attempt at humour fell flat to your own ears.

—

Meanwhile, inside the main building, Gojo leaned casually against the wall, his blindfold still firmly in place, arms crossed in a posture that suggested nonchalance. “So, what’s so urgent, Yaga? You interrupt my valuable instructor time?” Gojo quipped, though his tone lacked its usual lightness.

Yaga didn’t bite on Gojo’s attempt at humour. His face was grave as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “There’s been word of a new curse user. Someone powerful. Too powerful to go unnoticed for long.”

Gojo straightened up slightly, sensing the shift in tone. “And?”

“And the higher-ups—specifically Gakuganji—are starting to grow suspicious,” Yaga continued. “They think this curse user might be connected to y/n.”

At this, Gojo’s easygoing facade cracked. His posture stiffened, and a dangerous gleam appeared behind his blindfold. “Those idiots think y/n’s involved? Based on what?”

Yaga sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how they are. Always looking for someone to blame. Her cursed energy’s been growing steadily, and they can’t make sense of it. Then, suddenly, this curse user appears on the radar, causing havoc—Gakuganji’s convinced there’s a link.”

Gojo was silent for a moment, processing the information. His fingers twitched by his sides, itching for action, for a way to cut through the bureaucracy and protect you. “Y/n has nothing to do with this curse user,” he said, his voice hard and certain. “You know that, and I know that.”

“But Gakuganji doesn’t,” Yaga countered. “He’s old, set in his ways. He’s convinced himself that there’s something wrong with her. The more her cursed energy grows, the more paranoid he gets.”

Gojo clenched his jaw, frustrated but not surprised. “What’s the plan, then? Are they going to monitor her, restrict her movements? Or do they want to go further?”

Yaga frowned, folding his arms. “They haven’t made a decision yet, but it’s clear Gakuganji wants answers. He’s pushing for a formal investigation. If he can convince the other higher-ups, it won’t be long before they take action.”

Gojo’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “And by ‘investigation,’ you mean dragging her into their games, pushing her until something breaks.”

“Exactly,” Yaga said grimly. “They’re not going to let this go. And if this curse user causes more damage, they’ll be looking for someone to pin it on.”

Gojo’s eyes darkened behind his blindfold. His protective instincts surged as he thought of you, how unaware you were of the storm brewing around you. He wouldn’t let them touch you—not when he could do something about it.

“So what do we do?” Gojo asked, his tone dropping, serious.

Yaga glanced at him, the unspoken weight of the question hanging between them. “I trust you, Gojo, but you need to be careful. You’re the only thing standing between y/n and Gakuganji right now. If he gets too suspicious, even you might not be able to stop them from acting.”

Gojo scoffed at Yagas statement. “Yeah right. Not even that old man could stop me, you know that too.” He pushed off the wall, his posture shifting back into the easygoing persona he used like armour.

—

After training, you were left feeling restless. The sparring match with Nobara had gone well, but the growing power inside you felt unsettling. You needed to clear your head, and sitting still wasn’t an option. 

The sun had just set, and you were wandering the grounds, the quiet evening air a welcome distraction from the many issues swirling in your mind. But just as you rounded a corner near the principal’s office, you caught sight of Gojo and Nanami standing just outside, their voices hushed but intense.

“I don’t trust the higher-ups on this,” Gojo was saying, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “There’s more going on here than they’re letting on.”

Nanami frowned, his arms crossed. “And what do you plan to do? Defy them openly?”

Gojo shrugged, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your heart raced as you ducked behind a nearby wall, straining to hear more.

“They want her under observation,” Nanami continued, his voice low but firm. “There are too many unanswered questions about her cursed energy. If they find something they don’t like, it won’t end well.”

Gojo’s voice dropped even lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s why I’m keeping her close. I’m not letting them pull any stunts.”

Nanami was quiet for a moment before responding, “Just be careful. If you go too far, you’ll be putting both of you at risk.”

Gojo let out a soft chuckle, though there was no real humour in it. “Since when am I not careful?”

Nanami shot him a pointed look, and Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep it subtle. So serious, Nanami.” And with that, you heard one set of footsteps leave, trailing down the hall.

You pressed your back against the wall, your mind racing. The higher-ups were investigating you? And Gojo—he was protecting you from them?

You weren’t sure what to think. 

The idea that the higher-ups were interested in your cursed energy wasn’t surprising, but the fact that Gojo was actively shielding you from them sent a whirlwind of emotions through you.

Before you could process any further, Gojo’s voice floated through the air again, this time with that familiar teasing lilt. “You can come out now, y/n.”

Shit.

Your heart nearly stopped. How had he known?

Reluctantly, you stepped out from behind the wall, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flush creeping onto your cheeks. “I wasn’t eavesdropping!” you said quickly, though the weak defense only made your face heat up further.

Gojo’s smirk was pure mischief as he slid his hands into his pockets, his movements leisurely and deliberate. “Oh? Then what were you doing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words died in your throat as Gojo stopped right in front of you.

He towered over you, his presence was overwhelming in the dim light. With one finger he held his blindfold up slightly to reveal those sharp, piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about this stuff?” he said softly, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. The way he spoke made your pulse quicken.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted, his tone lighter but still firm, with an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you’re overthinking it.”

His proximity was intoxicating. 

You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath so close that it made your heart race. The way he looked at you, so intensely and with that hint of a smirk, made you lose your train of thought.

Every glance, every touch, every teasing comment he made set your nerves on fire. But you tried to keep your composure. 

“I just want to know what’s going on,” you said quietly, your voice betraying the emotional turbulence you felt. “Why are they so interested in me?”

Gojo’s expression shifted, and for a brief moment, the playful facade dropped.

He took another step closer, you felt his breath on the top of your head as he spoke, “Because they don’t trust you. 

You felt your breath hitch at the closeness, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

“Okay, and why are you so involved?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of emotions surging through you.

Gojo tilted his head, his lips curling into a teasing smirk as he gazed down at you, his voice low and almost intimate. "Do I need a reason to be involved?" he murmured, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

Your pulse quickened as you searched his face, trying to decipher the meaning behind that statement.

He always did this—danced around the edges of something deeper, leaving you guessing, wondering if there was more to his teasing than just playful banter. 

But right now, with his proximity overwhelming your senses, it felt different. More intense.

“I think you owe me one,” you whispered firmly, trying to keep your voice steady, though the closeness made it nearly impossible. “A real answer.”

Gojo’s smirk faded slightly, his expression shifting into something more serious, something that sent a wave of heat straight through you. 

His hand brushed the side of your arm as he lifted his hand up to hold the back of his neck, his fingers lingering just long enough to send a spark through your skin.

“Maybe I’m just keeping an eye on what’s mine,” he said softly, his tone both possessive and protective.

Your breath hitched at his words. What the hell was he talking about? His?

There was an unmistakable electricity between the two of you—a pull you couldn't resist, no matter how hard you tried.

“Yours?” you breathed, the word barely slipping past your lips. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, his smirk returning with a new lightheartedness to it.

And suddenly the moment was gone—“Yeah, my student!” 

Your eyes narrowed at him, the sudden shift in his tone turning all the heat that had built up into sheer frustration.

Gojo saw your face and let out a loud chuckle, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he took step back. “Ha! for a minute I thought you were coming onto me there, y/n.” 

His teasing grin was back in full force, and you hated how easily he could do that—toss you from one emotional extreme to another like it was nothing. 

"Oh god, you're insufferable," you muttered, dramatically rolling your eyes and putting your hands on your hips. You were annoyed at him, but it was hard to stay that way when he looked so damn amused.

Gojo tilted his head, watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he was waiting for you to react exactly how you did. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He chuckled.

“Whatever, you’re a weird guy, you know that?” You said, although you couldnt help the smile that was creeping onto your face.

Before he could say anything else, you turned away and began to walk in the direction of your dorm room, a knowing smile formed on your lips. “Goodnight, Saturo.” You said; your voice was soft as you waved before turning the corner. 

Gojo stood there, frozen in place as your words echoed in his mind.

Satoru.

The sound of his name on your lips stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t quite define. It was the first time he had heard his name said in such a tone since—since his best friend. 

But from you, it felt different—intimate in a way that unsettled him. His name had never sounded so soft, so gentle, and for a brief moment, he wondered how many other times you’d said it in your head, the way it had rolled so naturally off your tongue just now.

He blinked, the usual playful smirk faltering on his lips as a strange warmth spread through his chest that he couldn’t suppress. 

He could feel his heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years, the steady rhythm skipping just slightly out of sync. What was that? 

His hand twitched at his side, tempted to reach out after you, to call you back, but he hesitated.

What the hell are you doing, Satoru? He thought to himself, shaking his head as if to clear the strange, fluttering feeling in his chest.

Gojo prided himself on being untouchable—in more ways than one. 

No one could get close enough to affect him, emotionally or otherwise, but somehow, without even trying, you were doing just that. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair and letting out a low chuckle to himself.

“Damn, you really are something else,” he muttered, staring at the spot where you had just disappeared from view.

There was no denying it now—you had managed to slip past the barriers he had built, and the realization unsettled him. His mind raced through the conversations, the subtle moments, the looks shared between you two.

And now, something as simple as you saying his name had thrown him completely off balance.

Your voice continued to echo in his ears—Satoru—soft and lingering. 

Finally, he turned on his heel, heading toward his own quarters, though his mind was anything but settled.

His thoughts kept circling back to you—to the way you’d looked at him before you left, the way your lips had curved into that soft, knowing smile.

He cursed under his breath.

This was getting dangerous. Not because of the higher-ups, not because of the curses or the investigations, but because of you. 

You were becoming a distraction—a very dangerous, very tempting distraction.

[quin-ns]

Complicated (Joel Miller x Reader)

Word count: 2.1K

Summary: joel lets the fear of losing you get twisted and ends up pushing you away. he realizes his mistake when you get hurt

Tags: cw: violence (not from joel), angst, fighting, possessive!joel, implied stalking, joel’s bad behavior is mostly ambiguous so take that however it suits you, reader is a badass, injury, hurt/comfort, very complicated relationship, but also humor and fluff (this really isn’t as dark as it sounds I promise), making up

A/N: wanted to try something with more angst for a change. also wanna start exploring joel being a lil darker than I usually write him since he showed that side in the last few eps. not full dark yet tho. I actually weirdly wrote it with a lot of internal humor with the reader.

TLOU masterlist + main masterlist

“Joel—stay away from me,” you warned, jaw clenched and gaze hardened. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to come up with a response. Something that could calm you down and make you just see that he was trying to protect you.

Joel lifted his hands and held them in front of himself, as if he was approaching a scared animal. Or maybe a dangerous one. He silently pleaded with you, the look on his face trying to emphasize his point. I’m not a threat. 

Maybe not at first, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Please, we can talk about this.”

God, did he have to make this harder? “I’m asking you as someone who you care about; please just give me some space.”

Joel’s frown deepened. He was starting to realize he couldn’t get out of this one. “For how long?”

You let out a tired sigh. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Just… leave me alone.” You turned your back on him then, retreating to your apartment in the QZ. 

For the first time in a long while, Joel made no attempt to follow you. 

For a week, you hadn’t seen Joel. Like, at all.

That almost made you more nervous than catching a glance of him once in a while just out an about. 

Being without Joel was an unfamiliar feeling, and a part of you screamed that it just wasn’t right. You weren’t dependent upon him, it wasn't that. You had just become so accustomed to his presence that looking over to your side and finding you were all alone was jarring.

That feeling was extra high as you packed your bag, on your way to meet up with a contact and make a trade.

You looked over your shoulder constantly, kept your hood up, and stayed out of eyeline from the cameras as best you could as you made your way to the meeting spot.

For something like this, you missed Joel. Well, not missed him. You didn’t miss him. It was the smart thing to do, he was getting too overbearing. 

Although, you’d believe that a little more if you weren’t aware of the fact that you were trying to convince yourself.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid those thoughts from your mind. It was just a simple trade. Sure, when you were with Joel you felt safer. You could fight, but Joel could kill. Sure, there was safety in numbers. Being a woman alone at night wasn’t ideal and this was a rough business. And sure, you didn’t recognize the two men approaching you and…

Wait.

Where was your contact? The only way they could’ve found you is because of him (you never learned his name).

“Who the hell are you?” you questioned, hand drifting to the gun on your hip.

“Liam sent us,” one of them said.

You hummed, more so to yourself. So that was his name. “Alright, well, that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the other one said. “Do you have it?”

You relented, but maintained a reasonable level of suspicion. You reached for your bag and swung it off of your back. You pulled out a bag of pills that you and Joel had smuggled in.

Maybe after the deal, you’d split the money with him. Or at least give him a third. Yeah, that was better. You were taking all the risk right here right now.

“You know the price?” you asked, scanning their faces in the dark. It was hard though, you couldn’t really make out any of their features. It put you on edge even more so.

“Yeah,” the same guy said. He slung a backpack off of his back and let it fall to the ground. He crouched down and unzipped it.

As he reached into the bag, a bad energy edged over you. Your instincts were right. The guy pulled out a gun and with no hesitation, he fired recklessly in your direction. Not a single bullet connected thankfully, but this was not a good situation to be in.

“Really?” you asked out loud, annoyed. You weren’t expecting either of them to answer.

The other guy suddenly charged at you, tackling you to the ground. You managed to pull your gun in the struggle, but he knocked it out of your hand. Bastard was strong. 

Thankfully he didn’t have a gun, but the pocket knife he pulled out didn’t look much fun. 

Your heart slammed against your ribcage as you fought against him. His buddy had run off after realizing that his shots had missed. Probably wouldn’t have had the guts to kill you anyway if missing spooked him enough.

The guy you were wrestling against, though, did have the guts. And that wasn’t good news for you as he got the upper hand.

You hardly registered the pain as the stranger's knife plunged into your abdomen. He released the handle as you fell backward, thinking that the blade had done the job. In a quick motion, running on adrenaline, you yanked the knife from your own body and slashed at the assailant as he leaned over you. The blade connected with his neck. 

Maybe he didn’t deserve the death penalty for the attack, but it was you or him. He made that clear. And you weren’t about to succumb to death from some overzealous thug. No way in hell.

Blood hit your skin in heavy drops that slowly became a gush. You heard the thud of his body before you registered his weight on half of your body. You scrambled out from under him, scraping against rocks and dirt as you dragged yourself across the ground and away from your assailant.

You laid on your back and stared up at the sky. There was some light saturation from the QZ, but you were grateful it wasn’t enough to totally erase the stars. You reached down, blindly, trying to cover your wound and put pressure on it.

You let your eyes slide shut for a moment as pain started to erupt from the wound. You heard footsteps and a male voice that sounded muffled by the time it hit your ringing ears.

Larger hands gently nudged yours out of the way as he took over applying pressure to the wound with one hand. 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know who it was, but you did anyway. 

You wished you could’ve been surprised to find Joel kneeling at your side, but you knew him all too well. 

“If you’re gonna stalk me…” you took a heaving breath in. “…you could at least save me quicker,” you wheezed out. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He actually sounded guilty, like it was somehow his fault. Despite everything that had gone wrong, it was a brief reminder that Joel did care for you. Even if it had crossed the line from protectiveness into something darker. Obsession was the word you had used before, when you found out the lengths he was going to in order to keep an eye on you.

“I’m getting tired of you treating me like property,” you told Joel, trying to open his eyes to what he was doing. “It’s like an obsession and that’s not normal. You have to know that.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Joel argued.

You scoffed. “You don’t get to just say that as if it’s a justification for everything.”

Joel would disagree. And that was the problem.

Joel ran his hand up the side of your face, calloused fingers grazing skin until he was able to brush strands of hair out of your face. “I should’ve been here to watch out for you. Should’ve never let you out of my sight.” 

You scoffed out a laugh, the slightest bit of blood trickling from the corner of your mouth. “That’s not the lesson I want you to learn from this.”

“Lesson? Jesus, Y/N,” Joel said, sounding somewhere between offended and dismissive. “I’m gonna lift you now, okay? Take you and get you patched up.”

Joel tucked his arms under you then, hoisting you up. You groaned and Joel carried you bridal style towards the infirmary—you couldn’t be sure where he was going, actually, but it was a good guess. You didn’t want to think about what would happen when the Fedra doctors found out what happened…

The rapidly decreasing adrenaline sent you into a dizzied state. It was like the world around you was spinning incredibly fast and then just stopped. Your ears were ringing and maybe the injury wouldn’t kill you, but fuck did it hurt.

The pain was overwhelming, and your last coherent thought was one expressing gratefulness to your own body for sending you into unconsciousness to avoid dealing with the pain.

That, and registering the scared look on Joel’s face as he watched your eyes slide shut. You hardly ever saw him scared.

You felt yourself coming back to consciousness in what seemed like seconds, but it had more than likely been hours. 

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet, but you frowned a little, trying to go back to sleep. You were laying down in a bed with fresh, clean clothes. And you could tell you’d been stitched and bandaged up.

Joel reached for your hand, his larger one encasing yours. Those sad brown eyes of his watched as your eyes finally fluttered open. You met his gaze immediately and everything came flooding back.

You realized quickly based on a scan of your surroundings that you were in the hospital, not a jail cell. Not even cuffed.

“What lie did you tell them?” you asked hoarsely, throat dry. 

“Half truth, half lie,” Joel revealed under his breath. “Said that you were jumped by a couple of guys, didn’t say why. If they ask you were trying to take a shortcut home and got lost in the dark.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. Exhausted—mentally, mostly. “How screwed am I?” It couldn’t be long before the body was found. Even if it was self defense, the man was still dead.

“Not at all,” Joel told you. Your eyes snapped open. “But since there were no cameras near where you were and the two guys ran off, Fedra may not be able to find and punish them.”

You furrowed your brows as you looked at him. “That’s not right,” you pointed out. 

The lie had rolled so smoothly off his tongue, but you caught it. You weren’t that out of it.

“I know, but there’s nothing we can do. They’ll get caught eventually,” Joel responded. His tone was even, but the way he looked at you… it was a warning. Not in a threatening way, more like he was pleading with you.

Keep your mouth shut. Let me help you.

Of course.

“Well, I always have you to protect me, don’t I?” Your emphasis on the word was bitter. You hated that it was true. He never thought you could look out for yourself and it was like stupid stabby guy intended to prove that true. 

What you really wanted to do was ask Joel what he had done with the body. Had he dropped you off, left, and then come back? You couldn’t ask him with nurses passing by. 

“You handled yourself pretty well, actually,” Joel said it like a confession, pulling you from your thoughts. And oh look, the world kept turning. Maybe it was still a crazy, messy, terribly fucked up world—but it didn’t end simply because Joel admitted you weren’t some helpless damsel.

It could’ve been because he rescued you, or it could’ve been the morphine, but a wave of affection washed over you. Your expression softened You became more presently aware of Joel’s hand overlapping yours. You turned your hand, palm now facing his. Joel’s eyes flicked down briefly as your fingers curled over his hand.

Joel let out a content sigh, like he’d been holding his breath. He held your hand a little tighter after you gave his a light squeeze.

“I was worried about you,” Joel said as if it was some big secret.

You nearly laughed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Joel cracked a smile, which had become rare for him recently. He even let out a small chuckle at his own expense.

“I don’t want to lose you.” The amount of sincerity in his voice left no doubt. 

He had tried so hard to keep you that he caused you to leave. You were sympathetic, you knew he wasn’t a bad guy. He’d done some things that wouldn’t be considered good. There was a difference. In a world like this, there had to be.

“Then don’t,” you replied. You could’ve said more, but Joel understood. He had one last chance and he couldn’t screw it up.

joel taglist: @the-ice-frozen-ground-red-rose @dontphunkwithmylove @cilliansangel @amethystwonders11 @frogsmuahh037 @andy-rocks @melllinaa @alitaar @melanie451 @b00kw0rmsworld @reverieisaway @avengersfan25 @aheadfullofsteverogers @strangeh0rizons @spideysimpossiblegirl

if you would like to be added to the joel taglist just send me an ask or a message!

[momentomori24]

Surprisingly, hearing Vox and Val technically (I love how technically needed to be added) aren't dating didn't upset me as much as I thought it would. It did... for like a minute until I thought about how painfully much it fits them.

Val throws tantrums and is ready go out and kill people to let off steam, but decides to stay put in his room and sulk instead while he waits for his flat-faced prince to come and comfort him before he does anything drastic. He's killed and abused people for the slightest hint of non-compliance, which he sees as giving him an attitude or questioning his authority, but he doesn't so much as flinch when Vox raises his voice and starts shaking him in frustration more than once. He doesn't lash out or get angry when Vox tries to talk him out of marching towards the hotel, but instead listens to his points and takes his words to heart even when they weren't what he wanted to hear. He's not interested in Alastor, but is willing to sit through watching the extermination broadcast because Vox is a passionate football dad about his one-sided rival getting dunked on. He doesn't even act jealous towards Vox's obsession, just weirdly amused and supportive even tho he hates not being the center of attention any other times. And then there's Vox, who acts like he's annoyed to have to put up with Valentino but still does it anyway. He acts disinterested about Val's ranting over Angel until he hears that Angel might've quit because he's an jealous, insecure loser that wants that mf's attention to himself. He lights his cigarette and decides to call up their lowest earners for him to terrorize without being asked just to lighten his mood a little (unrelated but i feel for their employees). He keeps his eyes on him both in his room and when he's at the pub through the cameras he's got everywhere. He takes his hand like one would with a princess and smiles fondly at him before disappearing when noticing they're being watched. He's the only person that Val trusts enough to calm him down when his temper gets the better of him. And Val-- despite his volatile temper and obnoxious quirks-- is someone he respects and cares about, both as his business associate and romantic partner.

And they aren't dating. Val and Vox clearly have a connection and understanding and attraction yet are unable to confront those feelings in fear of being vulnerable. So they aren't dating. Val obsesses over Angel and Vox obsesses over Alastor to distract themselves of the other only to fall back into each other's arms at the end of the day. Even tho they aren't dating. They celebrate, dance, sing, support and shamelessly make out with each other. They're the only ones that would put up with each other's bullshit no matter what-- but for some reason, they're still not dating. They are two of the worst Overlords in Hell, capable of committing so many despicable acts and jumping to immoral tactics for their own gain without any regrets, but opening that door into genuine emotional vulnerability? Acknowledging their softness for each other? That's where they draw the line. They're clearly made for each other, but neither of them dare to step over that line to commit to something more.

Which means that we could get to actually see these changes take place. We could get to see more sides to these two we still haven't seen before. We could get to see them actually start dating and the complicated journey it took to get there. We could get to scream and kick and seeth as these two morons continue to dance around admitting their very much requited romantic feelings for every stupid reason under the sun episode after episode. We could get to see these two fix each other and make each other worse simultaneously. Mostly make each other worse. We could get to see them have a romantic duet. We could get to see them be happy together-- officially together-- while they make life worse for everyone around them.

All this mumbo-jumbo, sleep-deprived ranting will likely not happen, but the potential character growth, the dynamic development, the resolved romantic tension, the SONGS we could get??? I'm clinging onto this hope for dear life until it's ripped from my cold, dead hands.

[arolesbianism]

Also I've finally properly pinned down the Midas and Mascot lore tm and I'm so happy abt that except for the fact that I still need to design their mom and I still need to give her a name before I can go all in on the big boy lore drops I wanna do

[the-exiled-comic]

Is Crowstar really that bad? She killed an apprentice (on accident, while she was also young, if I remember correctly?), a scary tyrannical leader, a weird religious zealot and co. (who all seem pretty antagonistic), and… is blunt? Maybe I’m just desensitized to fictional murder (esp with these cats having a sick afterlife), but she seemed to do most of it in contexts where I can see her point (ex. Defending Fallen in battle, scary leadership, defense). The only part I can really see crowstar being a bad person in bold letters is when she attacks Dapplestar for revenge, but even then.. she has a reason. She believes TreeClan killed her respected friend and deputy, and is lying about it. Idk sorry if this comes across as somebody having to hold my hand that “murder lady is bad”, but in this fictional setting, her actions makes sense

short answer to this is just she likes murdering and murdering is bad. she holds little to no remorse over her actions, really only being somewhat regretful about the things that make her son upset

i dont think Crowstar is morally bankrupt as say, someone like Autumnstar, but a lot of her intentions are in the wrong place. She is also quite unapologetic about her crimes.

a long answer is... complicated. on a scale of evil characters i would put Crowstar on a similar ranking to Sandywing and Emberpelt, those two never killed anyone but they make up for it in other ways. Sandywing I would be tempted to rank more evil than Crowstar but truth be told she only feels like the most evil character because she actively is tormenting the POV character (which I'll come back to this pov mention in a minute) you are right that murder in cat-land is quite a bit different than murder in the real life world, but its more about why they did it how i would personally rank evilness within the comic is like, what their feelings/intent/goals are and also how much influence their actions have and how well the rest of the cats can recover from it.

So Autumnstar would be hands down the most evil cat as he is responsible for (directly and indirectly) responsible for a lot damage that the clans are still undoing. Crowstar, his protege, is not helping it be undone. She's still promoting both tyranny within Oceanclan and aggravation/violence against Treeclan, even though Dapplestar has clearly expressed multiple times they don't want to do this anymore.

Things Crowstar has done to keep this cycle of violence going are killing 4 clanmates as her first act as leader (rebellion is complicated but for the sake of the post I'm adding it because it wasn't clean cut self defense. there were choices, killing them was a conscious choice), smacking and manslaughtering a kid, antagonizing her clanmates, not stopping the fights between coralclaw and sandywing, not giving fishpaw a warrior name, killing dapplestar over a hunch that someone in treeclan killed cloverfall, hitting sandywing for insulting her ego.

I think she would appear a lot more evil if the POV was from Firespots, or even Whisperleaf, as she specifically targets the both of them. She appears to be not as bad because she stopped directly digging at Fishwhisker and seems to be mostly on her side now. She dislikes the same cats that we dislike (Sandywing, Emberpelt, Firespots) and has been trying to turn over a new leaf for the last several chapters. Granted that's pretty much only because her son is going to have to clean up anything that she doesn't clean up if Firespots does succeed in his plans to kill her. I'm very slowly making a prequel comic that explores some perspectives from this generation, doing to comics at once is hard tho lol. So it'll be seen eventually

[yostresswritinggirl]

That Loud House

pairings -> Alhaitham x Reader x Kaveh; poly

words -> 2,574 words

An architect, a scribe, and a prodigal drop out walked out of a house. Somehow they all fell in love, even tho they don't look like it when they're outside. (next)

As a local citizen in Sumeru City, you must have heard about that loud house in the higher levels.

Infamous for reasons already in the name, it had become a running gag, transcending the foundation of the structure to its well-known owners.

The loudness of that house wasn't anything new, but the occupants and its most recent addition made the legendary house ever so entertaining than annoying. Their names known far and wide, even touching the desert with gossip.

Out comes Alhaitham, the grand Scribe of the Akademiya holding himself to such high regard as both the lunatic and the savior of all of Sumeru.

Next leaves Kaveh with a bit more pep in his steps, so uncharacteristic of the Master Architect when he's frequently whining about his living conditions and roommate.

And last but never ever least exits you, gently closing and locking the door behind you unlike the first two to leave, rubbing at your eyes as you stumbled through the streets of the city with nothing but muscle memory guiding you.

No one knows how the relationship of that loud house came to be, only that one day, suddenly three people lived there. And those three people loved each other, expressed in some way that none of the Vahumana scholars can ever explain.

How you three came to be is a very... peculiar arrangement that people could only know if they asked. But out of your trio, only Kaveh is the approachable one, and even he didn't know the full story.

The true story of your relationship is privy to only you and Alhaitham, but the man would never entertain gossipers (for the sole reason of wanting them to overthink and hypothesize). And the two had made it very clear that they don't want you to be bothered by such trivial matters.

Foundation

No one would ever believe that Alhaitham started this complicated relationship, but he did. And no one but him and his clever brain would know how long he had planned for this.

"I see you're spacing out again," you pause in your walk as you silently watch the silver-haired Scribe make his way over. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Alhaitham." The scholar easily falls into step with you as you continued your leisurely walk, consciously adjusting your hair when you realized how well-kept next to your sleep-deprived self. "I'm fine, how about you?"

You've known the man even before he became a Scribe, even before he graduated and became your senior. How your closeness came to be is already a blur in your mind, but if there's one thing you're certain of, he at least enjoys your company.

You've bonded over collaborations for research before and after he graduated. Perhaps that's what draws him to you, he always liked and supported your ideas as much as he can even when no one does. Sadly, his work and your problems kept your interactions scarce.

"Wrong, it is actually already afternoon. Clearly, you are not fine and you can't deny it now." Oh my - you gently, slowly put your palm to your face, already so done with his antics for today.

It looks like you have a lot to catch up on since the last you talked. And Alhaitham, ever so smart, caught on with the impending long talk who proceeded to guide you to the tables outside Djafar Tavern.

When Eymen came over to take your orders, Alhaitham instead ordered for the two of you when you were about to refuse the service. Right, he's a rich guy now.

"How's your research been?" And at the sight of your sour face, he connected the dots almost immediately. "Same old?"

"Same old Akademiya. They won't fund anything that's not useful or groundbreaking, and I really liked this topic, too." And at his urging nods, you went on a tangent of the curiosities you've been hooked on for a while now, another idea he approves. "I don't understand why they are so heavily guarded with research regarding the history of the desert. I just want to learn more."

"Then leave the Akademiya." Stabbing into the Tandoori Roast Chicken a little too harshly, you looked at him with wide, incredulous eyes. "What? If the Akademiya is restricting you then you can continue your research without their laws applying to you."

Lunatic. That's just like him. Looking at you innocently with a raised brow as if he didn't just say something so out of pocket.

"You know I can't do that."

"Why not?" Bingo! That hesitant side glance confirmed his hypothesis easily, there's more than just the Akademiya that's putting circles under your eyes. Even as you occupied yourself with chewing the chicken, he kept his eyes on you like a hawk.

You sighed. "Research is my only income, unlike you, Scribe." He must be paid really well for his position, after all. "Rent in the City is also rising, I have to pay that next week, too. I'm so tired."

What is up with the people his close to and financial problems? He shakes his head. "Then drop out of the Akademiya and live with me." Unfortunately, this time he didn't care that you had chicken in your mouth. He continued while you're busy coughing your lungs out. "With my income, I'm more than glad to support your research. With this arrangement, you can focus on what you want and your health as we-"

HUH?! "Shu - fu - shut, shut up for a second." Eymen quickly came to your aid with a glass of water after seeing the commotion, but as he was about to pat your back, a stern look from your friend(?) made him think twice. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Yes. It's quite simple really," Alhaitham sat up straighter on his seat and uncrossed his arms. "I'll be your research support, I can even help you on them if need be, and living under my roof will remove you of financial burden.

"Deal." Eymen let out a loud 'huh?!' as he looks at you like you have a fungus head. "And I assume that you want something out of this, too?"

Nodding approvingly of your perceptive thinking, his next words both had you and Eymen reeling. "In exchange, date me and Kaveh."

... On second thought, it's not just you and Alhaitham that knows the true story.

But no one ever believes Eymen the bartender.

Surveying

Apparently, they were not in a relationship. Apparently, Kaveh doesn't even know about the terms and conditions of what transpired that day.

"Oh! Fancy meeting you here!" With the context, you awkwardly reciprocated the hug the architect greeted you with.

"You two know each other?" Alhaitham emerged from the guest room were your bags and items will be making home until this arrangement is over.

Kaveh, your Kshahrewar senior raised to the power of 2 was someone you had also collaborated with beforehand. Learning about the different periods Sumeru went through, as well as the civilizations of the other regions, the architect thought it was common sense to ask you for building inspirations.

The architecture was a part of your studies, right? Perhaps by seeing the different buildings all over Teyvat, he could infer his own design for his plates. You remember working on it for two days straight because you didn't want to disappoint him with a half-baked result, not when such a household name depended on you, a no name researcher.

"Well, that makes things easier then. They are staying with us from now on."

"They are?" The blond turns to you. "You are?!" You nod. "Oh, an angel descends from the skies to preserve my sanity in this house!"

You shake the hand offered to you, his smile brightening up more. "Let's get along, shall we?"

And get along you did. To be fair, it wasn't really that hard knowing Kaveh is Kaveh, and Alhaitham as his point of reference makes everyone look like saints.

However, being in the middle of these two also guarantees you to always be in the middle of their notorious arguing, even after you all settled into a genuine relationship.

"It's called a passion project, what is so hard to understand about that? Then again, knowing you, it wouldn't be too far fetched." Closing your eyes, the taste of the freshly cooked baklava became more apparent to your taste buds.

"It's not about whether this project is so important to you, it's the fact that it is missing a crucial factor: feasibility." Pulling the mug in your left hand, you washed down the sweetness of the pastry with slightly bitter coffee.

"What do you know about architecture to tell if it's feasible or not? You took one look at my plates and think you know better." Gulping your food, you let out a silent yawn as you tried to blink the sleepiness away.

"One look at it and I can see that you've put zero thought to the prices of the materials." What time is it? Maybe you can get some last minute nap before heading out.

"Why you -" Before you can register their morning argument subsiding, the feeling of hands on yours and your cheek jolted you awake.

"Why are you dozing off? Did you not sleep enough tonight?" As Alhaitham takes away the mug in your hand, Kaveh proceeds to wipe the pastry crumbs around your lips. Shaking your head, your blond lover moves to stand behind your chair.

"You told us you have an important errand today, you're gonna be late!" Then he starts to brush your hair back to style it as usual. Prying an eye open, you see a glimpse of Alhaitham cleaning up the table, as well as a hint of a subtle smile when his gaze caught sight of you and Kaveh.

Of course, if there's one thing that Kaveh and Alhaitham can agree on, it's their love for you. And that's honestly enough for them.

Structuring

Alhaitham viewed you as his responsibility in this symbiotic relationship, and when the time came that Kaveh settled into the arrangement, taking care of you became easier.

While it's not apparent, the Scribe hated seeing you stressed or down especially when you're susceptible to it than normal.

Things such as bills, needs, funding, rejected thesis can greatly affect your mental health greatly. And that in turn messes with the functionality of your brain, the same brain that he greatly adores. So with lesser jargon Alhaitham entrusted this information to Kaveh so that they both can look out for you when the other isn't there.

Unlike Alhaitham however, Kaveh's less used to your antics.

A shrill scream that can definitely be heard past the walls of the house made him jump and trip out of his bed, stumbling out of his room as he made a mad dash towards the room where the scream came from.

"(Y/N)?! What's wrong?!" Oh gosh, did you get hurt? Did someone break in?! Alhaitham is going to kill him for real this time!

Turning around from your spot in the middle of the living room, you pulled your hands out of your messy hair at the sight of your blond architect. "Kaveh? Oh shoot, I'm sorry did I wake you?" You thought you were alone in the house.

Shaking his head, his hands land on your shoulders to look for any signs of injuries. But no, based on the messiness of your hair, it seems more like an internal turmoil. "I heard your scream, tell me what's wrong, dear."

"Sorry, sorry, I was just really frustrated -" He needs to get you to clear your mind then, like what Alhaitham instructed- "Because of this stupid DIY miniature set."

"What?" Looking past you to the coffee table, there was the evidence of your frustrations. Cloth and wooden panels strewn about, and a mess of papers either discarded or needed littered the carpeted floor. "Why are you working on a DIY miniature house? Is that a house?"

"To destress." You raise your hands up in defense when Kaveh sent you a deadpan. "I think it's a Mondstadt style house."

"Why didn't you ask me to help then?" Forgetting his initial plan, he went on to seat on the floor and caught sight of the instructions page. Occupied with the interesting structure, you curiously sat next to him as he looked at the pieces. "I'm an architect, this is my forte!"

But... you're the one that's... trying to destress?

When Alhaitham came home, the house was suspiciously quiet despite having the lights open. Did one of you leave the main floor lights on by accident? Hanging his cape by the door, walking further into his shared home finally gave him the answer.

Cut up paper and trimmed fake plants scattered the area together with various small tools that he carefully picked up before anyone could step on it. There is a small model of what seems to be Mondstadt structure in the middle of the mess that could easily fit in his palm.

"This is what you two did the whole time?" But he expected the lack of response.

After all, as he turns towards the couch, there Kaveh laid stretched over the entire length of the long seat with his arm shielding his closed eyes. And there you lay on top, basically faceplanting the architect's chest.

Alhaitham could see the dried up clear glue on the tips of your fingertips.

His attention averts back to the miniature house. And that's when he sees it. Leaning down, the Scribe plucks up a copper wire with tiny bulbs jutting out here and there, with a switch at one end.

Oh. You two must have forgotten to add the wiring before assembling the piece and slept the frustration away.

Chuckling to himself, the man crossed his legs as he sat, picking up the discarded tweezer and glue. What would you two do without him really?

You were startled out of your shopping trip at the sound of someone screaming your name, followed by a person you've never met writing over to you. A mahamata personnel?

"We're sorry to bother you but Mr. Alhaitham and Kaveh -" Of course, it's about them.

It was a fallacy that everyone keeps committing at this point, believed in assumptions without evidence, but you followed the man to the destination to Treasures Street.

And when you stood in between the two quarreling scoundrels you call your lovers, the man who was hoping you'd stop the disturbance on peace looked confused. Of course he was.

After all, the arguments are part of the charm. Just because you came into the picture doesn't mean they'll stop in your presence, no, that's not your function in this relationship. However -

"I made progress."

"You did?! Thank goodness, I was worried you'll have to wait another day for dusk!" Kaveh flipped like a switch at the good news, eagerly suggesting to eat out for the occassion.

"Did you write it down? I wish to compare notes with my own hypothesis back home once we're done. When's the last time you hydrated?"

The public watched in confusion as the trio of lovers left the scene towards Lambad's Tavern, the argument turning into a conversation of jargons and lexicon that they can't follow.

It's always so eventful seeing the occupants of that loud house when they're together.

They just wish things were a little quieter.

Finally, the lesser organized poly series counterpart of CtM is here. Should have stuck to the headcanons format honestly but at least I know this isn't gonna be a one off thing lol

@ireallylikehamsters