#fool pathway

[scarlet-cookie]

I like to think about the silly connection I made between TMA’s Stranger, LOTM’s Fool Pathway, and HSR’s Path of Elation. Uncannily faceless people and monsters who laugh at misery and tragedy. My auto TMA sense when starting LOTM was like, oh yes, Klein is an avatar of the Stranger, and now that I’ve completed it, it became more like “Nikola Orsinov is a Sequence 4 Bizzaro Sorcerer”, “Sparkle is a Sequence 6 Faceless and an avatar of the Stranger.” also the fact that both The Unknowing and Klein’s apotheosis ritual made people in the vicinity 90% stupider. Except one is “we and the skinless puppets rave so hard the fear god descends” and the other is a bunch of gods fighting in some poor guy’s living room so loudly that he wakes up.

[firstroseofspring]

thinking pondering to me john torres is like. what if u met a woman. with confidence and dignity and a strong moral backbone. you meet and she makes a distinct impression with her honesty and her frankness and she seems like she's always sure of what she wants and what she needs and she's so different from anyone else you know and thats exciting and she's exciting and she likes you specifically you. and you don't think much of you but it feels good to be liked by someone like that. you love her of course. you marry her. of course!

[blueteamtexas]

yall ever remember how tex church and omega gave caboose severe brain damage and then everyone was really mean to caboose for like 10 seasons and scream really hard

[cats-obsessions]

If Durge Could Recruit Gortash Headcanons:

Once agreeing to ally with Gortash, Durge can convince him to join the party, but only if they agree to kill Raphael. If Karlach is in the party, this may be done in exchange for Gortash to fix her heart if Durge can pass the persuasion roll on Karlach.

• Upon joining the party, Gortash shows up in a more practical armor set, still gold and black but not as decorated as his robe. There’s scrapes and dents on parts of it, clearly having been worn before. Durge can ask him about it in conversation and discover he has chosen to wear the same armor as he did when they robbed Mephistopheles Vault. He never repaired it and can tell a story for each scratch.

• He does a lot to try to jog Durge’s memories, and it works a some degree. We hear little stories around the city, some more suggestive than others.

• Old habits never die. He’s constantly touching Durge, always walks next to them, has a lot of strong opinions but will only concede to Durge.

• Durge persuasion rolls on Gortash are DC10 and under. Anyone else it’s DC30.

• He absolutely compliments Durge a little too much. And he’s always the first at Durge’s side after the fighting ends. Grumbles if he has to rez anyone else but dotes on Durge.

• Gets along well enough with Astarion, Shadowheart, and Laezel. Respects Minthara and Gale, sees them both as potential allies if they know their places. Absolute bitch to Wyll. Actively the number one Ravengard hater.

• If Durge can convince Karlach to stick around, she will only be in the same party as Gortash once or twice. She’ll confront Durge about it after and either has to be kept separate or leaves the party.

• If taken to Astarion and Shadowhearts’ personal quests, he’ll be surprisingly respectful, and will tell them they’d make good Banites, particularly if Shadowheart resists Shar. (Kinda think he would tell Astarion not to Ascend but for his own advantage of not having to deal with an Ascended Vampire and not wanting the hells to gain power from 7,000 souls)

• Random gifts pop up in Durge’s inventory. He says nothing about them. One is definitely the hand of an enemy.

• When in the House of Hope, Gortash will only allow Durge to enter the prison with him until the warden is dead. He’ll tell them everything, but won’t let the others see it.

• Killing Raphael is very emotional. He’s proud, happy, relieved, but being there shakes him up. Durge can hug him in private when they talk about it.

• If Durge chooses to save Hope, she tries to hug ‘little Enver, all grown up’ before they leave. He does not like it, but part of him is happy to see her free.

• Durgetash romance can initiate after Raphael is dead. Sceleritas is so fuckin' pissed. Like, he kinda ships it, but he CANNOT handle Durge getting labotomized again for this Banite fool.

• He has random little personal quests and pop-up events like his formal coronation celebration ball, taking Durge to a fancy dinner, dealing with fans, and assassinating a rude journalist who called him not-so-young-and-handsome.

• If taken to Lady Jannath's estate, she flirts with him. Durge has an option to stab her for this- just once. Just a little. She'll be fine! Gortash approves. He apologizes to her, but he's absolutely into it.

• His two allied pathways at the end are to remain fully evil and control the brain/Faerun with Durge or absolutely still be, ya know, Gortash but destroy the brain and become archduke without the tadpoles' help as he’s now viewed as the city’s hero. This is his least evil option and requires a Durge romance or at least a Durge that will remain by his side regardless and saving Hope as pivotal moments.

• Durge's alliance or resistance of Bhaal would significantly influence this. Resisting Bhaal lowers the DC on any persuasion. Failing the duel with Orin would block any option except controlling the brain with Gortash as he sees it as the only way to protect Durge. Because controlling the absolute would offer them a large enough following to grant them literal ascension to godhood, freeing Durge from Bhaal's control. Plus, you know killing a god would only inflate Gortash's ego more, and that would be his new goal.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt.1

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

okay i’ve redirected this fic and made it into a slowburn multi chapter series, in hindsight my last idea was too abrupt. i feel like this storyline is wayyyy better. I LOVEEEE SLOWBURN. i hope ya’ll like this one better! Part 2 up now!

PS. if you don’t like this type of stuff, don’t be stupid and comment on it because I really don’t care enough to hear it, use ur fingers and scroll. it’s not that hard.

You thought your wedding day would've been more romantic than this.

More personal, more involved, a consolidation of the many moments you shared with the man you were going to love forever, but free will and liberation were something that you gave up when your parents decided that it was in your family's entrepreneurial interest to participate in a partnership with the O'Hara Dynasty.

You weren't mad. It was just...different. You knew this day was coming but it was all wrapped together quite nicely, in a neat little bow.

Everything was done with the utmost sensitivity and respect, the O'Hara family's Consigliere placed piles of paperwork in front of you, NDAs were rarely ever necessary, and guns and fists normally did the trick but Miguel personally wanted all of this to be clean. He was getting married for the sole purpose of extending his power and influence, being a part of the 5 Families in this city wasn't something that was done without shedding blood. And Miguel shed a lot. This was a very important occasion to him, marriage was important in all generations of his family, and almost every single Don arranged a marriage with a woman from another Dynasty just for the purpose of spreading influence and agendas. Miguel and his brother talked for hours about it and in the end, he had to do what was necessary for his family and his capos. He needed to conserve what was his whilst also inserting his power.

Dealing with ill-tempered men and being a sounding board for their last scraps of sanity wasn't new but Miguel wasn't that. He was just silent in a way you didn't like. It was almost unsettling. Maybe it would be easier to hate him if he was an asshole, but he was very kind and respectful in the little words he said to you.

All of this was strictly professional, a beautiful show for the underworld. It was ridiculous and you felt like a fool, and after the day you had, it felt perfectly reasonable to feel that way.

It was your wedding day and word got around fast.

The dress he picked was fine.

The ceremony was fine

The ring was fine

Everything was just fine.

Now you were in his cold, lavishly destitute penthouse at an ungodly hour, sitting around, still in the wedding dress that you haven't taken off for some reason- maybe to compensate for the fact that you'll throw it in a corner, leave it in the cold and black dark, collecting dust for you to never see it again. Miguel's capos had to scamper around and follow you just about anywhere but for once, they left you alone with Miguel shooing them out.

Is this what your life would be like? Sitting around, waiting for something to happen? Was everything meant to be so banal and grey?

“You looked lovely today.” A low voice grumbled behind you, you whipped your head around to see Miguel leaving his study and entering the living room, he was still wearing his tux with that unknotted ugly bow tie that was crooked the whole ceremony. He looked tired. You gave him an agreeable smile in response.

"Thank you.” You said politely, there was just nothing purposeful behind your voice. All there was between you and Miguel was agreeable conversation, polite and meaningless drivel to distract from the very true and real fact that you were betrothed, you both owed each other something. Miguel gave you protection and you gave Miguel his pathway to influence- it was a business transaction, that was all, but it didn't mean that all of this wasn't abnormal. “I can't reach the zipper, can you please zip me down?” You asked as if it was a normal question- it wasn't for your kind of relationship but what the hell was normal nowadays? For Christ's sake, you were married to a man you barely knew and you slept in different rooms.

Miguel approached you in silence, watching you stand up from the couch and turn around. He liked the dress, he picked it out himself, you looked nice. His fingers found the zipper and pulled down slowly, watching the slivers of skin appear with every small tug down.

As far as women go, Miguel wasn't really that interested in sleeping around, every woman he shared himself with became a target or an opportunity pry into his head- he didn't want anyone messing with his internal affairs. Sometimes he'd cave and fuck one of the women serving him drinks at private poker nights, they always made eyes at him, begging him with fluttering eyelashes and wet lips to fuck them senseless. He was a man after all, sometimes it was enjoyable, sometimes it wasn't, he just needed to get off.

You on the other hand, you were unreadable in a way that he didn’t know how to approach.Though sometimes he did find you talking to him like an acquaintance vaguely irritating he would definitely be a hypocrite for calling you out.

It felt like you were holding your breath when he was finished, you settled baxk into your senses, he gazed over the patch of skin peeking out of your dress. He stopped his gawking when you turned around and gave him a weak smile like you would a friend or a neighbour. "Thank you. Goodnight Miguel.” You walked passed him and went to your designated room. Miguel did the same

You never really thought of yourself as an incurable romantic, but this was truly dull and you contemporary marriage like this. Even if it was to one of the most dangerous men in the city.

-

You awoke to a cacophony of sizzling and rustling noises coming from outside your room, your dreary eyes lulled by sleep couldn't fight against the delicious smell wafting from outside. Before you could fully register that breakfast was being made, the first thing you noticed was the heavy feeling of dread resting on your chest, you raked a tired hand over your face and rubbed your eyes awake. Opening them up fully, you saw the white fabric on the floor. In another life, the husband you actually loved would be laying next to you, whispering sweet nothings. Your wedding dress and veil were strewn about as if it was an article of clothing a teenage girl would carelessly discard while figuring out what to wear for a date with Tommy or Billy or Jason or whoever. But this wasn't high school drama, this was the type of life you were conditioned into.

Blood, war, and money.

You weren't complaining, the protection it offered you was immense. Miguel was a corrupt man dealing with equally corrupt politicians and people of interest, he had to adapt in his work but a part of you didn't believe he was the poisonous person everyone always made him out to be. Maybe it was because you hadn't seen him in his raw, primal ways, beating people bloody. That's what made you weary.

You shifted up and headed over to the walk-in wardrobe. This was the part that really stunted you, Miguel wanted you to wear what he specifically liked, everything was picked out by him and you still didn't know how to feel about it, but it made you grimace. You stepped in and glanced at the hangers, they were all ordered out by color and style. You noticed that he seemed to like satin and silk, and he was very particular about color, he liked black, silver, grey and even a baby blushed pink in certain articles. Your fingers grazed over the silk of the nightwear dresses, and the fabric of the gala dresses- you didn't like the idea of having to play pretend in front of too many people. You idled towards the drawers and wondered what he preferred when it came to underwear. You raised a cynical eyebrow and your lips pursed in curiosity as you let your finger pull it open.

Your mouth unhinged in a surprise you expected, but not in the way you thought of. He definitely had a thing for lingerie. God, there was a pair of everything, lacy, strappy, padded, unpadded, sheer garters, sparkly garters, knee highs, thigh highs. He was very particular indeed. It was tailored to your perfect cup size. Fucking hell. He liked Brazilian underwear but he seemed have an affinity for a thong too. You sighed and closed the drawer, you didn't want to read into it. Your eyes wandered to the muted pink silk robe hanging next to the drawer. Hm. That'll do for breakfast.

Miguel looked up from his newspaper to see you padding barefoot to the table where a spread was laid out. His maid, although young, ditzy and so obviously desperate to fuck him, was a very talented cook but the coffee she made always tasted like dirt. “Thank you.” He said to her plainly, he couldn't even look at her due to him being distracted by your presence. Your face creased into a light frown as you stared at the eye candy handing Miguel his coffee before she left as Miguel waved his hand. Of course the women who worked around him had to be insanely beautiful.

“Good morning.” Miguel grumbled before taking a sip. You were wearing the silk robe he liked. Good. Good girl.

You didn't say anything back, acting aloof and nonchalant seemed to be the only way of conserving whatever sanity you had left. The back of your throat had back drool when you stared at the delicious spread in front of you. You didn't know what you wanted to eat first. You grabbed a few pickings of everything, topped off with a mimosa. You ate in polite silence, minding your business, uninterested in anything he had to say at this point. Miguel settled down his newspaper and glared at you, you weren't particularly bothered by his presence, and that made him...unsettled. It went on like this for a solid few minutes.

“What?” You asked him, not even giving him the decency of looking him in the eye. Miguel was silent for a moment, contemplating your presence before he opened his mouth.

“We're leaving the city tonight.” He said oh so casually in that deep, low voice of his.

"And why is that?”You sighed tiredly, a slightly amused smirk twitched at your lips at this out-of-the-blue statement.

Miguel clicked his tongue and cooed at you, “Because cariño, my Consigliere has informed me that our marriage is not boding well with the other 5 Families, they think it's a covert attack in some sort of way, a questioning of power or sorts. And also..” He cut himself off for a reason unknown to him. “He also thinks it's a prudent idea to have a honeymoon, to hone everything in and make this...real.” He murmured as he rolled up his shirt sleeve.

Your eyes pricked up at the word 'real.' Wasn't this real? The papers were real. The ring was real. But the actual connection…? You glowered at him, your eyes narrowed.

“Do you think this is real?”

Miguel didn't know how to answer that. “Isn't real relative?”

“No.” You replied thickly like you didn't even need to think about it.

“Look. I don't want to discuss this.”

“So you can't compromise.” You shot back.

“No, I won't.” He pushed his chair back aggressively and sat his coffee down hard, he looked irritated by all of this. He didn't like that you thought you had the power to interrogate him.

Miguel walked past you as he went to exit the room but then for some reason he halted in his tracks. Compromise. Miguel is not known for compromising. The people around him know that for a fact, but he doesn't want this marriage to be another agenda that he has to put up with. He didn't want to hate you.

He sighed.

“Choose where we go. Tell my brother and he'll tell my pilot.” Miguel said coldly, his tone clipped and gruff even when he was trying to build a bridge of some sort.

It didn't seem like you had a choice, so now you were just another lackey he ordered around.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you make sure caldarus is comfortable during a snowy day.

COMMENTS: for the dragon lovers. i hear you. @xxoomiii you asked to be tagged so here you are my wifey!!

Caldarus stands faithfully at the entrance to your farm, as tall and rigid and stoney as always. He’s awkward but it hardly shows, feeling the tendrils of sleep creep into his brain while knowing he will never truly be asleep.

Ironically enough, he will also never truly be awake.

He will forever be unaware of what led him to becoming nothing but a humble lawn ornament on your lawn, surrounded by the stone furniture you collected from the museum, placed to create a happier space around him. He is thankful for the gesture, yet another act of kindness he owes you for, even though he claims not to need it. It’s people like you who make the world turn. It is people like you who change the world. Caldarus knows that.

The lights in your house are on. The sheet of snowflakes makes the light seem fuzzy, and the wind is steadily growing stronger, but the warm glow of your presence does not fade. For some reason, he finds it difficult to take his eyes away from it. In all the years you’ve been here (what was it now, four? five?) he’s never felt this way. It puzzles him, like an ancient riddle or a new device humans created to keep up with the times.

People like you are always doing better, scrambling for a perfection that doesn’t exist. It’s as admirable as it is foolish.

He hears the door to your house open, and he’s certain his ears would have perked up had they not been stones. He can’t move his head but that doesn’t stop the instinctual urge to turn his neck, to see you, to catch even a single glimpse of what you were doing.

He’s thankful when you appear in the corner of his vision, making your way past the stone lamps and onto the giant stone pathway you put in front of his statue, a sign of respect for him and a testament to your hard work keeping the weeds and debris away from him.

“Hi Caldarus. I made you something.” you smile, and it’s only then that he notices the multicolored bundle in your arms.

“Oh?” he inquires, “What is it?”

You unfurl the bundle with a flick of your wrists, revealing a tapestry of some sort. Caldarus stares warily as you clamber onto his pedestal, positioning your body directly in front of him as you spread the colorful sheet over his body.

“A blanket?” he asks incredulously, a deep chuckle rumbling through his stone maw, “I told you, I have no need for such things. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.” you say sternly, adjusting the blanket so it fits over his back, tucking it around his shoulders securely, “Comfort is a luxury and you deserve it.”

He wishes he had something to say to that. Something witty, or something wise, or something to ignore the way something inside him melts, warm and heavy and thick. It sinks into every atom of his being, and although he isn’t breathing (he hasn’t done so properly since he was turned to stone) and feels his chest shudder.

Oh.

Oh.

You step back and admire your handiwork, your warm hand gentle against his cold cheek. Your mouth is moving but he can’t hear the words you’re saying, his ears are too busy ringing and his eyes are flicking between you and the tips of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“You look cozy.” is what he hears you say, and you laugh so sweetly it sends his heart ablaze.

How could he be such a fool?

All that time he spent watching you tend to your crops, all that encouragement he offered you when you helped out the town, all of the snippets of your conversations he overheard, all of his yearning to retain that information if nothing else—

It was love.

“Thank you.” he says, voice gravelly with gratitude.

You perk up at his thanks and pat his snout, jumping off his pedestal and landing gracefully on the snow in front of him.

“Reckless.” he tuts, because what if you sprained an ankle or broke a leg, humans are so fragile and he is in no position to take care of you.

“I’ll be okay Calda. You know that.” you salute, going on your merry way with a promise to be back before nine and to sit with him until midnight.

For the first time, Caldarus feels impatient for your return.

[remcycl333]

define: states 🫶

also known as: how to manifest using states!

your state is what manifests, not your thoughts.

this has become a very inflammatory sentence for some, but it shouldn't be scary. states simplify manifestation, it doesn't complicate it.

at the beginning of my loa journey, i would affirm alllll day long. while watching tv, while reading, while hanging out with my friends. and by the logic of "your dominant thoughts manifest," i should've gotten my manifestations after only a few days of that. but i didn't, because dominant thoughts aren't what manifests, it's your state that manifests.

you are not a state. you are I Am, and you enter in and out of states all day long. there is an infinite number of states, and no one experiences states the same way. so even if two people are manifesting the same thing (for example, money), the State of Being Rich will probably look different for both of them. so there's really no one specific way a state should look/feel!

because there are an infinite number of states you can occupy, right now you have the power to be rich, just as much as you have the power to be poor. it is just as easy to occupy the state of being rich as it is the state of being poor. you are both of these things, and you know that you are both of these things because you can imagine being both of these things, and everything stems from your imagination.

the state that you consistently go to, also known as your dwelling state, is the state that manifests into your 3d reality.

so, how do you get into a state?

you switch states simply by intending to. the second you want to switch states, you do. in order to maintain this new state, you can use a technique such as affirming, scripting, or visualizing.

let's talk about affirming.

affirming is a TECHNIQUE. some people argue that since affirmations are just thoughts, you can never stop affirming and should be monitoring your thoughts all day long. i do not agree with this.

your thoughts do not manifest. it's why i spent my time from summer 2020-summer 2021 affirming on a constant loop 24/7 that i was in a relationship with my [old] sp, and it never manifested. it's why when you get intrusive thoughts they don't manifest. it's why--even tho every time you go to the bathroom you check behind the shower curtain in case something's there--nothing ever is. it's also why you were able to manifest something by thinking you wanted it once.

you do not need to "create new neural pathways" or think in your favor 24/7. your negative thoughts act as indicators that you fell out of your desired state, and you can instantly correct this by shifting back to the state of the wish fulfilled. you don't even need to flip the thought. your thoughts have no power, unless you give them power by allowing them to let you wallow in the state of lack.

all that being said, affirmations can help you maintain your desired state. i say maintain, because getting into the state is instant, and requires no technique. however, there is such thing as affirming from lack.

what is affirming from lack? it's affirming to get what you want. it's affirming from a state of not having your desire. it's the same as thinking of your desire, instead of thinking from your desire.

a few months ago, the 10k challenge was going around. it was marketed as a fool-proof way to get your manifestation, because all you had to do was "affirm 10k times to create a new neural pathway which created an assumption." yet so many people affirmed 10k+ times and still didn't get their desire. why? because they were affirming from lack.

quality > quantity. you can affirm 10k times and not get your desire, because you weren't in your desire state. you can affirm once and get your desire, because you were in the state.

so how do you not affirm from lack?

an easy way is to pay attention to your affirmations. mindless affirming is out! this shouldn't be a scary thing to hear, because as we discussed, there's no need for you to affirm 5 million times in order to reach some imaginary quota, because your thoughts don't manifest.

affirm with purpose! create an affirmation that implies you already have your desire, and repeat it with the purpose of conjuring the feeling of knowing. the feeling of knowing may feel like calm, peace, relief, contentment, or even excitement. when Neville Goddard said "feeling is the secret," this is the feeling he was talking about, NOT emotions.

if your affirmations are making you feel anxious, this can indicate one of two things:

affirming is not the technique for you (which is OKAY!!)

you're affirming to get

"affirming to get" is a big debate as well. yes, you are manifesting your desire because you want to get it in your 3D. but in order to get it in your 3D, you must change your 4D first. so you should be using techniques such as affirming in order to change your 4D, knowing that if you change your 4D, your 3D will follow. there is no one to change but self.

if affirming is not the technique for you, there is always visualizing, scripting, vaunting, etc.

also the distraction technique, my fav way to get into the state of the wish fulfilled! hehe

to sum it up:

"it's not focusing so much on getting the objects, but becoming the one who already has it." - Edward Art

where does persisting come in?

you should still be persisting in the fact that you already have your desire. you persist by consistently shifting back to your desired state, no matter what you see in the 3D.

reacting to the 3D, like negative thoughts, is an indicator that you have slipped from your desired state.

it can be very beneficial for you to have self-soothing tactics to use in case your 3D causes you to spiral or makes you anxious. these can include eft tapping, breathing exercises, etc.

your 3D is malleable. if you see something in your 3D that you don't like, you can change it. your 3D is simply a reflection of your dwelling state. if you don't see what you want in your 3D, let it serve as a reminder to shift your state back to your desired state. once again, you change your 4D to change your 3D. there is no one to change but self.

FAQ

question: if you can affirm to get into a state, doesn't that mean your thoughts create your state and that your thoughts technically manifest?

answer: WRONG! like i've mentioned earlier in this post, you enter a state by intention. affirming can help you maintain the state, but your thoughts do not create your state. your state creates your thoughts. every state has thoughts that correspond with it, which is why can manufacture affirmations that imply you already have your desire and repeat them to conjure the feeling of knowing. it's also why negative thoughts act as indicators that you fell out of the state.

question: isn't that the same as someone saying "just assume?"

answer: NO! there are techniques to help you maintain the state. yes entering a state is instant, but there are techniques for you to use to stay in it.

question: are states ableist?

answer: NO!!!! this is something that people are saying on loatwt in order to villainize the people who teach states, and it's frankly disgusting. ANYONE can get into a state, even if they are neurodivergent! you are always in a state! you're in a state right now. i am neurodivergent, as are most of my friends that are states enthusiasts, and it has helped all of us to manifest our desires without driving ourselves to mental exhaustion by affirming 24/7.

question: how long do i have to stay in the wish fulfilled?

answer: it's not so much about how long you stay in the state, it's about frequency. no, not frequency as the law of attraction vibration bullshit, but how often you go back to the state. if you think about your desire 15 times a day, you should shift back into the state 15 times that day. if you think about your desire 5 times, then you should shift back into the state 5 times that day.

hopefully this helps clarify the idea of states for you, and helps you manifest your desires!! <3

[writingsofwesteros]

Daemon having a thing for Alicent’s and Gwayne’s pretty sister. She’s a bit past her marrying age but Otto keeps his pretty light out of marriage proposals. Ever since Viserys was considering to divorce Daemon and Rhea due to their inability to produce an heir, daemon had been setting his eyes on lady Hightower. He knows Rhaenyra is unreachable but Otto cannot deny his king’s proposal, even if he does he’s already planning something to have that pretty lady under his arm. After hearing Otto’s hesitation to accept the proposal, he was already making his way to her chambers through the keep’s secret pathways. He could already smell the delicious expensive oils she’d bathe in, and grew harder at the thought. He had expected the Hightower girl to be bathing but found her soapy wet body laying in bed, with a knight between her legs. He could’ve been angry but the poor Hightower girl was well past her marrying age and experiencing the desires of lust. He’d be merciful to his future bride and let her experience another man before he could have her, he knew he could ruin any other man she’d had laid with when he has her. He touched his cock at the sound of her pretty moans and the sight of her wet body shining to the dimly lit candles in her room. Before he or his little light could finish, the knight stood up to kiss her whines and showed himself to be no other than her elder brother, Gwayne Hightower. His little light indulged in the Targaryen queer customs and he knew he’d have otto in the palm of his hand with this sinful information. He’d couldn’t help and watch the red-head siblings pleasure each other, already planning to wed Gwayne’s precious sister and fuck her even harder than the Hightower cunt was. But poor daemon was a fool, Otto already knew of his children’s relationship. It soothed him to know that his precious girl was protected and loved by his son, he couldn’t imagine any other man with his girl especially the rogue prince. The marriage of the two Hightower siblings was one of the biggest scandals across Westeros but money talks in the end.

!!!!

Oh Daemon was so close to having this !

The marriage of the two Hightower siblings was one of the biggest scandals across Westeros but money talks in the end. Hightowers just being so old money coded they can get away with everything and we love it ;)

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

You work as an aide in the Presidential Palace. It's not your cup of tea per say, but it's a job. A job with crappy pay, but a job nevertheless.

Your father was so proud of you for getting the job after your fall out with your ex. Yea, after you broke up with Odysseus Odair there was some tension at work, since you worked on the marketing team for his father's luxury cruise line company. So, you quit your job. You had to find a new one and a new place too, since your breakup had turned your life upside down.

Your father offered to let you move back home, but you wanted your independence; turned down his offer. He did help you find a new apartment and pay your deposit along with the first month's rent.

And after scouring the help wanted ads and job posting boards, you received a call for an interview for an office aide position in the Presidential Palace you applied for. You went to the interview and got hired right on the spot.

But, although you work in the Presidential Palace you've never come face to face with President Coriolanus Snow.

Or at least you haven't until the day you're running late.

The line in the coffee shop was ridiculously long. So long, that by the time you get your morning coffee you're a few minutes late for work. And, since you don't have a car, you have to run in heels to the Presidential Palace to prevent yourself from being too late.

As if 10 minutes late isn't bad enough.

But you're afraid of getting fired. You really need your job as an aide. Your savings account isn't very large, so if you lost your job you'd be screwed when it came to paying the rent.

So, you run a few blocks in your black kitten heels- paper coffee cup tightly held in your hand. You feel a sense of relief as you reach the large wrought iron gates and the hedges that surround the palace that you work in. Quickly, you rush thru the open gate and down the long pathway that leads to the large ornate entrance doors of the Presidential Palace.

The grip on your paper coffee cup is like a vice as you scurry inside of the palace. Your heels loudly click against the marble floor as you rush down the huge hallway, heading towards the fork in the road that’ll lead to your closet of an office that's right next to Chief of Staff Festus Creed’s office.

You're speed walking and just turned the corner to your office whenever you smack right into a towering solid wall of a man. You wobble slightly, nearly twisting your ankle due to your heels, and accidentally crush your paper coffee cup against whoever you ran into. The hot latte spilled onto your hand, your white blouse, and the jacket of whomever you accidentally bumped into.

“Watch where you're going, you clumsy, silly girl.” Berated a smooth, but low baritone.

You look up to apologize to the man you accidentally collided with, only to come face to face with the President of Panem himself.

President Coriolanus Snow.

And was he even more handsome in person then he was on tv, posters, and campaign ads. Platinum blonde hair, perfectly slicked back in a coif, striking icy blue eyes, clean cut angular jaw as sharp as a diamond, prominent nose, tall with broad shoulders and a thin waist; one that would be considered sluttty- President Snow was the whole package.

And as your bad luck would have it, you just collided with him and accidentally split your entire flimsy cup of morning coffee on him. Oh, how embarrassing.

To say you're flustered and embarrassed would be an understatement. You wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Feeling like you’re currently under a microscope, you ramble out an apology of, “I'm so sorry, Mister President. I was rushing and didn't see you.”

“Yes, well, you just ruined my sports coat by not paying attention. It's a Tigris design and now I'll be attending a very important luncheon looking like a fool because I can't wear it.” President Snow complained, his voice cold and insulting.

“I'm so sorry; I can always buy you a new one so you won't be embarrassed about having a stained jacket during your luncheon.” You offer, feeling horrible for ruining President Snow’s suit jacket.

“Very well, go buy me a new jacket.” President Snow tells you in an aggravated tone. “Tell Tigris at her boutique that you need a man’s medium sports coat in royal maroon.” He instructs you before walking past you with regal grace.

Great…

Now you have to go out and buy a jacket that'll most likely deplete your savings. All because you accidentally spilled your morning latte on the president; ruined his jacket.

You step into a posh boutique and immediately start to hear your checkbook crying. Oh boy, the atmosphere just reeked of high end couture; of things you'd never be able to buy. But here you are, in a place you can't afford to buy President Snow a replacement jacket.

A tall, slender woman with warm blue eyes and a few black streaks in her otherwise light blonde hair approaches you. Her plum painted lips smiled as she greeted you with, “Hi, are you looking for something in particular? I have a few pieces that would look fabulous with your complexion and hair color.”

“Oh, I'm not here for myself. I'm just here to buy a men's jacket.” You tell the woman, that you assume is Tigris from how her hair’s styled.

“Are you looking for something in particular for your partner?” The fashionista asked while leading you towards the men’s section of the store.

“A royal maroon sports coat in a medium.” You tell Tigris what President Snow told you to in order to get his replacement coat.

She nods as goes to a rack that's against the wall where a bunch of jackets are. You see her go to one of the lower racks where jackets are in various shades of red. Tigris skims thru the jackets, only to pull one out that's a perfect match for the one you accidently ruined.

And when Tigris tells you she'll ring up your purchase you know it's time to walk to the gallows; to accept the syphoning of your savings.

Although you work in the Presidential Palace as an aide you've never been in his office. Yes, you knew exactly where it was, but never had a reason to go into it. Your boss, Festus, was the Chief of Staff so he was the one that went into the office for things.

And you should be knocking on President Snow’s office door, considering you need to give him his new jacket, but you can't do that. You're still embarrassed by the incident this morning and, to be completely honest, the platinum haired president intimidated you with his stoic, cold demeanor. Thankfully, you're friends with President Snow's secretary, Leo Davis.

The man's nice and befriended you in the staff’s break room during lunch shortly after you started working for the Snow administration. He's a family man and gives out good advice.

“Leo, I need you to give this to President Snow.” You tell the lanky man, who's sitting behind a desk a few yards away from the large mahogany door of the president’s office, as you place the boutique bag on his desk.

Looking between you and the bag, Leo asks, “What is it?”

“It's a new maroon jacket for President Snow. I bought it to replace the one I accidentally ruined by spilling coffee on it.” You honestly tell Leo, who just nods.

“I’ll give it to him.” Leo assures you.

“Thanks.” You gratefully tell him before pivoting on your heel and going back to your own wing of the Presidential Palace to work in.

“Coriolanus, here's the replacement jacket that you made Y/N buy you.” Leo tells his boss, the President of Panem, as he walks into the office with the Tigris Boutique bag in his hand raised high up in the air for the most important politician in the country to see.

Coriolanus nods. Gesturing to a sitting chair in the corner, he says, “Please, put it over there.”

“Tigris is your cousin, you should've just called her for a new jacket instead of sending Y/N out to buy you one with her own money.” Leo tells his boss while going over to the corner chair and setting the bag down on it.

“She offered to buy me the jacket to make amends for foolishly colliding into me and ruining my sportscoat with spilt coffee.” The president defended himself against his secretary. Honestly, the cold blonde didn't see the problem in letting you buy him the jacket. You offered, after all.

“Y/N can't afford the fashions in your cousin's store. She's borderline broke despite being the daughter of Colonel Javani Halvir.”

“Colonel Javani Halvir's daughter works here? On my staff?”

“Yes.” Leo nods. “She's an aide for your friend and Chief of Staff, Festus Creed.”

“Send for Festus, I want to know everything about Miss Y/N.” Coriolanus orders Leo, causing the man to just nod and do as he's told.

President Coriolanus Snow found out very little about you from both Leo and Festus. Just surface level stuff, but nothing he truly wanted to know. The president want to know every single thing about you.

Apparently, hearing that you're the daughter of his late father's bestfriend (who had been deployed between a couple of district bases after the war) and stirred a lowkey obsession over you inside of Coriolanus soul. The cold hearted man never thought he'd meet anyone with a link to his past, a link to a time before the war. But then he met you in a whirlwind of colliding bodies and spilt coffee in a hallway.

Coriolanus, having a teeny tiny obsession with you, began to stalk you. He even felt bad about ordering you to buy him a new jacket since you truly couldn't afford it. Your purchase at Tigris' boutique had drained most of your savings.

Yes, he used his closeness with Livia Cardew to scour through bank records until he found your account.

But, although he felt bad about the jacket, the president wasn't going to reimburse you the money. He was too proud to do that. Coriolanus had an image to uphold and admitting he made a mistake in allowing you to spend your own money on that royal maroon sportscoat would destroy his image. President Snow's a cold, callous, and calculated man; nothing can change that.

He won't let it.

But, to make up for the whole jacket incident, Coriolanus does leave a large cup of coffee on your desk on morning. And under your cup’s a napkin with a tiny note scribbled on it in his flawless flourish.

Miss Y/N, please accept this coffee in replacement of the one our collision made you spill on me the other day. Please, come by my office at noon. We need to talk.

Coryo

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[skelliko]

Kazutora Hanemiya |°- crushing misunderstanding

|°-context: kazutora is crushing on you but he sees you and akkun walking together and assumes that you're both together making kazutora's heart to break not knowing that you and akkun are simply friends - mainly fluff not angst

final time line: 4th Division Captain: Kazutora Hanemiya Vice-captain: Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

kazutora couldn't help but notice the scene that he had accidentally stumbled upon on, before he was gonna ignore it and think nothing much of it until he double looked and his heart managed to stagger in emotions, akkun walking with his school crush. kazutora's school crush.

despite akkun being Vice-captain of the forth division and them being good friends there's still things that kazutora doesn't mention and one of them being is who his heart flutters to.

his mind went to so many scenarios and reasons as to why, out of everyone it'd be you two who walk together and not only that but also holding little brown bakery bags, as if you both had bought a sweet desert together, and are about to enjoy it in each others company.

'no no no no no... their not though? are they?!' his mind was more than a mess

theres no other explanation other than your both either on a date or dating. or even worse, in an actual relationship. kazutora's mind went to so many lengths as he pondered and stalked you both, hiding behind corners, bushes and bus stops to wherever you both are walking to,

he was desperate to find out what was going on even though he knows he needs to let go and back tf up.

'akkun has never mentioned having a girlfriend though, let alone that he's talking to a girl...' that certainly reassured him a little but only for a few seconds when his overthinking took over again

'but maybe that's cause no one asked or mentioned anything! and here he is with the girl that I like, for fucks sake!'

he tried to get close to the both of you to try and hear what you guys were talking about but while doing so self awareness had hit him, he didn't want to get caught lurking around, if a bystander seen what kazutora was doing then a clear title would be placed on him 'stalker'

he kind of just stood there in the middle of the pathway, watching as the both of you walked ahead having your own little moment. it was like kazutora was a small puppy being cast out and away from it's owners. for a short moment he had grown upset, he accepted that him and you were never gonna be because Akkun has already taken your attention.

when he took half a step backwards to turn around and not invade your privacy any longer, it was then that you had turned around making kazutora to be captivated. it wasn't just your beauty that had made him freeze and his heart to grow wings and flutter but it was you smiling and waving at him... him, kazutora, no one else, your eyes were stuck onto kazutora.

his heart was left uncontrolled and skipped all around his body whilst his main focus was to bite down the corner of the inside of his mouth to stop him from smiling like a little kid and getting all giddy for you just simply noticing him. it felt unreal to him in that moment that he had forgotten to wave back, and he was too busy on not smiling like an idiot that he didn't even smile back at all. well now he feels like a complete fool and should be shut out of society forever.

*inserts image of grieving shinji on a chair* -how kazutora feels right now

a whole week went by after that encounter, and since then in school kazu and you haven't had a full conversation, sure you've exchanged a few small words but then he'd cut it off with an excuse to leave all due to wanting to give respect for you and akkun.

before, the both of you would be talking non stop in the middle of lesson, being the teachers most annoying students that can't shut up and are always an nuisance to deal with. it's gotten to the point where after you both stoped talking even the teacher pointed it out Infront of the whole class, "some argument happened between you two?" like c'mon... why is it always those teachers that think they can get involved and think pointing things out to be funny. they get in-between everything.

it left an empty pit in his stomach not being able to talk to you the way he wants to. all because in this setting he chose to put his friends first before himself.

-- some time later ---

"so akkun, you got any plans with y/n?" asking that question hurt him more than it should have, but he needs to get over it soon enough. only after he gets an understanding at what stage the both of you are at. 3 month mark? secretly wishing.

"don't think so, why'd you ask?"

"nothing nothing, just curious. I'm surprised that she'd be with someone like you" it was supposed to come out as regular boy banter and laugh it off but instead he didn't watch his tone and grew blunt about it as if he'd meant it. in which he did.

it took akkun a few silent seconds to process his response and what kazu had just assumed "be with?" purposely ignoring kazutora's sudden burst of agitation and instead focusing on the question itself. "you think me and her are together... as in dating?"

"well you two seem to be quite close, no?"

"kazutora. no. were friends, full heartedly friends" while motioning his hands out to emphasize how baffling and wrong kazutora's question was.

if crickets were around the city they'd be loud, but instead all there could be heard was the click of kazu's tongue before replying "...Oh. shit"

akkun couldn't help but snort out a laugh, whereas kazutora on the other end was looking back and regretting everything which included ignoring you. but he had a good reason to, right? I mean how exactly was he supposed to know that you two were just friends?

many ways actually, sure, but he put his friends first and that's what had mattered, before at least. now, kazutora is trying to figure out ways on how to approach you without seeming like a douche for abruptly leaving and then coming back.

"wait, you like her??" it only then clicked into akkun's head making him perk up about why you even became a conversation topic.

"I bet she hates me" burrowing his face into his hands and feeling all sulky. didn't fully answer akkun's question but that small sentence answered a lot without meaning to.

"you do! you like-like her!" first time hearing about this and he instantly stood up from his seat, oh he was gonna have fun with this information. he can either tease the hell out of kazutora or help him out. but currently he'll torment him first.

"keep it down! dont need anyone hearing" lifting his head up from his hands and looking around the open area

"who's gonna hear? I'm not name dropping, or unless you're embarrassed" tormenting kazutora by making him think of you.

"of course not... maybe. but that's besides the point" kazu ended up explaining things from how he saw you and akkun but left out some details such as him following them to how things went with you and kazu at school.

"dug yourself a hole there I'll be honest, why didn't you ask me first before assuming?" -akkun

"didn't want to draw much attention on the subject"

"oh right right..." not right actually, don't exactly know what that was supposed to mean but didn't want to press on about it. after a short moment of silence it seemed like something was supposed to be done otherwise dragging the gap between you and kazu any further and it might be too much to fix. though luckily a little plan had settled into akkun's mind, after all he was close enough to you to be considered good friends. "I'll help you, don't worry"

♡----

a/n: I could have written the plan/aftermath n' that but I got lazy

[kuni-is-daddy]

can you do a scaramouche or kuni x wanderer x reader threesome story? i love your writing btw!! (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Wanderer x scaramouche X female Reader

'Agree to disagree' : word count 1.5k

ScaraFicList

Cw: Minors do not interact past the cut! This is a nsfw post!

Remembering when wanderer talked about how he gets angry at himself all the time- Me when i don't post.😭

Kuni and scara would always argue with eachother for no reason- yet always agree with eachother when it comes to their shared love for you. "You want to take her to a vantage point for a date? Ugh. Could you think of anything more boring than that?" Scara lightly stroked his black pen against the paper, pretending to write Wanderer's idea on the list.

"Lets take her to that teahouse in inazuma, they have great black tea there." Wanderer nearly hurled at the idea. "Yes..Inazuma..." Scara mumbled. Truly a nation of filth, One he use to spend centuries yearning to overthrow. Oh how he'd love to see the look on his creator's face as he destroyed the grand narukami shrine, burning down the sakura tree with his electro flame as- "How ridiculous, is that pathetic nation really all my past self could think about? So much.. That i use a date as a excuse to destroy it?" Wanderer leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs while scara snapped out his daze. "You imbecile. Do you need your mechanical ears fixed? Thats not what i meant. But sure..Maybe that would be an even better reason for you to go. A fool like you could use a trip there instead of hiding in this nation of delusion and...-" Wanderer raised an eyebrow as scara ranted. "And...?" "I needn't say more, Thats all this place is. Cant believe I got stuck here of all places after you foolishly erased yourself. Did you really think the gods would listen to US of all beings?"

Scara got out of his chair, walking towards his reborn self and scoffing at the glowing vision under his ornament. "It doesnt matter, obsessing over that is a waste of time. What matters is that Y/N is safe now. When we're done with kusanali you can 'wander around' and see for yourself what beelzebul thinks of us- you. For all I care." Scara sucked his teeth and sat back down. 'safe from what..me?'. "Lets go to the vantage point first, Then go out for tea. But Not, In inazuma." He snatched the paper from scara. "Fine. Then I expect that you at least picked a decent spot."

Scara held your soft hand as the both of you followed wanderer up the cemented pathway, Heels clicking under your sparkling black dress to match their suits. Wanderer had his ornament on a upper pocket besides his tie, as scara had his on his belt. Of course..Wearing a dress this pretty would be a hassle to wash but it was nothing compared to hearing your two lovers bicker over them 'copying eachothers taste in clothes and gifts.' Just thinking about it made you giggle. Wanderer then broke the silence by wrapping his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him and almost stealing your held hand from scara. "The scenery is breathtaking isnt it baby?" "Yes! you picked out a great spot wand-" he cut you off, "Shh..No need to thank me though." Wanderer trailed his hand down to your waist. "You wearing this dress I bought is more than enoug-" Scara then pulled on wanderers tie. Giving a death glance to himself that made you gulp "S-scara! why'd you-" you shrieked. "Is this why you saved my plans for last hm? More of your pathetic and desperate attempts to show off for y/n?" Scara mocked. In an instant it was as if you we're sandwiched in between the two puppets chests, wobbling in your heels as wanderer everso tightly rubbed his hand along your waist while scara moved his hand ontop of wanderers. "Show off? Hah, Its childish for you to even think that. Is talking bad on yourself a kink of yours?" Wanderer smirked. You sighed and countined to look at the pretty sunset while they argued over your head.

The 3 of you arrivied at the teahouse Scara suggested, Beads of cor lapiz hanged along the white slicked walls as decor if it was freshly painted, along with plush cushions and chairs. "Guess picking a nice place is something your reliable on. Y/n why dont you wait over there while me and scara get our table ready?" Wanderer said, to which you nodded then sat at a nearby cushion. "So. Are you paying?" He asked, "Unnecessary, just put it on the northland banks tab and the fatui will-" the ballader bit his tongue. Since he erased himself the fatui wouldnt have any knowledge of giving him or receiving mora. "What? Tsk. Dont tell me we relied on that 9th ranked guy for mora?" Wanderer sighed. "I wouldnt rely on that mortal for anything. Especially on his affiliation with the doctor. I have my own mora. I guess Lessor lord kusanali gives you an allowance as they call it?" "Dont bother. I have a job unlike you, 'balladeer.' such a bygone title.." "Oh right...Running around sumeru for Buer is that-" The balladeer was interrupted by the waiter. "Hat guy, Scara. Why are you two arguing? This is supposed to be one of Ms Y/Ns special days." Scara rose an eyebrow, eyeing down the waiter "Who the fuck are you? Heh. The audacity some of you humans have. I cant believe I live around you-" Wanderer nudged at scara's side. "You fool. Look at her eyes." The waiters eyes we're glowing a slight green, with a stroke of neon green coming down the womans hair. Nahida hid her mouth behind her hand, giggling at the two. "Heheh sorry- I just wanted to check up on you two. Is everything going alright? Is she having fun?" Scara rolled his eyes. "Ugh.. If you tried any harder buer id start to think you actually cared." "We're fine buer. Y/n finds my past selfs immaturity amusing. You can stop with this stalking hobby of yours." The mini archon smiled, completely forgetting about the waiter and acting as if it was her own job.

--(Wanderer is referenced as Kuni.)

The 3 of you arrive to your home. You walked into your shared room, kicking off your heals then throwing yourself into bed with a heavy sigh while wanderer and scara locked up for the night. The both of them would feel so guilty for you being this tired and assume it's their fault. When you actually just had really long day. They'd knock on the door before climbing into the bed, only wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Wanderer sitting up in the bed while scara trailed his hand through your hair laying beside you. "Scara...kuni.. please im fine.. just a bit tired.." "No..that's not it.. we shouldn't have been arguing on our date...let us take care of you tonight y/n." Kuni tugged at your stockings while scara snickered at his pleads. "O-okay..just be gentle please.." you laid your head against the pillow with a clear view of scaras devious expression, he whispered in your ear "There's my good pet~" before smashing his lips against yours, making your legs twitch as Kuni climbed ontop of you, trailing his hands under your dress and towards your hips. "S-scara~ slow down i-" he placed your chin in his palm. "Shh... spread your legs for master" you parted your legs as you felt your stockings subtly rip with each pull. Before you could scold the two puppets again, scara pulled you into another kiss. Letting his tongue explore your sweet taste.

God he hated sweets but having it through you made it so much better he made sure to steal it from his present self. Kuni looked up from in-between your legs to view your head getting pushed into the pillow by scara as his hand trailed down to your clothed cleavage. Getting hard just at the sight of it, he pulled your undergarment aside. Your glistening wet folds causing him to lick his lips before digging his black painted fingernails into your thighs. You gasped for air as scara pulled away from another heated kiss. He rubbed his fingertip on his lip, looking at it to see your smudged lipgloss rub on his finger. The both of you stared at eachother, catching your breath until you felt a warm sensation though your lower body. "Ah! K-kuni..Fuck!!" Hearing you curse shot another wave of lust throughout their ears, you wanted them to be gentle but God the line holding them back from devouring you grew thinner and thinner.

Scara rubbed in circles on your cleavage roughly while Kuni's tongue swirled around your bud. Your shared bedroom echoed the sounds of your mixed pleads and their praise in your mushy mind. They we're both painfully hard. Scara began shifting in the bed for any type of friction and making Kunis tongue slosh inside you while he rubbed his finger on your bud, completely disregarding his 'breathing' just to moan endlessly into you, sending shivers throughout your body. "M-master..M' so close. Please don't stop! I-" "that's it pet.. louder, I wanna hear how good masters making you feel." "Hah...you taste so good baby~ want you to squirt all over my tongue.. be a good girl and let go for me..just like that~" Your toes curled as your thighs inched closer to kuni's head, reaching your limit and screaming out his name while your juices gushed onto his tongue and face. Scara sunk his face into your neck after hearing you plead out again, Cumming untouched in his shorts. You tried calming down from your high, breathing heavily until Kuni and scara pulled away from you, Unbuttoning and unzipping their clothing infront of you. Flustered you tried hiding your face with a pillow until you felt one of them straddle you by your legs, raising them up above his shoulders. Kuni laughed, pulling the pillow away from your face and replacing it with his aching hard on.

"Dont hide now Baby, This is your special night."

GOOD LUCK TO ALL WANDERER/KUZUUZUZU/KABUKIMONO/HATGUY/SCARA PULLERS. I HOPE HE COMES THROUGH THE SCREEN AND MAKES U FEEL GOOD. 👍🤭

[absolutebl]

What to watch after Pit Babe? Thai BL Actor Guide

So you loved Pit Babe and you wanna see your favorite BL boy in his old series? But should you?

Here's a guide...

Babe AKA Pavel - 2 Moons 2

Pavel is one of my favorite actors in BL (he's this blog's icon for a reason) and actually 2 Moons 2 is pretty good, primarily because of his character, Forth. Who has an actual character evolution and growth arc... in a BL!

Amazing.

Don't be fooled 2 Moons 2 is a reboot and extension of 2 Moons, not a spin off. So you don't have to have watched the first iteration, in fact I recommend against it.

Anygay, the main couple of 2M2 is naff, but Forth is great and Pavel is great as that character. He has good chemistry with his pairing, and as a BL fan it's not a bad idea to know your 2 Moon's roots. 2 Moons is one of the most popular Y-novels ever written, one of the most popular shows of it's time, and the perpetuator of many Thai BL tropes.

Pavel's second BL, Coffee Melody, is not worth watching.

If Babe was your favorite character, and Babe & Charlie a pairing you enjoy, I would suggest Big Dragon as your next BL. Same vibes, high heat, chaotic. Another possibility is the slightly lower heat but stil unhinged Laws of Attraction.

You also might like some stuff out of Taiwan. They tend to have the angst + high heat + sappy softness that characterized Charlie + Babe.

Way AKA Nut - Oxygen

Nut is way different in his previous rolls, as the lead in both Oxygen, and Something in My Room. Same gorgeous voice and soulful eyes and Nut tends to play sensitive torn characters but the similarities end there.

In Oxygen, his acting is stiff. In fact, Oxygen as a whole is pretty stiff. I like it very much and it is a big comfort watch for me because of it's smooth peaceful softness, but it's flawed, slow and awkward. I did an episode by episode thing for that show (my first watch along).

In his second BL, Something in My Room, Nut demonstrates improved acting and chemistry, but I don't recommend it. It's a touch of horror, built on the "my ghost boyfriend" trope, and it's quite sad.

So try Oxygen but if what you're after is more BL with a Way-like main character then I would recommend Moonlight Chicken or The Eclipse chewy BL with sensitive boys and some grey morality.

Jeff AKA Pon - Starhunter Talent

Pon was with Starhunter before this and so has appearances in several of their BLs. He's demonstrated great natural acting talent, charisma, and good chemistry with all his pairs but because he often appeared in chaotic ensemble pieces has been easily forgotten (including by me). Starhunter chronically underused him but also utterly miss-applied him.

Gen Y 2 is actually a master class in flawed casting. They put Pon into a triangle, where he plays a fated mate pining uke against a very stiff lead pair - but they expected us not to want him to be end game. Big mistake. Watch this mess if you just want to see how a good actor can eat up all the air of a bad pair, winning hearts and influencing fans.

Otherwise the Gen Y series is a bloated mess, and I can't recommend them. I trashed watched so you don't have too. While Pon demonstrates skills against a backdrop of ranging tallent, oddball story, and chaotic outcomes I wouldn't have bothered if not for the dumpster fire.

Pon's first BL is The Moment, and he's good in it, but it's a terrible show. Boring and plotless.

He's fantastic in Make A Wish but only a side part (despite what is said in MDL) and his arc is VERY sad. Still it's a GREAT under appreciated BL, I recommend it as the one to watch if you have to see Pon in something else. It's nothing like Pit Babe though.

Yeah our pathway for Pon ends here, so lets look, instead, at

Alan & Jeff - Bed Friend

This was Sailub's first BL role, and I speak for all of us when I say... more please.

So instead of a watching a pathway for him, I'm gonna give you a few BL suggestions based on the assumption that this side couple was your favorite from this series (as it was mine).

What we had with this pairing was

older sensitive sweetheart sunshine seme + tortured dark scared tsundere uke.

FUN dynamic! Here are some options where this style took center stage:

Bed Friend

Between Us

Love By Chance (AePete only)

Triage

Tokyo in April is

I Became the Main Role of a BL

Pete & Kenta - Word of Honor

Ah you like your boys troubled with money, questionable morals, and the slight inclination to pick at their fingernails with a knife?

Neither Garfield nor Ping have done other BLs but here are my picks for BLs that feature this kind of character and dynamic, and we are leaving Thailand for these (since it's darker territory than Thailand usually handles... well).

HIStory 3: Trapped 

Long Time No See 

Irresistible Love

Word of Honor

Where Your Eyes Linger

Other familiar faces

NORTH AKA Michael

North played by Michael was our big comedy insert for this show.

But all his roles prior to this were very serious. Till the World Ends and Call It What You Want are practically depressing, even his role in Oxygen is pretty dark. He actually has been in BL a very long time, he was one of Noh's friends in Love Sick at just 18. Frankly, that'd waht you should watch if you are gonna watch any of his back catelogue, but it's NOTHING like Pit Babe or his role in it, still it's the beginning of Thai BL and Noh is a little sunshine of chaos, and it's great so...

Where was I?

If you really want a comedic himbo lead character there are are quite a few out there, and it's a crazy playing field because Japan is in it to win it.

Leaving aside high school stuff, here are some options:

Cherry Magic (Japan)

Ossan’s Love 

Mr Unlucky Can Only Kiss

Love Tractor

Bad Buddy

Love Stage!!

My Day

History 4: Close to You

KIM AKA Benz

Benz who played Kim has also done BL before, En of Love: This Is Love Story, but it is not good and not worth watching.

While I want the queer Falling Into Your Smile or Love O2O or Appledog more than anything, that doesn't exist. We have yet to have a true gaymer BL. (I mean come on, nerdy queer is practically a stereotype at this point, where is it?)

All of which is to say if Kim was your favorite... I don't know. Our Dating Sim maybe Semantic Error?

WINNER AKA Pop

Pop has lead out a BL, it's a very slow, very queer, very unwatched piece called La Cuisine.

@heretherebedork and I loved it, but it's hard to imagine anyone else enjoying it. You have to be a hard BL stan to tolerate the pace and pulp quality of that one. He's a completely different character but if you really like the actor try him in La Cuisine, I think he was better cast for that than Pit Babe.

I just enjoyed the show in general, what's next?

In general, if you really enjoyed Pit Babe itself as a series (and it's multiple couples and chaotic noise and erratic concept) you're in the KinnPorsche camp of Thai BL. I actually made a "watch next" pathways and rating guide for that show, which might work for you.

Specifically I would say Manner of Death. It's a little more focused in character and plot but still a wild ride. And MaxTul are the Kings for a reason.

You might also try Not Me, Never Let Me Go, and 3 Will Be Free although all of these, coming from GMMTV, are lower heat levels than Pit Babe.

Finally, seriously, try The Sign. I know it was airing "in competition" but there is room in your heart for both shows. I promise. They have the same wild sexy energy, and are loads of fun.

(source)

[infictionalwonderland]

okay- so jeremy gilbert x reader, where jeremy is a bit of a player, and has played y/n in the past, when they were in middle/high school, but he realizes that he messed up because he had true feelings for y/n but y/n has moved on and is happier without him, and maybe during his vampire hunter era ? thanks in advance !!

i gotchu girl x

There was a time you would’ve done anything for him, Jeremy knew.

There was a time when a hint of pleading in his voice and a flash of a roguish grin would’ve gotten him anything he wanted from you. Sweet, charming you. The two of you used to be close—when you moved to mystic falls and joined their high school, he’d been the first person to befriend you (you thought he was just about the most lovely boy you’d ever met; he only approached you cause he thought you were a knockout)

Boys and girls alike continued to befriend you and attempt to woo you through the first weeks of your time at Mystic Falls High, and while you responded to the friendships (not the wooing, expect one girl whose smile almost made you collapse) very enthusiastically and amiably, no one could seemed to beat that Jeremy Gilbert, the sweet as sugar boy who made you actually enjoy coming to school.

But too much sugar causes cavities, in time.

Jeremy was apparently a known player although you’d always wave off that notion with a scoff, you’d never so much as seen him with a girl! What rubbish. Whenever you were around, he was always on your arm, making you smile and laugh as bright at the beaming sun in the sky. Making your heart stutter and flutter with each boyish grin and the raspy depth of his voice, and like a fool, you fell right into his awaiting arms.

Before Jeremy, you had kissed people just not necessarily with such passion or meaning—both of which he pulled from you with practised ease. He was your first everything (pretty much) and he assured you that you were also his firsts—fucking scumbag.

One by one he plucked away of those experiences and you were more than happy to let him to so, a glance at him was all it took and you were beyond gone. But you had thought you were both gone, his soft lips that you’d familiarised yourself immensely with were always pulled into that smile that you knew your own face mirrored, and in his shockingly muscular arms, rested upon his chest, you’d felt nothing but security and bliss.

Until you didn’t.

There was no explanation to his actions, one moment he was spending his time with you in your home—affectionately greeting your family and in that sweet sweet routine you both had which you adored with your whole heart.

And then. . well. He stopped messaging you. He never showed up (he’s probably just busy, Mom said—he did have a summer job, you had tried to reason). So you went to the grill, where his summer job was and there Jeremy, your Jeremy, was. Standing behind the bar, the uniform clinging to his muscled body with a shark like grin on his face, looking at the trio of girls in front of him like they were his prey. Long gone was that sweet smile that curved up on his lips beautifully, that expression so sugary, when you kissed his skin you practically taste the sweetness—the hidden message, drawn into the mass of sugar and honey and all things saccharine.

He glanced your way from a few seconds, evidently catching sight of you, and just have you a too short nod with that same predatory grin; no tells of fondness, of the memories that you were sure were embedded so deeply into your own skull (and heart) they would never fade.

There was a time were you would’ve done anything for him, Jeremy knew that—he was so aware of the fact it haunted him almost every day.

Haunted him through the careless glances you gave him in the halls of your shared school or pathways of your town. Haunted him through the unabashed tune of your laughter, a sound which he used to be able to cause all the time. Haunted him through the deep and genuine grins you were wore, unaffected by him and his lack of presence in your life.

He had fucked up.

So so so bad.

But now his life was even more fucked up, original vampires killing you his family members every other week, his sister being one of those vampires—and—and now, he wanted to kill them all, kill his own sister because for some godforsaken reason the universe thought that he, Jeremy Gilbert, should be a vampire hunter.

What a joke.

And now. . all he wanted was for you to hug him, to kiss him, to comfort him through all of this. To tell him you loved him, tell him everything would be okay, tell him you’d keep him safe, cherish him.

He craved those things so much his heart ached his chest—but it was his fault.

It’s not as though you’d chose to leave because you longer wanted to tell him those things, to hold him against your chest, to have him in your life. . he had left you, of his own accord, and now he was paying the price.

He watched you now, from behind the bar at the grill, messily and carelessly wiping down the surface; it was karaoke night and your friend was up on the stage singing some song he couldn’t recognise but you—you were smiling so brightly from your seat in your booth he was blinded and yet also unable to look away, you and your other friends were unabashedly singing along with her and laughing throughout, dancing faintly in your seat.

You looked so fucking happy, he felt his heart pound and break at the same time.

“You messed up, man.” Matt said bluntly as he noticed where his gaze had gone to.

Yes.

He very much fucking had..

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ STEREO HEARTS ♡·˚

— [♡] ; gojo's infinity marks the bond you share with him, an unseen force etched forever into your skin. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: found family, tattoo, protective gojo satoru, graduation, gojo satoru being a dad, soft, emotional support, fluff.

wc. 4.1K

The wind rustled gently through the trees, carrying with it the soft scent of early summer. You stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching the shadows stretch longer across the stone pathways of Jujutsu High. The place was quiet now, a rare moment of peace that left you with too much time to think. Graduation was only a few days away, and that thought sat in your chest like a weight—heavy, inevitable, yet hard to fully grasp. The end of your time here, the end of a chapter that had shaped you in ways you never expected.

You'd fought curses, survived battles, and learned what it meant to carry the weight of responsibility, but that wasn’t what you would remember most. It was the people—your friends—who had left the deepest marks. You smiled to yourself as you thought about Nobara’s sharp tongue, Yuji’s infectious laughter, and Megumi’s quiet yet steady presence. They had been with you through everything, through moments of joy and grief, through victories and losses.

And then, of course, there was Gojo Satoru.

You could never put your feelings about him into words. He wasn’t just your teacher. He was the unshakable pillar who stood tall in the chaos, always there to pull you back from the edge when you felt lost. His easy-going smile and nonchalant attitude might fool others, but you knew better. Beneath the surface, Gojo cared. He cared deeply. He saw things in his students that no one else did. That sense of safety, of knowing Gojo always had your back, had carried you through the darkest times.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as the thought of leaving all this behind settled in. It wasn’t just the missions, the training, or the daily life at Jujutsu High. It was this—the bonds you’d made, the feeling that no matter what, you had a place here, with these people.

“Hey.”

Nobara’s voice cut through your thoughts, her presence beside you a comfort. She stood with her arms crossed, staring out at the horizon where the sun was slowly dipping behind the treetops, bathing the sky in shades of orange and purple. “Can you believe we’re leaving this place soon?” she asked, her tone unusually soft.

You shook your head. “It feels... surreal.”

Nobara nodded, her brow furrowing. "Yeah. It’s weird to think about. We should do something, though."

“Something?” you echoed, unsure of what she meant.

“To mark the end of all this.” Nobara waved her hand vaguely, gesturing at the school grounds, at the memories. “And Gojo-sensei... He’s been there for us through everything. I feel like we should honor that somehow.”

“Honor Gojo?” Yuji’s voice came from behind, startling you both. He appeared with his usual grin, though even he couldn’t hide the slight sadness in his eyes. “What, you wanna throw him a party or something?”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Please. You think Gojo would care about a party? I’m talking about something that actually means something. Something permanent.”

You frowned, thinking over her words. What could you possibly do to honor Gojo, someone who was impossible to define, impossible to thank with something as simple as a gift? Your mind raced, trying to think of something that would capture the essence of what he meant to all of you. Then, out of nowhere, an idea hit you.

“A tattoo,” you said, the words spilling out before you could think them through.

Yuji blinked at you, clearly taken aback. “A tattoo?”

Nobara tilted her head, considering it. “Hmm. I’m listening.”

“Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts, “it’s something that will always be with us. A reminder of everything we’ve been through, and of Gojo, too. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just... a symbol.”

“A symbol,” Yuji repeated, his face lighting up with excitement. “Yeah, like something that ties all of us together!”

Nobara tapped her chin, a slow grin spreading across her face. “That’s actually not a bad idea. I’m in.”

“What do you think, Megumi?” you asked, turning to where Megumi stood a few feet away, pretending not to listen. His eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he approached the group.

“A tattoo, huh?” Megumi’s voice was even, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. “If it means something to all of us, I’m not against it.”

Nobara clapped her hands together, excitement bubbling over now that Megumi had agreed. “Alright, then. We need to figure out what this tattoo is gonna look like.”

The four of you found a quiet spot on the steps, the conversation flowing easily as ideas bounced around. At first, the suggestions were playful—Yuji joked about getting Gojo’s infinity symbol across his back, Nobara proposed a cursed tool icon, and Megumi, in his typical deadpan style, suggested a frog in reference to his shikigami.

Eventually, the group settled into something more serious. You all knew the tattoo should be small and meaningful, something simple but powerful, like the bonds you shared. It would be a mark of the trust, the hardships, and the guidance Gojo had provided.

“Maybe something with Gojo’s limitless,” Nobara suggested, her voice thoughtful now. “It’s iconic, and... it represents him, in a way.”

“And us,” Yuji added. “He’s the reason we’re here, right?”

As the conversation drifted on into the night, you felt a sense of closure starting to take shape. This tattoo would be your way of carrying these memories, these friendships, and Gojo’s influence with you, wherever you went.

It wouldn’t be easy to leave, but knowing you had this bond with your friends—and a permanent reminder of everything Gojo had done for you—made it a little more bearable as the day of graduation finally arrived.

The ceremonies had ended, the speeches were over, and the official farewells had been said. Yet, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting the school grounds in a golden glow, a different kind of anticipation settled over you. This wasn’t just the end of your time at Jujutsu High. It was also the day you and your friends would reveal your shared tribute to Gojo.

You stood outside the courtyard with Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi, each of you a little nervous but also excited. The tattoo was small but meaningful, etched onto the inside of your wrists. You pressed your hand over it, feeling the slight twinge of soreness from the fresh ink. It hadn’t been painful, but the weight of what it represented made it feel significant—like something you’d carry with you always.

The tattoo was a clean, minimalist design: a single blue infinity, a simple yet iconic symbol of the man who had guided you through the toughest moments of your lives. It was a subtle mark, but it carried with it a depth that words couldn’t express. For the rest of your lives, Gojo would be with you, even if you didn’t always see him.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Yuji said, grinning as he rubbed the spot on his skin where his own tattoo lay.

Nobara smirked. “We can’t back out now. Besides, Gojo is going to love it. I mean, how often do people get a tattoo in honor of their teacher?”

“Never,” Megumi muttered, but even he couldn’t hide the tiny curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

You felt the nervous energy bouncing between all of you, but it was more than that—it was pride. You were proud of the bond you shared with your friends, and proud of the silent impact Gojo had made on each of your lives. Today wasn’t just about leaving Jujutsu High. It was about showing Gojo what he meant to you all in a way that words never could.

“Ready?” you asked, glancing between your friends.

“Let’s do it,” Nobara said with a nod, determination sparking in her eyes.

The four of you made your way toward the main building, where Gojo was waiting. He stood near the entrance, his white hair catching the fading sunlight, his blindfold securely in place. He turned as you approached, his usual carefree grin already plastered across his face.

“There you are, my adorable little graduates!” Gojo’s voice rang out as he opened his arms in mock celebration. “How does it feel to finally be free? Ready to take on the world?”

Yuji laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, something like that…”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Aw, don’t be shy. You know I’ve trained you to be the best there is! So, what brings my beloved students back to me? Can’t bear the thought of leaving me behind?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Nobara, your heartbeat quickening. The moment had arrived.

“Well, Sensei,” Nobara started, her tone surprisingly serious for once, “we have something to show you.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, curious now. “Oh? What could it be? A graduation gift for me?”

“Something like that,” you replied, taking a small step forward. You exchanged a quick glance with the others, and together, you lifted your wrists, revealing the fresh ink. The small blue symbol of his infinity stood out sharply against your skin, simple yet unmistakable.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Gojo was speechless.

He blinked, the usual grin fading from his face as his gaze settled on the tattoos. The silence stretched on for a few beats longer than you expected, and for a moment, you worried that maybe he wouldn’t understand. Maybe this was too much, too permanent.

But then, Gojo’s lips curved into something softer, something far more genuine than his usual playful smirk. He reached up, pulling the lower corner of his blindfold up just a fraction so that you could see his bright blue eye, piercing and unguarded. The sight of his uncovered gaze made your heart skip a beat—Gojo rarely showed his eyes like this, only in moments that truly mattered.

“Infinity,” he said softly, his voice a little lower, a little more thoughtful. “You got this for me?”

Nobara nodded, her expression firm. “It’s more than that. It’s a reminder of everything you’ve done for us. We wouldn’t be where we are without you, Sensei.”

Yuji grinned. “And we wanted something permanent to carry with us, no matter where we go.”

Gojo’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. Then, slowly, he reached out, resting a hand lightly on Yuji’s wrist, where the tattoo lay. “You’re all idiots, you know that?” he said, but his tone was warm, affectionate in a way that caught you off guard. “But I’m proud of you.”

Nobara snorted. “Don’t get cocky. This isn’t just about you.”

Gojo chuckled, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. He stepped forward, resting a hand lightly on Yuji’s shoulder, then Nobara’s, then Megumi’s. Finally, he stopped in front of you, and for a brief moment, the world felt smaller, quieter. Gojo’s eyes softened as they met yours, and he gave you a subtle nod.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of you.”

Your heart swelled with emotion. This was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the most unpredictable person you knew, and for once, he was showing you a side of him that was real—unguarded, sincere.

He stepped back, flashing you all a bright grin. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it. But don’t think this means you can slack off now that you’re graduates. You’ve got a lot to live up to, especially since you’ll be carrying this reminder of me forever.”

Yuji laughed, the tension breaking as the group relaxed. “Trust me, we know.”

Gojo gave you one last glance, a spark of pride and affection in his gaze before he turned on his heel, heading toward the exit. “Now, go celebrate, you bunch of softies. I expect great things from you.”

As he disappeared from view, the four of you stood there, the weight of what had just happened settling over you. It wasn’t just about the tattoo—it was about what it symbolized. You’d given Gojo a part of yourselves, and in return, he had given you something equally important: his pride, his affection, and a reminder that no matter where you went, he’d always be with you.

Graduation had come and gone, and though life was changing, one thing remained constant—Gojo’s unpredictable presence. He popped in and out of your lives with the same carefree attitude he’d always had, reminding you that no matter how far you ventured into the world of jujutsu, he would never be too far away.

A few days after the ceremony, Gojo showed up unannounced, as usual, just as you and your friends were lounging in the common room, enjoying a brief respite before your next mission. He walked in with that familiar grin on his face, hands casually stuffed into his pockets.

“Well, well,” Gojo said, his voice ringing with mock seriousness, “look at you all, still lounging around. Shouldn’t you guys be out saving the world by now?”

Yuji laughed, tossing a pillow in Gojo’s direction, which Gojo dodged easily. “We’re taking a break, Sensei. Let us relax for a bit!”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, though the teasing smile never left his face. “Fine, fine. But before you all go off to become heroes, I’ve got something for you.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You? Giving us a gift? What’s the catch?”

Gojo feigned a hurt expression, pressing a hand to his chest. “Catch? Can’t a teacher show his appreciation for his students?”

With a flourish, Gojo reached into his pocket and pulled out four thin silver bracelets. Each bracelet was delicate, adorned with a small infinity charm that glinted in the light. The bracelets were simple, elegant, and strangely fitting for something Gojo would give—unassuming on the surface but likely much more than they appeared.

“Here,” he said, tossing one to each of you. “A little thank-you gift for honoring me with your tattoos. I figured you’d want something to match.”

You caught the bracelet easily, the cool metal smooth in your palm. The charm dangled softly, catching the light as you examined it. There was something about it—a faint, almost imperceptible hum of energy—like a quiet pulse beneath the surface.

Megumi, ever cautious, eyed his bracelet warily. “What’s the trick? There’s always a trick with you.”

Gojo grinned, his usual playful spark back in full force. “No trick. Just a little something to remind you that even when I’m not around, I’m always watching.”

Yuji smiled brightly, already fastening the bracelet around his wrist. “Thanks, Sensei! This is pretty cool.”

Nobara, despite her suspicion, clipped the bracelet onto her wrist as well, the infinity charm resting lightly against her skin. “Alright, what’s the real reason behind this? You’re not exactly the sentimental type.”

Gojo’s grin widened as he wagged a finger at her. “Ah, ah. You’ll figure it out when the time comes. But don’t lose them. I’d be very disappointed if you did.”

And with that cryptic remark, Gojo turned and strolled out of the room, leaving you all to stare down at your new bracelets, unsure of what exactly they meant.

It wasn’t until a week later, during a mission, that the bracelets revealed their true purpose.

Your first mission as fully certified sorcerers had been simple at first—investigating some unusual cursed energy in a quiet town. The work had been straightforward, dealing with minor curses and disturbances. But as the day progressed, something darker, far more dangerous, began to stir beneath the surface.

Before you knew it, you were facing off against a special-grade curse. Its hulking form towered over you, grotesque and twisted, with too many eyes and far too many limbs. It moved faster than you expected, and its attacks were relentless. Despite your teamwork, you found yourselves quickly overwhelmed.

Nobara barely dodged a vicious swipe, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she regrouped. “This thing’s too strong! We’re barely making a dent!”

Yuji, fists clenched, charged forward again, but even his strength wasn’t enough to break through the curse’s defenses. Megumi’s shikigami fought bravely, but they, too, struggled to keep up with the curse’s speed and power.

Then, as the curse lunged at you, its claws poised to strike, you felt it—a sudden surge of energy from the bracelet on your wrist. The infinity charm glowed faintly, and before you could even react, a shimmering barrier of cursed energy flared to life around you. The curse’s attack collided with the barrier, but it couldn’t break through. You blinked in shock, feeling the unmistakable presence of Gojo’s Infinity wrapping around you like an invisible shield.

Your friends experienced the same thing. The moment the curse came close to them, their bracelets reacted, casting the same protective barrier around them. The cursed energy radiating from the bracelets was unmistakable—Gojo’s Infinity, distilled into a small but powerful charm.

Yuji stared down at his bracelet, eyes wide. “No way... Gojo put Infinity in these?”

Nobara’s disbelief quickly turned into a mix of awe and frustration. “Of course he did. Couldn’t just give us normal bracelets, could he?”

With the Infinity protecting you, the battle shifted. No longer vulnerable to the curse’s attacks, you and your friends pressed forward, coordinating your strikes with renewed confidence. The curse grew more desperate, its attacks wild and erratic, but each one was blocked by the Infinity shields cast from your bracelets.

Finally, in a coordinated effort, you delivered the final blow, and the curse dissolved into nothingness. Silence fell over the battlefield, the tension slowly draining as the reality of what had just happened settled in.

Breathless but triumphant, you looked down at the bracelet on your wrist. The faint glow had faded, but the energy of Gojo’s Infinity lingered, a quiet reminder of the protection it had given.

Yuji grinned, clipping the bracelet back onto his wrist. “Guess Gojo really wasn’t kidding when he said he’s always watching.”

Nobara sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Leave it to him to give us something like this.”

Megumi, always more subdued, simply nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he slipped the bracelet back onto his wrist. “It’s a good gift.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling the cool metal of the bracelet against your skin. Gojo had always been there, watching, guiding, protecting. And now, even as you stepped into the world on your own, he had found a way to stay by your side.

The bracelet wasn’t just a gift—it was a promise. No matter where you went or what challenges you faced, Gojo’s presence would always be with you, like the infinity symbol etched into your skin and hanging from your wrist—a reminder that his influence was boundless, just like his power.

It hadn’t been long since the protective barrier dissipated, but you could still feel its presence—a reminder of how close the fight had been and how easily things could’ve gone wrong without Gojo’s help.

You glanced at your bracelet, the small infinity charm resting innocuously against your skin, but now it held a new significance. Gojo had woven his cursed energy into these simple tokens, and in the heat of battle, they had become more than just symbolic. They had been your lifeline. What you didn’t expect, though, was what happened next.

Just as the adrenaline began to wear off, a familiar voice cut through the silence. “Well, well. Looks like my favorite students had some fun without me.”

You turned sharply, and there he was—Gojo Satoru, standing casually at the edge of the clearing, his ever-present grin in place. He strolled toward you, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. His white hair shimmered in the dying light, and even with his blindfold still on, you could feel the weight of his attention on all of you.

Yuji blinked in surprise. “Sensei? What are you doing here?”

Gojo’s grin widened, but there was a glint of something sharper in his tone. “What, you think I wouldn’t know when my Infinity gets activated? That’s kind of the point of these bracelets, you know.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that revelation. So, not only had Gojo protected you from afar, but he had also been alerted the moment the bracelets had come to life. It was like he had been watching over you the entire time, even when you thought you were on your own.

Nobara crossed her arms, looking mildly annoyed, though there was a trace of relief in her expression. “You could’ve told us they did that. I was expecting a normal bracelet, not a Gojo-activated beacon.”

Gojo laughed, his carefree demeanor returning as he stopped in front of you all. “Where’s the fun in telling you everything? Besides, I figured you’d figure it out eventually. That’s why I told you not to lose them. They’re not just for protection—they let me know when you need me.”

Megumi, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward. “So, you knew the whole time that we were in danger.”

Gojo’s smile softened, though he didn’t lose his playful edge. “Of course I did. I was ready to jump in if things got too hairy, but I knew you could handle it. The bracelets are just a little extra insurance. Think of them like a safety net.”

You couldn’t help but feel a swell of gratitude, though you also felt a bit of frustration. Gojo had known, had watched, but hadn’t intervened—he had trusted you. And in the end, you had proven that trust wasn’t misplaced. Still, there was a weight to that knowledge. You weren’t alone, not really, but Gojo had wanted you to stand on your own, to fight your own battles without relying on him too much.

“We could’ve used a little more help,” Yuji muttered, half-joking.

Gojo reached out and ruffled Yuji’s hair, ignoring his protests. “You didn’t need it. Look at you—all of you. You handled that curse without me swooping in to save the day. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Nobara rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “You’re insufferable, Sensei.”

Gojo flashed her a wink. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

The mood lightened after that, the tension from the battle slowly fading as Gojo’s presence had a way of dissolving the weight of everything that had just happened. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of how close you had come to serious danger. The curse had been stronger than expected, and without the bracelets, things might have turned out very differently.

Gojo seemed to sense your lingering thoughts. He turned to you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, then glanced down at the bracelet. “The Infinity… we wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Gojo’s expression softened further, and for a moment, the usual cocky grin faded into something more genuine. “That’s what it’s there for,” he said quietly. “To keep you safe. But don’t sell yourselves short. I put those bracelets on you because I know you’re strong enough to handle yourselves. The Infinity is just... a backup. You did most of the work.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, the weight of his confidence in you sinking in. It wasn’t just the Infinity that had protected you—it was Gojo’s belief in your strength, in your ability to face danger head-on.

He straightened up, slipping his hands back into his pockets. “Besides, the whole point of giving you these bracelets was to make sure you don’t rely on me forever. You’re sorcerers now—real ones. You’ve got this.”

Megumi, ever serious, nodded in agreement. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Gojo’s grin returned full force as he turned toward the horizon. “Good. Now, how about you all buy me dinner? It’s the least you can do for dragging me out here.”

Nobara groaned. “As if we haven’t done enough for you already.”

Yuji laughed, throwing an arm around Nobara’s shoulders as they started walking. “Come on, Nobara, he saved our lives, technically.”

You followed behind, the bracelet’s weight light against your wrist, but the knowledge of what it represented—Gojo’s watchful eye, his unspoken care—felt heavier in the best way. Even as you stepped into the world as full-fledged sorcerers, you knew that Gojo would always be there, in one form or another. The infinity symbol was more than just a mark on your skin or a charm on your bracelet—it was a promise that no matter where you went, Gojo would always be a part of you.

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kuro Ryuko

The world shook.

Screams. Panic. Futile commands filling the air, as what Royal Warriors still lived, tried desperately to fight back. What was the point? Didn't they realize? They had brought this on themselves. We all had. I... I had TRIED. Powerless as I was. Trapped as I often felt. I had TRIED.

In the face of The Black Dragon... I knew it to be no excuse.

My soul burned beneath it's cry. That terrible roar, which echoed condemnation. Damning. Our crimes could not be hidden. Our sins unforgivable, rotting behind the pretty lies we had told ourselves. It SAW us for what we were. Beheld our very SOULS.

The Dragon was DISGUSTED.

All I could do was run. Weep. Cling to the hands of the other serving girls, as we tried desperately to survive. Forgotten in the panic, by so called greater men, we had only ourselves to count on. The servants pathways were already choke points. Death traps. Several had been hit, if the pillars of smoke were coming from where we thought the were.

The world shook. Hanako choked on her scream, two girls down. The subtle face paint she was always so proud of, a mess, streaming like tears of ash down her lovely face. Aiko had fainted. Tried so, SO hard not to. Clung to consciousness with vicious painted nails. But the panic had been to much, her health too poor. Her sister carried her now.

The world shook. We were going to die, weren't we? A crowd of forgotten things. Not even good enough to be people in the eyes of our masters. Just maids. Serving girls. Born peasants and dead property. Caught beneath the wrath of a Dragon whose eyes saw us, but who mercy could not comprehend the complexity of mortal cages. The chains we could not see.

Crashing. Fire. Roars.

The World Shook.

It was excuses, in the end. We had a choice. Simple as it was. Obedience or Death as it may have been. To the Dragon morality? We were to have chosen Death. There is no compassion for cowards. Mercy for the cruel and self-serving. Not even, if it is all you can do, to survive. Perish instead, die proudly, Be Dragon, says the Black Dragon.

Of all the Dragons, THEY are not the kind one. Not the merciful nor sweet nor wise. THEY are Justice. Vengeance. Debts paid as they are due. They were feared but no one could get rid of them. For who could rightfully argue against Justice? Debts paid? What, people would ask, did you have to hide?

Everything. They always did. And they DISPISED the Dragon for it. For being impossible to fool. Impossible to bribe. Their Champion's an avatar of their Will. Endlessly carving paths of destruction through sin and debauchery, usually paid for at the cost of those who served. To see the Black Dragon? Was to know Justice was coming.

Like the fist of a wrathful God. The mauling of a beast. Burning through like a wildfire, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.

It was an isolating life. Terrible. I... I remembered, Before this life, Another. Bits and pieces. Disjointed at first. Yet over the years I have come together. Social isolation is a torture. I KNOW this. People go insane. And... and a dragon is not human. Could not possibly be enough, even if they WERE excellent companionship. People need support structures.

So I tried.

Volunteered to be the one to bring Kuro Ryuko her meals, much to the relief of others. Tried to sneak treats and festival snacks in. Little toys and books borrowed from the central library that maybe they would like. I tried. Again and again. Everything I could think of. Quietly and subtly, so as not to get punished. So I would not be stopped. And...?

It amounted to nothing.

Silence.

Did I become too comfortable? In my habits, too arrogant? That I forgot exactly how DANGEROUS the forces I meddled with, truely ARE? At worst... at WORST, I expected her to ignore me. She had such even temperament. A calm, smooth voice. Still and ponderous, like deep waters. How? HOW?! I could not-! Did NOT-!

Not far behind our group, a great expanse of wall exploded to the side, as a god-like section of the Black Dragon's body crashed through it. One small part of a single twinning loop. Insignificant compared to the full beast, which seemed to consume the sky itself.

It was MASSIVE.

We would have died instantly.

Choking on our screams, desperate not to attract notice, we threw ourselves forward. Nearly tripping on our skirts. Two of us DID, but were instantly hauled back to their feet by friends or nearby survivors before they could fall. No one. NO ONE, was getting left behind. It wasn't long now. W-we could do this. We HAD to do this. Survive. Escape. Whatever comes next, so be it.

There were supposed to be other Dragons. To Balance each other. Had they turned on us too? Were they dead? Did it even matter anymore? None of us had ever been so glad for Madame Shimei's secret gaurd lover before, the one we all knew about but all pretended we didn't. They were cute together. Everyone hoped they would marry.

I...I hoped he wasn't dead. It would break her.

There! The outer wall! I could sob with relief. The secret side entrance was open. Madame's Gaurd still there, alone. Frantically searching until he laid eyes on her. Desperation melting into unspeakable relief. He starts forward. We... we are so close...!

CLAWS.

The Dragon's hand, smashs down between us. Crushing everything. Cutting us off from any escape.

Now. NOW we scream. There is no point not doing so. We have been found. Barely visible, past the crushing force, Madame's gaurd appears alive. Unhurt. Refusing to run and leave her. They are not young, it was no grand tale of beauties, but in the face of certain death? He has shown what sort of man he is. She begs him to go. Live. It sounds so very far away, as I follow the line of that limb. Up and up and UP.

Titanic and seething, the Black Dragon's eyes glow. My soul laid bare. Every failing, every mistake, each injustice. How... how worthless I am. I... I deserve this. How dare I run. How dare not pay for my sins? I deserve to burn. We all deserve to pay for our-...

"Not that one. That one's mine."

I am on my knees. Tears streaming down my face. The others weeping, cowering, praying around me. Only a few made the mistake of actually looking the Dragon in the eyes. The others beg them to wake up. They won't. Trapped in a terrible trance, they weep. It take me a long moment to even register my freedom. The source.

Kuro Ryuko. I know that voice. Who else could it be?

She stands, the picture of Judgement and Cold, Calculated, Wrath. Long black hair, blowing in the wind generated by the Dragon's mere presence. Their mere WEIGHT upon the world. Her eyes glowing like suns from within. Golden beacons of light, inhuman marks of absolute power. She... She is looking at me. Why is she looking at ME?

"I have decided No More." Her voice echos in the silence like a command, the declaration of an empress. "They will not listen. Think they can hide. Pester and pander, seek to cage me even as they poison me. Enough. I have tolerated this insolence long enough! It burns, all of it. They may start again from the ashes."

"Now come here, Mouse. We are leaving."

There are certain commands you can twist and some you can not. Some you can argue and some you can not. It depends on how reasonable the person speaking. What they will DO, should you defy them. The cost you would pay. If... if I DON'T heel like a pet? My eyes flick to the other maids. Madame makes eye contact, her horror clear. Experience has taught her EXACTLY how this must end.

Through tears, I offer her a smile. It... it will be okay. Somehow, some way, it will be... be okay. Live. Survive this. K-keep going, alright? Promise me? We have not spoken. Just gaze alone. But the grief and determination painting her face? Tells me she understands.

I'm so, SO sorry.

I get up. Face Kuro Ryuko. A perfect servant's pose. Head up, but not so far as to be haughty. Shoulders back, but not so far as to thrust out the chest. A smile that is pleasing but promises nothing, does not entice. Hands folded, ready to serve, artful not idle. Measured steps as I move forward. I remember my lessons.

Terrified. I am... I am so... so unspeakably afraid. I move regardless. Smile politely. What is one death? If the others survive. I may shake, my soul may howl and tremble, b-but my friends get to LIVE. A-And... and have I not lived before? I am being selfish. This fear is selfish. They get to live. Repeat it. Gods, we must repeat it.

They'll get to LIVE. T-They'll get to LIVE. D-Don't b-be... be...

I can not let myself cry. Refuse to show weakness NOW. Here, at the end. Before this terrible, terrible thing. Tears have no use before a beast with no mercy. I have so little dignity left. The least I can give, can HAVE, is my final memories be one of strength, in the minds of those who loved me. Lie as it may be.

There is blood on her cheek. I can see no wound. And from the angle it stains her? It can only be splatter. Shines, just faintly, with the golden sheen of an Avatar's gift. Their blessings. I guess I know, now, why Shiro Ryuko has not risen to stand against them.

They can not.

I wonder if they are wounded or simply gone.

The Black Dragon has moved its focus to me. Adjusting it's stance to do so. It clears the path and, with despair, the others flee. I... I hope they live long lives. Good ones. Would give anything to join them. But here and now, I do not turn my head. Stare straight ahead and think of nothing. Pretend my hands do not... do not shake.

I am fine.

This is fine.

Kuro Ryuko moves, jumping through the air in a way that denies reality it's laws, it's limits. What are physics to a god? Mere gravity to a DRAGON? She moves as she pleases and the world bows to her will. Touching down with the grace of a frightful hunting bird, weapon swept elegantly to her side, as she rises to regard me. We have never stood so close. Some vaguely hysterical part of me notes... huh, I'm taller then her...

"Hello, Mouse, I am your mate. We are going to be together, forever. Come." There was no uncertainty in her voice. No asking. Just absolutes, command. Her hand expectant as it hung, outstretched towards me. "This place is filthy and does not deserve you. I will find us a better one. Flowers, perhaps? A luxurious bed? You will tell me on the way. Give me your hand."

What else could I do? But obey here? So close, the Black Dragon's every breath rolls across me like waves of heated death. A subtle reminder of at who's mercy, I stand. Her skin is almost too hot to touch. Hand calloused from a warriors training. I am dragged close. Against black silks with golden trims and embroidering. A possessive arm, like steel, sliding around my waist.

She takes a moment. As though to savor holding me close for the first time. Her other hand flicking her weapon up into the air, leaving it to float, weightlessly. Just so she can bury it in my hair, which had half fallen from it's styling, during the run. Pressing her face against the side of my head. Nearly hard enough to hurt. Dragging in air, all but hissing it, through her nose and gritted teeth.

Like it's not enough. Like it will NEVER be enough.

Like she wants to craw inside my skin and wear me. Needs me. Wants to CONSUME me.

Her hands have claws. I can feel them prickling, five painful little points, on each one. Where she holds me still. Bruisingly strong. A pleased hum that rolls like a growl. Pressed close against my skin like a secret.

"Mine. Just mine now. No more patience. No more 'behave'. Just MINE. You and me. My Mouse. Pretty fidgety MY Mouse. Shy and nervous and MINE. Gonna take such good care of you. Give you everything you need. Love you, Mouse. And you'll love me."

"No matter what. I'll make sure of it."