#Poly relationship dynamics

[polyamorousmood]

Maybe a confession 🤷🏻‍♀️

I like having more than one male partner, my husband is against polyamory of any kind, we have "breaks" instead. I've had 2 lovers over the past decade, the first fizzled out. But this new person, they think they're in love. I won't lie, they're extremely good company and connect with me. They're also aware and consenting to what we're doing having an expiration date, but remorseful that it does. I wonder if we'll actually stop when the time comes, or if it'll just be more infrequent.

What an interesting relationship dynamic, I've never met someone who does that on purpose. It really is amazing you two can work this out even with such different views.

I hope it doesn't come to infidelity, but whatever happens, I hope it felt nice to get the thought off your chest in this moment.

my confession, a related one: I have "taken the cheater's side" in a breakup

[erimy-gumy]

Part 3 of my favorite ship dynamics !!!!

This time I think I'm done.

[shadesofhogwarts]

Smothered

(6) Poly! marauders x reader

Wordcount: 4.5k

A/n) I give you my beloved brain child. Enjoy💗

It started soft, like most dangerous things do.

The three of them– James with his infectious laugh and warm brown eyes, Sirius with that sharp grin and chaotic charm, and Remus with his steady calm and too-knowing glances– had always been a little magnetic. But you were never the kind of person to orbit stars. You stayed in your own little galaxy, tucked between the pages of your books and the corners of the common room.

But stars? Stars had gravity.

You don’t remember who first started drawing you in. It didn’t start with fireworks. No grand confessions, no lingering glances across candlelit rooms. Just... laughter. A joke at breakfast. A too-long glance during Charms. A comment tossed your way that made you feel seen–really seen– for the first time in what felt like forever.

It didn’t feel like a trap. It felt like light. Like belonging.

And you liked it. You liked the way they saw you, the way they orbited around you– laughing, teasing, pulling you into their world. There was a golden warmth to it, something dreamy, something you told yourself not to overthink.

You’d always been on the periphery of their orbit. Not a stranger, no. Just… not one of them. Not the kind of person people whispered about in corridors or followed around with wide eyes. Not someone who got tackled by James Potter for fun, who got pulled into Sirius Black’s wild schemes, who got bookmarked by Remus Lupin in quiet libraries like a page he never wanted to lose.

You weren't sure what this was– maybe they liked you, maybe it was platonic, maybe it was all three of them just being Marauders. But whatever it was, you liked being near them. You liked being wanted.

And slowly, steadily, it started to feel like you were the fourth in a constellation.

It started with Sirius. Of course it did. He was bold like that. Too pretty for his own good, too charming to be safe. One day, you were sitting in your usual spot on the Gryffindor common room couch, curled up with a book. The next, Sirius was dropping beside you like a comet crashing into orbit.

“Whatcha reading, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

It wasn’t the first time someone had called you something like that. But from him, it didn’t feel like a throwaway word. It felt like the start of something.

You answered cautiously, but he didn’t tease you. He didn’t mock the book or your taste. Instead, he listened. And then he stayed. Not just that day, but every day after. Like you’d unknowingly lit a beacon he couldn’t help but follow.

James came next. With him, it wasn’t words– it was energy. He started waiting for you after class, tossing his arm around your shoulder like it belonged there. When you spoke, he turned his whole body toward you, like you were the most interesting person in the world. It was addictive, the way he paid attention. Like you were this rare bloom he’d just discovered.

Remus was the quietest of the three, but perhaps the most dangerous. He didn’t flirt, not exactly. He observed. He remembered things you didn’t expect anyone to. How you liked your tea. That you always tapped your fingers when you were thinking. That you never liked sitting with your back to the door.

He started sitting beside you in the library. Sharing notes. Asking soft, pointed questions that lingered long after the conversations ended.

It was gradual, the way they enveloped you. Not overwhelming, not at first. Just a steady current of warmth pulling you in.

You started looking forward to seeing them. Noticing the way Sirius would light up when he spotted you in the hallway, like you were the only person that mattered. How James would slide into the seat next to yours in the Great Hall before you even sat down. How Remus would subtly angle his body toward you during group conversations, nodding along like he was reading the subtext in your silences.

And God, it felt good. Like you belonged. Like you’d slipped into some unspoken rhythm that had always existed, just waiting for you to join.

You didn’t question it. Not at first.

They were affectionate in a way that was uniquely theirs. Touchy, loud, loyal. They fought and flirted and tangled themselves into people’s lives without asking. But with you... there was a softness. A reverence. A way they carved out space for you between them, as if they’d already made room long ago.

It was James who started calling you ours in front of others.

“She’s ours, don’t even try it,” he said one night at a party when some seventh year tried to flirt with you. He was grinning when he said it, his tone light– but there was something dark in the way Sirius laughed beside him. Something heavy in the way Remus’s hand brushed against your wrist and stayed.

The word echoed in your chest long after.

You laughed it off. Because what else were you supposed to do?

...

There were moments– little ones– that made your stomach twist in strange ways. Like how Sirius would watch you when you laughed, gaze lingering too long, like he was memorizing your joy and cataloguing it for later. Or how James’s touches, casual as they seemed, always found the most intimate places– your knee, your lower back, the curve of your neck. Or the way Remus would say your name like a prayer, low and deliberate, like he was tasting it.

But they never crossed lines. Not really. They were just them. And you… you were just grateful to be let in.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the touches were friendly. That the looks were coincidental. That the flutter in your chest was just the high of attention.

But deep down, you knew.

Something was shifting. Becoming heavier.

And you liked it.

At least– at first.

...

There’s a sweet spot in every story. A moment where everything feels right– not too much, not too little. Just enough to make your heart swell, to make your cheeks warm, to make you believe maybe, maybe, this is something real.

You stayed in that moment longer than you should have.

The four of you moved like a constellation now. People started whispering in hallways– not maliciously, not cruelly. Just curious. Observing. Wondering if something was happening between you and the infamous trio of Gryffindor. If they’d chosen you. If you were theirs.

You didn't know how to answer.

Because how do you explain something that doesn’t have a name?

It wasn’t like you were dating. Not really. But it also wasn’t not like that. Sirius would walk you to class with his hand brushing against yours until it finally just slipped into place. James would sit with his legs wide open and tug you to sit between them like it was the most natural thing in the world. Remus would rest his chin on your shoulder while reading over your essays and hum in approval at your phrasing like it mattered deeply to him.

They each gave you something different, something impossible to refuse. Sirius gave thrill– he lit you up, made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt, made your blood fizz. James gave warmth– this overwhelming, honest devotion that made you feel chosen. And Remus? He gave depth. He saw you in quiet moments when no one else did, noticed when you were too tired to keep up the banter, and never made you feel like you had to.

And you?

You gave yourself in little pieces. A laugh here. A secret there. A touch, a look, a shared silence.

And they soaked you up like they’d been starving.

It became routine– the way they'd save you a seat without asking, the way they'd pull you into their dorm after dinner just to “hang out,” the way they'd always touch. Not always intimately, but constantly. Hands in your hair, arms around your waist, fingers trailing your spine. Sirius would trace shapes on your thigh under the table during meals. James would whisper into your ear and rest his cheek on yours. Remus would brush his hand over your knuckles while reading beside you and not let go.

It was fine.

It was fine.

It was fine… until it wasn’t.

...

The shift came quietly. Like a slow fog rolling in over a familiar street.

You didn’t notice it at first.

You noticed how Sirius stopped joking when someone else tried to sit next to you. How James’s laugh would flatten if you paid too much attention to someone who wasn’t them. How Remus started showing up wherever you were, book in hand, gaze cool but unmistakably observant.

You told yourself it was sweet. That they cared. That they were just protective, not possessive.

But then the looks started changing.

Not just admiring. Hungry. Eyes sweeping over you like you were something to be devoured. Like they were waiting for something– some permission, some shift– so they could claim you for real.

Sirius would stare. Not always. But enough. Long enough for your skin to crawl, even if he smiled afterward like it was nothing. James stopped joking about you being “ours” and started saying it like a fact. No grin. No wink. Just a quiet, loaded certainty.

Remus– God, even Remus– had started to ask questions.

“Where were you this afternoon?”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Why didn’t you come sit with us?”

Each one posed gently, but laced with that soft steel Remus always kept hidden under his calm. You realized, belatedly, that his sweetness wasn’t softness– it was intent disguised.

It didn’t feel like you were part of something anymore. It felt like you were caught in it.

Their affection, once warm and glowy, started to press on you like a too-tight blanket. You couldn’t breathe without feeling their eyes on you. Couldn’t laugh with someone else without feeling their moods shift. Couldn’t even sit alone without one of them finding you and sliding into your space like they owned it.

You wanted to tell yourself you were overreacting.

But the dread had started.

You’d walk into a room, and Sirius’s head would snap toward you like a predator scenting prey. James would straighten, eyes gleaming like he was proud– possessive. Remus would close his book, fold his hands, and watch you walk in like you were a show.

And you?

You’d feel it. That pulse of something heavy and hot. Not fear exactly. Not discomfort exactly.

But not right either.

They never touched you in a way you didn’t allow. Never said anything wrong. But their presence grew weighty. Sticky. Too much.

It got hard to smile at them. To laugh. Even when you tried.

You’d catch Sirius watching your mouth too intently. You’d feel James’s arm tighten around your shoulders just a bit too long. You’d catch Remus looking at you like he already knew something you hadn’t said– and it made your stomach turn.

And then one day, it happened.

You walked into the common room. James looked up immediately, like he’d been waiting. Sirius grinned lazily and spread his arms in invitation. Remus tilted his head, soft and steady like always, eyes unreadable.

And your skin crawled.

Something in you recoiled. Hard.

Their faces– all so familiar, all so adored once– felt like too much. Sirius’s grin looked wolfish. James’s brightness looked invasive. Remus’s gaze felt like a mirror you didn’t want to look into.

And suddenly, you couldn’t do it anymore.

The couch where they always made space for you? A trap.

The laughter you once chased? A net.

Their closeness? A wall.

Their eyes? Cages.

You didn’t even realize you were backing away until Remus blinked and said, too gently, “You’re not sitting?”

Your throat dried. You shook your head, murmured something– anything– and walked out.

Their eyes followed you all the way to the door.

...

You didn’t mean to avoid them.

Not at first.

You told yourself it was just a break– a breather. That the discomfort, the suffocation, was temporary. That you’d come back to yourself and it would all feel sweet again. That maybe you were just overwhelmed. Tired.

But the truth was… you couldn’t look at them anymore.

You tried. You did. But Sirius’s smirk made your stomach turn now. James’s bright eyes felt invasive, like he was always watching, waiting. And Remus– Remus with his unreadable calm– he looked at you like he was already ten steps ahead. Like he knew what you were doing. Like he was just letting you play it out.

And that made it worse.

Because you didn’t want to be watched.

You didn’t want to be read like a book.

You didn’t want to be wanted this hard.

It felt like being submerged– like no matter where you turned, you couldn’t come up for air. Their eyes were everywhere. Their presence, even in absence, pressed at you. The common room felt too full. The corridors too loud. The castle too small.

And everything they did now felt wrong.

Sirius’s laugh? Too loud. Too manic.

James’s constant loyalty? Clingy.

Remus’s gaze? Intrusive. Dissecting.

The same hands that once rested on your back like comfort now felt like claims. Their glances once made your cheeks flush with fondness– now they made your skin crawl.

The more they tried, the worse it got.

James cornered you after Transfiguration.

“Hey,” he said, too soft. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But he didn’t buy it. Of course he didn’t. He looked at you like he was trying to peel the truth out of you.

“I miss you,” he added, voice cracking slightly. “We all do.”

And that– God, that– made your stomach twist into something sharp and bitter.

Because you hadn’t even pulled away all the way yet. And already they were aching for you.

You couldn’t bear it.

You mumbled something– nothing– and escaped.

Sirius found you later. Half-smirk, eyes glinting, still so Sirius it should have felt like home.

“Ghosting us, sweetheart?” he teased, sliding in beside you at the library table, like he hadn’t been haunting your mind for days.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him.

Because if you did, you knew it would show on your face.

The ick.

The shift.

The sudden, inexplicable desire to push him away. To flinch when he leaned in. To run.

Because his presence– his everything– felt like a trap now. A beautiful one, yes. But a trap nonetheless.

And worst of all?

You hated yourself for it.

You hated how disgusted you felt by the people who had once made you laugh so hard you nearly cried. You hated the way their smiles now read as manipulation. You hated how their kindness felt weaponized. You hated that they hadn’t really done anything wrong– and yet, you wanted to burn the whole thing down.

You didn’t want to talk.

You didn’t want to explain.

You didn’t want to be perceived.

And every time one of them tried to reach you, it made it worse.

You started taking alternate routes to class. Sitting at the edge of the room. Leaving the common room early. Ducking out of conversations. Becoming small. Distant. Detached.

Because if you stayed too long, you'd start shaking with the need to scream:

"Leave me alone. You don’t own me. Stop looking at me like I belong to you."

You couldn’t even find their faces attractive anymore. Sirius’s sharp jaw and James’s broad grin and Remus’s honey-brown eyes– ick. The ick was everywhere. On their hands, on their voices, on their jokes. On their care.

And maybe the worst part was: a tiny part of you still wanted to be held.

But not like that.

Not by them.

Not when it felt like drowning.

...

It was bound to happen. You knew it. You could feel the tension gathering like a storm behind your back.

There were only so many times you could say "I'm just tired" before someone called your bluff.

And unsurprisingly, it was Remus.

He cornered you outside the library, somewhere quiet and tucked away where people didn’t usually linger. Somewhere you couldn't just vanish.

You froze when you saw him.

He didn’t say your name softly, not like James. He didn’t lean in with playful charm, not like Sirius. He just looked at you– sharp and serious, like a professor about to hand back a failed paper.

“I’m not stupid,” he said.

You blinked.

“You’re avoiding us. Me. All of us.”

There it was. Blunt. Flat. Impossible to dodge.

You wanted to run. You really, really did.

But you didn’t.

You stood your ground. And for a moment, you wondered if this was what you’d been waiting for all along. A reason. A break. Someone to put their foot down so you didn’t have to tiptoe anymore.

“I know,” you whispered. “I just… needed space.”

Remus’s jaw tightened. His arms crossed.

“You needed space,” he repeated slowly, like it was a word in a foreign language he didn’t understand. “From what? From people who care about you? Who love you?”

That word– it hit you like a slap.

Love.

You never said that word.

You never asked for it.

It was like they poured it on you without warning. Drenched you in it. And then looked surprised when you couldn't breathe.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you murmured, eyes darting away.

Remus’s voice sharpened. “Didn’t you?”

You looked up sharply.

He regretted it the second it left his mouth– you saw it in the flicker of guilt. But he didn’t take it back. Just watched you quietly, waiting.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Hard.

So that’s how it was.

You didn’t get to feel strange, or overwhelmed, or uncomfortable. Because to them, the beginning– the late nights and shared laughter and inside jokes– meant something. And maybe they did to you too. Maybe you had wanted them. At one point.

But now?

Now it felt like they were asking you to carry a boulder you never picked up.

“I liked you,” you said quietly. “All of you. I did.”

Remus didn’t move.

��But it got too much,” you continued. “Too intense. Too fast. I didn’t know how to stop it without feeling like the bad guy.”

The silence between you stretched long and tight.

And then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, the other two showed up.

James and Sirius. Of course.

“Moony, we’ve been looking for– ”

James stopped when he saw your face.

And Sirius? Sirius didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, blinking slow. Expression unreadable.

You wanted to disappear.

“What’s going on?” James asked, voice low and cautious, like he already knew the answer.

“I’m pulling away,” you said.

They all froze.

You said it again, firmer this time. “I’m pulling away. I have been.”

James looked stunned.

Sirius’s mouth twitched– something bitter creeping in.

“Why?” he asked flatly. “Because we liked you too much?”

You swallowed. “Because I felt owned. Watched. Tied down. Like every step I took had to be filtered through how it would affect you. Like I became a mirror instead of a person.”

“That’s not fair,” James said, quietly.

“No,” you agreed. “But it’s how I feel.”

You didn’t need them to understand. You just needed them to know.

And standing there, under the weight of three pairs of eyes– three hearts cracking open– you finally realized what you had been running from.

It wasn’t them.

It was the version of you they loved. The bright one. The affectionate one. The one who always smiled back, who never flinched at closeness.

But you weren’t her anymore. Not to them.

And that version?

She wasn’t coming back.

...

You didn’t cry after you walked away.

You didn’t feel relieved, either.

You just felt… hollow.

It wasn’t like you’d set fire to anything. You hadn’t shouted. You hadn’t accused. You hadn’t been cruel. But it still felt like you’d shattered something sacred. Something that once felt tender and beautiful and safe.

And maybe that was what stung the most.

Because it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Not in silence. Not with three boys left standing in a corridor, eyes full of questions and hurt and a kind of quiet disbelief. James had looked like he might run after you. Sirius had looked like he wanted to be angry, but couldn’t quite summon the energy. Remus– Remus hadn’t said anything at all. And that silence had hurt worst of all.

You found yourself retracing old patterns.

Avoiding certain halls. Choosing library tables far from the windows. Turning corners with caution. Walking faster, smiling less, vanishing more.

The castle adjusted to your absence the way water accepts a stone– ripples, and then stillness.

But even in stillness, they were everywhere.

You saw James’s scarf draped over a chair and felt your stomach flip. You heard Sirius’s laugh echo down the hallway and flinched like it was thunder. You spotted Remus’s annotated copy of Great Expectations in the study lounge and felt your chest squeeze around something sour and sharp.

You didn’t miss them.

You missed before.

Before the shift. Before the pressure. Before the invisible leash tightened around your neck.

And yet…

You still looked for them.

Out of habit. Out of guilt. Out of some strange, twisted longing for a version of them that didn’t exist anymore. A version that knew when to stop. That didn’t push and smother and cling.

It had been a few days– maybe a week– before any of them approached you again.

And, of course, it was James.

He didn’t corner you. Didn’t crowd. Just sat beside you in the courtyard one crisp afternoon, quietly, like you were strangers again. He didn’t say hi. He didn’t smile.

He just said:

“I’ve been thinking.”

You didn’t look up from your book.

“’Bout what?”

“About how we didn’t ask.”

You blinked.

“We never asked what you wanted,” James said softly, picking at a blade of grass. “We just… liked you. And we kept showing it. Loudly. Constantly.”

Your fingers stilled on the page.

“I didn’t realize it made you feel like you had no room to breathe.”

Your throat tightened.

“And I’m sorry for that.”

You finally looked at him. He wasn’t looking at you.

Just at the sky, like the clouds might give him an answer to everything that had gone wrong.

“You were the best thing that happened to us,” he said. “But we were too greedy with it.”

The words settled in your chest like dust. Not heavy, not painful. Just… present.

“I don’t hate you,” you murmured.

He smiled a little. Sad. “We know.”

“I just needed air.”

James nodded, like he understood now– truly understood– and for the first time in weeks, you felt seen again. Not wanted. Not adored. Just… seen.

And it was enough.

...

Things didn’t go back to the way they were.

Not immediately. Maybe not ever.

There were no dramatic apologies in the rain, no desperate declarations under starlight. No one ran down corridors, panting with love or regret. The world didn’t stop for your grief. It just kept turning– gently, indifferently.

And in that quiet turning, something began to mend.

Not with grand gestures. Not with heavy stares or suffocating closeness. But with a nod in the hallway. A cup of tea left beside your book in the common room. A joke slipped into conversation that didn’t ask you to laugh– just invited you to if you felt like it.

You began to breathe again.

And they let you.

James no longer dropped everything to orbit you. Instead, he passed by, offered a soft “Hey,” and walked on. That space, that freedom– it was oxygen. Sirius, who used to look at you like you were something to devour, started looking at you like you were something to understand. Less fire. More gaze. And Remus– God, Remus– he gave you the most precious thing of all: patience.

You never unlearned the feeling.

Even in that peace, even in the softer way they treated you now– there was always that memory. That subtle dread curled up somewhere in your ribs. A flicker of what if it happens again?

What if their affection grows teeth?

What if they forget how to leave you be?

What if their love turns loud again, hungry again, and you’re back where you started– trying to smile with lungs full of smoke?

You didn’t pretend it wasn’t possible. You didn’t tell yourself, Oh, they’ve changed forever. You didn’t romanticize their restraint like it was some love language.

No.

You carried that knowing like a stone in your pocket– not to weigh you down, but to ground you.

Because you changed.

You stopped being the girl who mistook their intensity for warmth. You stopped thinking attention always meant care. You stopped letting love mean losing yourself.

You didn’t go back to them as the same girl who once swooned under their gaze.

You returned as someone who could say “No.” As someone who could walk away again, if she had to. Someone who would.

That made all the difference.

There were days when you still flinched at too much attention. Days when you saw them laugh together and felt a pang of guilt, as though your honesty had fractured something golden. But more and more, that ache began to feel like… growing pains.

They stopped treating you like a prize.

You stopped treating yourself like a villain.

And slowly, you came back to them– not because you had to, not because they asked– but because you chose to.

You let Sirius walk beside you down to the greenhouses without touching you. You shared tea with Remus again, letting the quiet stretch between you without pressure. And one evening, when the common room was buzzing and your eyes were heavy, James wordlessly offered you his sweater– nothing more.

You took it.

It was soft and warm and smelled like firewood and lavender and a little bit like safety.

Something new was growing in that sweater. In the quiet tea. In the space between footsteps.

Something smaller than love. Gentler.

Not obsession. Not infatuation.

Just care.

The thing about love– real love– is that it doesn’t just live in how someone looks at you.

It lives in how they listen when you say, “That’s too much.” It lives in how they pull back when you need air, even if it bruises them a little to do it.

So no– you didn’t forget.

You remembered everything.

And you still walked back.

Not because you forgot who they were.

But because you knew who you were now.

And you were someone who could leave the moment love tried to hold you too tight.

But this time?

They loved you without holding too tight.

And that’s how you knew it was real.

[aventurineswife]

I physically need to read a fic with a sober reader who witnesses how goofy Kaveh and Veritas can get when they're drunk and is just shocked that they're capable of being THIS playful and unhinged. Bonus if the reader records them and teases them about it later on.

Under the Influence

Summary: When Kaveh and Ratio drink a bit too much, their usually serious and refined personas melt away, revealing a goofy, playful side that shocks their sober partner. As Kaveh balances wine glasses on his head and Ratio narrates absurdly dramatic tales, you capture the hilarity on video and tease them about their drunken antics later. What begins as a drunken display of silliness turns into a heartwarming moment where the two intellectuals let go of their usual restraint and embrace their more carefree sides.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Fluff, Humor, Drunken Shenanigans, Teasing, Playful Dynamics, Sober Reader, Lighthearted Banter.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Light swearing, Mild inebriation and the silliness that follows.

[Part 2]

You had always known Kaveh as the passionate architect, the one who threw himself into his work without a second thought. His sharp eyes were usually filled with intensity, whether he was sketching out blueprints or discussing the intricacies of his designs with a fervor that could be described as borderline obsessive. On the other hand, Dr. Veritas Ratio, or as he liked to be called, Dr. Ratio, was known for his unmatched intellect, his sharp wit, and his imposing presence as a scholar of the highest order. He was always calm, calculated, and logical in everything he did.

But tonight, everything had changed.

The three of you—Kaveh, Ratio, and yourself—had been winding down after a particularly long day. A few drinks were shared, mostly to calm the nerves after a heated debate between Kaveh and Ratio about the nature of beauty versus logic in architecture. You had opted for a glass of water, wanting to stay sober for the evening.

The first drink had seemed harmless enough, then the second, and soon enough, the two of them were... well, a different version of themselves.

Kaveh, normally an epitome of elegance, was now sprawled across the couch, his arms flailing about as he attempted to convey the complexity of his latest architectural vision with a drunk logic all his own. Ratio, on the other hand, had started laughing—genuinely laughing—a sound that was so foreign coming from him, you almost couldn’t believe it.

You stood nearby, observing the scene with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Kaveh was currently trying to balance a glass of wine on his head, apparently convinced that this would somehow make him look more refined.

“Look, look!” Kaveh slurred, gesturing grandly with his arms. “An architect is a true artist, right? And art is about balance! And this, my dear Ratio, is balance!” He gave a triumphant grin, the glass teetering dangerously on his head as he struck a dramatic pose.

Ratio, who had been sitting in a more reserved manner just moments ago, now seemed to have completely let go of his usual composure. He was clutching his sides, laughing harder than you had ever seen him laugh in all the time you had known him.

“I never thought I'd see the day when Kaveh, the ‘Master of Aesthetics,’ would be reduced to a—what did you call it?—a ‘drunken genius’ in his own right!” Ratio managed to say between bursts of laughter, his voice unusually high-pitched in his state.

Kaveh, however, wasn’t finished yet. With an exaggerated gesture, he began to dramatically “sing” an operatic rendition of what was undoubtedly the most nonsensical and off-key song you had ever heard. You couldn’t help but snicker as he added hand movements for extra flair.

“You should definitely get a recording of this,” Ratio said, wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes. “This is legendary, and no one would believe it if you told them.”

Your eyebrows shot up in realization. A mischievous smile crept onto your face as you reached for your phone. You had to document this moment—it was too precious to be forgotten.

As you pressed record, the two men’s antics continued, utterly unhinged. Kaveh was now rolling on the floor, pretending to be a cat in an exaggerated display of theatrical nonsense, while Ratio began narrating an imaginary tale of "the drunken architect and the scholarly fool" in a deep, overly dramatic voice that sounded like he was auditioning for an epic movie role.

“Once upon a time, there was a brilliant architect,” Ratio began, sounding almost serious, “who sought to balance the world with a glass of wine on his head. But lo and behold! His genius was thwarted by a foolish scholar who...”

“Hey!” Kaveh interrupted, still lying on the floor but with a playful pout on his face, “I’m not a fool! I’m an artist, Ratio! A true visionary!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all. Your phone’s camera captured every moment—the dramatic poses, the ridiculous banter, and Kaveh’s insistence that he was both an architect and a revolutionary philosopher in the same breath. Ratio’s narrative voice only made it all the more surreal.

“And as the great architect’s impossible balance failed,” Ratio continued, “he lost his grace and fell into the arms of a drunken fool who had, ironically, become a greater scholar in his drunken stupor than he ever was sober.” He paused and gave you a wink as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Should I start charging for this performance?”

“Oh, stop it, you,” Kaveh protested, his voice slurred but still full of mock indignation. “You’re just jealous because my artistic flair is more... refined than your boring lectures.”

That was it. You burst out laughing, clutching your phone in one hand as you tried to contain yourself. The two men had completely abandoned any sense of dignity, and you were witnessing a side of them you’d never expected—Kaveh, who prided himself on being a refined, somewhat dramatic figure, and Ratio, usually so stoic and controlled, both completely unhinged in a drunken stupor.

You stopped recording for a moment, both of them still lost in their own silly world.

“You both are ridiculous,” you teased, still chuckling. “I can’t believe I’m seeing this side of you.”

Kaveh shot you a grin, his earlier dignity long gone. “Oh, you better believe it. You’ve unlocked the true genius of Kaveh and Ratio!”

“Geniuses,” Ratio echoed with a wry smile, his head still spinning slightly from the wine. “I have never met two people more qualified to—”

“—make fools of ourselves?” Kaveh interrupted, finishing Ratio’s sentence with a dramatic flair.

“Exactly!” Ratio said, as if this was the revelation of the century. He staggered slightly and straightened himself up, clearly attempting to reclaim some of his usual poise. “You have to admit, we are rather amusing when not bound by the chains of intellectual superiority.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter. You pointed your phone back at them, capturing the absurdity of the moment. “This is gold. I’m going to make sure everyone hears about ‘Drunken Genius Kaveh’ and ‘Scholar Ratio’ forever.”

At that, Kaveh made a playful, exaggerated bow from the floor. “As long as I’m remembered for my art, I have no complaints!”

Ratio, still swaying slightly, joined in, offering an over-the-top, formal bow that had you in stitches. “Indeed. May our genius be immortalized, even if it’s through the lens of... let’s say, questionable decisions.”

You laughed again, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sight of these two intellectuals, usually so serious, embracing the chaos of the moment. It was clear that beneath all the genius and the hard exterior, they had their own quirks, their own human sides—unfiltered, unrefined, and entirely lovable.

Before you could stop yourself, you playfully raised your phone and said, “So, are we getting this on record? Or should I keep the next few minutes a secret?”

“Oh, no,” Kaveh interjected, suddenly sitting up, “absolutely not. This is an exclusive performance!”

Ratio smirked. “Right. And we’re expecting royalties for that footage.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “We’ll see about that.”

[jinjoohaa]

Series I write for - Jujutsu kaisen // One piece

➺ Toji Fushiguro

➺ Jujutsu kaisen

➺ One piece

Hey! I’m Jin ✦

I mainly write for One Piece and Jujutsu Kaisen, with a soft spot (read: obsession) for Toji Fushiguro.

backup : @jinjoohaa-blog

⚠️ This blog is home to messy, smutty, emotionally charged fiction—think age gaps, power plays, jealousy, possessiveness, and a lot of filth. I focus on intense and very dark themes. Everything’s tagged, everything’s 18+.

Don’t like it? That’s fine. Hit that scroll button or block—I’m not writing for everyone, and that’s the point.

➺ This is an 18+ Blog! No minors allowed!

➺ Trigger warnings are always included for dark or heavy content.

➺ Respect my space — if my content isn't for you, feel free to move along peacefully!

💌 backup: @jinjoohaa-blog — follow if you want to keep up, just in case :)

[kikithefox231]

YALL. LISTEN. THEYRE THE SAME.

AND SO COMPELLING!!!

[majunju]

I just saw you played even if tempest and I just inhaled that and the fandisk. Have you ever drawn any art for it? I can't find content and the Tyril brain rot is strong in me

i've drawn like maybe two lucien pieces and here's a sketch of a scene from the connection route in the FD that i never posted here

[buildingrelationshipsinanarchy]

So through my university I've been able to get my hands on a lot of scholarly research around, nonmonogamies, polyamory, sexuality and all sorts of gender, race, class intersections on those topics.

Anybody interested in me posting them? Maybe even commenting on them as well?

[greensaplinggrace]

i don't think willow realizing she's a lesbian is a rejection of her relationship with oz. you don't do a disservice to past partners if you realize your attraction lies elsewhere. willow's relationship with tara doesn't negate what she had with oz - it reframes some aspects of their dynamic, but not necessarily in a bad way.

[indigodiskmybeloved]

Paldea Trio Header edits, featuring my headcannons on their gender identities!

Penny is nonbinary, Arven is genderfluid, and Nemona is demigirl, and they all love each other very much!

[polyamorousmood]

Asking you and/or any of your followers for whom it may be relevant. I'm part of a triad. At some point in the next couple years, I'm aiming to move in with two of these gals I'm dating. My question is, for anyone in this situation: Do you all share a bed? Is a king-sized generally large enough for three people to actually sleep on together comfortably in your experiences? Or do you all trend towards other sleeping arrangements? Any other pitfalls or issues I should prepare for?

I don't default to three people in a bed by default, though I've done it for special occasions.

A king bed will hold me and my two partners fine. Though if you've got someone who kicks in their sleep, there could still be trouble. I could also see space getting tight if your group is bigger than average in some way (be that height, fat, or muscle). Kings do take up a lot of floor space, and I would recommend checking the bedroom size to make sure it can comfortably fit.

The biggest reason I don't do it normally though is that it gets very hot🔥🌡, especially for the middle person, and I don't mean in the sexy way. Well. It can get sexy too. But even with cold sleepers, three in a bed can cause overheating. If you do this, my advice is to come prepared with ways to cool:

If everyone is able to sleep without covers or just a thin sheet, do that.

If you need the weight of a blanket, I suggest finding one of those net-like blankets that will add the weight without actually trapping much heat (I was able to find the type I'm thinking of by googling "lace knit blanket"). Weighted blankets still normally trapped too much heat in my experience.

Fans

If you're buying a new bed just for this, waterbeds 💧🛏let you set the temperature. I have a theory that if you set it slightly cooler than you actually want, the entire thing will act as a heat sink. I DID own a waterbed so I know how they work, and am pretty confident it would help a lot. But I wasn't practicing poly at that time so I never got to actually put it to the test. It takes a couple days for the temperature to adjust on those things go, so it might take a couple weeks to get it sorted how you like.

The people I live with all have separate bedrooms (and full or queen size beds), but normally pair up for bedtime according to our whims. This works out great for us, though it does up the required square footage of your place together significantly. And it may not be for everyone, anyway, sounds like you're wanting things as integrated as possible. I strongly prefer this personally because having your own space to fall back on is very nice, especially if:

Someone is significantly messier or tidier (each person is responsible for keeping their room to their own comfort level)

You host overnight guests a lot (easy to free up a spare bed)

Decor sensibilities clash

Different mattress firmnesses are preferred

Anyone is telling their family you're "just roommates" (hard to have 3 roommates in a 1 bedroom)

Someone has a pet the other(s) don't want to have to deal with in some way (smell of cage🐹/litter box🐈‍⬛️, dog🐩 sleeping on the bed, etc)

You want to prioritize all the individual relationships instead of it being a three-way mush

Probably lots of other things

This is FAR from a comprehensive list, of course. But those are the considerations I've encountered. I do hope other people will chime in with their experiences because this is so interesting!

I'm super happy you're able to start thinking about here things!! It's really nice when everyone can be together 🥰 I hope you and your girlfriends get to all live under the same roof soon, and that it's everything you dreamed 💙💖🖤

[greyskyflowers]

I'm always on a Visored/Ichigo kick but it's been especially bad lately. Sooo have some little hollow instinct AU?? plot bunnies that won't get bigger than this but still wanted to hop around.

Is it trauma, power dynamics, or hollow instincts? The world may never know.

The world does actually know and it's all three.

⚠️ Some strange relationship and/or combination of Visored/Ichigo/Kisuke because that's my jam and I'm partying alone. ⚠️

💀💀💀💀

Ichigo doesn't know what he looks like when he's like this. No one else knows either, which is a good thing because people have destroyed and conquered worlds for less.

Long limbs sprawled, belly down and back exposed. There's a blanket drapped over his hips more for the comforting weight than any warmth. His tan skin glows in the low lighting and his hair looks like soft embers.

He smells like them. He looks like theirs. He's sleeping in their space. It hits a lot of things they knew would appeal to them but not to this extent.

He's taken their advice to heart, about getting familiar with the new hollow instincts and just do what feels right. At least until he's able to separate the things that are more him and more hollow.

It's driving them nuts. He's shameless and he doesn't even know it.

He presses his face against their faces and throats, the bridge of his nose pressing against the underside of their jaws and nuzzling real quick before darting off. The scent of him clinging to them and the submissive gesture, ducking to press under their jaw, is addicting.

It's a intimate greeting, one they don't even really give to each other but Ichigo uses it multiple times a day. A happy, warm and loving gesture that says hihelloimhereandyourehereandimveryhappy each time he does it. They kind of dread him figuring out how personal it is because he'll stop.

He makes himself small when he's anxious or scared, when he lets himself act his age for once. He holds himself well, they'll give him that. It's hard to tell unless he wants you to know but there are signs they pick up on, along with Kisuke's hints.

It's easier to be vulnerable at night, when it's dark and it doesn't seem so bad to seek out warmth and comfort.

They're particular about sleeping arrangements. They don't like others in the same area as them while they sleep. They puppy pile, as Mashiro happily calls it, not able to fully relax unless they're tangled up with at least 3 other people. The only people in the world they trust completely, with every part of their souls, and Kisuke.

And apparently Ichigo because he slips right in, and not only does he sneak in without kicking off their instincts but gets up against their throats without so much as a twitch from them. He stays above the blankets and avoids the mess of limbs, which is both smart and makes them frown. Desperate for comfort but still holding himself back, he probably would have tried to leave without them noticing if they hadn't woken up

The jackrabbit heartbeat and shaky breathing is what actually wakes them up.

There's a brief moment where everyone kind of freezes as they process what's happening, and then wait to see which one of them will kick him out, which of them will crack first at having a stranger in their space.

But it doesn't happen.

Everything stays silent and still except for the shaky breathing still coming from Ichigo, they swear they can hear feel his heart pounding, and a little keening noise that's so faint they miss it at first. It zips up their spines as soon as they notice, it's like a straight shot of adrenaline and a protective awareness surges in their chests.

They know there's no actual threat, they would have felt it, and they know that the kid just had a nightmare or was thinking too hard and worked himself up. But it doesn't seem like their instincts understand that.

They've never made that sound, not a single one of them ever, and they've made some weird noises. It's a terrible sad, lonely, scared noise and they don't ever want to hear it again.

This all happens in the span of a few minutes, enough for Ichigo to start calming down a little. He's not as tense and his breathing has gotten slower. Not enough to indicate he's asleep yet but he's on his way.

They all squish in closer and Ichigo falls right asleep, his cold nose and wet cheeks pressed into warm skin.

Hollows do not purr like cats, at least in their experience, but they swear to god they all woke up to purring at different times during the night.

💀💀💀💀

Ichigo starts sitting between their legs, most often when he's injured. Not kneeling, although that's a pretty picture, just sitting down so he's bracketed on both sides by their legs, back to them. Safe.

Lisa and Mashiro play with his hair, Lisa mindlessly as she flips through her magazine and Mashiro makes tiny braids before taking them out and starting over.

Kensei doesn't do much, usually puts his elbows on his knees so he's curved protectively over Ichigo. Occasionally rubbing his knuckles on Ichigo's jaw and petting at his throat.

Shinji tries to always keep a hand on him, tangled in his hair, resting on the side of his throat, or brushing against his cheek.

Ichigo doesn't do it often or around other people and they all try to respect that. He has to be Ichigo, strong, stubborn, impossible, and the one people look to.

💀💀💀💀

The thing people forget is that while wounds heal, the body and soul remember.

It can be a lot of strain, going in and out of his human body so frequently, especially when both soul and body are so familiar with stress, bruises and breaks.

Ichigo may heal quicker than most with his hollow and access to good healers but the echoes linger longer than most others. Especially when injuries are made with intention. Wounds from hollows hurt of course, but there's usually not a lot of thought behind it. So the wounds are more random, varying depths and severity.

Wounds by people shinigami, bounts, quincy, etc are more precise. They know where to aim to make it devastating, agonizing, and life changing.

Ichigo has fought a lot of people and it shows.

He bares his burdens and more in front of people like he's fine. He smiles and laughs, meets all the demands for fights with his own wild grin, moves like he's never had a injury in his life and people don't question it.

There's an area of his chest, and his back, that burn. A few spots of a constant and deep heat that make breathing feel hard.

His shoulders itch and ache, the kind that feels like it's down under the muscle. Nothing helps and lifting his arms is difficult.

A long, dragging catch following the lines of his lower ribcage. Breathing too deeply makes it burn and crackle in sharp pain, short and shallow breaths aren't satisfying but it keeps the pain manageable.

Headaches from countless concussions, a sore jaw from all the times it's been broke, fingers and toes that don't feel right anymore and ache terribly in the cold.

It's not all the time, just occasionally. Things like going back and forth too many times from his body, extreme temperatures, new wounds over the old, etc all cause flare ups.

He's too young to have so many aches.

They're protective over those spots. They can't and won't interfere with his fights unless it's critical but they keep an eye on wounds in those areas. They frown and scare off people when Ichigo starts to flinch from heavy arms being thrown around his shoulders or careless jabs in his side.

Sometimes their old wounds flare up and Ichigo scowls and bares teeth at everyone until the aches goes away.

[exquisite-peculiarity]

These were all the options I could think of

Please reblog for sample size

[jasper-unofficial]

i find it infinitely funny that people who accuse ofts of pushing monogamy refuse to accept that boston got a happy ending because... he's not in a relationship at the end of the series. that's not just ironic, that's fucking hilarious.

[sia-paskuda]

@coldmoontea

[buildingrelationshipsinanarchy]

Compersion, Jealousy, and Polyamory/Consensual Non-Monogamy Research Dump.

(I'm also thinking of making a discord, telegram, or whatsapp group to like read these and other articles and discuss and develop our own ideas in relation to all this info. Please dm, comment or add something in the reblogs to let me know if that's worth the time.)

Love and Freedom: Transcending Monogamy and Polyamory FERRER, JORGE N. (2022). Love and Freedom: Transcending Monogamy and Polyamory. London, UK: Rowman & Littlefield. ix þ 212 pp. ISBN: 978-1538156575 From Romantic Jealousy to Sympathetic Joy: Monogamy, Polyamory, and Beyond Ferrer, Jorge N. "Monogamy, polyamory, and beyond: spirituality and intimate relationships." Tikkun, vol. 22, no. 1, Jan.-Feb. 2007, pp. 37+. Gale Academic OneFile

Polyamorous Individuals’ Jealous and Compersive Responses to Their Partner’s New Relationship Energy: The Role of Mindfulness, Emotion Regulation, Distress Tolerance, and Empathy Clemons-Castaños, C. R. (2024). Polyamorous individuals’ jealous and compersive responses to their Partner’s new relationship energy: The role of mindfulness, emotion regulation, distress tolerance, and empathy (Order No. 31293851).

Your Happiness Is My Happiness: Predicting Positive Feelings for a Partner’s Consensual Extra‑Dyadic Intimate Relations Flicker, S.M., Sancier-Barbosa, F. Your Happiness Is My Happiness: Predicting Positive Feelings for a Partner’s Consensual Extra-Dyadic Intimate Relations. Arch Sex Behav 53, 941–958 (2024)

Classifying Our Metamour/Partner Emotional Response Scale (COMPERSe)

Polyagony: An Exploration of Jealousy Deri, Jillian. Love's Refraction: Jealousy and Compersion in Queer Women's Polyamorous Relationships, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2015

If You Move to the Rainforest, You’ve Got No Right to Complain about the Rain: From Polyagony to Compersion Deri, Jillian. Love's Refraction: Jealousy and Compersion in Queer Women's Polyamorous Relationships, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2015

Triangular Trouble: A Phenomenological Exploration of Jealousy’s Archetypal Nature in Polyamorous Individuals Hamilton, Jolene Emily. "Triangular Trouble: A Phenomenological Exploration of Jealousy’s Archetypal Nature in Polyamorous Individuals." Order No. 27743962 Pacifica Graduate Institute, 2020. United States -- California: ProQuest.

Transforming Jealousy and Envy Into Compersion A Therapist’s Guide to Consensual Nonmonogamy Orion, R. (2018). A Therapist’s Guide to Consensual Nonmonogamy: Polyamory, Swinging, and Open Marriage (1st ed.). Routledge.

Working with Clients Who Are Non-monogamous And Those Who Want to Be Nichols, M. (2020). The Modern Clinician's Guide to Working with LGBTQ+ Clients: The Inclusive Psychotherapist (1st ed.). Routledge

Attempts to Sublimate: Compersion Fosse, M.J. (2021). The Many Faces of Polyamory: Longing and Belonging in Concurrent Relationships (1st ed.). Routledge

Factors that Facilitate and Hinder the Experience of Compersion Among Individuals in Consensually Non‑Monogamous Relationships Flicker, S.M., Thouin-Savard, M.I. & Vaughan, M.D. Factors that Facilitate and Hinder the Experience of Compersion Among Individuals in Consensually Non-Monogamous Relationships. Arch Sex Behav 51, 3035–3048 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-022-02333-4

Feeling Good About Your Partners’ Relationships: Compersion in Consensually Non-Monogamous Relationships Flicker, S.M., Vaughan, M.D. & Meyers, L.S. Feeling Good About Your Partners’ Relationships: Compersion in Consensually Non-Monogamous Relationships. Arch Sex Behav 50, 1569–1585 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-021-01985-y