#(even though it isn't in their inventory)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent game related things .. hrmm...

[oh-meow-swirls]

weird how in 1 it's like. kind of implied you have to pay to enter the museum. but after that they just. don't bother-

[thedarklyblue]

starting to worry that i'm toeing the line of being actually annoying to these folks but in my defense i start tomorrow and they have not told me SHIT

[writersdrug]

I need, need need neeeeed to know who you would picture bar owner price with 😩 picturing bar owner price has me week in the knees. I need more, how would he be around the bar when he was there? Supporting, bossy,silly? The possibilities are endless. 🥰

I'm loving how people are requesting things for the rest of the 141!!

Bar Owner!Price isn't there every day, and most often not during the actual shift. He's there some mornings, already at his desk on the floor above the pub, setting up the next inventory order and dealing out everyone's tips before Simon climbs down from his flat on the third floor. They both grunt at each other, tired and in need of a hot breakfast and some tea.

He helps set up for the shift - he likes being in the kitchen with Soap. He feels bad the man is back there all by himself, even though he says he doesn't mind it. "I get to cuss 'n bitch all I want back 'ere, sir." Still, Price spends a majority of his time back there with him, prepping burger patties and making sure everything is stocked and ready. Gets on his case about updating the menu, but Soap insists the customers like it the way it is.

Price makes an appearance on the floor every now and then, opting to help run food or bartend on the busier nights. He checks in with the regulars, leaning his forearms on the bar with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, laughing and chatting with them and occasionally offering to refill their drinks. Simon grumbles quietly about him being in the way, but Price doesn't take it to heart.

He doesn't stay late. John isn't that old, but he likes to be back at home by a decent hour. One ruined sleep schedule and he's a shot for the rest of the week. He likes to get back to his flat, make himself a sandwich and pour himself some whiskey, and be on on his sofa and reading his book no later than ten in the evening. Routines have always been a part of his military career, and what can he say? Old habits really fo die hard.

Then you came along.

You didn't just rock Simon's world - you'd gotten Price, too. Though introductions could have been smoother (you nearly beat him with a keg when he came in through the back door and scared you), he's grown fond of you. First, as a hard worker and go-getter; then, as a pretty little waitress with a dazzling smile that likes to keep him on his toes. You love poking fun at him, calling him "bossman" or "barmaster" (doesn't make sense to him, since he's hardly behind the bar - but he finds it cute). You tease him for the way he runs your food, then gets stuck at the table for five minutes just chatting up the customers. You ask him things like, "Who do you prefer, Cardi B or Nicki Minaj?" And laugh when he just stares at you with a furrowed brow. He'll happily let you tease him for being an "old" man just to hear your laughter.

Then Simon sent that photo in the group chat, and Price felt something stir in his chest: looking at you, posing all prettily for your picture, working to push your little idea out there and bring in a crowd. He's impressed, but he's also intrigued. He's got his sights on you, and he's dying to figure out more about his waitress.

"'S the post making any headway?" He asks one night, leaning on the bar next to where you sit. Your tips are finished, money waded into the pocket of your apron as you scroll on your phone, sipping on a screwdriver.

"Kinda..." You mumble, a pout on your face, creasing the skin between your eyebrows. "People are seeing it, and there are a few likes, but no one's really engaging. Not sure if this will do well."

Price hums thoughtfully, looking at your lips while you stare at your screen. He's holding back the urge to lean in and take a whiff of your perfume, afraid it might seem just a bit too strange. "Have you tried promoting it?"

You look at him, laying your phone on the bar top. "Well... I could, but..." You wanted to finish with 'it would cost money'. But then, you'd be insinuating that you expected him to pay you. You could boost the post yourself, but you'd rather not spend money on something that might flop.

"'S there a problem?" Price asked, leaning in closer to you.

"I mean... promoting a post costs some money. Like, for it to be advertised to five hundred people, you'd pay around one fifty. And I think, depending on how far you wanted the post to reach - like, literally, how big of a geographic area - that would cost even more."

Price chuckles. "You do realize how much business you've brought in since you've joined the team, hmm?"

That makes your cheeks warm, pressing your lips into a line to avoid grinning like an idiot at the compliment. "I mean... sure..."

"Go upstairs to the office and get my wallet." he says, standing up from his seat at the bar.

You watch with a stupefied expression as he walks to the POS and prints some blank receipt paper. "You- you mean it? Are you sure?"

He sits on a barstool near the kitchen door. "Wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Hurry up- before I change my mind."

You don't need to be told twice. You drop your phone onto the bar and bolt towards the stairs - you stop yourself, running back to where Price sits and hugging him from behind. He lets out a surprise grunt as you do your best to smother him.

"You're the best boss ever!" you squeal. Then, just like that - you're off to the office upstairs. He preens over the compliment as he hears you leaping two steps at a time.

"Be careful." he calls over his shoulder. He sits there a moment, staring at the paper in front of him. He's surprised he hadn't accidentally thrown you off of him purely out of instinct, but he can't say he isn't absolutely delighted by the hug. It lingers in his mind, his chest still remembering your arms around him. He shakes his head, reaching forward to grab a pen from behind the bar.

His eyes meet Simon's - the man is glaring daggers, his head framed by the window in the kitchen door, mask hanging from his ear. His lips are pulled down into quite possibly the angriest frown Price has ever seen. His nostrils flare as he exhales - Price wonders what sort of insults are flying through the bartender's head right now.

He glares right back. If Simon wants something, he'll give it to him. But he'll make him ask for it, like any normal human being. John isn't going to surrender just because Ghost is huffing and puffing, expecting his boss to back away from you just because he's stomping his foot and looking menacing. But how can he be sure that Simon really wants you, more than he thinks Price deserves you, if the lad won't say anything? It's only reasonable, right?

"If you want something, Simon, say something." Price calls out, never backing down from Simon's jealous gaze.

He huffs again and disappears from the kitchen window. Price can hear shuffling and banging, followed by Soap's irritated voice: "Oi, I got it! Get yourself outta my kitchen n' go your own shite, 'fore you break my stuff."

Price sighs, scribbling down some numbers on the paper in front of him. He'll cave, eventually.

[sscarletvenus]

yes suguru's plans to exterminate a vast majority of humanity is undeniably evil, but to say that he is murderous from the very start, cruel for the sake of being so, or lacks compassion or any emotional nuance is a gross disservice to his character's writing.

suguru is a case study of a romantic idealist and self-sacrificial saviour whose absurdly rigid, quixotic ideals are shattered brutally by reality intervening. the intense hatred he has for humanity is born out of, is an inverse of, the intense love he once possessesed for it. this is also why even though satoru is portrayed as brash and selfish and arrogant in the hidden inventory arc, it is suguru that turns "villainous."

suguru places his faith in the goodness of humanity, believes the duty of shamans is to protect the weak, their existence solely hinged upon saving the lives of non-sorcerers, and for that he is disappointed so tremendously, betrayed to an extent that makes it impossible for him to recover his ideals and past self.

ultimately there are also more than one reasons why satoru doesn't become "evil" : 1) "protecting humanity" was never his cause to begin with. he hardly cared about preserving human life, as is evident in his intentions to kill the cultists who cheered on riko's death, and 2) he had someone shielding his inner self : suguru. for it is suguru that tells him the duty of shamans is to protect non-shamans and the weak, suguru who asks him to sympathise with riko, suguru who persuades him to not kill meaninglessly.

satoru is indeed attached to riko, as well. he is the one who decides not to hand riko over to tengen if she wishes to return home, and tries to enliven her last days as a lucid person. it would thus not surpass one’s expectations if satoru turned to villainy post riko's demise, since he never even liked non-shamans to begin with. and yet, he doesn't. suguru protects his heart, which is a part of why he is able to steadily process his grief and anguish over riko's death.

suguru doesn't have anyone to do that for him, he is strong in his own right but not the "strongest", nobody notices how deep of an abyss his soul has sunken in, and he succumbs to the lethal loneliness, falters in this marathon of sorcery.

suguru is brimming with love and compassion: it is what drives his heroism in youth and villainy as a cult leader. he is able to protect gojo's heart but not his own. he fluctuates between two polar extremes : utter distaste of humanity Vs. a duty to protect it despite its horrors. three things serve as final nails to the metaphorical coffin : yuki's words, haibara's death, miminana's abuse. he describes imbibing curses for curse manipulation is "like eating a rag used to clean vomit". how macabre, how grotesque, how enlightening - who is he doing all this for? the humans who killed riko? it was these humans haibara died serving, these same humans violently mistreated miminana.

toji and sonoda encapsulate evil very blatantly, and aren't enough to shake suguru's belief in humanity. but the turning point is the non-shaman cultists rejoicing : suguru is thus forced to confront the banality of evil.

and suguru responds by rejecting what he once loved, embraces the darkness plaguing him. believes the only way to eradicate curses is to uproot their source : humanity. humans, for as long as they will live, will give rise to curses born out of their negative emotions. there is no one to tell him any better, or protect his self-identity. he loses himself to his own sense of empathy, his own ideals.

he isn't indifferent at all, cannot pick and choose whom he loves and doesn't. his love and hatred is collective, in both he gives his all. even amidst his hatred, he doesn't lose his love.

who does he choose to target first, once amassing enough money, power, and reputation? sonoda, the man who ordered riko's assassination. someone who lies in wait to enact vengeance does it out of love. if he was nothing more than a corrupt tyrant, he wouldn't remember the circumstances of riko's demise or care enough about them. suguru's rise as a hero and his subsequent fall as a villain has always been about love. and it seems, to me, up until his death, he prioritizes satoru over himself. doesn't see satoru as a weapon at all, or he would have directly asked satoru to join his cause. instead he poses to satoru a question, presents him with a choice - which in turn makes satoru shaken enough to question his identity, his place in the system, becoming a teacher and dedicating his all to a fitting reformist centrism from an isolated and dare i say, individualistic person such as himself, who stands on the pinnacle of power. but he wouldn't have come to such a conclusion without suguru's experiences shaping his worldview (he himself apologizes to riko during his fight with toji because rather than feeling depressed over her death, he feels the pure pleasure of the world in that moment. killing toji endows him with a sense of duty towards megumi, and riko's death but obviously impacts him, but the change from full apathy, to neutral indifference except in the case of his students, was losing suguru.)

as evil as suguru becomes, he is not a hypocrite. that he kills his own parents is to show the seriousness and conviction he has in his ideals. his code of operation is consistent, even when it turns from pro-human to pro-shaman.

reminds you of what mahito tells yuuji: does yuuji ever consider how many curses he kills? so why should mahito account for how many humans he kills? suguru geto presents us with a possible answer : someone has to care about how many shamans are killed.

you can condemn him for his use of collective punishment, but suguru is a villain!

you can criticize his killing of innocents, but jjk conveys the carefully crafted narrative of a villain who once held staunch traditional and moral ideals.

suguru is evil for proposing collective punishment, but it is incredibly consistent with how emotional he is. he is empathetic because he cares about a girl like riko, doomed by the actions of the rest of the world, forgotten in her misery. he cares and it drives him to the deepest pits of despair, where life loses all color and meaning, despite only knowing her for so long and haibara as well, he enshrines haibara in his memory, when no one other than nanami does. hardly anyone remembers riko's existence, haibara's laughing face, but he does! and for that he spends each moment sinking in the quagmire of his grief and torment. his empathy is a sword of damocles hanging over his neck! to say that he is cruel and unfeeling is to contradict the very agony that drives his (wrongful?) actions. and he is indeed wrong for externalizing this indelible pain, wanting to inflict it upon innocents. but suguru is a villain! has been set up as such!

mahito raises this question to junpei,"is the opposite of love really indifference?" to satoru, it is. but to suguru, it is hatred which is the opposite of love.

[mononijikayu]

don't look back in anger — gojo satoru.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?” Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 269 of jjk, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 3k words.

NOTE: i decided to write this really REALLY fast before uni because i can't stop thinking about how angry i am that satoru isn't being mentioned in the latest chapters. and i just needed to let this out. thank you a lot for reading it though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S ONLY BEEN A DAY OR TWO SINCE THE BATTLE. But you hover over your husband so constantly that you can’t help but notice the subtle signs—he’s doing his best to be patient with you.

Satoru’s usually the one with the infinite calm, the one who never loses his cool. But every time you adjust his blanket, offer him water, or check in on how he’s feeling, you catch the slightest flicker of exasperation behind those brilliant blue eyes.

He never says anything, of course. Instead, he smiles at you, that teasing grin of his that you know too well. But you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a bit too long, in the way his shoulders tense every time you fuss over him. He’s trying to bear it without complaint—because he knows you’re only worried—but it’s there.

“You’re doing it again,” Satoru finally says, a playful edge to his tone, though you catch the weariness underneath.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “Doing what?”

He chuckles softly, his voice low. “You know what. Hovering.”

Your lips press together in a thin line, knowing he’s right but not willing to back down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his smile softening. “Really. You don’t have to worry so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’re still recovering. Let me worry.”

“I know.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And me.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You? Crazy? Impossible.”

Satoru laughs, shaking his head. “Even I have my limits, you know.”

You lean back slightly, loosening your grip on him, but not without a lingering glance. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to give you some space. But just a little.”

He smirks, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Just enough to let me breathe, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but the tension between you eases, the moment settling into something lighter. Still, you can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, even as you pull back. It’s in your nature to worry—and Satoru knows it.

The ride home from Jujutsu High is thick with tension, the echoes of the conversations from earlier still gnawing at you. Megumi walks beside you, his silence mirroring your own frustration.

The meeting had been a circus of finger-pointing and thinly veiled accusations, and even though Satoru wasn’t there, his name was dragged through the mud as if he had been. Blame for Yuji, blame for the crumbling system—everyone needed a scapegoat, and as usual, they chose Satoru.

By the time you reach the Gojo manor, you’re seething. You can’t shake the bitterness from the gathering—their condescending tones, the way they talked about Satoru like he was a liability instead of the reason half of them were still alive. As though being the strongest changes the fact that your husband is a breathing human being. 

In the view of the water gardens, it was peaceful. And yet all at once, a storm brewed inside of you. You and Satoru sit together in the quiet, as you have been for the past few days now. But unlike these past few days, the view does not make you feel calm and at peace at all.

Instead, your irritation is palpable, your fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair. Gojo Satoru lies next to you, still recovering, his usual vibrancy dampened by both physical exhaustion and the heavy burden of blame. The weight of jujutsu society’s accusations presses down on the room, though none of them are here to face him.

Across the room, Fushiguro Megumi stands silently, arms crossed, watching you both. He’s fully aware of the anger simmering just beneath the surface, not just at the accusations, but at the complete disregard for Satoru's sacrifices. If anything, he’s just as angry. But he knew better than to say anything. Especially knowing that you were angry. It was better at that point that someone was focused on remaining calm. Otherwise, it would be hellfire. And there was none needed, just after defeating the King of Curses. 

Yet, you both can’t help but feel how deeply it stings. It was ever so easy for everyone in your  world to just forget everything, to not acknowledge what your Satoru has done, reducing him to the villain, the perpetrator of the entire suffering of the Jujutsu world, just because he refused to follow an unjust order—to execute Yuji Itadori, a child caught in forces far beyond his control. 

Just because he could not stop powerful curses and cursed users from doing things that your husband would not have had any knowledge about. Your husband couldn’t have predicted thousand year old cursed users and their greed would do something like this to your world. How is it your husband’s fault, that the rot had gotten that deep in Jujutsu society either? 

You glance at Satoru’s pale face, his breathing still slightly labored. The hurt in your chest deepens, anger mixing with a fierce protectiveness. How could they not see what he’s gone through, what he continues to endure for the sake of others? All you can think is how none of them truly understand what it means to stand at his side, to witness the toll this cursed world takes on him every single day.

The quiet hum of the room feels suffocating, the weight of your frustration finally spilling over. You turn to Satoru, your voice sharp, but layered with concern. You just can’t help it, when it comes to him. You were always so protective of him, even all those years ago. Because if you would not do it, who would? Who would take his side and give such devotion, as equal as his own? Your husband isn’t the type to explain himself, nor is he someone that would let anyone know what he truly feels. He doesn’t think he has to. He does not care.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?”

Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be you.” you snap, louder this time. You catch Megumi shifting slightly in his spot, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his stance suggests he’s just as frustrated as you are. “You know you aren’t to blame for their ills.”

“They want things to stay the same, Gen–san.” Megumi finally speaks up, his tone controlled but edged with bitterness. “Blaming Gojo-sensei is easier than facing their own failures.”

You clench your fists. “They forget that he’s human. That you—” Your words choke off. You can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels like admitting too much. “It’s just not right.”

Satoru lets out a breath, a soft chuckle following it. “I don’t care what they think. I did what I believed in. I wasn’t going to kill Yuji. He deserves better than that. And... he’s a kid. Just like ‘gumi. I don’t... I don’t have the heart to... you know what I mean.”

His voice falters slightly at the end, and you catch something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. It's rare for Satoru to let his guard down like this, to even hint at the weight he carries, but you can see it now—just for a second, the flicker of doubt, the exhaustion behind those sharp blue eyes.

“You did the right thing,” you say, your voice softer now, though the anger still simmers beneath. “Yuji’s not a tool to be discarded. He’s just a boy.”

Satoru nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah, a boy thrown into the worst situation imaginable. Just like ‘gumi was. Like Yuta was. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t make him pay for their mistakes. I’ve seen what this world does to people like him.”

There’s a heaviness in his words, the unspoken memories of everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s tried to protect the kids from. You know how much it eats at him—how deeply he cares, even if he hides it behind his usual bravado. And as much as he pretends to shrug it off, the toll is evident in moments like this, when his façade cracks ever so slightly.

You step closer, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And you deserve better than this," you retort quickly, anger flaring in your chest again. "You’ve given them everything, and they give nothing back. They act like you’re just another tool for them to use, like you don’t have a heart. And I’m just so angry….”

Satoru finally turns his head, the faintest glimmer of his usual self creeping into his eyes as he looks at you. “Hey, baby.” he says softly, his voice gentler now. “You know I’m not doing this for their thanks. I’m doing it for the kids, for you. For Satoshi. So we’ll be happy.”

You blink, trying to swallow the anger that lingers. “I know that.” you say quietly. “But I can’t stand watching them tear you apart.”

Megumi walks closer, his arms still crossed, a firm resolve in his expression. “We won’t let them, Gen–san. Don’t worry.”

Satoru chuckles again, the sound a little lighter this time. “You two…huh…” He looks between you and Megumi, his tired eyes softening. “Always so serious. So Zen’in, the two of you. Stop frowning. You’ll end up with wrinkles. Believe me, it’s fine. They’ll come around. And if they don’t—well, it’s not the first time I’ve pissed off people, you know?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, the usual brightness behind his words missing. But the effort doesn’t go unnoticed—it tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of how hard Satoru tries to keep things light, even when the world around him is anything but. You can see it in the subtle shift of his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his head. He’s tired, more than he’ll ever admit, and though he brushes it off with a smile or a joke, the weight of it all is still there—quiet, invisible, but crushing.

Despite everything—despite the accusations, the blame, the endless expectations placed on him—Satoru is still trying to carry the burden alone. It’s always been like this with him, hasn’t it? He wears his strength like armor, his humor like a shield, always standing tall so no one else has to bear the load. But in moments like this, when his defenses slip just a little, you can see the cracks. And it breaks your heart.

You reach out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might make him retreat back into that impenetrable shell of his. Your hand finds his, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his, grounding both of you in the simple connection. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he lets out a soft breath, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, “you don’t have to carry this alone. You know that, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at your hands, your fingers laced together, and there’s something raw in his expression—something vulnerable that he usually hides behind that ever-present grin.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “But sometimes... it’s hard to let anyone else help. I’m used to being the one who fixes things.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, your heart aching at the quiet admission. “You don’t always have to be the one to fix everything. You’ve done more than enough.”

He meets your gaze then, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of someone who’s been fighting battles far too long on his own. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. “You have. And you don’t have to keep proving yourself, especially not to those people. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Satoru just looks at you, as if he’s weighing your words, letting them sink in. And then, slowly, he nods. It’s small, but it’s a start—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you share the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on him for so long.

“They don’t deserve you, my love.” you say, quieter now but no less fierce.

Satoru squeezes your hand lightly, a soft smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. Because you deserve me. Like I deserve you."

You hold his hand a little tighter, your gaze softening despite the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And I wouldn't have it any other way,my love." you murmur, your voice a little steadier now. Satoru’s warmth is a quiet reassurance, but the sight of him like this—so worn down, so unfairly burdened—fuels the anger you can’t entirely let go of.

Megumi stays quiet for a moment, watching the two of you before finally speaking again. “They won’t stop, all of this.” he says, his voice firm. “They’ll keep pushing this, won’t they? Trying to make him the scapegoat.”

Satoru shrugs, his usual bravado creeping back. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to get rid of. Living after all that is proof enough.”

You frown, your frustration bubbling up again. "You shouldn't have to keep proving yourself to them, Satoru. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and they act like none of it matters."

He looks at you with those pale blue eyes that somehow always manage to soften, just for you. “What do you want me to do? Step aside and let them tear down everything I’ve built? Everything you, me, and the students have worked for?”

“No, my love.” you say firmly. “But I don’t want you to bear all this alone. You’ve already done more than anyone could’ve asked for.” You pause, the words catching in your throat before you add quietly, “I just want them to think of you, for once. Not what they want from you.”

Megumi nods in agreement, stepping closer. “They’re too busy looking for someone to blame. And they’ll keep at it until they find a way to pin everything on you.” His blue - green eyes darken slightly, a shadow of his own frustrations showing. “But we won’t let them.”

Satoru sighs, though there’s a flicker of pride in his gaze as he looks at Megumi. “You’ve grown up, Megumi.” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow, his expression flat. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Satoru chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with exhaustion. “No, you’re not. But you always will be to me, kiddo. And I’m glad I’ve got you two watching my back.” He looks at you again, the smile fading as he speaks more seriously. “But don’t let this consume you. I’ll be fine. They can push, they can complain, but I’ll keep doing what I know is right.”

Your heart aches at his words. His strength is undeniable, but it’s the toll that worries you most. You lean forward, your voice quiet but firm. “We’ll face them together. You’re not alone in this, Satoru. Not anymore. We’re here.”

His eyes soften even more, the weight of your words sinking in. “I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “And that’s what makes it worth it.”

For a moment, the anger subsides, replaced by a quiet resolve between the three of you. You won’t let them tear him down. Not while you’re by his side. Not while Megumi is standing strong. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

epilogue

Satoru holds your hand for a beat longer, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. But then, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, the somber mood shifts as his signature grin makes a slow return now that you both were finally alone..

“You know, baby....” he says, tilting his head and giving you a playful look. “You’re always swooping in to save me. My knight in shining armor.”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What? I—” You open your mouth to protest, but the words stumble over themselves, not quite landing the way you want.

He leans closer, that mischievous gleam in his eyes growing brighter. “Oh yeah, always protecting me from the big, bad sorcerer world. It’s cute, really.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, spreading quickly to your cheeks. “Satoru, that’s not—”

“What?” he interrupts, his smirk widening as he watches your flustered expression with clear amusement. “I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at you, always worrying about little ol’ me.”

“Little?!” you sputter, trying to keep your composure as he grins down at you. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer alive, you don’t need saving—”

“And yet, and yet!” he drawls, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing,.“Here you are, my personal knight in shining armor. Should I start calling you ‘Sir Baby’?”

Your face is on fire now, and you smack his arm lightly. “Satoru, stop!”

He laughs, the sound light and full of mischief, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you like being my hero.”

You narrow your eyes, trying desperately to compose yourself, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I’m not your hero,” you mutter, though the words come out far less convincing than you’d intended.

Satoru’s grin softens into something more genuine as he leans back, still holding your hand. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you a little more often.”

You blink, caught between the teasing and the sincerity in his voice. “Satoru…”

He winks at you, breaking the moment with a playful shrug. “What can I say? I like having you around. Blushing and all.”

You groan, turning away slightly, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don't you?” he replies, completely unfazed, that cheeky grin never leaving his face.

And, despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately, I do.”

[takami-takami]

Good evening! I am thinking so very incredibly hard about unknowingly pining Keigo. Sighs.

Him gushing about you, looking at you with the biggest heart eyes, getting all lovey both to and about you without even slightly realizing…….<33

- magpie anon ✦

The way Keigo yaps on and on about you every time fellow pro heroes ask him how you're doing, because you two are just so inexplicably close. Like fingers crossed tightly over one another, like knots intertwined— platonically, of course.

Of course they would go to him to ask questions about you, Keigo nods with his puffed out chest. Everyone knows that he knows you best; and each time that widely-accepted fact is subtly affirmed with another "how's y/n, Hawks" or "what would y/n think, Hawks" thrown Keigo's way, his heart swells with something possessive.

Good.

You're his.

In an utterly platonic way, he's sure.

When the media asks about you, though, the cameras shuttering mere centimeters from his eyes snap Keigo out of those little lovesick fantasies. They remind him to be careful of the image he presents. Not that he minds people thinking you two are a thing (for some strange reason he hasn't quite figured out yet), no. He'd sully his image a thousand times over just to feel your palm against his under the public eye. Keigo never gave care to such notions of propriety, anyway, to the chagrin of his poor publicist.

But Keigo wants to protect you respects you dearly, so he's careful not to blabber on about you too much. Your interests, your favorite things, how your hand size compares to his with and without his gloves on, what you like for dinner or how you prefer it made (on days you let him cook for you, oh, Keigo's favorite days)— he covers for you to the press, but God help him, he wishes he didn't have to.

He wishes he could let it spill.

But... Let what spill, exactly?

What is holding Keigo back, he wonders? Why does he feel caged down? It's normal for friends to ache in each other's absence, it's normal to question what other senses he could indulge in besides the sight of you. As contradictory as it sounds, for all his analytical prowess, taking inventory of his own feelings has never been Keigo's strong suit.

Dense is the word you'd use.

It isn't until you take the plunge to confess yourself that Keigo understands how intricately he wants this— something more, something sweeter with you. He rots his teeth clutching you in his maws, you know.

The day finally comes when Keigo can scream from those rooftops he perches on like a lovebird that he is yours, yours, yours.

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Record Store)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You paused, untangling your hand from Tara’s as quickly as possible, ignoring the pout on her face, as you pulled out an album.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You woke up to the smell of bacon, your mouth already watering as you slowly opened your eyes, blinking away the sleep. You stretched out, snuggling further into the warm bed, Tara shifting as she cuddled closer. You looked down, seeing her still sound asleep, you smiled at peace with finally having met Sam and her friends. Sneaking around with her was fun but officially meeting everyone was better, they were so nice, even though Sam was still intimidating you knew you could trust her.

“Morning,” Tara mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Is that bacon?” She pushed herself up, looking around as if she’d be able to see the bacon.

You giggled, pushing your head further into the pillow. Tara hovered above you, looking down at you with a soft smile that hadn’t left her lips since the two of you fell asleep. “Chad did say they’d be back for breakfast,” you said.

“Guess we better get up then, besides Sam isn’t a half bad cook.”

The two of you rolled out of bed after a few more minutes of cuddling. You were both hungry but neither of you had the the desire to leave the warm comfort of the bed. It was getting colder, you wanted to go to the record store, but you didn’t have a desire to be dragged from store to store with Anika with it being so chilly, not when you could stay inside cozied up with Tara where it was warm.

The two of you finally made your way out of the room and into the kitchen where Sam was flipping the last of the breakfast onto a plate. “Morning,” she greeted with a soft smile. “How’d you sleep?”

You sighed, remembering that you had woken up from a nightmare, Tara made it easier to sleep but the nightmares still came. After your talk with Sam, you had gone back to bed and slept peacefully the rest of the night. “Better,” you said your voice still raspy with sleep. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

Tara dragged you to the dining table, refusing to let go of your hand. You rubbed your eyes, thinking maybe you were dreaming at the spread before you. There was bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes, biscuits, and a couple boxes of cereal.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Sam said, a light blush decorating her cheeks.

“It all looks amazing,” you said, smiling, as you took your seat at the table.

“She also eats like a five-year-old,” Tara commented, giving you a pointed look as you had a piece of bacon in your mouth. “Would eat pizza rolls and Dino nuggets for every meal if they could.”

You pouted as you finished chewing your bacon. “They’re simple and good,” you defended. “What’s wrong with that?”

“You eat like a child.”

“Sometimes I make mashed potatoes.”

“From a box.”

“Shut up.” You grabbed another piece of bacon, silently chewing on it as you looked down at your plate.

“Good morning!” Chad shouted, flinging the door open as he entered.

“It’s too early for this,” Mindy said, rubbing her temple as she curled into Anika’s side.

“Holy shit!” Chads eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the table of food. He rushed forward, grabbing a plate and began loading it up with everything.

“Damn, Sam,” Mindy said, her eyes wide as well. “Why don’t you ever do this for us?” She chuckled as she grabbed a seat, bringing Anika with her.

After everyone finished breakfast, leaving absolutely nothing left, the six of you headed out, making your way to the record store. There were several record stores downtown and you had been to all of them of course but you had a favorite. The one you liked got all the new vinyl’s when they were released and regularly got in new inventory of older and hard to find albums. The store also had a cat that roamed around and if you were lucky, it let you pet it.

The little bell jingled as you pushed the door open, the sight brought a smile to your face. There were rows upon rows of vinyl’s, all alphabetized or separated by genre. There was a rack up front right by the register filled with everything new. You knew nothing you wanted came out recently, but you still browsed the new releases just in case you missed something. Chad wandered off into one corner, flipping through vinyl of the type of music he liked. Mindy dragged Anika to another corner, but Anika was more than happy to follow.

Tara held your hand, your fingers intertwined as you weaved your way through the rows. There weren’t many people in the store, it was a Saturday, but they hadn’t even been open an hour. You had been here enough times that you didn’t need to look at everything else as you made your way to the section you wanted. You let out a sigh at seeing the little card that said ‘Soundtracks’. Other music was good but getting a vinyl of your favorite movie score or, better yet, a video game score was your favorite. You had most of your favorite scores already but there were older ones you still kept an eye out for. They got old stock in regularly; you never knew when someone would sell their vinyl collection and one you have been after for years would make its way here.

Sam was slowly walking through the aisles, trying not to hover but clearly out of place and sticking close to Tara. You didn’t mind, you were happy Sam seemed to like you so far and that she willingly came out with all of you. Sam had her hands shoved in her pockets as her eyes glanced around the room. You saw her flinch out of the corner of your eye, when you looked to make sure she was okay you saw the little orange store cat rubbing its head against her legs. You smiled, silently chuckling to yourself, the cat loved to jump on the tables and walk around while people were looking but he didn’t usually go right up to people, especially not new people.

“You’re lucky,” you said. “It took me three months of coming here once a week to get him to let me even pet him,” you nodded at the little orange cat.

Sam smiled, she was about to reach down and pet the little guy when he jumped up on the rack of vinyl near her. He perked his little head up, his paws at the edge of the rack as he tried to reach Sam, to force her to pet him. Sam complied and began running her fingers through his fur, scratching behind his ears until he lifted his head up, making her scratch under his chin.

“Does this mean we can get a cat?” Tara asked, smiling innocently at Sam.

“Tara,” Sam sighed. She gave her sister a tired look, she opened her mouth to probably deny Tara about a pet but was cut off when the record cat stood on its hind legs and placed its front paws on her chest. She faced the cat, smiling down at it again as she ran her hands down his back again. “I’ll think about it,” she finally mumbled.

Tara didn’t say anything else, she just gave a wide smile and leaned into your side. She squeezed your hand as she cuddled closer to you. You shook your head smiling at her, you knew Tara always wanted a pet of some sort, but her mom always said no and even if Sam wanted a pet, it wasn’t convenient living in the city, in a small apartment. Sam probably didn’t realize saying she’d think about it was basically a yes to Tara, now Sam wouldn’t hear the end of it until she gave an official yes.

With your free hand you flipped through the various soundtracks, most of which you either had or were from something you had never seen before. You paused, untangling your hand from Tara’s as quickly as possible, ignoring the pout on her face, as you pulled out an album. You smiled widely; you were sure your eyes were sparkling with childlike glee. You had found it, you had finally found it, it was The Last of Us soundtrack. You had the second one, you had the one from the show, but you had missed out on the one from the first game. You flipped through some more, your excitement reigniting, maybe you’d get lucky and find more than one of the ones you’ve been searching for.

You didn’t find anything else that you had been dying to have but you pulled out the Ghost of Tsushima Iki Island soundtrack. You had been putting off getting it because it was expensive, but more time was passing, and you didn’t want to wait too long and end up missing it. You sighed and stuck in under your arm with the other one.

“Don’t you already have that?” Tara asked, wrapping her arm around yours as she intertwined your hands again. You looked down, smiling, Tara was making it as difficult as possible for you to let go of her hand again.

“I have the Ghost of Tsushima soundtrack,” you answered. “For the main game. This,” you nodded to the vinyl in your hands, “is the Iki Island soundtrack.” Tara raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were insane. “Iki Island was an expansion.” Tara continued to only blink at you. “They’re completely different!”

Tara opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when Chad came stumbling towards you guys, nearly dropping all the stuff in his arms. “This place is amazing!” he said, looking around at everything as he tried to re-situate his hands.

All three of you laughed at Chad struggling. “Are you serious?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked the boy up and down.

Chad looked down at the pile in his arms. “Well, I like this music,” he nodded to the stack of vinyl’s in his arm. “And I need a record player,” he nodded to his other hands. He had a small record player tucked under his arm and it looked like a nice one, probably over a hundred bucks. “Otherwise, me buying the vinyl would just be crazy.”

The three of you shook your heads as you watched Chad make his way to the front counter. He somehow managed to set everything on the counter without dropping a thing. The three of you made your way up behind him, watching as the owner rang up the record player then each of the vinyl, which Chad managed to find several of.

“Your total is three-hundred and forty-two dollars,” the owner said once he had everything scanned.

“Holy shit,” Tara said, looking up at Chad with wide eyes. “Are you insane?”

Chad furrowed his brow as he looked down at Tara while he struggled to fish out his wallet.

“How are you going to afford that?” Sam asked. “You don’t even have a job.”

“Emergency credit card,” Chad answered, holding up the little blue credit card. He smiled as he handed it to the man behind the counter. The man sighed taking the card before swiping it.

“Mom is going to kill you,” Mindy said, joining them at the counter with Anika in tow. “That’s meant for food and necessities.”

“Yeah, and you going to the movies last week was a necessity?”

Mindy crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “The movies isn’t three-hundred dollars.”

“Tickets are over fifteen!”

“That’s not the point!”

You shook your head, pushing your way to the front of the counter while the twins argued. Tara and Sam seemed to already be ignoring them, you had a feeling that it was an hourly occurrence for them.

“I’ll take this,” Anika said, sliding next to you as she plopped The Last of Us vinyl out of your hands. You opened your mouth to stop her, but she didn’t let you get a word out as she held up a hand to silence you. “I told you I would buy you a soundtrack for hugging you to tightly.” The owner behind the counter gave the two of you a weird side glance but continued to bag Chad’s vinyl’s. “So, I am buying this for you.” She gently shoved you away, putting herself at the front of the line and smiling at the man as she sat down your vinyl and the one, she picked out.

“How don’t you already have Hamilton?” you nodded to the vinyl she was buying for herself. “You love that play. You’ve made me watch it over a dozen times.”

“It’s expensive,” she said, holding out her card for the man. “I mean it’s Hamilton!” you chuckled, shaking your head at her. She wasn’t wrong, it was a bit more pricey than the average album. “And there’s a sale going on, so I have to grab it.”

“Of course.” You made your way back to the front as Anika grabbed her bag of stuff. You handed over your vinyl and card as the man rang it up.

“Just be prepared when you come over,” Anika said, shifting her bag around as she pulled out the album she bought for you so you could slip it in your own bag. “I will be listening to nothing else of the next six months.”

“I know how you are.” You smiled at the owner, thanking him as you grabbed the bag of your stuff.

The twins continued to argue as the six of you left the record store. Anika was quick to point to a costume shop across the street that she literally dragged Mindy to. The other four of you followed close behind them. Tara took the bag with your purchases, carrying it in her other hand so she could still keep ahold of you, and you didn’t have to carry a bag in your injured hand, even though you were down to just the brace it tended to ache after a while.

You didn’t know how long you were in the costume shop but when you all left it was the afternoon and Anika had several bundles of fabric and other types of material for costumes. She struggled to carry all of her bags, looking at Mindy with puppy dog eyes to try and get her girlfriend to help out. Mindy scoffed and continued to walk, saying that since she bought everything, she could carry it.

As the six of you made your way down the street you hit up some more shops. There were a few card or sport memorabilia shops Chad wanted to go in, that all of you begrudgingly followed him into since he was going to the stores you wanted. You were sure by the end of the trip Chad had spent near a thousand dollars, all on his emergency credit card. You didn’t necessarily agree that going to the movies was an emergency, but you did agree with Mindy, Chad would certainly be hearing from their mom.

For a late lunch you all stopped at a little Chinese restaurant, laughing and joking around about the day and the amount of money Chad spent. Every time someone brought up one of Chad’s purchases, he was quick to defend himself and explain why it was crucial he bought it today. You didn’t know everything he bought besides the stuff at the record store, but he left with bags full in every sports shop you all entered, and he had more than one jersey in his hand. You might not have known much about sports, but you were aware jerseys were expensive and you were sure being the sports guy that he was that Chad wouldn’t settle for less than the nice ones.

When you finally made it back to the Carpenters apartment, Tara pulled you down onto the couch, cuddling up to you as she rested her head on your shoulder. None of you said a word, just enjoying the silence as Chad struggled to open his record player, saying he needed to test it out and make sure everyone was educated on good music. When he had it set up, he opened one of his records and music quickly filled the once quiet apartment.

Chad jumped to his feet and instantly began dancing, he tried to pull Sam into a dance, but she quickly found herself needing to go to the kitchen. Chad waved her off, not letting it kill his mood as he continued to dance alone. Mindy laughed and shook her head at her brother, pouting once Anika got off her lap and took pity on Chad, joining him in his dancing.

You laughed and had fun with Tara and her friends. You had just met Sam, Mindy, and Chad officially the day before but once you got Sam’s approval, they were quick to welcome you into the group. You talked with them and teased Chad along with them as if you had always known them. It got so late that Tara convinced Sam to let you stay the night again, this time the others took up the offer to stay as well.

While Tara dragged you to her room for the night Anika, Mindy, and Chad were getting themselves situated in the living room. Mindy took one end of the couch while Anika took the other since it wasn’t a pullout couch. Sam tossed Chad some extra blankets and pillows and he made himself a little nest on the floor.

“They like you,” Tara whispered as she played with your hair in the darkness of her room.

“I like them,” you whispered back.

“Just remember you’re my girlfriend first,” she sat up and through the dark you knew she was giving you a pointed look.

“Don’t worry,” you leaned up and kissed her. “I won’t choose them over you.”

“Good,” she cuddled back into your side.

“Unless Anika gets tickets to Hamilton,” you added. “Then you’re on your own that night.”

Tara lightly smacked your shoulder, careful not to hit any of your injuries. You lightly chuckled, wrapping your injured arm around her as best as you could. She continued to snuggle into your side with the help of you pulling her as close as you could. Your ribs ached from the pressure, but you quickly got used to it as your body slowly settled down.

“Love you,” you mumbled into Tara’s hair. You heard her mumble a reply, but sleep had already mostly taken her, with you following soon after.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[angel-of-the-moons]

Small Surprises

Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Single Mother!Reader

TW/CW: Some mentions of past childhood abuse, cheating partner, mostly fluff

A/N: Like the Symbrock one I did, this one will be one whole fic with a few times skips here and there! This fic will also explore a bit more into the autistic side of Steven as a character, based off my own experiences with my autism, tics, habits etc! Also, once again, featuring snippets of the hobby headcanons done by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction! (I love those headcanons so much they are canon as far as I'm concerned asdfghjkl)

Taglist: @chrishy973 @katitakenway @queerponcho

EDIT: Part 2 is out now!!! Read it here!

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Another droll day at the museum, the same disinterested customers and more nagging from Donna. Honestly, Steven was lucky he got his job back at the museum--though he only surmised it was due to the fact nobody else wanted to work for Donna--but he was grateful for the extra income.

And it definitely helped provide a distraction from Jake's night activities for Khonshu, as well as Marc's from time to time.

But of course, even though it provided a distraction, it wasn't much of one.

That is... until the day a poofy mop of curls bounced into the gift shop, eagerly looking at the wares within with big sparkling eyes. The child couldn't have been older than four--maybe five--as she happily looked at the myriad of items available.

Contrasting to most of the little girls he's seen come in (which, were admittedly few) she didn't immediately run over to the cheap horse figures with the chariots or even the cat plushies.

She went right for things like the plushie scarabs, the statues...

This of course had Donna proverbially chewing her nails as she watched the unaccompanied minor scamper about the gift shop.

"I'm going back to do inventory," She warned Steven. "If she breaks anything, it's coming out of your pay, Stevie."

Steven ground his teeth when she called him that, and waited for her to walk away before muttering. "What little you do pay me, you bloody old biddy."

Steven fixed his name tag and walked up to the little girl, crouching next to her as her chubby little face scrunched in what appeared to be distaste.

"Hey there, poppet. What's got you upset, eh?" He asked, his big brown eyes meeting hers as she crossed her arms with a huff.

"They don't look right!" She complained.

"Oh? What doesn't look right?" Steven asked patiently, a warm smile on his face.

The child pointed to the small canvases and posters of the various Egyptian gods. Namely the ones of Bastet and Anubis, and in particular of the two, one of the canvases depicting Anubis surrounded by shrieking souls and flames.

He himself had raised a complaint with that depiction, as after his own time in the Egyptian afterlife (alongside Marc, and unbeknownst to them at the time, Jake) he knew the afterlife was not like that. While they hadn't met Anubis himself, they were guided and weighed by Taweret.

But he wholeheartedly agreed that the artwork of Anubis was entirely wrong, and frankly, offensive.

"'Nubis isn't like that." She said, stomping her little foot. "He's nice!"

Steven raised his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as some stray curls fell over his face. "Oh?" He asked. "Then tell me little one, how is Anubis?"

"He's--!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes in the typical fashion a child does when they feel like they're explaining something painfully obvious to an oblivious adult.

"He's a good dog-man." She says to him. "He doesn't mess with skulls n' stuffs! He's nice, he helps people who might get lost when they die."

'That's a hefty subject for a kid.' Marc's voice spoke.

"No kidding." Jake remarked. "Where are her parents?"

Steven meanwhile, was positively thrilled that one so young understood that Anubis, while being the god of death, was not evil. And... naturally this sent him into info-dump mode.

"Why, yes! Anubis is good." He held up a finger as the little girl looked at him, awe on her face that he understood what she was saying and was willing to actually talk about it.

"He guided souls once they left their earthly bodies." He explained, grabbing a small replica of an Egyptian temple front. "Once their hearts were weighed, if they were good, he would help guide them to the afterlife. If they were bad..."

"They got ate by the crocko-lion!" The girl finished with a gasp.

Steven suppressed the urge to laugh at how she described Ammit. Jake and Marc meanwhile, held no such compunction and were laughing their asses off.

"I like this kid." Jake said as his laughter died down.

"Yes! They did. But did you know they also had to be judged? Not just with the scales?" Steven grinned at her as she bounced on her heels, the palms of her hands rubbing on her coveralls as she listened.

"Now that subject is very lengthy...." Steven leaned over on the flats of his shoes and plucked a small book about the Egyptian afterlife and mythos and showed it to the little girl. The cover was emblazoned with raised gold print; with images of sarcophagi, and motifs scattered on the front and back.

"But it's always worth a good read." Steven continued. "Now, if you want to know someone else who sometimes assists those who've passed on?"

The little girl plucked the book out of Steven's arms, nodding, her eyes tracking the way his mouth and hair moved. Not once did she make eye contact, instead settling for staring at other features instead.

Steven could understand, sometimes looking into people's eyes was... oof. It was difficult and frankly sometimes it made him uncomfortable, made his palms itch and the hair on the back of his neck tickle.

He stood up, and walked to another shelf, the little girl trailing behind him, the book looking three sizes too large for her tiny body as her little light up sneakers squeaked on the waxed linoleum.

Steven reached down, then, and grabbed a plaster statuette of a familiar feminine shape sporting a hippo head and kneeled back down, showing it to her.

"This is Taweret." He beamed proudly.

"She's the nice hippo lady." The child peeped, staring at the statue with rapt attention.

"Yes! Yes, she is! Very nice." Steven chuckled. "But she's also the goddess of motherhood and children, did you know? She protects women when they have their babies, and helps them."

The little girl nodded, "Yeah, I read a thingy 'bout her! She's--"

"Victoria! Oh my god." A breathless voice called from the front of the shop.

The moment Steven lifted his gaze, he could feel his heart catch on his throat when he saw you. Even Marc and Jake went quiet as you approached.

You were wearing some faded-out jeans and a t-shirt with a faded band logo that hugged your figure very nicely. You had a backpack slung over your shoulders and the keychains dangling from it tinkled and clacked as you moved, rushing to scoop up your child.

Steven could easily see that Victoria got her looks from you, those gorgeous inquisitive eyes, her nose, hair texture...

Jake had to give him the mental equivalent of a slap to stop his gawking as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the hand not holding the statue on his jeans as he gave you what he hoped was a charming smile, but judging by your wariness, you obviously weren't thrilled at the sight of your daughter talking to a strange man.

Steven was about to speak up, but Victoria did so instead for him, not reading the tenseness in the situation.

"Steven's my friend!" She beamed, holding the book in her pudgy little fingers, showing you. "He knows about 'Gyptian stuff, too!"

Steven blinked, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks as you looked at him, raised eyebrows. It took him a moment of awkward glancing away to realize Victoria knew his name because she read his name tag. He hadn't once said it to her. Hell, he only knew her name because you said it when you ran in!

"Ah... Yes. I work here, in the gift shop. Egyptology is a major... um." He struggled to find a word.

"Hyperfixation?" You sigh, the tension easing from your shoulders as you smile tiredly.

"Oh! Yes. I s'pose!" He said, blinking his big doe eyes at you.

"Yeah, Victoria is... well." You chuckle, propping the young child on your hip with practiced ease. "She's obsessed with the stuff! I swear, the stuff she can shove into her noggin with how much she knows of ancient Egypt, it feels like she was born in the wrong era, I'm telling you!"

Victoria smiled happily and snuggled into you, rubbing her cheek on the soft fabric of your shirt with a content hum, almost like a happy little cat.

You didn't pay any mind to her as she rubbed her face on you, instead conversing with the man in front of you.

"Ah... A little scholar to be, eh?" Steven laughed awkwardly.

"Hah, more like she already is one. With everything she knows, I swear she outpaces me in the IQ department." You sigh fondly, brushing a stray curl from your daughter's face.

Steven's eyes anxiously tracked your movements, how your fingers curled, the way your eyelashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, the way your foot tapped on the floor...

"I'm surprised she talked to you. She's normally very introverted." You hum softly, raising those drop dead gorgeous eyes to lock with his before he awkwardly dropped his eyes to your lips whilst you spoke.

"But then again, if you started talking about this stuff with her, it's no surprise. I'm the only person she talks to about it because nobody else understands."

You noticed his Steven was looking anywhere but your eyes, and how he nervously licked at his lips, his fingers wrapped around the statuette in his hands tapping idly.

"Oh! She's a lovely little conversationalist. Rather well-knowledged as well!" Steven replied, looking at Victoria again, who grinned as she once again rubbed her face on your shirt.

"Honestly, she's more learned than half the adults who try to talk to me about Egypt." He huffed out a chuckle.

His eyes dropped to the picture of Anubis that initially offended the child. "We got into a little debate about how inaccurate those pieces of Anubis are."

"Oh, don't get her started on those inaccurate artworks... She despises them!" You laugh softly.

"Oh, I fully understand why! It's so offensive!" Steven gasped. "Especially to a culture! Anubis is not an evil god by any means!"

"Oh yeah, believe me... we watched a movie the other day and she had a meltdown because they made Anubis the bad guy. She was so distraught it took thirty minutes to calm her down." You smile with infinite patience at your little girl.

"Oh, poor little dear! But I can totally understand that." Steven smiled, finally locking eyes with you as he reached some level of professional comfort with you.

"Mommy, can I get em?" Victoria peeped, interrupting you before you could get another word out.

"Hm?" You hummed at her, raising an eyebrow.

"The book and hippo lady!" She replied, holding up the book.

"Hippo Lady?"

"Yeah!" She said, sounding a little exasperated, pointing to the statue Steven clutched in his hands. "Her! Tawar!"

"Taweret." Steven chuckled softly at her mispronunciation.

"Tawww--" Victoria frowned as she tried to get the word out. "Tawweret."

"Close 'nough. I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Steven smiled warmly, holding up the statuette.

"All right, all right." You laughed, following Steven to the counter so you could check out, having another nice chat about what he and Victoria discussed. He even tossed in a little keychain that held a preserved scarab beetle in epoxy, much to Victoria's delight!

What you didn't know as you left the shop, was how positively smitten he was with you already.

That was your first meeting with Steven Grant.

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A few weeks crawled by, and every other day you were at the museum, letting Victoria lead you by the hand as she animatedly discussed what every object or picture meant, and you struggled to keep up, making mental (and a few digital) notes on what she was talking about. Of course, she insisted that after every tour, you stopped to say hi to her new "bestest friend" Steven.

You were thrilled that you found someone who operated on the same wavelength as your daughter, knowing that it was hard for her to make connections with other children, let alone adults. But Steven and Victoria took to each other like ducks to water.

And hey, he seemed harmless enough. Cute, too, beneath that mop of curls. You even started researching more just to be able to tag into the conversations between your daughter and her unlikely friend.

Today, you were at the local grocer and Victoria decided that she wanted to walk with you instead of riding in the trolley on her tablet like she normally did. You were happy, but ensured she kept her noise cancelling headphones over her tiny ears to make sure she stayed comfortable.

You had picked up a pack of steaks to examine the cuts when Victoria slipped your hand free of hers and darted off, squealing, "Steven!"

You almost dropped the steaks when Victoria darted down the aisle and wrapped her arms around the legs of the man she ran towards.

One minute Marc was looking at a box of matzahs, the next, he had a child clinging to his legs.

His whole body froze as he looked down, immediately going rigid as the little girl looked up at him, babbling something he didn't quite understand because of how quickly she was speaking.

He did make out the name "Steven".

"Uh--" He said awkwardly.

"I'm so sorry!" You say, hastily bringing the trolley up to the two. "She just got excited to see you, and..."

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He looked like Steven Grant, but he didn't feel like Steven Grant. His normally messy curls were combed back neatly, his flannel hanging open with the sleeves rolled up and T-shirt untucked from his pants. His big brown eyes were wide, looking at you with a face that simply pleaded "Help me".

"Uh..."

"I'm... Marc." He said in an unmistakably American accent.

"Oh. Oh!" You lean down and scoop up Victoria, hastily plopping her in the trolley, willing yourself to ignore her little wobbling lip as you messily search up her favorite video to watch on her tablet to prevent the simmering meltdown you could see just beneath her surface.

"I'm... I'm sorry. You just look like someone we know from the museum, and..." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you cringed.

"Steven, yeah..." Marc said, giving a stiff smile in return as he dropped the box of what looked like crackers into his basket looped over his elbow.

"You..."

'Play it cool, Marc...' Jake's voice softly warned.

"We're, uh, brothers. Triplets. All identical." He spat out with haste.

"Oh! Well... That's... That explains the looks, huh." You smile, hoping to ease the awkward tension. His explanation didn't sit well with you for some reason, as to why he suddenly blurted it all out. But you chocked it up to him trying to explain to avoid upsetting Victoria.

"But, yeah. Um... Your brother, Steven? He and Victoria are like, best friends now. She looks forward to seeing him whenever we're at the museum." You chuckle softly.

Marc's eyes soften as he smiles, giving Victoria a gentle look. "Yeah, uh, Steven's told me about her. She's a smart kid, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. A real genius." You smile at her as she starts tapping away at her tablet, selecting one of her drawing apps and beginning to scribble.

"Sometimes I can't keep up with her."

"Hey, that's good. She'll go places." Marc replied.

Your smile falters a bit. "Yeah, if people will give her a chance..." You mutter.

Marc was about to ask what she meant, but he kept his mouth shut, watching as Victoria was engrossed with her tablet, her little feet wiggling and tapping on the sides of the trolley as she moved her mouth silently, mouthing words to herself.

"She's... Eh." You rub the back of your neck. "She normally doesn't come to the store with me. She says she can hear the lights buzzing and it upsets her, which is why she has to wear her headphones. I mean I can't hear the lights or anything, but all I need to know is that she can..."

"Yeah, Steven is the same way sometimes. It makes him twitch so he has to wear headphones when we go shopping..." Marc said, frowning.

"Yeah. That's something I'm kind of amazed about. Victoria doesn't really have any friends outside of well, me... and your brother? Steven and her are just... man, they're like two peas in a pod!"

Marc stays quiet as you smile fondly at your child, and he notes the relief in your expression as you recount that your child was able to finally connect with someone. It warmed his heart to know that Steven was able to socialize with someone who shared the same mannerisms, even if she was just a kid.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you put your hands on your hips, and noted the lack of wedding ring and a ring tan line.

'Focus, cabrón.' Jake snickered.

"She's autistic. It was a pain to get her diagnosed, but we managed. I could tell she was different. Namely how she would act with fabrics." You sigh.

Now that grabbed both Marc and Jake's attention. If Steven were aware and co-fronting, he was sure he would be rapt as well. Steven explained the fabric thing to hime a few times, but being in the same body it was still hard at times to understand that Marc or Jake could feel one thing but Steven could feel another.

"Uh... Fabrics? You'll have to forgive me, but..."

"Oh! It's a sensory thing." You explain, rolling your hand. "With her, it's fleece, or satin-like textures. They irritate her and make her fussy. As a baby I never understood why she flipped out when I would put her little socks on her until the doctor explained it when she was older. But for some people it's cotton, or microfiber... The way Victoria describes it is that it's, uh..."

"Scratchy." Marc murmurs.

"Exactly!" You snap your fingers.

"Yeah, Steven is the same way. Though he's not like that with satin, he usually prefers cotton--the super soft kind? Or silk." Marc nods, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"Yeah... It's thankfully easy to shop for her, she prefers cotton and soft microfiber. It's why she rubs her cheek on my shirts or pants. Some people mistake it for being affectionate--and don't get me wrong sometimes it is--but usually it's a grounding thing." You sigh softly. "It helps her calm down."

"Ah... Sounds hard. What about her dad? He know how to handle it?" Marc asked curiously.

He immediately felt bad when he saw how your expression fell, and you glared at the ground.

"He skipped out on us while I was pregnant. I caught him in our bed with someone I thought was my best friend the day I found out she was a girl." You spit, angry and full of venom.

Marc cringed. "God, your best friend? In your bed? That's a whole extra level of degeneracy..."

"I know! Ugh! I swear, if he wasn't stronger than me I would have stabbed him that day!" You groan.

Marc rocks his head back in shock at the admission. "You were gonna stab him?"

"When you're five months pregnant, hormonal, tired, and sore and walk in on your fiancee doing the deed in your own bed? Yeah, emotions get high." You run a hand through your hair, smirking as you looked back at him.

"Grabbed the knife right outta the block and lunged at him. Chased em both half naked out of my flat."

'Shit, I'd be in love. That sounds sexy as hell.' Marc could just imagine the grin that would be spread across Jake's face at that.

Marc laughed, unable to contain himself, both at the retelling of your story and Jake's remark.

'You got problems, Jake.' Marc shot back mentally.

'Pot, meet kettle...'

'Touché...'

"So it's safe to say, he's out of the picture, huh?" Marc says, his laughter dying down into a soft chuckle.

"Oh yeah. Had his parental rights severed, and kicked his sorry.... well. I tossed him out and told him that my "best friend" could deal with him and his lazy antics, considering I pay for the flat."

"Yikes. Sounds like a real dirt bag."

"Oh yeah, he was. I have no idea what I saw in him, to be honest... And knowing that Victoria isn't "normal" like other kids, I feel like he would treat her badly, or... hurt her." You say, shaking your head.

"Hey, if he shows up and does that just call me." Marc grunted. "I hate it when people do that crap to kids. I'll knock his teeth down his throat."

The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the weight of them almost made them feel oppressive as glimpses of his abusive childhood shone through. The memories of his mother swinging her arm down, the crack of the leather belt, the red, bloody welts in his skin...

'Ay, hermano. Come back, don't think about that.' Jake's voice said gently, urging that door in his mind shut. 'That's not your life, anymore.'

Marc blinked and looked back up at you, his eyes locking with yours. And the concern on your face... he felt so undeserving of it. He wasn't sure why, but...

"Ah... I mean... Let's just say I have experience with that sort of thing. So I'm..." He struggled.

"No, no, I get it. My dad was a piece of shhh..." You cringed as the word almost slipped from you, casting a short glance to Victoria, making sure she couldn't hear you. "Er. He was bad. So yeah, I totally get you."

"Oh... Sorry, people get weirded out when I..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Disassociate." You finish for him. "I used to do the same thing when it came to my dad. It gets easier once you're free of it, I promise."

The soft, sweet smile you give him was strong enough to make his heart jump into his throat.

'Wow...'

'Ask. Her. Out. Steven won't do it, so you do it!' Jake urged him.

Marc choked suddenly, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat at Jake's further commentary.

"You okay?" You ask him.

"Y-Yeah, I just... Uh..." He cringed again. "It's... allergies! I've been dealing with them since we dusted the flat, and... Yep. Allergies."

You chuckle softly at him as Victoria tugs on your sleeve and whispers in your ear.

"Oop, mama duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Marc." You grin, giving him a short handshake.

"Yeah... You too." Marc replied as you walked off, giving Victoria a wave as she peeked over your shoulder as you push the trolley away.

'Allergies? Smooth, Marc. Really smooth. How the hell did you ever bag Layla with romantic skills like that?' Jake sighed sarcastically.

'I swear Layla probably only married you for your dick, man. You're so BAD at romance.'

Marc knew Layla did love him, at one point but with all the drama of being Moon Knight, it quickly snuffed that relationship... They were still close of course, but they'd never open up to another intimate relationship again. Which was fine, none of them minded particularly.

Especially not now. Not now that there's a cute single mom with and adorably--scarily--smart little girl on her hip to occupy those thoughts.

And that... was your first time meeting Marc Spector.

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Now, meeting Jake was different. Completely different. You technically "met" Jake weeks after you met Marc and built a rapport with him.

One night, Jake was sitting in the window, munching on some saltines he'd spread with sunflower butter as he read some old knitting patterns in a book he'd picked up at a resale shop.

He thought he could knit something for both you and Victoria and have Steven give it to you, it would be a good way to start actually flirting, to hopefully open up that door for all of you.

But of course... well. He knew Steven was way too shy to ask you out on a date, and Marc was too chicken shit and awkward about the subject to bring it up himself.

And so, it fell upon Jake Lockley to find a way to get closer to you, two. He understood that many single mothers found it tricky to date, especially with a child like Victoria. It would require immense levels of trust to get past those walls you would have put up to protect both you and Victoria, especially after you'd told Marc about Victoria's biological father fucking your best friend the day of your ultrasound.

He could just imagine how your poor face fell when you closed your front door, hearing the ridiculously high-pitched, false moans and the squeaking of the mattress as that miserable excuse of a man was having his way with your supposed "best friend"...

All while your hands would have clutched the pictures of your unborn baby girl, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you screamed at them while they scrambled to cover their shame.

And then.... as you told Marc, you would have grabbed the knife and the rest was history; bidding goodbye to that cheating bastard and woman you once trusted.

You were strong, loving and oh so patient with your daughter and her needs. Jake found your whole being attractive, honestly. He hadn't seen you angry, but he just knew you were a badass if you wanted to be.

He chuckled as he picked up his knitting needles, and began to loop the soft, thick yarn through each line. He was sure to pick yarn that wouldn't upset Victoria and her sensory issues, so he picked the softest yarn he possibly could, selecting enough to make the both of you matching jumpers.

Victoria's would be a little big, to allow for comfort and her to grow into it as she wore it. He could just imagine how adorable she'd look with the sleeves hanging over her little hands, squirming and giggling as you two played together--

Jake's hands stopped knitting.

Shit. He had it down bad for you, too.

When he looked down, that's when he noticed the green laser pointed right at him...

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You were there, simply cleaning up the mess from dinner as Victoria happily colored on her dry erase board, drawing the shapes and hieroglyphs she saw in the book Steven selected for her.

She had been quiet and engrossed in her little art project for so long that you jumped and almost dropped a plate on the floor when she squealed loudly.

"Mommy, it's Steven! Or Mister Marc?"

"Huh? What?" You looked around your flat, for some reason your brain told you to look inside instead our our the window where her little finger tapped the glass excitedly.

"No, there!" She insisted. "Over there!"

You walk over to her and lean down, looking out the window.

And sure enough, across the street, in the building across from yours, an apartment had the curtains open with the lights on.

In one of the windows, at a desk, sat a man. The streets were close enough together that you could make out some details. The shadow of a mustache being the first thing you zeroed in on, and then the immaculately slicked-back hair.

He looked like he was... knitting? This man, who looked like Steven and Marc. Marc and Steven both mentioned on different occasions that they had a brother named Jake, maybe this was him?

And wow! So close by, too!

Victoria waved her arms, trying to get her attention, but the man was so absorbed in his task that he didn't notice her try to get his attention. When her little disappointed sniffles could be heard, you snap your fingers.

"I got an idea!" You say, dashing to the end table by the front door and rummaging through the various keychains you'd accumulated. It was a guilty habit of yours, you found.

But then you pluck up the laser toy and run back to the window. It takes shaking it once or twice for the green light to illuminate, but when it does, you shine it directly through the window and at the man's chest.

Then, he looked up.

You break out into a happy grin when he spots the two of you, and Victoria giggles with unabated glee as she waves some more, her whole tiny body moving with every shake of her overly excited hand.

You see the man smile back and he waves at the both of you.

"Hey, baby, why don't we use your board to say hi?" You suggest, rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah!" She giggles, grabbing the board and erasing her painstakingly re-created drawings from the book, and messily scrawled the word:

Hi :)

The man laughed and looked around until he grabbed a notebook, scribbled something with a marker, and held it up for you two to see.

Hello

You chuckle as Victoria hands you the board, knowing that your writing is neater than hers is, and with how excited she is, she was bound to mess up.

You quickly and clearly write something down and turn the board to face the window.

Steven or Marc?

He smiled at you and scribbled back.

Jake

Marc n Steven told us about you. Hi!

They've told me a lot about you, too.

"That's Jake, honey. Remember what I said? How Steven and Mister Marc look alike? He's the same way." You explain to Victoria.

"Oh." She sighs. Poor little thing seemed dejected that once again, she misidentified someone as her "bestest friend".

You lift your eyes as Jake showed what he put on the notepad next. It was a badly drawn cat with a happy face on it.

You can't help but laugh and grin, nudging Victoria to look at what he drew for her.

"It's a kitty!" She gasps, snatching the board from your hands to draw pictures for him.

You spent much of the evening that night with Victoria and Jake drawing pictures back and forth, writing messages until he ran out of paper.

That's when you put down your phone number and told him to text, to make it easier on Victoria.

Victoria, upon realizing this, dropped her board and snatched your phone, starting a video call with Jake and chattering his ear off. He seemed to take it in stride, engaging with her. Not on the same level as Steven, but something about how he handled it gave you the impression he had experience with kids, or even worked with kids.

He didn't talk down or dumb anything down for her, he spoke to her calmly and clearly like he would anyone else, and the fact he was so sweet was endearing to you.

He was even teaching her little words in Spanish. For some reason, she liked to repeat the word "cat" because she liked how it sounded, and it was "funny".

That was how you met Jake Lockley.

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It was now half a year since you'd indirectly met all three "brothers" and quickly, the pressure was beginning to mount on them to reveal the truth to you as their crush developed more and more into full infatuation with you and your darling girl.

But they still hadn't asked you out, yet. They'd come close a few times, but it was never when Jake was in control so Marc and Steven backed down at the last possible moment. Every time Jake was in control it wasn't a "good moment" for them to propose a date with you. But now?

It was late in the year, the harvest festival being over with and the holidays around the corner with Christmas, as usual, dominating all others. Snow and ice encased everything. It came early this year, and Victoria couldn't be more thrilled. (She could build snowmen with her friends, Steven, Mister Marc and Mister Jake!)

You and Jake would text, and he gave in and told you that he, Marc, and Steven all actually lived together and he would "let" Steven or Marc use his phone so he could video chat with Victoria and you.

You didn't know the boys all shared the same phone regardless.

It was nice having a social life again, even if it was small. Outside work and ensuring a comfortable upbringing for your little girl, you'd forgotten how nice it was to have friends. Even if those friends consisted of three identical, quirky brothers who lived in the flat across the way.

The day was coming soon, for when they would have to confess to you about the true nature of their identities. And the three unanimously agreed that they would tell you about Moon Knight.

For your safety, and Victoria's. They didn't want you to agree to date them (if you ever would) only to find out they snuck out in the dead of night to do the bidding of some creepy ancient bird god who could frankly do with a wardrobe update...

They just didn't anticipate that day to be today. Of course, Steven would rather have broken the news to you over a nice dinner in the corner booth of a quiet restaurant. Or even on a nice walk through the park...

But no. No, it had to come out when you decided to pull out your phone and go through your texts or the day as Victoria sat in Steven's lap on the couch of your living room.

Jake had sent a meme earlier in the day, of a little cat wearing a sombrero and you chuckled. You sent a meme back in reply, of a snail holding some maracas on some drawn-on arms.

That's when Steven twitched when the phone in his back pocket vibrated and chimed with a silly little ringtone.

You blinked at him as he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to knock Victoria off balance as he checked it. He awkwardly cleared his throat and gave you a strained smile as he set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"You okay..." You say, eyeing the very familiar phone. They could just have the same model and case...

"Oh, yes, just an email alert, luv. Don't worry 'bout it!" Steven chirped, quickly shifting his attention back to Victoria as she practiced her reading from the book in her hands.

You squint at him suspiciously. Your finger hovered over the send button when you selected another silly little image...

But you decided to call instead.

That's when a song began to chime. One you recognized very well as Steven's favorite song...

♫"Lonely is a man,

Without looove~"♫

'God damn it, Steven! You forgot to put it on silent again!' Marc's panicked voice shouted inside their headspace.

'Ay, hermanito, not now!' Jake groaned.

Steven began to sweat profusely as Victoria handed the phone innocently to him, urging him to answer it, not making the correlation with the song, or your phone number...

Steven shakily held the phone to his ear and answered.

"H-Hello..."

"Steven." You deadpan, raising an eyebrow and tapping your finger on your arm.

'Shit shit shit shit.' Marc hissed.

'Busted.' Jake almost sang.

You look at Victoria, hesitant to interrupt her time with Steven, but you wanted answers. Why is it that none of the men ever agreed to all meet up in person to hang out? Why did you only ever see one at a time? Yes, work was a convenient excuse, but every single day?

And then there's the phone!

Yeah, you weren't letting Steven wiggle free from this talk, even as Victoria pouted and trudged back into her room to play with her toys.

You almost feel like a cop in a bad movie, the way you lean back with your arms crossed, almost like you were an interrogator in a police precinct.

Would this make you both the bad and good cop?

You felt so bad, knowing that this kind of behavior would only freak Steven out, so you relaxed your jaw and posture, leaning away from him and giving him breathing room as his sweaty hands began to pat nervously in the memorized tune of that specific song that was just playing.

"I'm not blind, and I'm not dumb... So start from the beginning." You sigh. "I don't want anything to come out and upset Victoria, but I have to know who I'm letting around my little girl."

Steven licked at his slightly chapped lips, taking his bottom lip between his teeth briefly.

"Okay..." He peeped.

'Just take it slow, Steven.' Marc urged him gently.

'I can take control, if you want.' Jake offered.

"No, that's too much right now." Steven muttered aloud, without thinking.

You tipped your head to the side. "What's too much?"

Steven jumped and covered his mouth, his big doe eyes wide as can be, like he's a little boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He despised awkward situations like this. He could never tell what to say to keep someone happy and to avoid them getting angry with him...

"Steven, I'm not mad. I'm honestly confused. Please... Just... Tell me everything, okay? I just wanna know some things." You say, leaning forward to put your hand on his knee, your ever so patient eyes sweet and understanding.

Yeah, those eyes were his undoing.

"Do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?"

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Whatever you had originally expected to hear from Steven, finding out that he, Marc and Jake all shared the same body was a lot to absorb. Especially after Steven blurted out about their superhero alter ego that apparently did bidding for an Egyptian god?

Steven expected you to be mad, braced himself for it, but instead, he and his two headmates were knocked entirely off center when you made the remark that if Khonshu ever got to be too much for the boys, they should lock him in a room with Victoria and her never-ending questions.

That would shut him up for a little while, surely.

Another thing you weren't expecting was the date proposal from Steven (and of course Marc and Jake).

You hesitated, at first... But...

They were so kind and sweet. They already have shown so much care for you and your daughter... And you were honestly happy to realize that you weren't crushing on different guys, that your feelings were no longer awkward and conflicted.

Or wait, were you crushing on different men? Yes they were completely different identities, but they shared a body, and... oh, this was gonna take time to learn more about.

Your first date was for later that week. Steven informed you it would be Jake, taking you out, as he felt like a "bloody awkward fool" and was afraid of messing it up, and Marc was just as bad at those social situations.

But you agreed, and when the date rolled around, you and Victoria were bundled up, all ready to go to the charming little Italian restaurant somewhere in town where apparently Jake was friendly with the employees there.

Victoria skipped in the snow, struggling to match her pace with yours, making sure her footsteps were measured so her prints mirrored yours exactly as she walked on her little tippy toes.

As you approached where Jake had his car parked, he smiled, his mustache quirking up as he scooped Victoria in his large gloved hands, laughing when she dragged her fingers over his hairy upper lip, comparing the stache to a caterpillar.

You stifled a snort and covered your mouth as you watched Jake buckle Victoria into a booster seat in the back of his car.

"Where did you..." You blinked. You fully intended to run back to your flat and grab the booster seat you owned, but you were surprised to see Jake already had one. A rather expensive-looking one, at that.

"Ay, cariño, you didn't think I'd let the little chiquita ride unprotected, did you?" He smirked at you, his dark eyes glinting mischievously.

"But, I have one. You didn't have to..."

"Hey, if it makes it easier, I'll be happy to foot the bill." Jake hummed, leaning in to check Victoria's buckles as she played on her tablet, snow-caked shoes kicking lazily as she did.

Normally, Jake was insane about his car. He always made sure his fares cleaned their damn feet off before getting inside. But for you two he willingly made the exception.

"Now, c'mon mamacita." Jake grinned at you once more as he enabled the child lock and closed the door on Victoria's side. "We got lunch to get to, right?"

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You couldn't remember the last time you were on a date. Actually wait, you could. The night you got pregnant. One of the only times Victoria's sperm donor was ever romantic with you, and he proposed the next morning after.

Yeah, you knew how that story ended.

But now it looked like a whole new book was being written right in front of you, as cliché as it all sounded.

Jake had treated you both well, engaging happily and drawing with Victoria on the activity mat the restaurant provided as you sipped your glass of red wine, watching; your heart was fluttering in your chest as you watched how happy she was interacting with them.

After a while, he went back out to his car and returned with a sparkly red gift bag for the two of you and you immediately felt your heart lurch up from your chest and into your throat.

He knitted the two of you matching jumpers. A mama cat and her kitten, of course, he managed to do it in an Egyptian style, much to Victoria's glee as she ripped off her regular jumper in favor of the one Jake made, immediately rubbing her face on the sleeve with a happy giggle.

You couldn't help but smile warmly as Jake helped her pop her head through the top, and you decided to slip yours on, yourself.

God, it was almost surreal how Hallmark it all seemed. Not one, but three men interested in you, a lonely single mother. All three men who adored your daughter and treated you both with respect. All three men, who shared the same body and nighttime secret.

And you found yourself falling just as hard, and somewhere in the back of your mind wondered if--if--you had met them first... would they have been Victoria's father(s)? Would they have rejoiced in your pregnancy? Gone to your appointments, held your hand in the delivery room? Would they have helped the doctors weigh and print Victoria for the very first time?

Your mind was knocked out of the what-ifs when your phone jingled, catching Jake's attention.

"Oh, it's Victoria's pediatrician. I have to take this." You sigh sadly, not wanting to step away from the cozy atmosphere in your booth.

Jake smiled at you and winked, "Go ahead and take it. I got her handled."

You smiled back, hoping the flush to your face wasn't as obvious as you feared as you got up and answered the call.

Jake continued to play and draw with Victoria, letting her explain how some of her learning games worked, what apps were her favorite, and who her favorite cartoon characters were.

Honestly, if anyone thought Steven was great with Victoria thanks to their same autistic traits? Jake was good simply because he was a natural with kids. Marc was, too, but he was a bit stiff and nervous. He needed to be eased into it just a bit more.

"Hey.... Psst. Mister Jake." Victoria whispered to him, blinking her big, bright, gorgeous eyes up at him.

"Yeah? What is it, gatita?" Jake hummed at her, grinning.

She waved her hand, urging him closer as she whispered conspiratorially, cupping her hand over his ear, "Look where Mommy's standing."

Jake lifts his gaze to find you among the crowd of people, where you stood on your phone, talking to the doctor about Victoria's upcoming appointment. He tracked where Victoria was pointing, and that's when he saw it: the mistletoe.

He knew immediately what Victoria was hinting at.

"That means you gotta kiss my Mommy." She whispered to him again.

"Oh, I do, huh?" Jake teased, poking her in the side. "And what if I don't?"

"Then Imma make you!" She squeaked and giggled.

"Oh, dear, then in that case I definitely have to do it, eh?" He chuckled.

"C'mon." Jake said, scooping Victoria up and holding her on his hip. "Let's go give another present to your wonderful mamá."

As they got closer to you, he caught the tail-end of your conversation.

"...yeah. Next Wednesday at 3pm. See you, then, Doctor Wilson. ...Of course! Happy holidays." You say cheerily, ending the call.

When you turned around, you saw Jake holding Victoria against him as he walked closer to you.

The sight really shouldn't have taken your breath away the way that it did...

But if you thought your breath was taken before? It was entirely robbed from you as Jake leaned in, wrapping an arm around your waist as he tipped his head down to kiss you, his mustache tickling your nose and upper lip.

You were so taken aback that you didn't hear the whooping and laughing from the workers of the restaurant as the scene unfolded in front of them, congratulating Jake.

Victoria squirmed and squealed and laughed and laughed, rubbing her face on Jake's leather jacket as your lips finally parted and your jaw dropped.

"What's the matter, mamacita? Cat got your tongue?"

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God, dating those men was the best decision you ever made. Even with them being Moon Knight.

They were kind enough to always say goodnight to Victoria before they went about their business, giving you a soft kiss before whichever one was in control of the body departed.

You had only been dating a short while, it was now entering February and you were all spending more and more time together. Marc, Jake, and Steven had all spent the night once or twice in their own time.

Nothing sexual happened, but it was so nice to fall asleep with someone wrapping their arms around you. It was even better to wake up and see Victoria snuggled onto his chest, his arms caged around her protectively, flexing when she made any movements as his unconscious body ensured she wouldn't roll off of him and--god forbid--onto the floor.

It was a few days before Valentine's, and Marc had spent the day with you and Victoria. He had gotten much more comfortable around her, falling into a natural and gentle routine unique to them. Just like she had with Steven, and Jake. And above all, they handled her autism well.

Steven was exceptionally good at helping distract her during her meltdowns, whereas Jake could cradle her, singing little songs in Spanish as he rubbed her back. Marc would start by talking to her in a low, gentle tone, urging her to just breathe, and talk, explaining what was upsetting her and what would work best to help her calm down from it.

But right now, Victoria was in the midst of a battle against sleep.

"Don' wanna sleep." Victoria sniffled into Marc's jumper.

"I know, babydoll, but you'll feel loads better once you do, mkay?" He murmured quietly to her as he padded, barefoot into Victoria's almost obnoxiously canary-yellow bedroom.

"I can make some apple pancakes for you in the morning, hm? How's that sound?"

He dodged the minefield of toys scattered about and chuckled softly at the shelf where her little ancient Egypt memorabilia sat meticulously organized alongside her books and drawings on the subject. A half-finished paper sarcophagus lay on the desk in the corner, a project Steven had started with her two days ago that they intended to finish together.

Marc laid her down and she nodded, rubbing her eye. "Okay..." She mumbled in agreement.

Marc picked up the plushy scarab that Steven bought from the gift shop and handed it to her, tucking her in all nice and warm.

"There you go." He said softly to her, kneeling next to the bed. "Snug as a bug in... well. Blankets, right now, huh?"

He grinned when Victoria giggled groggily at his pun, squeezing the beetle plush she named "Digger" and snuggled under the blankets, her feather lashes brushed her cheeks as she began to drift off.

"See you in the morning, babydoll." Marc said softly, giving her a kiss to her forehead before standing.

His finger had just flipped the switch to turn off the lights in her room, so only the salt lamp dimly illuminated her bedside, when he heard her peep as she rolled over.

"G'night daddy."

He felt like his heart stopped beating as he shakily closed the door, dragging his suddenly very heavy feet through your flat as he made his way to your couch, the weight of that word landing on his shoulders.

He felt like Atlas, carrying the world on his back as he dropped down onto the chocolate brown cushions.

You walk over, having finished dishes from dinner, wiping your hands on a tea towel. Upon seeing his shell-shocked expression, you sit next to him in concern as he covered his face with his hands, his arms shaking and skin pale.

"Marc, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I..." He said, his voice breaking.

You lean in, reaching out to brush a hand through his mop of curls, letting him take his time. Maybe Steven or Jake was trying to front? You've seen how taxing it could be on them when it happened so suddenly. One time Steven had seized control in the kitchen from Jake and he fell and cracked his head open on the counter! Poor Victoria cried when she saw how much he was bleeding, scared that he was dying.

It took a lot of hugs and kisses to convince her otherwise...

"She... God. Fuck." Marc swore softly, sniffing. "She--she called me daddy."

Your jaw dropped and you gawked at him. Was Victoria already so attached to him? To them? But then again, she's never had a father figure, before, either, and suddenly having not one, but technically three men in her life doing all the things a dad should do? You can understand why she would--hell, why you would...

He dropped his arms and you could see the beginnings of tears clump in his beautiful eyelashes, heavy weights of emotion settling deep in his chest.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away. God, he didn't deserve all of this. He didn't deserve this... this domesticity. Guys like him just didn't get to have a life like that. Not with everything he's had to do as a soldier, a mercenary... in Khonshu's name.

He didn't deserve such a beautiful woman, or the idolized gaze of her sweet and innocent baby girl.

'You're too hard on yourself, Marc.' Steven said to him in their headspace.

'Yeah, hermano...' Jake murmured.

"Marc, honey..." You say, leaning in and adjusting your position, so your head lay on his chest. You spread your hand over his heart, feeling how it hammered in the muscle of his chest.

"I just... What the hell did I do to get this?" He asked softly, bringing his arms around you to bury his nose in your hair.

"Well, I think it all started the day a certain little girl wiggled free of me and ran into a gift shop..."

Marc chuckled, squeezing you tight.

"Would you want us to?" He whispered. "Would you want us to stay? Would you be okay with that? I know it's soon, and--and I'm not saying we move in or anything like that, but..."

"I think it would crush Victoria if I ever shoo'd you boys away, honey." You assured him, tipping your head up to give him a sweet kiss.

You feel the tension slowly bleed from his body and his expression softens into a heartbreakingly sweet smile, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth that you haven't seen before as your lips parted.

"Then we'll stay. As long as you both will put up with us." He said to you, his voice so quiet you almost couldn't catch his words.

"How do Steven and Jake feel about her calling you daddy?" You smile slyly.

Marc grins and drops his head back with a laugh, listening to the bickering of his headmates as his anxiety ebbed away.

"Oh... They're arguing over who Vicky is gonna call daddy next."

"We need to think of nicknames for you guys so she doesn't confuse you." You laughed with him.

Your laughter was cut short when you heard Victoria's door click open, and out she waddled, blanket clutched in one arm, Digger firmly squeezed into the crook of her elbow and her thumb was in her mouth. She only sucked her thumb when she was frightened, or severely anxious.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Marc asked, shooting to his feet even before you could, at her side in a split second.

You joined him and put your hands on her shoulders, looking into her drowsy and not-entirely-awake eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head, mumbling something around her thumb.

"What is it, kiddo?" Marc inquired next.

She pulled her thumb out of her mouth with a pop.

"There's a bird-man in my room."

[wandasslut3000]

You’re mine

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, mommy!kink, unspecified age gap, squirting, sub!reader, cunnilingus, spitting, scissoring, marking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, dirty talk, bondage, bdsm, praise, degradation, possessiveness, fingering, begging.

WC: 1.3k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Please! I need you!" You whimper, the wet ache between your legs practically sending you into tears.

"And why should I give a brat like you what you want? You know I don't like seeing you around with her."

One finger slowly trailed up your thigh making it twitch, your wrists bound to the headboard and your legs wide open as your ankles are held apart with cuffs.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry, Okay? I won't even look in her direction again, it was a stupid mistake!" You practically sobbed in need.

She was referring to your co-worker Cindy, knowing about her attraction towards you always sent Lizzie in a fit of rage, she hates having to see her near you for work.

Cindy came to take the rest of your shift at the bar you work at. Clearly she'd gone through some of the inventory herself, being a little too handsy for your liking.

Lizzie had come to pick you up, having decided to not wait in the car, she made her way inside the club to find Cindy trying to untie your apron for you, although you had already declined multiple times, she still insisted.

You turned and your eyes widened as you saw your girlfriend eyeing the two of you, making you practically tear your uniform off and rush straight to her, her eyebrow cocked up and her lip between her teeth.

Though you both knew it wasn’t your fault, you were still in for it.

"Oh yeah? Are you sure? I bet Cindy would just love to see you like this."

Her tone changes from harsh to teasing in a matter of seconds, another rush of wetness practically leaking out of you.

"No- I only need you.. Only you can have me!" Lizzie's lips turn up in a smirk, her hands moving up and down the flesh of your thighs, your clit throbbing, practically begging to be touched.

"That's right, this is all mine." She gestures to your quivering body, one hand moving up to your breast and giving it a squeeze, her thumb rubbing against your nipple making you bite your lip in pleasure.

"You're all mine, isn't that right pretty girl?"

You nod rapidly and her hands grope your chest, making you whimper at the feeling, wanting nothing more than for her to absolutely ruin you.

"Words"

"I belong to you.. Please mommy just touch me." Her eyebrows raised at the name and your lips snapped shut, a fierce blush covering your face and you realized the words that slipped out of your mouth.

"Mommy huh? You want mommy to touch you princess?"

"I'm sorry, it's just.. please, fuck me." At this point tears are springing from your eyes, your legs twitching in both anticipation and embarrassment. Your pussy throbbing to the point that it hurt.

"Aww poor baby, you need mommy to play with your pretty pussy is that it?" She moves onto her stomach to lay between your legs, eyeing your leaking wetness hungrily. Her finger slips through your slit and finally up to your bundle of nerves.

You moan pathetically, you whole body quivering at finally feeling her.

"Yeah? You like me touching you right here?"

You nod and her other hand joins in the stimulation, sliding past your folds and inside you, the finger on your clit being replaced by her mouth as she latches herself onto the bundle of nerves.

Her fingers move in and out of you faster and faster with each pump. "Oh god please- don't stop..” You can't contain yourself, she just feels so good.

"Such a slut for mommy aren't you? How pathetic." She taunts, picking up her pace, your eyes shutting and mouth dropping at the feeling.

Just as you're about to reach my your climax, everything stops. Your eyes snap open and your tears return.

"Wha- No! Please!" You sobbed, not being able to hold your tears of frustration any longer. Lizzie looks at you which sadistic grin, her head tilting slightly in amusement to your desperate state.

"Please- I'll do anything mommy, I'll do anything to cum for you!" Her eyebrows raised at that.

"Anything?"

"Yes!" You whined, your back arching more towards her. "I'll do whatever you want, just please don't stop."

She thinks about it for a moment before diving back in, lapping at you more harshly than before, her fingers returning to your entrance and she coaxes you to your release.

You feel so good.." You gasp as your legs try to wrap around her, trying to feel her close to you, the cuffs around your ankles make it harder for you to do so, only the heels of your feet reaching towards her back and pathetically attempting to pull her somewhat closer.

"Oh my god, yes!" You squeal as you finally reach the edge, your eyes rolling as your whole body trembles as ripples of pleasure flow through you.

Your back arching, your walls clenching around her fingers, practically sucking her in.

This didn't stop her however, her pace increasing as she moved to press love bites between your thighs, leaving bright red and purple marks

You start to tug onto the binds, the overstimulation making you squirm, your lip quivering as moans were pried from your throat.

"Mommy- s'too much.." you whine.

"You can take it baby, look how good this greedy pussy is sucking me in.” She stares down at you in awe, the lewd noises of your fresh arousal echoing loudly in the room.

Your legs start to thrash when her finger returned to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You've already lost it, wailing into the air as you take everything she gives you.

"Look at mommy's little cry baby, so pretty like that."

Her lips trail up your body, leaving dark patches on the column of your throat before using her finger to trace your lips, her free hand gripping your jaw. "Open."

You do as she says, letting your jaw fall slack before she spits into your mouth, a whimper escaping you at the feeling of her saliva on your tongue. Her hand pushes your jaw closed as you stare up at her with wide doe eyes,

"Now swallow." You follow her command, feeling her fingers move away and her wet pussy press against yours and take their place.

Her hands now on your hips, using you to help keep herself up, moans leaving her as though she was taunting you, leaving you a moaning mess beneath her.

Your limbs are still bound to the bed, leaving you breathless and under her mercy, your lip jutting out slightly at not being able to touch her.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful babygirl. I just can't help but want to put this pretty body to good use."

You both moan at her words, her hands moving up from your hips to pinch your nipples, your hips bucking up and your back arching towards her.

All you could feel was her.

"Mommy.. m’gonna cum." Your voice horse from your screams and moans, words coming out in barely a whisper.

"Just wait for me princess, hold on just a little bit longer."

Lizzie's brows furrow and her mouth falls open at the overwhelming feeling of your clits brushing against each other, your folds rubbing hers in the most perfect way.

"Mmh- cum with mommy baby, let go for me."

You feel a gush of wetness squirt out of you as that euphoric feeling takes over once again, that's when her body trembles against yours. She grabs your face, kissing you deeply as she lets the aftershocks of her orgasm wash over her.

When you both pull apart you're left breathless, your body painted with her kisses, pussy throbbing , wrists and ankles sore, but you wouldn't have had it other way.

"That'll show Cindy not to mess with what's mine."

[meaningofaeons]

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ strength in weakness

⊹ character(s) - gojo satoru ⊹ word count - 891 ⊹ notes - fem!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, silliness, spoilers for s2e5/hidden inventory arc (premature death), reader is a teacher at jujutsu high + a sorcerer ofc, kinda ocxcanon coded im sorry, this is so rushed and dumb and AUUUGHHHH

I....... I caved (ﾐዎ ﻌ ዎﾐ) this man does so many things to me and after seeing the last frame in the ep where his eyes looked a lil red (im including a pic at the end.) I had to write this up. also im so sorry this is like 110% me just turning my oc x gojo into a drabble lmfao LOVE YALL

"Gojo-sensei!"

"Ah, he's awake!"

"Hey, that's one of those expensive chairs, isn't it?!"

"Please don't fall asleep after summoning all of us here."

You stood idly by as your students pestered Satoru, arms crossed firmly in front of your chest. The man only smirked a bit, lifting his blindfold just enough to give Megumi a look.

In the split second before he pulled it back down, you caught sight of his eye, and faltered.

"Ha!"

"Oi, come on! My turn next!"

Yuji's bickering and Nobara's victorious, haughty laughter faded into background fuzz as you gazed after the special grade sorcerer, Megumi raising a brow at him.

"What're you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing."

The white-haired man turned his head, and you could tell that even beneath that blindfold, he was staring straight at you.

"Ohhh~... Y/N came along too, huh?"

"L/N-sensei was with us when we remembered you had asked us to come by. She just walked us over."

"Aw, not here to see me, huh?"

You sighed, a bit of sarcasm leaking into your voice.

"As loathe as I am to hurt your delicate feelings, Satoru, I just walked the kids over."

Megumi gave his teacher serious side eye before responding. "I don't think anyone would willingly go to see you without being prompted to."

"Ouch."

You paused for a moment as Satoru turned around again, leaning down and beckoning the dark-haired student over. He listened politely to your words, and though he gave you an odd look, he walked over to Nobara and Yuji nonetheless.

"You two, let's wait outside for a bit."

"Huh?! But Kugisaki hasn't let me sit yet!"

"You can sit in the chair later. Gojo-sensei doesn't mind."

"I'll just take it from Itadori again!"

"Why, you—!"

The two eventually barreled out the door, Megumi giving you a small nod before sliding it shut behind himself. Satoru plopped himself back into his seat at that, his easy smile still ever-present.

"So you did come to see me."

"Not really," you murmured casually, earning an overdramatic, shocked gasp from the man. However, he calmed the theatrics upon the sound of your gentle footfalls, feeling your shadow fall over his seated form. "Just thought of something."

Your fingers brushed over the edges of his blindfold before you could stop yourself, but Satoru only shrugged, the barest hint of hesitation seeping into his light tone.

"Go for it."

You pushed the material up just far enough to see his eye once more, your thumb brushing over the reddened flesh beneath it. Slightly puffy, almost as if...

Right. It was around this time of year.

You recalled the time of your youth perhaps just as vividly as Satoru did, but you never were quite as close with Suguru as he was. So no matter how much you remembered, it couldn't compare to what he had seen.

"I'm starting to think you've got some less-than-professional feelings for me, L/N-sensei, what with this tender touch. Are you giving me special treatment?"

"Be serious for a moment," you scoffed, but your hand did not recoil. It made Satoru's smirk drop, even if only a bit.

Your voice was far gentler than he'd ever heard it before.

"How are you feeling?"

Perhaps it was an obvious question to ask, one with an obvious answer—regardless of how he truly felt, Satoru's answer would always be something placating, something lighthearted and in jest.

But this time, he only glanced away, blindfold still pushed up.

"Well, it was just a dream."

You nodded, hand falling away from his face. Before it could fall to your side, however, the man sitting beside you reached out, taking it gingerly.

You didn't ask any further. Prodding the issue would lead nowhere.

But your hand squeezed his just slightly, just enough for him to feel your flesh, warm and alive.

You were here. That's really all he needed in this moment of vulnerability.

"I didn't take you for the comforting type."

Your eyebrow twitched as he slipped back into that teasing lilt of his.

"I can comfort you with a nice slap to the face, if you'd prefer it."

"Not like you could touch me, anyhow~."

"You little—"

Before you could even react, Satoru had scampered to the door, slamming it open and wrapping an arm around Yuji and Megumi's shoulders, spouting some nonsense about missing his beloved students.

"What took you so long, Sensei?" Yuji asked, face scrunching as the white-haired man ruffled his hair.

"Don't you know anything, Itadori? He and L/N-sensei were in there alone, so obviously..."

Nobara's words devolved into hushed whispers as she spotted you in the corner of her eye, and you shot Satoru a warning glance as he leaned back to get a look at you.

You were sure that, in the several years you'd known one another, the man would have long since been able to recognize your eyes clearly saying, 'Don't feed a word into this, or I'll pummel you to death.'

Alas...

"Exactly right, Kugisaki! Full marks!"

"Whaaat?! Seriously?! Sensei, you and L/N-sen—"

"Don't feed them nonsense, you ingrate!" you shouted at once, chasing after a very unrepentant Satoru as he skipped around the courtyard. Megumi only grumbled out a sigh.

"So we all agree something's going on, ri—"

"Enough, Kugisaki, let's just go."

SEE WHATD I SAY!!!! HIS EYES!!!! I love you forver. .... please dont cry .................

[fallout-lou-begas]

Not sure if you’ve been asked this before, but what are your favorite/essential mods for new vegas? I’ve only ever played it unmodded so I’m curious

Good question! I definitely have answered this before, but that was so many years ago. It's only now that I've taken the opportunity to overhaul and modernize my own mod set-up that I've been figuring out the answer to this question myself. But I can definitely talk you through the most important parts of my new load order.

First, however, every single person modding this game in this day and age absolutely needs to start with the Viva New Vegas modding guide, and follow every step to the letter. The recommendations are air-tight and the instructions are written and presented as if you, the reader, have never even seen so much as a computer before. It's amazing. The "Base" of VNV contains nothing but bugfixes, lightweight unofficial patches, performance optimizations, and other under-the-hood stuff designed to remedy FNV's infamous stability issues while maintaining a completely "vanilla" feel. This makes it absolutely necessary, in my opinion, even for people who don't actually want to play with any (other) mods. Especially crucial to this guide is its mandate to use Mod Organizer 2; if you're using Nexus Mod Manager, Vortex, or Fallout Mod Manager any time since Biden got elected, you are shooting yourself in the foot plain and simple. The best endorsement that I can give of Mod Organizer 2 is that it mods you game completely virtually, meaning that if you fuck your mods up beyond repair, you can just go to your actual FNV launcher in your root folder and boot up the vanilla game like nothing ever happened.

And the "Extended" section of Viva New Vegas consists of more modding tools, quality of life tweaks, content restorations, and a curated list of strongly recommended gameplay modifications that nevertheless all come down to your personal preference (though deviating from their provided list may make you use your brain a little bit when choosing the right compatibility patches, and so on).

This isn't going to cover every single thing that I play with, but here's everything that I would think to suggest to anybody who asked. With that said, here's Fallout "Lou" Begas's Mod Recommendations, 2024 Edition:

Viva New Vegas Extended: Lou's Preferences

VNV Extended recommends several gameplay modifications that come down to personal preference. I installed just about all of them, with a few exceptions (I don't care at all for B42 Optics, for example). Here's some specific details:

Just Assorted Mods has a hell of a lot of features but I actually enable are breath-holding, the vanilla sprint, and the loot menu (though I flip-flop often on using JAM's Bullet Time in place of V.A.T.S.). If you install VNV and boot up the game and wonder "what is all this fucking shit on my HUD," it's probably some of Just Assorted Mods's components. Just disable the ones you don't want in the in-game Mod Configuration Menu, which you will also have available if you followed the instructions for VNV Base.

Vigor is a modernized fork of JSawyer, the mod that was originally created by FNV's own director after the game's release that tweaked a lot of under-the-hood game settings and statistical balance to his personal preferences. JSawyer Ultimate Edition a more faithful modernization of the original JSawyer whereas Vigor is "a more lightweight alternative" that dials back some of the more drastic features of JSUE. Your choice of these, or none of them, is purely personal preference, and my preference is for Vigor. Any form of JSawyer is strongly recommended if you play in Hardcore Mode.

Simple Vigor Config is used in conjuncton with Vigor and is an intuitive and easy way to overwrite Vigor's gamesetting changes with your own preference. I use the config to adjust carry weight to a much more punishing (25 + 5*STR) formula that incentivizes the use of backpacks, mindful inventory management, and companion inventory space; and to increase the starvation, thirst, and sleep Hardcore Mode rates to 10, 5, and 14 respectively.

Desert Natural Weathers is the weather mod to end all weather mods, in my view, and it includes configuration for customizing the darkness and visibility of nighttime. This effectively obsoletes former dinosaurs like Darker Nights Ultimate Edition. Refer to the post that I made on DNUE's Nexus page here for a copy of my settings to darken those dang nights with DNW.

In AIStewie's Tweaks's nvse_stewie_tweaks.ini file, I set bCustomSpecialPoints = 1 and iNumPointsToAllocate = 35. This slightly reduced starting stat spread forces you to make tradeoffs in your character creation, because it starts with a perfect middle 5 in every stat. Every addition above average will require a subtraction below average. The "Essentials" INI included with VNV Base is all that most players will ever need, so this is my one specific personal tweak that'll keep you from scrolling through every single option in the whole damn thing (though I also recommend enabling the tweaks that hide all of your skill check tags in dialogue for more immersive and less gamified roleplaying in conversation: set bNoSkillTags, bRemoveFailedSuccessText, bRemoveRedOutline, and iRemoveTags to all = 1. )

Lou's Personally Valuable or Sentimental Tweaks and Fixes

Better Pause Menu Screen (Simple Blur). I play with an ultrawide resolution and the vanilla pause menu filter doesn't actually extend past 1920x1080. So this is really vital, lol.

Vanilla Animations Weapon Scale Fix. This mod will fix a common issue with custom weapons and animation mods where your weapon will become invisible because its scale has gotten stuck at 0.

Companion Carry Weight Fix. All companions in the game have an invisible attribute called "companion suite" that, among other things, halves their carrying capacity based on their actual stats. If you play with a super low carry weight formula like I do, you can see how this is a problem. Here's the solution.

Miscellaneous Tweaks Collection includes a few files that I get great use out of: No DLC Recipes Early (great unless you integrate DLC crafting ingredients into your base game somehow) and Vendors Have Throwables (why the fuck are throwing weapons so hard to find in vanilla!). There are others that I use as well but I recommend these two the most generally.

Lucky 38 Suite Upgrade Terminal Tweak is a very cute little mod that removes the ugly wall-mounted terminal and makes you purchase your suite upgrades from the actual computer on the desk in the master bedroom instead.

I Fought the Law - Simple NCR Start finally gives you a good reason to check out NCRCF if you're not siding with the Powder Gangers.

Hire Cass Early was my "dream mod" for the longest time, and thanks to some help, it's finally a reality. Simply pick up the letter that this mod adds to the Mojave Express office in Primm and you can recruit Cass right away (through the usual persuasive requirements) without ever stepping off the road from Goodsprings to the Mojave Outpost. Part of my ongoing "make @ikroah real" project.

Harder Strip Access. Getting into Vegas to finally confront Benny should feel like a tremendous accomplishment. This mod makes it so. Better pony up the caps or call in one hell of a favor, kid! With any kind of tougher economy mods, especially, this mod makes it wonderfully Herculean to just buy your way onto the Strip.

Balance Tweaks

Pseudo-Realistic Carry Weight - No Weightless Item Overhaul and Realistic Bottle Cap Weight. The former is actually an optional file; the main file just implements the the carry weight formula that I was coincidentally already using. The latter just forces you to think strategically about how much money you're walking around with. Can you tell that I love inventory management? Note that if you give bottlecaps weight, you should definitely let yourself drop them when necessary by editing Stewie's Tweaks (bShowCurrencyInContainers = 1).

Carry Weight Affects Speed, Med-Tek Trauma Kit (Lou's Version), and More Conditions to Fast Travel. The first appearance of my own mods on this list! These three mods in conjunction tie your encumbrance and your overall health to your mobility far more strictly. I love the balancing act of packing enough supplies for an excursion while leaving enough room for loot that I can still fast travel with, and the choice to get greedy with more loot than I can comfortably carry and just hope to not run into danger on my slow walk back toward a merchant. My tweaks to the classic Med-Tek Trauma Kit mod apply this level of emergent gameplay and resource management to your limb health, though it makes the game much more difficult unless your character specializes in Medicine. I haven't tried it myself, but Simple Healing System is fully configurable, modern mod that I've had my eyes on and that might be better for most general playstyles, and it might even be compatible in conjunction with my Med-Tek mod for extra intensity!

Better Charisma (Charisma Affects Dialogue Skill Checks) and/or Charisma Affects Reputation. I've always been very frustrated with how much of a meaningless dump stat Charisma is, and the phenomenon of the 1 CHA 100 Speech player character in general. These two mods, which you can use just one of or both together, give Charisma much more meaningful and palpable functionality.

Terrifying Presence (Lou's Version), speaking of Charisma, changes the requirement for this perk from Level 6 and 70 Speech to Level 2 and 6 CHA, making it much more accessible to more types of intimidating characters. This same mod includes alternate options to take it as a trait instead, with the drawback(s) of either tanking your Speech and Barter and/or increasing your addiction chance. See also: Less Snarky Terrifying Presence.

New Vegas Karma Rebalance is a great under-the-hood mod that makes FNV's nearly vestigial karma system less nonsensical without removing it or its effects on the player entirely. Thanks to this and Mass Ownership Tweaks, which is already included in VNV Extended's recommendation of Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged, Cass won't hate your guts just for stealing a few things from Caesar's Legion at Cottonwood Cove, especially not after you've already killed them all.

Damage Multiplier solves the sluggish damage sponge problem that plagues Bethesda engine combat by simply multiplying all damage dealt globally, both by and to the player, by a factor of your choosing. I use 2.5x, which is usually enough to kill any level-appropriate human being with a single shot to the head. 2x should be the minimum. Combine with Combat Enhancer NVSE and NPCs Use Ammo for overall faster but much more ferocious and intense combat engagements.

Visuals and Animations

Third Person Camera Overhaul. Though I'm still getting used to its extremely specific configuration settings, this is vital for a third-person enjoyer like myself. It obsoletes any and all "dynamic camera" or "shoulder swap" mods of the past. Once you figure out how it works and what you like, you're set for life.

Realistic Movement and Dramatic Inertia. Although a little goofy, it has never felt better for me to physically move around in the game than it has before. I like the weight and get-up-and-go that this mod has for me as a player, but it's especially significant in firefights and other combat situations where, now, your targets can't dodge bullets by shifting direction instantly or stopping and turning on perfect dimes. For a single, less heavyweight alternative, try 360 Movement and Diagonal Movement together instead. Each pair of these mods is incompatible with the other pair, however.

B42 Loot, B42 Interact, and B42 Inject. I recommend a lot of the B42 family of animation overhauls in general (except B42 Optics, lol) because I just love seeing my character actually do the things they're doing. For B42 Loot, I use the included config file to disable the "force pull" effect, and for B42 Interact, there exists compatibility patches between it and its more third-person oriented counterpart Animated Ingestibles, but I'd only look into that if you know what you're doing (though, I do).

Character Kit Remake is a mod that I was turned onto recently. For a long time I have scoffed at character appearance overhauls out of nostalgia for those classic gamebryo engine potato-faces and what I thought was, to be blunt, the tasteless ineptitude of the actual overhauling. But I do really like this one, even if the showcase of screenshots do a really bad job of selling it. It looks a lot better in motion and in game, I promise. i think that these people are just not good digital photographers.

Height Randomizer. It's funny how much you can get attached to a minor character when they are, for whatever reason, especially tall or short. This lightweight mod just adds some height variance to all NPCs in the game that don't already have a non-normal 1.00 height setting in vanilla.

The Strip Groove. Dance on command. Endorsed.

Items, Economy, Crafting, Survival, Repair, Etc.

Gloves Galore (Lou's Version), Power Armor Gloves, Combat Armor Gloves, and White Glove Society Wear Gloves. Anyone who has followed me long enough on here should know that I have strong, totally normal feelings about gloves.

Armed to the Teeth Redux and literally any backpack mod. I've used this duffel bag forever, for example. I love these ones because I personally love when you can physically, literally see the things that a character is supposed to be carrying.

Flashlight NVSE. Another piece of Agnes Sands's arsenal, this is the one "old" mod that I can't quit. Even if it is a little janky, I've yet to find a better directional flashlight mod. Only install this is you think you can handle wrestling with it a little, and make sure your "Exterior" flashlight settings are all on the lowest quality regardless of computer specs (or else it causes flickering). It's a must-have for darker nights, too.

Famine is the last "loot scarcity" mod you'll ever need. Combine it with Harder, Barter, Faster, Stronger from the VNV Extended recommendations list for a really tough time affording even basic necessities without tailoring your build for mercantile success... which is just how I like it.

Cheaper Repair Costs. The vanilla formula for determining the cost of weapon and armor repairs at merchants is, in a word, fucked, where it literally costs twice the weapon's base value to repair it from broken. This mod lets you adjust that proportion so that you won't be better off literally selling and buying another gun in every single case. I play with a rate of 67% (which means that paying a merchant to repair a completely broken weapon from 0% health to 100% health will cost 67% of the weapon's base value).

Alternative Repairing does too much cool, practical shit to the base repairing system to even get into here. To keep it short, it intuitively incentivizes actually scrounging for all kinds of formerly useless junk that you can now scrap for spare parts. Check it out.

Water Overhaul. Ever play with a Universal Water Bottling mod and find things suddenly far too easy? Water Overhaul combines all the convenience and sense-making of bottling water anywhere with the much-needed tradeoff of truly purified water being much rarer. All that convenient H2O is now just radioactive enough to keep Goodsprings Source from singlehandedly breaking the survival economy of the game (not to mention the literal economy).

Cowboy Coffee and Coffee Grounds, my own mod that adds brewable coffee to the wasteland. While mostly just created because it's cute, it's really nice to have a reliable and palpable source of sleep deprivation relief when playing in Hardcore Mode.

Gun Oil From Animal Fat, another mod of mine that provides a cheaper, craftable, and less demanding but less effective repair option to complement Weapon Repair Kits. I patched this one recently to fix some old issues, and it's great for incentivizing emergent gameplay (since you need to hunt for meat, and cook the meat for fat, and combine the fat with loot to make the gun oil).

Sound

Less Constant Music and Passive Combat Music Tweaked do exactly what they say on the tin and are perfect for people who like to get immersed in the natural sound of their environment, especially if you're a chronically stealthy player like me and you've trained yourself to constantly listen for enemy footsteps. I do recommend keeping Less Constant Music disabled when you first start a game, though, because until I can figure out how to add an exception to it myself, it will remove the background music from character creation at Doc Mitchell's house more often than not, and I really like that music.

SPEAKING of Doc Mitchell's music, Try Not To Get Killed Anymore is one of the first mods I ever made and it has never left my load order. It simply replaces the musical sting that plays when you die with an emphatic, tolling bell and the refrain from Doc Mitchell's theme, plus an optional version that includes his ghostly voice telling you to try not to get killed anymore. Two of my other personal sound replacers are the Mysterious Stranger Level-up Theme, Simple Snap Sound Effects for Quest Updates, and Mechanical Camera VATS.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Greedflation, but for prisoners

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Apr 21) in TORINO, then Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Today in "Capitalists Hate Capitalism" news: The Appeal has published the first-ever survey of national prison commissary prices, revealing just how badly the prison profiteer system gouges American's all-time, world-record-beating prison population:

https://theappeal.org/locked-in-priced-out-how-much-prison-commissary-prices/

Like every aspect of the prison contracting system, prison commissaries – the stores where prisoners are able to buy food, sundries, toiletries and other items – are dominated by private equity funds that have bought out all the smaller players. Private equity deals always involve gigantic amounts of debt (typically, the first thing PE companies do after acquiring a company is to borrow heavily against it and then pay themselves a hefty dividend).

The need to service this debt drives PE companies to cut quality, squeeze suppliers, and raise prices. That's why PE loves to buy up the kinds of businesses you must spend your money at: dialysis clinics, long-term care facilities, funeral homes, and prison services.

Prisoners, after all, are a literal captive market. Unlike capitalist ventures, which involve the risk that a customer will take their business elsewhere, prison commissary providers have the most airtight of monopolies over prisoners' shopping.

Not that prisoners have a lot of money to spend. The 13th Amendment specifically allows for the enslavement of convicted criminals, and so even though many prisoners are subject to forced labor, they aren't necessarily paid for it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

Six states ban paying prisoners anything. North Carolina caps prisoners' pay at one dollar per day. Nationally, prisoners earn $0.52/hour, while producing $11b/year in goods and services:

https://www.dollarsandsense.org/archives/2024/0324bowman.html

So there's a double cruelty to prison commissary price-gouging. Prisoners earn far less than any other kind of worker, and they pay vastly inflated prices for the necessities of life. There's also a triple cruelty: prisoners' families – deprived of an incarcerated breadwinner's earnings – are called upon to make up the difference for jacked up commissary prices out of their own strained finances.

So what does prison profiteering look like, in dollars and sense? Here's the first-of-its-kind database tracking the costs of food, hygiene items and religious items in 46 states:

https://theappeal.org/commissary-database/

Prisoners rely heavily on commissaries for food. Prisons serve spoiled, inedible food, and often there isn't enough to go around – prisoners who rely on the food provided by their institutions literally starve. This is worst in prisons where private equity funds have taken over the cafeteria, which is inevitable accompanied by swingeing cuts to food quality and portions:

https://theappeal.org/prison-food-virginia-fluvanna-correctional-center/

So you have one private equity fund starving prisoners, and another that's gouging them on food. Or sometimes it's the same company. Keefe Group, owned by HIG Capital, provides commissaries to prisons whose cafeterias are managed by other HIG Capital portfolio companies like Trinity Services Group. HIG also owns the prison health-care company Wellpath – so if they give you food poisoning, they get paid twice.

Wellpath delivers "grossly inadequate healthcare":

https://theappeal.org/massachusetts-prisons-wellpath-dentures-teeth/

And Trinity serves "meager portions of inedible food":

https://theappeal.org/clayton-county-jail-sheriff-election/

When prison commissaries gouge on food, no part of the inventory is spared, even the cheapest items. In Florida, a packet of ramen costs $1.06, 300% more inside the prison than it does at the Target down the street:

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/24444312-fl_doc_combined_commissary_lists#document/p6/a2444049

America's prisoners aren't just hungry, they're also hot. The climate emergency is sending temperatures in America's largely un-air-conditioned prisons soaring to dangerous levels. Commissaries capitalize on this, too: an 8" fan costs $40 in Delaware's Sussex Correctional Institution. In Georgia, that fan goes for $32 (but prisoners are not paid for their labor in Georgia pens). And in scorching Texas, the commissary raised the price of water by 50% last summer:

https://www.tpr.org/criminal-justice/2023-07-20/texas-charges-prisoners-50-more-for-water-for-as-heat-wave-continues

Toiletries are also sold at prices that would make an airport gift-shop blush. Need denture adhesive? That's $12.28 in an Idaho pen, triple the retail price. 15% of America's prisoners are over 55. The Keefe Group – sister company to the "grossly inadequate" healthcare company Wellpath – operates that commissary. In Oregon, the commissary charges a 200% markup on hearing-aid batteries. Vermont charges a 500% markup on reading glasses. Imagine spending decades in prison: toothless, blind, and deaf.

Then there's the religious items. Bibles and Christmas cards are surprisingly reasonable, but a Qaran will run you $26 in Vermont, where a Bible is a mere $4.55. Kufi caps – which cost $3 or less in the free world – go for $12 in Indiana prisons. A Virginia prisoner needs to work for 8 hours to earn enough to buy a commissary Ramadan card (you can buy a Christmas card after three hours' labor).

Prison price-gougers are finally facing a comeuppance. California's new BASIC Act caps prison commissary markups at 35% (California commissaries used to charge 63-200% markups):

https://theappeal.org/price-gouging-in-california-prisons-newsom-signature/

Last year, Nevada banned any markup on hygiene items:

https://www.leg.state.nv.us/App/NELIS/REL/82nd2023/Bill/10425/Overview

And prison tech monopolist Securus has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy, thanks to the activism of Worth Rises and its coalition partners:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/08/money-talks/

When someone tells you who they are, believe them the first time. Prisons show us how businesses would treat us if they could get away with it.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/20/captive-market/#locked-in

[zedif-y]

Joel is pretty damn good at avoidance. You could call him an expert, he does it so much.

He's so good at it, in fact, that he's multitasking. Not just moping. He's getting wood for his latest build, thank you, so it's not his fault when he doesn't check his communicator— he's swinging a blummin' axe around, he doesn't have time to think about meetings, or Empire trades, or—

His communicator pings again.

—or a certain, tiny Sheriff.

Joel sighs. There goes not thinking about it.

...Deforestation is a valid coping mechanism, innit?

(He tries for a laugh. It doesn't quite reach his eyes.)

His stare bores holes into the rough bark, his knuckles straining around the handle of his axe. Joel curses under his breath.

He doesn't know how to face Jimmy.

That's the issue, isn't it? He could see him, could visit, but he won't. Not right now, not in the next— whatever. Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, 'cuz Jimmy's alive and that's what's important, right? Joel's being stupid.

He's being stupid because, because. It doesn't make sense that he's still so— hollow and suffocating inside. That his lungs still tremble and seize like he's inhaled smoke, his throat tight and hands clammy when he's unoccupied for too long. It's stupid. It's stupid.

Because Jimmy's fine now. He's walking around as the Sheriff of Tumble Town again, shorter where Joel got taller and if it were any other day, Joel thinks he would be laughing at the thought again.

He swings his axe with more force than necessary, basking in the crack-splintering of wood.

He's not laughing now, though.

He does it again, like he's hammering the thought into his head, over and over: Jimmy is fine. He's alive.

It wasn't meant to last.

The tree falls with a thud, leaves rustling in its wake. His arms ache. Joel's been at this for hours.

He grunts as he heaves up his axe, looking for another tree.

He doesn't get it. He doesn't get it.

His body aches with a grief he can't place, a kind of pain he's never really had to feel until Jimmy, until Grian. He feels a bit like a ghost, some days, and that's. Not very god-like, is it.

He's the god of bloody lightning, or whatever it is he went with, and yet when he hears thunder on stormy nights his skin crawls and his eyes burn and all he can think of is, is—

Tree trunks splinter and collapse under his hands. One, two. Again, and again, and again. Until there's nothing left, until his mind quiets, until, until.

Joel leans against the rough bark, his chest heaving with exertion.

…Yeah. Just that. He's not freaking out, he's not.

Joel lets out a frustrated noise, "What's wrong with me?" He balls his hands into fists, gritting his teeth. "There's no point to this."

How's he meant to explain this to Jimmy, then?

How's Joel meant to say that he can't look at him, can't tease or poke fun because even just thinking about him hurts. That he can't help but mourn him when he's right there and that he doesn't know how to stop, how to face him and not see a ghost.

He'd get that look on his face, the kicked puppy one that Joel always caves to, that one. And Joel will feel bad, because he knows he can be an ass but he's not a monster, and he hates, hates when Jimmy's face crumples like that so—

So seeing him isn't an option. Not right now, at least.

Joel sighs, slowly peeling himself off the side of the tree. His head hurts.

He looks over at the fallen wood, dark oak mingled with leaves and grass. His mind, if only for a moment, flashes with a mansion. Fire.

Joel shakes the thought away, scowling as he goes to scoop up the logs. Stupid brain.

Jimmy's right there, just a nether portal away. He's fine, and so is Joel.

…So is Joel.

He stuffs his materials into his shulker boxes, puts them in his inventory with a sigh.

Right. Next batch.

(His communicator pings, one more time.)

(hey joel, it reads. hope youre alright.)

(It stays unread for another week.)

[days-until-burnout]

Touch starved Etho, but he isn't self-aware enough to realize what it is that he's craving (and even if he did, he'd be too stubborn to ask for it).

Oblivious, physically affectionate Joel to the rescue.

Or in other words: Ethos needs a hug -> his soulmate makes sure he gets plenty

(Boat boys brainrot still going strong)

a stack of days. with boat boys. yippie _____

📧 Day 64 -

Characters - Etho + Joel Words - 1,740 Time - 50 Content - Life Series & Hermitcraft

The first time it happened, they almost lost a life. Well, not really, that was an exaggeration but Etho thought they would lose a life with the scare of his life. At the time, he had been simply standing in front of their chests, organizing them while Joel was out doing Joel things, killing some cattle, harvesting, annoying people, again, the usual Joel things. From one second to the next, someone had jumped onto his back, arms around his neck in a chokehold, the added weight throwing him off balance as he stumbled, hands trying to pry the arms away.

Before he could say anything, a cheerier voice got ahead of him. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?”

It triggered him, oddly enough, a sudden strength to practically throw him down. The panic was near instant, too. 

He looked down at Joel with fear in his eyes, the feeling of lost hearts choking his throat and heart, his whole body frozen in place as Joel pushed himself up. He messed up, badly. He knew it was Joel, he realized as soon as he spoke, yet he overreacted and made them lose hearts. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, in his head, a ringing shadowing the frantic beats. 

Joel had a temper. 

Etho heard Joel had a temper. 

“Rude much.”

He opened and closed his mouth, glad for the mask. 

Joel simply lowered himself on the floor, splayed his limbs and… stayed there, no word about the incident, no more words about Etho’s actions, nor his own for that matter. Instead, Joel moved on about the resources he had gathered, tossing them in the air only for them to fall back onto him, disappearing in his inventory. Then he talked about the others, filling the otherwise quiet ship with his voice, never asking Etho to join. It took a while, another repeat of the incident for Etho to do as Joel did, and move on with his life as Joel whined about his Joel things. 

After that, though, as he grew to know about him more and more, Etho learnt to pick up on signs. Joel, in his wolf form, was a predator. He was one, he knew the hunt as well as Joel did, though he mostly used it to predict him. An immediate silence with electricity in the air, his hands slowing down with the items lingering in his palms for seconds longer, the flicks of tails and ears, then the ambush. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?!” Joel would scream as soon as he latched on, pressing his face right on his, sometimes stealing the items from his hand to examine then carelessly throw into the chest. A pause. Then another. 

Joel paid no attention to the change as he emptied his inventory in the organized chests, yapping about whatever. On the other hand, Etho stood, watching items flow into the chest, intentionally frozen in place as he decided to simply… let it be. In time, Joel would hop off on his own, a couple minutes of this would not hurt either of them. On the contrary, this was better than throwing him down and making them lose hearts unnecessarily. In any case, Joel was not particularly heavy, even with all those muscles and eating habits. He could deal with that. He could live with that. That and the weird feeling he started getting every time Joel jumped on his back. 

During the games, Etho made no effort to think about feelings, his personal feelings towards his friends. Alliances and friendships, temporary rivalries and fleeting grudges, all that, sure. But anything, even a layer below shallow, and he was gone. 

Not Joel, though. In a physical sense. Joel was always there. Using the soulbound as easy as reading a map and compass like no one else. From one corner of the world to the other, Joel made his way to him, walking into conversations and exchanges, and even the mundane mining sessions. He had learnt to tune in that specific aspect of the soulbound, which meant that Joel rarely took him by surprise anymore, despite perfecting his ambush. 

Cleo stopped mid-sentence, raising their brow as Etho waited for her to finish speaking. Knowing her, interrupting was not a good idea. Cleo would find the words, he knew, so he simply waited. 

“What are you doing, Eefo?” Joel whispered instead, squinting at Cleo. Etho could not see the expression, though he could feel it. The muscles on the side of his eye moved, pressed right on his, and he could decipher from that. 

“You know,” Cleo said eventually, and Etho shifted attention back to them, “I’m not even going to ask. It’s not my business. We can talk later, yeah? Don’t want to interrupt—” she gestured “—whatever this is.”

“Okay.” 

She gave Etho an odd look, though he decided to ignore it, instead, turning on his heels to make his way home as it was getting late anyways. He would have time for material gathering tomorrow, and Joel would deal with the crops and animals in the morning so there was no reason they could not call it a day. 

On the way back, Joel climbed up higher, and at some point in the past few days, had gotten used to wrapping his legs around his waist. Etho supposed it made hanging on easier, seeing as it took longer and longer for him to climb down, mostly leaving it up to Etho to shake him off. Joel would let go without a fight, most of the time staying on the spot a couple of minutes before kicking back into motion, like a bee buzzing all around the ship doing chores. Etho made the executive decision to simply drop him off in bed, shortly climbing on too as Joel splayed then curled up, facing him. 

“You’re weird,” Joel said one day. The ship was mostly orange lights and lingering warmth, Joel’s face mostly shadows with early twinkles of stars in his eyes. No smile, no funny look in his eyes. Joel simply stared, blinked a couple times, then closed his eyes for a nap. He would drift off shortly after, very quickly, leaving Etho all alone in whatever remained of the afternoon. 

It was nice, he thought randomly one night, arm under his head, Joel asleep half-on-top, lazily staring at the starry night. It was colder outside, but it made no difference with the Relation as it was. They had been together almost all day, wrecking the server as revenge for the thing taken from them. The flint and steel still burned in his hand, the fire still kissed his clothes, and the rage simmered under his blood. It was Joel, it was him, it made no difference as their hearts and souls were one. It was right, and it was nice, and it was…

It was something. 

Then no longer. 

They had died together in the trapped portal, hand in hand, anger and disappointment in their eyes. Then their run was over, then they went home, then they did not talk about it. It would take a bit before they saw each other again, under different circumstances though there was a spark there, burning. Always burning. It called to him. Heat in the middle of winter, he chased it. Joel had that kind of allure. 

But Joel had another two now. He had his own. 

The next time they met, under even more different circumstances, with different people, it was better and it was worse. He realized he needed something, something specific, from a certain someone. Cleo had brought it up subtly, bringing up his oddness, but he had failed to pick on her breadcrumbs, his mind fixated on something he could not put a name to. Only a face, only a being, but never quite knowing what exactly it was that he wanted. Or needed. Always so close, yet so far. Joel had his crew, he had his own. The game would be over eventually, and he would stew over it at home, in peace, by himself. 

Until he found otherwise. 

It had been a while since Joel joined Hermitcraft, integrating with the Hermits good enough. Joel had found a crew easily, people he knew and was comfortable with. It made things easier for him, Etho kept hearing. Outdoing himself every time, going above and beyond. He expected nothing less. 

Though he did not expect to run into him again, despite running into him plenty before. Atop Magic Mountain, standing in a circle, Joel stood with their friends, with the Hermits he was basing with. Talking loud, laughing louder. He knew this, he knew this Joel. He fixated on him, despite the mail he needed to deliver to someone else, it was all Joel he could focus on. The wolf traits were gone, replaced with tanuki features, a tail that flicked too much when Skizz had in a choke-hold, laughing about whatever. 

Without a single word, he made his way to them, steps too quiet on the grass. This was it, then, those predator skills kicking in, closing in without being noticed even though Gem and Impulse were facing him. His presence went unnoticed until he was right behind his target, who had bitten Skizz with a shit-eating smirk, arms around his sides quickly. 

A pause. Then another. 

Joel knew, without looking, “What are you doing, Eefo?”

He dropped his head on his shoulder, ignoring the gasps and murmurs and the question, trying to locate the heartbeat that had been his own once. His arms slid down at his hips, squeezing a little before he lifted him off the ground, standing straight and promptly turning on his heels, walking away with a member of the Magic Mountain in arms. 

It took a second before the rest found their reactions, half shocked and the others offended, screaming at him to return Joel at once. He heard Gem unsheath her sword, giving chase as soon as she got her bearings, Skizz laughing, and Scar saying things that had Grian screaming at him. None of that mattered, not when Joel shifted into his tanuki form, burying his little face on his collarbone. 

Still, despite having Joel in his arms, in his base, he failed to understand what the deal was. If he wanted Joel, or if he wanted something Joel could provide, or if it was something else entirely different.

_____

boat boys are my default whenever personal emotions happen 🧍‍♂️ also, i think there is a funny thing you could say about etho. what? i dont know. this reminded me of this one other fic i wrote. feelings are weird. especially when im in a weird mood. anyways. them. when will they come home. i miss them</3

[tibby-art]

Given how much Scar’s character knows. (From him connecting series that we don’t think he should know about to his character. And him knowing things he shouldn’t…) I’m on the band wagon that Scar is some sort of Eldtrich God.

Righttt like, my best guess is he's some sort of dimension-hopper or something... a traveling trickster god.. mentally i'm at a corkboard w/all the red strings connecting to different scars trying to piece it all together, holding my head in my hands

It's like. Okay. He had an encounter with s8 tycoon scar where he stole his hat, and he killed him (?) but today he said he simply broke a wheel on the wagon and stole the hat? He says each hat has a story. Does Jellie's hat also have a story. Jellie obviously travels with him across every universe. He seems not to mind when people don't remember who he is but he gets VERY upset when people don't know who Jellie is; just thought that was interesting

Did P!Scar travel to the hermitcraft season 8 universe? After the moon hit the server? Did tycoon scar travel to the pirates universe? Or are they the same person and it's just a lie? When he first spawns in Pirates SMP he makes it a point to mention a mysterious flower crown in his inventory. He says it's an important crown, and it's the only one on the server. Buttercups??? (Sidenote he also spawns with some blocks of cyan glazed terracotta. Not sure what that's about but it's dangerously close to being light blue glazed aka the vex magic. I would have lost my mind)

At the very beginning Scar says his ship was called the Flying Jellie. The Flying Jellie. What if it wasn't a boat. What if it was a space ship. He calls it a pirate ship but that doesn't necessarily mean a boat, ti could be a space pirate ship. (He's done loopholes with his phrasing like this before, like today when he sold michela a sword that was "nearly full" durability, only to later clarify it was "nearly full-y depleted"). He says he won an important battle with the ship, but he lost the ship and the crew. I've seen people say that the crew is supposed to have been boatem, not sure if that's canon? Is the ship story even true?

He made references to both Pearl and Grian today, are they his Pearl and Grian from the pirates universe or is he referring to the hermits? He mentions Pearl by name to Sausage, who says he doesn't know who that is (and yet Sausage goes on to casually mention the moon at the mention of Pearl, either Sausage is also a dimension-hopper and he's bluffing or he has a subconscious connection to his other lives). He doesn't say Grian's name but he talks about a man on his crew who sunk with the ship that's very obviously meant to be Grian (says the man's head looked like a loaf of bread, that he wore red, would have been a Kite). He doesn't seem too upset about the loss.

He greets Cleo, Scott and Martyn when he first sees them even though they don't know who he is. Cleo flat-out says "I don't believe we've met" after he greets her by name. Interestingly enough when he first calls Martyn by name, Martyn doesn't question it (I know Martyn also has some Lore going on, maybe he recognizes Scar too) Also I saw someone point out that his pants resemble mayor scar's pants. Possible season 7 reference, season 8 reference with tycoon scar and a possible? season 9 reference?? with that flower crown???

I literally can't tell if he has this planned-out intricate lore that connects all of his minecraft SMP characters like Martyn does or if he's literally just saying random stuff for fun. His character could be lying about his entire backstory, we don't know. i have no idea what's important to the lore and what isn't. this man is such a trickster god its not even funny. tldr WHAT IS GOING ON