#they even have an oath for god sake

[the-desolated-quill]

I’ve always found the modern interpretation of Green Lanterns being space cops a bit weird. Personally I’ve always seen them more as being space paladins rather than police. A noble order of knights given authority and “divine” power to help others and do good for its own sake.

It’s also a better justification for why there are so few Green Lanterns in each sector. As space cops, it makes no sense for one or two Lanterns to police hundreds of star systems. Space paladins on the other hand, who simply travel and offer aid when and where they can, makes a lot more sense. Just saying. 🤷🏻‍♂️🤓💚

[occamstfs]

Follow Your Nose

Robin's not happy about visiting his student's frat house but with each heady breath he finds new pleasures to be gained from the experience.

Another Musk based Frat TF! Not breaking new ground but I like how this one turned out haha! Also in the wake of my contest I'm restarting the queue on my other blog so if you want to see what I read/have any burning questions send them over there! Hope you enjoy this little scent-centric romp! -Occam

Robin hated being on this side of campus; he doesn't know why on Earth he agreed to do a homecall for office hours. Totally unprofessional of course, but the grad student was simply so tired of sitting in his cold office for nary a soul to show up. When Carlos reached out asking for some one on one assistance the T.A. agreed to venture to what he was told was a common study area. What Carlos hid from Robin was that it just so happened to be his frat’s living room. 

The researcher almost turned around and rain checked as soon as he saw. But after Carlos texted to thank him for his help, whatever scholarly version of the Hippocratic oath he took compels him to continue onward despite himself. It of course doesn’t hurt that the slightly younger man seems to have been made in a lab to attract Robin. Though the professional has done his absolute best to remain professional and push down the repressed desire. Though as he steps in this is made far more difficult.

Carlos welcomes him into the frat house clad in a far too tight, clearly stained, tee and what seem to be, impossibly gaudy, similarly tight, athletic shorts. Immediately Robin’s face sears with blush and the smirk that is almost always at home on Carlos’ face grows wider. Before the fratty fiend can get a word in the grad student speaks up, fighting through an embarrassing voice crack, “uHm- Mr. Esperanza if you wouldn’t mind, could you change into something more appropriate for our session?” Carlos tilts his head, deliberately exposes his midriff as he scratches it. After a moment he laughs and answers remembering why he’s dressed like this, “Oh sure sure no problema bro.” 

Robin’s eye twitches as his student opts for bro rather than his title, name, or anything vaguely respectful. The T.A. hears the man’s hands scratching thick hair out of sight before he sniffs his hand and rubs his jaw, continuing, “It’s just uhhh, my laundry’s still in the machine so this is all I could throw on before you got in huhuh.” Robin holds his tongue from deriding the man’s shoddy planning, I mean for god’s sake they had an appointment!

So intent on hiding his attraction to, and irritation at, his student, Robin doesn’t quite catch the glint in his eye as Carlos offers an idea, “if you wouldn’t mind, uhhh, professor? You could go grab me some pants or somethin’” Not wanting to correct Carlos’ switch up to a title far loftier than his own and before he can even humor the idea that he’d wander deeper into the frat house, the bro thanks him as if he’s already agreed. “Thanks much lil bro- I’ll get us all set up here. It’ll be the third door on your right but you can probably just follow your nose hahah!”

Robin squints his eyes at the brazen assumption that he’d do anything of the sort. And yet, preferring anything to confrontation, he acquiesces with a sigh. The faster they start the faster Robin’s out of here. But a step down the hallway his nose wrinkles as he realizes that Carlos was not being cute, he can genuinely smell the laundry room far down the hall. Taking a deep breath and centering himself before the air is full of more musky sweat than oxygen, he shifts his jaw in irritation at the situation he stumbled himself into and presses onward.

Robin pushes open the unreasonably heavy door of the laundry room and enters. He hears the door slam but keeps his eyes forward as he endeavors to spend as little time in here as possible. Pushing down rational questioning of why he is doing this, in his haste he makes the mistake of opening the washing machine rather than a dryer that would presumably hold Carlos’ clothes. Before he even realizes his mistake he is almost blasted back by the potent musk spilling out of the drum. Choking out a ‘why wasn’t this run…” as his eyes glaze over and he is overwhelmed by the scent.

It’s as if there are more particles of sweat in the air than, uh, air. His mouth falls open to avoid smelling but that only heightens the experience and leads to him taking deeper breaths. Despite everything in him screaming to leave now, Robin feels himself drawn towards the machine that simply must have been intentionally compiled to smell as musky as possible. As the seconds pass Robin feels his body begin to move of its own accord, like an out of body experience he sees himself inch closer to the machine. There’s a struggled swallow as he is suddenly conscious that he is drooling at the scent of the frat’s dirty laundry.

When his hand reaches into the filthy load of laundry he feels his autonomy return and he quickly draws back. Clothes almost crunchy with sweat, and other substances, he stands stunned as he tries to understand what he just did, why he did that. Only then does he notice that he is so hard that anyone who glanced in his direction would notice. It almost hurts as his cock strains against his underwear and pulses with deep need. 

Priority rapidly shifting to hiding his massive erection should Carlos stumble in Robin opts to adjust his pants. Rather than doing it surreptitiously as he would usually do, he shoves his hand directly in his underwear in a manner distinctly boorish. Notably he also plods around his underpants with his dominant hand, the same one that only just left the frat’s collection of their dirtiest tops, bottoms, and drawers.

Stained hand now touching his cock he is overwhelmed with the desire to never remove it from this spot again. Drool still pooling in his mouth, Robin almost forgets his surroundings as cock seems more impressive than it’s ever been before now. Or no, his hand seems larger, rougher, more powerful. He squints as the seconds pass and the sensations continue to shift before he looks down to find that his bulge is indeed larger than he has ever seen it. Biting his lip he glances at the door and, demonstrating his clearly fading rationality, decides ‘fuck it’ and pulls out his cock.

Haloed with pubes that are growing thicker, spreading further, with each quivering breath and graced touch from his stained hand. Pre drips from the head of his thicker cock as it stands high, beginning to rival the length of his forearm as it inches longer with each heartbeat, each uncontrollable pulse. He cups his balls to remove them from his underwear and is again struck dumb. God they’re itchy. 

He scratches at them as his nails almost draw back into his hand, to the eye of an observer they shift from manicured to the deliberately uncared for, dirty nails of a frat bro. Thus he must dig even deeper to satisfy his itching balls as long, thick curls begin to spread across them. Each drag across finds them larger than they were less than a second before. Each mindless scratch they hang lower, stretch his sack larger as his balls begin to rival the size of eggs and churn to fill him with hormones that will make it all the harder for him to think his way out of this, or any, room. 

Despite his mind awash, feeling his hand begin to mindlessly move to start masturbating in this frat’s laundry room he regains his senses. Fear suddenly overwhelms his lusts and need for pleasure as he tries to inspect his body. Looking down at his hands he finds they both have changed and the horrors have not stopped there. Thick dark hair and a haphazard tan have spread up his forearms and as he feels heat begin to burn on his bicep it’s clear this is a situation still ongoing. Robin struggles to stand and falls over on his face, squarely landing in some brute’s discarded briefs. Fighting back a smirk as he is inoculated with a direct dose of his frat brother’s musk, Robin rolls over in fear of the changes that must be about to begin on his face.

His nose adjusts as memories of breaking it twice assert themselves into his mind. Rob feels his biceps bulge against his forearms as he raises his hands to his face. Grunting and ignoring how much deeper his voice is as it echoes in the room, he talks to himself to begin his flight, “Mrgh, I gotta, get out of here.” Trying to pull his pants up, before they can even struggle to cover his monumental bulge and increasingly cushioned ass, his jeans are caught on his thighs. Muscle and fat press larger as they become two massive meaty trunks. Dropping the pants to inspect his suddenly impressive legs he flexes them and goes weak at the knees as desire tries to take over once more. 

Rob only just fights these rising instincts and makes for the door. Then does he find the most clearly sinister aspect of this situation yet, it’s locked. His uhh, boy? His bro. Yeah his bro trapped him in here. Fuckin’ Carlos did this to him on purpose he bets. Leaning against the door he finds his breathing suddenly inhibited by the tight shirt that he’s been wearing. Seeing his waist has apparently filled out, his stomach quivers with butterflies. He’s always been envious of his bro’s forms but man he looks just as killer huhuh. His widening upper body sends tears through the shirt without his hands even needing to tear the top off. 

Dressed in nothing but torn shreds on the floor of the, er his, frat’s laundry room Rob’s clouded mind observes the final touches of his new form. Weighty pecs pulse larger and hang over his new thick torso. Hamhock thighs frame a bulge that would make any mouth water. He scratches stubble growing thicker on his face while he begins to thoughtlessly masturbate against the laundry room door. Stretching his neck as it thickens to hold up a head growing thicker and mind growing duller, his mouth falls open and he appreciates the musk of his bros as if it's the most pleasant thing in the world to him. Were this the rest of his life the horny bro wouldn’t mind. Rubbing his torso as thick curls begin to decorate him like a beast. Treasure trail stretching from pubes thicker than foliage. He raises his free arm to bathe in his own musk.

His mouth waters as he realizes he doesn’t need to use these other’s fucker clothes to get off! He’s got the sweet stuff right here. Any shreds remaining of the prudish, frat-phobic teacher’s assistant vacate as he delights in his own pit. Thickening curls spread outward from deep in his pits as a truly voluminous mass begins to press out from under his arms. His tongue stretches out from his mouth into the jungle as it grows thicker, perpetually soaked in his new musk. And then Rob loses control. Decorating the walls and himself and finally adding his own mess to their little ode to locker rooms everywhere. 

Tongue out enjoying himself in what is apparently his new home, sweat begins to pool under the man’s discovery of new delights. It seems like forever for him but in reality, a few minutes later he feels the door push into him, “Yooo bro what’s takin’ you so long?” Carlos opens the door and pinches his nose to avoid the stink of the room and the overpowering scent of Rob’s first time.

 Rob’s dumb smirk and glazed eyes meet Carlos’ mischievous grin and the new brother speaks in his new bass, “Uhhh, didn’t you lock me in here bro?” His brother stifles laughter and ruffles Rob’s sweaty new haircut, “You dumbass huhuh- It’s a pull door.” It takes a few seconds for Carlos’ words to sink in but after realizing that he simply forgot how doors work he joins in laughing loud enough to shake the foundations of their frat house. “Brooo huhuh!” 

“Now throw something on so we can figure this shit out!” Rob goes to grab clothes from some stray hamper filled with someone’s dirty laundry and heads out. Walking out of his musky captivity, Rob finds a new warmth fill him as he wanders into the house, into his house. The frat didn’t quite need a new member but Carlos is more than happy to make the most out of his new brother. Not all of them are so unabashedly into their own musk but judging by Rob’s changes and the already returning erection in his shorts, Carlos can’t wait to see what the two of them will get up to in their new lives together.

[gnomishcunning]

zevlor’s a hopeless romantic. bruised and beaten, but still achingly tender.

more than anything, zevlor’s a man of faith. that doesn’t necessarily mean religion, even if it once did. but devotion? belief? working, fighting, living, dying for a cause?

think about it. he was a hellrider, a title that a soldier would hold for life - literally. if you wanted to try to quite, you’d be given a suicide mission, and if you succeeded? you’d be stripped of everything you’d ever acquired and shunned as an outcast. moreso, he was a paladin, too - a warrior who empowers themselves with a promise, who draws favor from the gods through sheer force of personality. even moreso, he was follower of Helm, the god of guardians! every bit of living he’s ever done has been for was for the sake of protecting his city and his people.

(even if he wanted to prove the world wrong, that tieflings weren’t thieves and heretics, that doesn’t discredit the way he chose to prove the world otherwise: by giving all of himself)

and then Elturel fell to the hells.

we hear his thoughts in the depths of the mindflayer colony. it wasn't his oath that shattered, it was his faith itself - in the good of his paladin order and the people of Elturel himself. regardless of title or dedication, he was stripped of everything he'd worked towards, and cast out of the city for the singular crime of being born of infernal blood.

and at the end of the day, he still found the good faith to lead his people from Elturel to Baldur's Gate.

he's still a man that endeavors to do good. to bring goodness into the world of his own volition, to keep innocents and innocence alive in the face of so much tragedy. if not for himself - he'd undoubtedly see himself past the point of redemption - but for the good of others.

and it's not like he's naive or in-denial. zevlor is painfully, painfully aware of the way the world views him and his kin. it's part of why he endeavors so hard to do good, to prove the assumptions of the world wrong at every turn.

but it boxes him in, too. he goes to every length to present himself as the infallible leader and the wise paladin, no matter what he's lost or how much it hurts him to occupy a mockery of his former self, just so his people have something to believe in. and gods, do they need something to believe in after everything they've been through.

think about that type of man. brow-beaten, back-broken, stripped of every accolade and merit ever earned; and still endeavoring to make right, to be someone he thinks he's not for the sake of others.

think about that man, and tell me he's anything less than a hopeless romantic.

[134340jinsvocals]

I feel like people don’t talk about the fantasy of fucking a priest enough. Nor do I think people understand the appeal of it.

The appeal is how frowned upon it is to have any sort of sexual desire. This especially applies to priests since they tend to swear an oath of celibacy. Meaning the expectation to remain pure and faithful is a lot stronger on priests than average believers.

Yet, that’s the best part. The idea of a person giving up almost any belief and faith they had just for you. To sacrifice their lives and beliefs for the sake of one person. Not only that but it’s nothing more than a fleeting desire. Yet, they have been too curious and/or tempted to stop.

Oh and the aftermath! The idea generally splits into two way.

The first being the spiral. The man wakes up the next morning, dealing with post nut clarity. He realizes what he’s done and starts over thinking. As he rushes to get to the church, all he can feel is disgust. Disgusted with himself for the sin he’s committed. For his whole life it’s been engrained into his mind how sex is a taboo and to have any sexual desire is disgusting and shows you aren’t faithful enough. That you’ve fallen into the devil’s grasp. Days and weeks pass as he tries to find solace in his mind and stop the swirl of disappointment and guilty thoughts. Until, he finally makes up his mind and leaves the church. He realizes how stifling it was and decides that desire is something more important than his relationship with God. Now he’ll forever have to deal with the fact he gave up his entire religion and belief system for the sake of a one. night. stand.

The second is my personal favorite. The priest immediately realized as he goes through the process that what he is doing is wrong. But rather than avoiding, he embraces it. The carnal desire is simply so strong that the priest just can’t stop. Nor does the priest want to. And who would, sex is almost euphoria with the right person. But to someone who’s buried any intimate thoughts, a kiss can seem like heaven. Once they’ve had a taste, the priest is simply addicted. He’ll keep having it, whether with the same person or maybe even more. The priest could turn into a sex demon, desperately craving an orgasm no matter how depraved it is.

And to be quite honest, that is simply wonderful. The depravity of it all is something so interesting and unique. Nothing is as sweet as a forbidden fruit.

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[boymanmaletheshequel]

you're soooo thirsty for sympathy and approval but fail to address actual valid points that paint you as a MISOGYNIST. Being gay doesn't mean you can't be misogynist it's almost funny that you're trying to use ancient Greece, the gayest and most misogynistic society in history. Artemis would smite you if she saw your face (read her myths and you'll know this is true) but luckily for you you've failed to be seen by the gods

Alright, I’m getting pretty sick of your shit. I tried to handle you and your blasphemic hatred the kind and sympathetic way but clearly thats not how you wish to play it. First of all, please explain to me how I have “painted myself as misogynistic”? All I’ve ever done is post in favor of feminism and have expressed and embraced my femininity and androgyny thoroughly, as have I disavowed toxic masculinity on numerous occasions. I have been NOTHING if not understanding and sympathetic to your arguments and views, and yet you attack me nonetheless. Well now it’s my turn channel her rage.

how fucking dare you attack her followers? We are all devoted to her divinity and her grace, and her animalistic beauty, wether we are male, female, androgynous, non binary, or anything else. We are her cult, and in her cult, she does not appreciate such senseless and hateful infighting. I admire the rage and righteousness you hold, but it is Ill placed. Artemis doesn’t hate men, she hates abusers, she hates men who abuse their power and hubris to attack and defame women who have done nothing wrong. And that’s the difference here, YOU have done something wrong. I’ve spoken to Artemis directly and asked for her guidance in typing this right now, and she has made it clear that she is ashamed and incensed that her own follower would backstab and lambast one of her devotees and bastardize her convictions and righteousness in such a volatile way. She HATES IT. she doesn’t hate you, nor does she hate me, but she hates IT. I have read her myths and now where does she or her cult ever mention hating boys or men for the sake of being men, nor women. She hates those who use sexism, misogyny, and yes, even misandry, in her name, and who disrespect her by claiming those views and hubrises to be her own.

And while yes, gay men are NOT exempt from misogyny, to suggest in your snarky and tone deaf little message to me that acceptance of homosexuality in Ancient Greece is equivalent to misogyny is downright homophobic. Gay men have done just as much for women as women have done for gay men across all of history.

As for the smiting, Artemis has not smitten me, she was the first god I started worshipping, and she has stayed a mother figure and a lesson teacher to me since than. And although she’s taught me a thing or two and sometimes rather aggressively called me out for my faults, she has been just as supporting and nurturing when I learn to overcome and learn from them, and now, right now, she makes it clear to me that YOU are the one abusing her name and image. So fucking STOP IT. she says she doesn’t hate you, she hates the way you are acting. You tell me to read her myths, have you? You are so quick to judge my interpretation of Hellenic mythology that you seem to have forgotten to consider it yourself. Neither Athena nor Artemis, nor any other god hated men, nor did any hate women.

Artemis specifically liked Orion so much in some versions of their story that Apollo got worried that she would forget her oath to remain a virgin, and she never did, she simply admired him for being a good man who was not toxic and abusive.

She also admired Hippolytus, son of Theseus, and she loved both the male and female children of Greece. In fact, the notion that Artemis held some grudge against men is rather recent, and doesn’t appear in any ancient texts. As for the idea she hates those who don’t remain chaste, one of her most sacred duties was to help Pregnant women give birth, which they would’ve needed to break chastity to do. Just because she’s a feminist and a more feminine deity, doesn’t mean she hates men and masculinity, only the noxious and harmful parts of it, and the followers that misconstrue her notions, which having confronted her about it myself, she has assured me in ways more than one that I’m not one of them. I accidentally knocked over one of my favorite plants recently, and I was afraid I might have upset her, and I felt terrible, but than, the plant healed right up afterwards as reassurance that it was just an accident and nothing against me. I have a thriving garden I’ve devoted to her, and if she hates me as you suggest? than surely it would’ve died long ago.

And by the way, while we’re on the subject of gender, and to end this part of this discussion, I think I need to make something quite clear here.

I DONT IDENTIFY AS SOLEY MALE.

I have long considered myself andro, and although I do have masculine attributes, (as did artemis, btw, but I’m sure you’re not ready for *that* discussion) I lean much more into my feminine traits. So you attacking me as a man and soley as a man is ignorant and not very respectful or considerate of you, or of Artemis’s character and attributes you so revel in attacking me for recognizing.

That is all, if you wish to keep this conversation up, at least stop being a coward and hiding in the asks, you and I both know that Artemis wouldn’t do that. She was no coward like you are being, she fought proud and claws out, just as I am now.

Please reconsider your understanding of lady Artemis, and understand that Greek myths are exactly that. MYTHS. As rumors are spread about us mortals, myths are spread about the gods, and like rumors, they are often exaggerated and disingenuous. Do you truly believe that Artemis was a crazy non-virgin hater who sent hunters out to kill them? Do you believe she was as cruel and as spiteful as gossiping men and women alike painted her as? And by the way, attacking and killing women who lost virginity, including by RAPE in some of her myths, is not feminist AT ALL. She DOES that in some of her myths! Do you really think she ACTUALLY did that? because I doubt that those events really went down like they are written. people use your same argument style to condemn hades, Zeus, and Athena, among many others, and their followers with them, not understanding that one’s fictional and embellished stories do not define them and that all of the gods are much more complicated and nuanced than the myths humans made up or wrote about them. Thank you, and finally, have a nice fucking day. I hope you can learn and change how you conduct your views, and let Artemis show you the truth she has shown to me.

[babyonboard]

Ultraviolence | part 1

Bradley Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake Seresin

Summary: You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no mind to. At least that's how it used to be.

Word Count: 9.7k (for one part? oops!)

Warnings/tags-18+ MDNI, infidelity, some alcohol abuse, emetophobia, talk of body image, so much cussing?? smut, oral, Bradley is so sexy but also a dick. Jake is a dick but also so sexy. Enemies to Lovers (ish), slowburn(ish)

You weren’t the only person who thought Jake Seresin was completely and fully infuriating. He was cocky, he had a loud mouth, his cologne was entirely too strong, he made everything about him, and, worst of all, he was insatiably alluring. You’ve known him since high school, which is about 8 years longer than you’ve known your husband Bradley. You could swear under oath that Jake’s ego grows every passing second. But truly, who could blame him? A blonde, tan skinned Texan with an old Hollywood smile. Wealthy parents and always top of his class. The only thing, the only person that has ever given him an ego check, was you. 

When you were 23, you moved into the apartment next to Bradley. At the time, he was just your insanely hot neighbor who also happened to be a navy aviator. To him, you were his sweet, absolute doll of a next-door-neighbor who smelled like vanilla when he passed you in the hallway and would never in a million years be interested in him. The two of you engaged in occasional small talk in the elevator, he helped you move your new desk up the stairs, and he asked you to feed his dog when he would leave for the weekend. Eventually he started inviting you over for wine after he got off work, his smile made you feel more tipsy than any moscato ever could. Before long, you were sleeping in his bed just as much as he would sleep in yours. You cooked him dinner after work, and he would bring you flowers on Saturdays. Bradley was so sweet in the beginning. He still had his class-clown charm, but he was warm and charismatic. Anybody would have fallen under his spell, and you were no exception. 

Bradley was so excited to bring you around his friends. You were funny and sexy as fuck, and he wanted to show you off. He brought you to the Hard Deck to meet them all for the first time. Well, meet them all except one for the first time. 

When your eyes fell on Jake Seresin, his unmistakable smile plastered on his face as he took a swig from his beer, your jaw fell open. “Is that Jake Seresin?” You gasped. Even though you asked it as a question, you knew the answer. That Texan with blonde hair and a visible attitude was undoubtedly Jake Seresin.

Bradley’s stomach dropped. “Oh god, you know hangman?” He could have gotten on his knees right there and prayed to god that you weren’t Jake’s ex girlfriend, or ex hookup, or ex anything at all. A part of him actually hoped that you hated him. 

Jake’s eyes scanned the bar, coming to a stop on you. His eyes widened and his brows furrowed, and a wide mouthed smile started to spread across his face. Y/N. Y/N from high school. You looked so different, but still exactly the same. He beelined for you, shaking his head as he approached. The warmth that your smile stirred up in his stomach was oh so familiar, the same warmth that Rooster felt everyday. 

“Y/N L/N” he chuckled. 

“Jake Seresin.” You laughed. 

“You two know each other?” Bradley interjected. 

“We went to high school together.” You said, setting your arm on Bradley’s shoulder. The feeling of your gentle hand on him calmed whatever possessive jealousy was coursing through his veins. 

Bradley was not jealous of Hangman. Nope, not at all. He didn’t care that the two of you knew each other 4 years ago, and he definitely didn’t care that Hangman bought you a drink “for old times sake.” It didn’t bother him that the man who proposed the most competition in the sky was now chatting up his girl, proposing a completely new type of competition. Not one bit.

“You jealous?” You approached Bradley from across the bar. He shook his head, unclenching his jaw. He grabbed you by your belt loop, beer in his other hand, and pulled you towards him. “Should I be?” He asked. Quiet, diluted venom laced his words. You dropped your act, he was actually mad. Realizing that it might not be as funny as you thought it was, you brought your hand up to his neck. 

He didn’t look you in the eyes, his gaze completely past your face and on the bar behind you. This upset him more than you realized. “I promise you it’s not like that. I’m with you.” He looked at you again. You used your grip on the back of his neck to pull his face towards you. “Plus he’s a dick.” A smile finally cracked on Bradleys face, and the two of you laughed. His hands slid down your back and onto your ass. He hoped Hangman was watching. 

“And…” He squeezed your ass “I’m the one who gets to fuck you every night.” 

Hangman was watching, not even by choice at this point, more so because he just could not tear his eyes away from how your ass looked in those jeans. But he didn’t actually care that you were Bradley’s. Sure, you were sexy as hell, and he liked giving Rooster a run for his money, but he wasn’t dead set on having you. At least not tonight.

Rooster took you home that night and he tore those jeans right off of you. He fucked you good, made you tell him you were his. And you did, you repeated it like a mantra. I’m yours Bradley. All yours, no one else's. 

From that point on you understood that there needed to be a boundary with Jake. You knew that since you and Bradley were together, you would see Jake a lot. Out at the bars, military balls, absolutely anything work related, but also socially because Bradley and Jake really were friends. You kept your distance from Jake when you saw him, only talking to him in groups and letting Bradley hang all over you when he was around. This, in turn, drove Jake crazy. Thinking back on his life, you were the only girl that he truly could not have. Back in high school he was never really that interested in you. You had mutual friends and saw each other at parties. He was in your prom group and he was your assigned lab partner in sophomore chemistry. You never particularly caught his eye, but he never caught yours either. He kicks himself now on the missed opportunity, but how was he supposed to know you would turn into the smokeshow you are now? It drove him up the fucking wall.

As time went on and Bradley and Jake got closer, it became more socially acceptable for you to talk to Jake. North Island was a small town, and while a lot of the aviators left to different bases, Bradley and Jake stayed. Maybe it was maturity, or maybe it was because he stopped caring, but Bradley didn’t pay any mind to you and Jake anymore. You were open to talk to him whenever you pleased, as long as you let Bradley come up and kiss your neck at some point in the conversation. Jake became your beer pong and darts partner, and the two of you were frequently laughing over old high school memories. He talked far too much about his high school football career and how great he was. Thinks he could’ve gone pro, but chose to be a military hero instead. Of course, Jake was still arrogant with unhealthy levels of confidence. He talked to you like you were in love with him and he knew it, which could not be further from the truth. 

One night in particular, at one of the many military award balls, you thought about re-establishing that boundary you used to have. Bradley looked so good in his dress whites, and you complimented him so well in your floor length, shimmery gold dress. Bradley had done exceptionally well that year, he was receiving praises all night from his fellow aviators and whatever military big-shots that chose him to win awards. While he was off accepting these gracious compliments, reasonably leaving you alone at the table, Jake approached you. He didn't say anything, he just pulled out the chair next to you and sat down. He also looked incredibly good in his dress whites, but in a different way than Bradley. You mentally scolded yourself when you thought about how good looking he was. He sighed next to you, neither of you acknowledging the other at first. Your gaze was on Bradley, who was graciously shaking someone's hand and laughing. You sipped your wine, finishing the whole glass. “You clean up nice.” He said, finally looking over at you. You could smell his cologne. It was musky and clean and it burned your nose.

“Likewise.” You smiled softly at him. He looked at you like he needed to say something, like he was dying to. A smirk, or maybe a smile played on his lips. Your gaze rested on his mouth for a second, discerning between the two. “What?” You giggled to ease whatever tension was hanging between you.

“Nothing.” He continued his heavy gaze on you. “Just memories.” You wanted to roll your eyes, he is so cliche, but you decided to be nice. His blue eyes were hard to tear your eyes away from, but you did, and looked around to see Bradley, who was now talking to a girl who was one of his copilots. 

“If I remember correctly, that dress is the same color your prom dress was.” He gestured down at your golden dress, now dragging on the floor and stuck under your chair. 

You straightened your back. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

He nodded with a smile. “I knew it.” Another moment passed, and you subconsciously looked back to where Bradley was, but you didn’t see him anymore. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Jake leaned his arms against the white table cloth, bunching it up under his forearms as they slid a little closer to you. 

“Yes…” You tilted your head. His cologne was burning your nose and your eyes and lighting your skin on fire. Jake Seresin was beautiful to admire from afar, but now, he was up close. He was close to your face, close enough to touch, close enough that if you wanted to kiss him you could grab his face and do it. 

“I really liked you back in high school.” Whatever smile-smirk he had was spreading across his face. Like a wildfire, the smirk spread onto your lips too. 

“That’s not true.” You looked down, this moment sending you straight back into your 17 year old persona, shy and bashful. Maybe Jake was also taking on his 17 year old persona, or maybe he’s still the same charming and confident boy he’s always been. 

“It is.” He said. You didn’t know this, but he was lying. He was indifferent about you in high school, but he does wish he would have paid more attention to you back then. Maybe then he would be the guy with the girl in the gold dress, not Bradley.

“You never paid any attention to me in high school. And you always had a girlfriend.” You reached for your glass to give you something to do with your hands, even though it was empty.

“So? I remembered your prom dress, didn't I?” He did not, in fact, remember your prom dress. He had recently stalked your facebook. “You looked so gorgeous that night.”

You could do nothing but try and push away your smile. Jake Seresin was a hypnotic, poisonous virus that could work its way under any girl's skin, and once again, you were absolutely no exception.

“I mean, you looked almost as good as you look tonight.” He finally broke eye contact, a subconscious attempt to seem coy. 

Snapped out of the blue eyed trance, you shook your head. “Thank you, Jake.” You said. Clearing your throat, you wanted to change the subject, to get rid of this strange feeling in your stomach. "Where's your date? Jessica, right? Oh no, wait, Jessica was who you brought to the bar last weekend. Emma is your date tonight, right?" You weren't trying to embarrass him, it was more an attempt to figuratively slap him in the face for flirting with you.

A scoff broke through the laugh he let out. He couldn't deny these claims, they were obviously true. "I don't really know where she is." He looked around in a fake attempt to find her. "And I don't really care right now." He looked back at you, and you had to look away. It was entirely too much, his cologne, his dress whites, his eyes, and his flattery. It stirred up your stomach in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m gonna go find Bradley.” You breathed out. You stumbled as you stood up and walked away. 

It wasn’t wrong, you weren’t doing anything. Jake complimented you and you talked about high school, what else is new? But for some reason, you couldn’t shake that guilty feeling out of your conscience, even when you found Bradley and he looked so hot and you forgot about every other man that existed while he fucked you that night, the dress that Jake loved oh so much bunched up around your waist. 

When you and Bradley got married, Jake was one of the groomsmen. He stood right by Bradley at the altar, he teared up at his vows. It was around this time that Jake started to treat you differently. He was nicer, gentler, and didn't treat you like a sexual venture. He still infuriated everyone else, but he was softer with you. He brushed off what he felt for you as a protectiveness. You were his best friend's wife, he knew you since you were 15. He knew a different side of you, and he felt the need to protect you. And he told himself that’s all it was. Even if it was something more, he would never act on it. He knew he would just have to settle for occasionally thinking you were hot when he saw you, and occasionally thinking about you while he had another girl underneath him, wondering if Rooster fucks you the way he would. The way you deserve. He knows he doesn’t.

You didn’t really get much time to talk to Jake on your wedding day, but to be honest, it never really crossed your mind. Not until you were at your way-to-expensive open bar, ordering another cocktail, and he came up behind you. “Hi there bride.” He said.

You turned to face him and the air leaving his lungs was almost audible. Oh my god did you look beautiful. Your hair pulled away from your face, a few strands hanging in your face from dancing. Glitter on your eyelids, your lips slightly puffy from so much kissing and singing and talking. And you smiled when you saw him.

“Jake!” You smiled. Yes, you were tipsy, but you would have been excited to see him regardless. You swung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Your perfume and his cologne mixed in the air around the two of you. He wrapped his arms around your torso and tucked his nose down on your shoulder. 

“You look gorgeous, Y/N.” He said against your ear. You closed your eyes and hummed. 

He felt like a sticky mouse trap that you couldn’t pull yourself away from. “Thank you.”

Whether it was subconscious or not, you forced yourself to break the hug and turn back to the bar to get your drink. All he could do was watch as you gave him a drunk wink and walked away.

Back in the real world, Bradley smiled when you came into view. “There she is!” He grabbed your hand and spun you around to the music. He sang to you and held you around the waist. The music was loud and your vision was slightly hazy and you were the happiest you had ever felt. Bradley kissed you every chance he got, calling you his wife even more than that. How could you, much less anyone not love this man? 

A cute little house on North Island, not far from the ocean. Two dogs, a newlywed couple, and lots of love to go around. That’s how it was for a year or so. You wouldn’t say picture perfect, because every family has its flaws, but it was perfect for you. Bradley would go to work, you would go to yours, and when you got home the two of you would eat dinner and watch a show together. Bradley loved getting home from a long day and fucking his wife good and long until he was scared the neighbors might hear. It was simple, but it was nice.

You simply cannot pinpoint the exact time things started to change. To be fair, you couldn’t expect things to go perfectly in your marriage for the rest of your life, but you wish they didn’t go the way this one was. He would come home from work later, say he already ate, and leave you eating by yourself at the kitchen table. He never wanted to shower with you anymore, which used to be his favorite activity. He didn’t fuck you as much, or as good as he used to. It was half-assed, almost like it was a chore. Missionary in bed a few times a week, and there were a couple of times where he didn’t finish, which left you embarrassed with a vulnerable pit in your stomach. You thought he was just getting bored, which people had warned you would happen, so you pulled out all the stops. You bought new fancy lingerie, you sent him absolutely filthy texts while he was at work, you wore no underwear and told him as you were leaving the house. All things that used to rile him up. And sometimes it worked. Sometimes he would get one of those texts at work, come home and see you on your bed in deep red lingerie, and he would crawl on top of you and all would be right in the world. But it always ended up fizzling back out into you wondering what in the hell you were doing wrong. You wanted nothing more in the world than to please him, and you couldn’t even do that. He still told you he loved you every day, and he still kissed you on the forehead before bed, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Like any other person with a brain, the possibility of him cheating on you had come to mind several times. But you were always able to shake it off, he would never. Not Bradley, not your Bradley. 

On Bradleys 29th birthday, you threw him a party. All of his copilots were there, Phoenix even drove in from Seal Beach. Jake was there, of course, he only lived a few blocks away. He brought Bradley a birthday present and he brought you a bottle of wine. He said it was because he knew you worked so hard on the party, and you couldn't wipe a star struck slap happy smile from your face. You knew Bradley would be getting messy that night, he had always been a drinker, especially around these pilots that you considered family. When it was only 8pm and he was already slurring his words and stumbling into furniture and had sunglasses on inside, you caught him in the kitchen as he was pouring himself another screwdriver. 

“Hi baby.” You smiled, approaching him, an attempt to slow his drinking down. 

He didn’t look up at you as he continued pouring vodka into his cup. “Hi sweetheart.”

You walked over to him and set your hand on his back. “It’s early, why don’t you slow down a little. Maybe have some water or eat something, then pick up where you left off?”

He continued making his drink. “How about…” he set the bottle back on the counter and stumbled away from you “You leave me alone.” 

Immediately taken back, your eyebrows furrowed. “What?” Whether he was bored with you or not, that was completely and totally unlike Bradley to say.

“Get off my fuckin’ case.” His sunglasses slid down his nose. 

Javy stuck his head in the kitchen. “Rooster, beer pong, come on.” He said. One look at your face and his expression changed, figuring he must have walked in on something. “You good?” he asked. He must have saw your glistening eyes or maybe he heard your pounding heartbeat that you could feel so clearly in your ears. Bradley walked past you and towards Javy. “She’s fine. You know how girls are.” he mumbled, disappearing out of the kitchen. “Ol' ball and chains.” you heard him say down the hallway.

You could not stop your mouth from falling open. The boredom you could take. You could tolerate him not treating you the same way he used to, but where did this sudden resentment come from? You wanted to cry. You wanted to lay on the floor of your kitchen and curl up in a ball and cry because you threw such a nice party for your husband that you loved and the only thing he said to you all night was to leave him alone. But, you can’t cry. At least not right now. You walk back out into the party, faking a smile and finding a spot on your couch to sit. 

“Hey party girl.” Jake sat down next to you. 

“Hi Jake.” You smiled.

He tilted his head down and quirked his eyebrow. “What's the matter?”

You shook your head in surprise that your fake smile was not in fact working, narrowing your eyes back at him. “Nothing.”

“Come on…” He poked your side, causing you to squirm away from him. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed. “It's nothing. Just- I’ll tell you later.” you had no intentions of actually telling him later, you just wanted him to stop asking, stop seeing directly through you.

Why Jake could read you like an open book? You didn’t know, but he could. It felt like he could read your mind, which you prayed wasn’t true, because then someone other than yourself would know about the pit in your stomach, or between your legs, that you got when you were around him. 

You watched Bradley as he played beer pong, shouting and laughing and drinking. It made you smile, seeing him happy. It feels like it was just yesterday when you would’ve been right up there next to him, having fun with him. You wish you knew what changed.

“How’s your new job going?” Jake's deep voice shook you out of your trance. 

You looked over at him, slightly taken back. You did not expect a single person at this party to ask you a question about yourself tonight. They were always too busy talking about their latest aircraft or their latest achievements in the field. “It’s good…” your voice was raised over the music and the shouting of the party. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

He looked sarcastically offended. “What? How could I forget?” He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t going to admit that he had been reading online about you, looking a little too long at your headshot on the law firm's website. He read an article about you from a local news site, it was really about one of the lawyers at the law firm that you worked at, but you were mentioned as the paralegal. A small picture of you and the lawyer was fit in between paragraphs, and he would be embarrassed if anyone found out how many times he had looked at it. A feeling of pride swelled in his chest whenever he did. 

You looked down at your lap and smiled. He was pressed up against you on the living room couch, you could smell his beer and you could feel his thigh against yours. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, his voice merely a rumble beneath the music.

You nodded. “I’m fine.” Looking up at him, he gave you a look. A look he had probably given you in high school chemistry at some point when you answered a question with something that didn’t make sense. His blue eyes burned holes through your soul and you felt like all of your thoughts and secrets were floating through the air, being breathed in by him. “Its just…” you looked over at your husband, who was now chugging a drink out of a red solo cup, Javy and Mickey cheering him on as usual. “Bradley.” You wanted to continue, to tell him everything, but you didn’t want to start crying. 

Jake nodded in understanding. It pissed him off that Rooster was doing this to you. You didn’t deserve this. He didn’t know for sure what was going on, but everyone could sense that something had changed with Bradley in the past year. Jake thinks it's because he’s gotten a lot more cocky since their last mission, he thinks he's too good for the dagger squad now. Whatever it was, it was effecting you, and that was crossing a fucking line. 

You and Jake stayed like that on the couch for a while longer. You enjoyed his comfort and company, and he didn’t want to leave you here upset. In a desperate attempt to see you laugh, he tried to tell you a story from high school, involving your old best friend. It made you crack a smile, your warm soul glowing through your teeth and nearly blinding him. It made him feel better to see you smile, but he could not shake the anger he was feeling towards Bradley right now. He wished he could get up and walk over to Bradley, grab him by the shoulders, and yell at him that he doesn't even know how good he has it.

As you suspected, Bradley was entirely too drunk by 11. Like, laying on the floor of the bathroom drunk. While you were in the bathroom taking care of Bradley as he threw up, the party guests slowly made their drunk exits. Bob nearly had to drag Phoenix and Payback out your front door, not before wishing Bradley one last happy birthday and thanking you for throwing the party. Everyone else stumbled out to their ubers, leaving you basically alone on the cold bathroom floor, completely sober. 

You sat next to Bradley and rubbed his back while he was bent over the toilet. The main goal at this point was to get him upstairs to his bed. Once you presumed he was done, you patted his sweat covered hair. “How about we get you to bed, huh?” He nodded, his eyes closed.

It took some strength to help him up off of the floor, but this wasn’t your first rodeo. You held him up while you stumbled out of the bathroom and into the living room. You weren’t expecting to see Jake, but there he was. He was holding a trash bag and was picking up the cans and solo cups that were littered all over. Startled, you immediately felt bad. “You don’t have to do that Jake, seriously. You can go home, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

He looked up to see you holding Bradley up, his head hanging and barely coherent. “Oh, I don’t mind. It’ll only take me a minute, then I’ll be out of your hair.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. “Really. It’s fine. Go put him to bed.” He was stern, almost demanding. You nodded and continued dragging Bradley to your bedroom. The stairs were the hardest part, it felt like you were lifting dead weight. You didn’t want to wrestle with changing his clothes, so you settled for getting his jeans off, leaving him in his shirt and boxers. You got him into bed, and pulled the covers up over him. When tucking him in, it was impossible for your heart to not swell, or maybe ache, in moments like this. 

He mumbled something, it didn’t even sound like english. “What’d you say baby?” You reached your hand up to push his hair off of his forehead. 

“I love you.” He said, crystal clear. It felt like some type of weight was lifted off of your heart, making your eyes soften. You continued to stroke his hair for a moment, basking in his words. 

“I love you too.” You said softly. He didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch. 

For a few moments, everything was okay. You and Bradley were married and happy and he loved you. You’re not sure how long you sat there petting his hair. Definitely a few minutes. The sound of Jake putting away the folding table downstairs made you get up. You pulled a trash can next to Bradley and took one last look at him. You weren’t sure if you should smile or cry. 

Back downstairs, Jake had made quick work of cleaning everything up. “Jake, you’re seriously a saint.” You breathed out. 

“Only for you” he said, pushing a chair back to its original spot. Not taking time to dwell on whatever that statement meant, you helped him move that last few pieces of furniture. 

“Okay. Dishes.” He said, walking past you into the kitchen. 

“Jake-” You followed after him “You can go home, you don’t have to help, there isn’t even that many-”

“It's okay. I want to help you.” He said, turning to you with a simple smile. You didn’t want to force him out of your house. In fact, you didn’t want him to leave. Music was still playing from the party, but it was much quieter now. It was yacht rock, Bradley’s favorite. 

Jake cleaned the dishes, you dried them and put them away. “You know,” He started, rinsing out the bowl he was holding. “I wish I had a girl in my life who threw me birthday parties and carried me around when I was drunk.”

You didn’t look up from the plate you were drying off. "You're telling me one of your many girls isn't dying to do something like this for you?"

He laughed softly, but shook his head. "That's not the same."

"Why not?" You crossed the kitchen to put away a cutting board.

"Because you guys are married. I wish I had a wife. Someone like you."

Maybe it was because something about Jake makes everyone feel vulnerable, but you felt like you could tell him all of your problems, like some type of truth serum was laced in his voice. “I don’t even think Bradley wishes he had that.”

You opened the cabinet to put the plate away while Jake looked at you. “Is everything okay with you two? I don’t want to pry or anything.” But the thing was, he did want to pry. He wanted to know everything about your relationship, he wants to know how often Rooster tells you he loves you, what he says to you when he fucks you, and everything in between. 

“Um…” You thought about how honest you should be. “I mean, everythings okay on my end. It’s just… I don’t know what’s going on with Bradley. I think he’s getting bored of me.”

“I don’t think that's possible.” Jake said, handing you a bowl, the water from his fingers dripping onto yours. “That can’t be right. Nobody could ever get bored of you.” 

You sighed and put the bowl in the cabinet in front of you. “Then I don’t know what’s going on. He’s more distant, not as talkative, he doesn’t-” You stopped yourself, unable to talk to Jake about your sex life with Bradley. Jake was your friend, but it felt wrong.

“He doesn’t what?” Jake asked. There were no more dishes to be washed, so he leaned his hands against the counter. Looking over at him was a mistake. He had a smug look on his face, the one he always wore. You swear it gives you goosebumps. It was clear that he knew what you were talking about. “He doesn’t fuck you the same anymore?”

Completely unable to break eye contact, you simply nodded. The sound of the sink running was the only thing breaking the silence between the two of you. “Does he fuck you at all?” He spoke slowly, raising his eyebrows slightly. 

“Yes. But not as often. And not the same.” You weren’t lying, you weren’t necessarily crossing a line, you weren’t doing anything wrong. That’s what you were telling yourself. 

Jake looked down, his hand coming up to rub his jawline, subconsciously drawing your attention to it. Tongue in his cheek, he nodded. “Huh. What a shame.” He looked back up at you, your cheeks hot and most likely getting red. “You don’t deserve that.”

All you could do was nod once again. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was thick. It was hot and it filled your lungs. 

“Does he even make you cum anymore?” His words were heavy. Meticulous but outright impulsive. Like he had wanted to ask you that for so long, but the sentence finally fell out of his mouth without permission.

Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and you tried to swallow. Blood was rushing to your face and your ears and making your heart speed up. This conversation felt wrong. No, it was wrong. But your conscience was muffled by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the fluttering in your stomach. “No.” The word rolled off of your tongue and out of your mouth. 

He was standing so close to you and you thought that if he wanted to bend you over this counter right now, he could. “That must be…” His hand came up to your arm and his fingers trailed along your skin lightly. “So frustrating.”

Inexplicably, Bradleys face flashed in your mind, laying in your shared bed right above the two of you. You cleared your throat and looked down, grabbing the last plate that needed put away. Detaching his fingers from you, you reached up and put the plate in the cabinet. He looked down at the counter, then turned the sink off. The only sound was coming from the radio.

As if almost on cue to change the subject, as if that last interaction didn’t happen at all, Jake pointed to the speaker. “Oh! Duet time.” Jake smiled. 

“What?” You laughed. Then you heard the song “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart�� playing on the radio. Before you had time to protest, Jake was already across the room, turning the speaker up. When he turned back to you, he started singing Elton John's part. He pointed to you when it got to the girls part, and you laughed. “No, Jake, I can’t.” You spoke over your part.

He furrowed his eyebrows and swayed over to you, he was not the best dancer, but you already knew this. He sang his part and reached out for your hands. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t keep your laughter down. You gave him your hands and he pulled you into the middle of the kitchen. He danced around with you, and you sang when it got to your part. The goofiest smile sat on his face, it was so much different than his usual smug smile. The two of you sang and danced and spun around in the middle of your kitchen. And you laughed. You really, truly laughed. And that alone made Jake's heart swell.

By the end of the song, one of Jake's arms was around your waist, the other was holding your hand, swaying you to the music. As the song ended, you set your forehead against his shoulder, a way of surrendering. His shirt bunched up under your nose, and you had to fight the urge to turn your head against his neck and breathe in his cologne. His hand on the small of your back was gentle, almost like he was trying to not hurt you.

You lifted your head up and met his eyes. You could feel his heart beating under your hand and the skin on your waist burned under his fingers. “I’m scared that Bradley is cheating on me.” You blurted out before you had time to think about what you were saying. 

He exhaled, you felt the air on your face. Miraculously, he shook his head. “I don’t think he would do that.” His face was angled down at yours.

Nodding, you looked down. It made you feel better to hear it from someone else. Jake was still holding onto you, and your hand was still on his chest. “You can go now. Thank you for helping.” You said weakly, not meeting his eyes. You gave his hand a squeeze and ripped yourself away from him. 

The next week was completely normal. Bradley would kiss you goodbye without looking at you and then go to work, come home late and complain about being tired, then crash in bed immediately. You had sex once, it was on the couch on the one night he stayed up to watch a show with you. Friday morning was the same. You tried to chat him up while he waited for his coffee to brew, he just grumbled a response. No kiss this time, but that wasn’t totally unheard of. It was this same Friday when something abnormal happened. 

I need to talk to you.

It was a text from an unknown number showing up on your apple watch. You read it during a meeting, and spent the rest of the time not listening and trying to figure out who that text could be from. When you finally got the chance to look at your phone, you saw the previous texts you had with this person. A text from over a year ago told you what you wanted to know.

Hey. This is Jake. Rooster is really drunk. Can you come get him?

Completely ignoring your work now, your heart skipped and then dropped at the possibilities of why Jake was texting you.

Okay, is everything alright?

You checked your watch while waiting for a response. A quarter to five, you could leave now if you wanted to. 

Can you come by my house? Or can I call you soon?

All of the different possibilities raced through your mind. You couldn’t even think about the possibility of another woman right now.  But you focused on the fact that he did not confirm that everything was alright.

I can try and come by later. What is this about?

Okay let me know when you’re coming. It’s Bradley.

You knew it. Fuck, you knew it. Wasting no time, you packed up your things and left your office. The radio was too loud and too much as you made your way home, so you drove in silence. In a rare occurrence, Bradley’s range rover was in the driveway when you got home. Weird, you always got home first. 

What happened inside was nothing short of a bible level miracle. The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Bradley sitting on the couch, leaning on his knees like he was thinking. He whipped around at the sound of the door opening and he slapped a smile on his face. He stood up, grabbing a bouquet of flowers that had been laid next to him on the couch. 

“Hey baby.” He smiled, coming around the couch to greet you at the door. 

“Hi…” You couldn’t help the confusion that echoed in your greeting. He walked up and held the flowers out to you. You smiled, a polite smile, and took them from him. It felt abnormal, ingenuine, or something of that sort when he leaned in and kissed you.

“What’s this for?” You broke away from his lips. 

“Oh, nothing.” He waved his hand. “I just wanted to get my wife some flowers.”

You nodded. It felt good, really good, to get this attention from him. You wanted to play along, to pretend like this wasn’t weird, but a little voice in your head was screaming at you. A strange feeling settled in your stomach and left a weird taste in your mouth. 

“I was thinking,” He reached out and grabbed your free hand, pulling you over to the couch. “You want me to make my pasta for you, or do you wanna order something in? You choose.”

All you could do was stare at him. It was weird, this was the way you had been hoping and praying he would start treating you again for the last 4 months, but now that it's right in front of you, you couldn’t help but question it. “Pasta.” You said with a simple nod. 

By the time he was in the kitchen, 80s music playing while he started to prepare dinner, you still sat frozen in your spot on the couch. Jake's text message kept running through your head, you knew it had to be related to what’s going on. More than anything, you wanted to stay here, go hug Bradley from behind while he cooks, eat dinner with him, and let everything be normal again. But you couldn’t. 

“Hey, um I’ll be right back.” You knew you had about 30 minutes before he would be done cooking. 

“Where are you going?” he sounded alarmed, like he didn’t want you to step foot out of this house. 

The door was already open and you were already halfway out. “I have to um… go get gas.” The door shut behind you, giving no time for him to answer. 

It was about a 3 minute drive to Jake’s house, but you were about to make it in 1. The sound of tires screeching notified Jake that you were there. By the time he made it to the door, you were walking up his driveway. The look in his eyes was enough to make you sick. “What happened?” you asked breathlessly.

He said nothing, simply opening the door and motioning for you to come in. “Jake.” You said sternly. “What happened?” You repeated as you entered his house. This was not your first time in Jake's house, but it's the first time in a while. It smells like him but you don’t have time to dwell on that.

“Come sit.” He gestured to his living room. Jake has a dog, a big golden retriever, and she came up to sit by you on the couch. Eyes stinging, stomach churning, you put your face in your hands. “He’s cheating on me, isn’t he?” Your voice was muffled by your hands but Jake heard what you said and it made his jaw clench.

“Listen.” He sat next to you. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out. You knew it. You called it. 

He sighed and gently reached for your wrist. He pulled your hand away from your face and into his lap. He held onto your hand and he took a deep breath. “When we were leaving today, I heard someone yelling in the parking lot. I only caught the tail end of it, but it was Bradley and some other girl. He was begging her for something, I don’t know what, and she was crying. She was yelling at him, and she said she didn’t know he had a wife. She kept saying ‘you’re married’ or ‘why didn’t you tell me’ and then she asked him if this was all a lie. He said no, but then he saw me, and he tried to get her to quiet down and get in his car, but she wouldn’t. I texted you right away. Right when I got in my car.”

It all made sense. Every piece of the Bradley Bradshaw puzzle fell into place, and you saw it so clearly. The boredness, the bad sex, the resentment, the getting home late, the flowers, the way he’s trying to make it all up to you now that things fell through with her. She must have threatened to tell you, or left him completely, and now he’s left with just you. He probably feels guilty, and wants to try and make it up to you. The first thought that ran through your mind was how could you have been so stupid. Jake held onto your shaky hands and you cried. You cried harder than you think you ever had. Wordlessly, he pulled you into him, and you cried into his shoulder. The only word you could get out between your sobs was “why.” 

So many thoughts ran through your mind. You wanted to know who this girl was. Was she pretty? Was she prettier than you? Was that the problem? Does she know Bradley the way you do? What was so wrong with you that he had to get someone else? 

How many times did Bradley fuck her and then come straight home and fuck you? That thought made you pull away from Jake, nearly pushing him off of you. “Y/N’ He reached for you and you stood up. Were there times where he thought about her while he fucked you? Was the sex with her so good that he couldn’t even finish when he was with you?

You shook your head and covered your mouth with the back of your hand. Calmly at first, you turned and walked down his hallway, your speed quickening with every step. Jake's footsteps echoed behind you, he was saying something but you couldn’t decipher it. The door to his bathroom hit the wall from how hard you pushed it open and you fell to your knees. You threw up, Jake appearing in the doorway as you did. Through all of this, you still found time to be embarrassed that he was seeing you like this, but he didn’t seem to mind. He knelt next to you and pulled your hair back away from your face. “It’s okay.” He whispered. 

When you were slightly calmed down, you set your forehead on your arm. Jake's large hand was rubbing up and down your back. “What do I do?” You said to the ground.

Jake cleared his throat. He thought the answer was clear, but maybe it wasn’t to you. “Do you want to stay with him?” He asked.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the thought of either option he was presenting. Leave Bradley, or stay with him and always know what he did. “I don’t know.” Your voice was strained. 

To Jake, this was a stupid answer. He thought you would say no, he thought that any person in their right mind would say no. “Oh.” His eyebrows furrowed. 

Before you made a decision, you knew you needed to talk to Bradley. Maybe this was a misunderstanding, maybe it was a mistake, maybe he’ll do everything in his power to earn your trust back, and then you’d have the old Bradley back. Reaching up to flush the toilet, you stood, Jake following suit.

“I need to go talk to him.” You said, walking past him out of the bathroom. He followed hot on your tail, trying to think of what to say. Once you reached the front door, you turned around to him. “Thank you for telling me.” He said nothing, only nodded. When you hugged him and his arms wrapped around you, you allowed your eyes to fall shut. You were lucky to have him. 

“If you don’t want to stay there tonight, I have a guest room.” He said into your hair. He felt you nod underneath him, then let you go. 

The car ride home was dead silent. You weren’t crying, you weren’t yelling, you weren’t listening to music. You felt nothing short of dead inside, like every good piece of your life just got pulled out from underneath you. Slowly, you pulled into the driveway. You wanted to sit in the car and not go inside, not find out the truth, but you knew that wasn’t an option. The reflection looking back at you in your rearview mirror did not look like you. It was scary. You wiped under your eyes and your mouth, then forced yourself to open the car door. Your legs were moving, but it was completely muscle memory, and you were surprised you hadn’t fallen to the ground yet. 

When you opened the front door, you tried to act normal. Music played through the house and you heard dishes clinking in the kitchen. Kicking your shoes off, you couldn’t ignore the two dogs that ran up to you. It made you want to cry even harder, the way they climbed on you when you bent down to pet them, like they could sense something was wrong. “Hey baby, you’re back.” You looked up and saw Bradley in the doorway to your kitchen. He was smiling, but for some reason, you almost felt better when you saw him. When you looked at him, you were reminded of the man he was on your wedding day, he gave you that same smile at the altar. It was the same smile you fell in love with, the same smile he had when he was merely just your neighbor when you were 23. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately, his smile faltered slightly.

Looking back down at the dogs, you couldn't bring yourself to fight with him right now. You couldn’t let yourself lose him. “Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just had a hard day at work.”

“Oh, honey.” He walked towards you. This was by far the most attention you had gotten from him in months, and it was addicting. It is how you always wanted things to be, how you hoped and prayed they would end up. He pulled you into a hug and you could have melted into his arms. He hugged you, really hugged you. “I’m sorry you had a hard day.” He pulled back and brought his hands to your face. For some reason, for some weird, strange reason, you smiled. The feeling of his thumbs on your cheeks absolutely flooded your mind with memories, and it was enough to make you want to forget that he ever did anything wrong. Sure, there was a pit in your stomach and you were still unbelievably sad, but if this is how he’s gonna act from now on, you don’t want to leave. 

He kissed you and you were suddenly hyper aware that you had just thrown up less than 15 minutes ago. He leaned his forehead against yours and you were positive that he could feel the heat from your cheeks on his palms. “Dinners gonna be ready in like 5 minutes, okay?”

You nodded and he let you go. You turned towards the stairs and he was heading back to the kitchen, and he slapped your ass as you walked away, and you can’t believe it, but you laughed. When you got upstairs, you went into your bathroom and leaned against the counter. The shame that you felt for not standing up for yourself was intense. It weighed your heart down and made you dizzy. You almost couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror. You had to confront him about this, right? He would apologize and you would accept it and everything would be okay. But you couldn’t just not say anything. You met your own bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Aware of the taste of throw up in your mouth, you reached for your toothbrush. 

That night, you ate Bradleys criminally delicious pasta and the two of you sat at the table for almost an hour just talking after you were done eating. After that, he suggested you start that show that the two of you had been meaning to watch. He turned the fireplace on and cuddled up with you on the couch, your dogs occasionally trying to make their way in between the two of you. As the night went on, you thought about what he had done less and less. You didn’t let yourself think about whether he just fucked that girl or if they loved each other. You tried your hardest not to dwell on the fact that all of this attention was just his guilt manifesting into real life. 

When the episode ended, the two of you sat still in your spots on the couch. His hand was in your hair, and your arms were wrapped around him. You wondered what he was thinking about. You hoped it wasn’t her. 

He grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him. “I love you, you know that right?” He asked, his voice was low and gravely. You sighed, looking in his eyes. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve the love you were desperate to give him. “Yes.” you replied. “I love you too.”

He kissed you slowly. It reminded you of the way he used to kiss you when the two of you still lived in neighboring apartments. It was so passionate, you could feel it. You kissed him right back, basking in the feeling of being wanted by him. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you hiked your leg up higher against him, he broke away with a smile. He lifted you up off the couch and you squealed. “Bradley!” You laughed “Put me down.”

He laughed with you and carried you up the steps. Halfway to your bedroom, you gave up trying to squirm out of his strong grip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held you tighter. Once the door to your room was swung open and you were tossed onto the bed, Bradley crawled on top of you. He kissed you again, but it was a different type of kiss. It was rougher, insatiable. The kind that made your mind foggy and your core heat up. His body was hot on top of yours and it felt so good but it was so hard to enjoy. He wasted no time pulling your sweatpants down, sitting up to pull them over your feet and throw them off the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and, no matter how hurt you were or how mad you were at him, you could not deny how fucking sexy he is. His skin was tan and he looked like he was glowing from the hallway light reflecting off of him. His rough hands wrapped around your thighs as he adjusted himself in front of you. This undoubtedly made you so excited. Your heartbeat sped up as his mustache scratched your thighs. He nipped at the skin on your leg, making you squirm. He looked absolutely gorgeous in between your legs. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and hooded. “You want me to be gentle or rough?” 

As much as you wanted him rough, your heart needed him gentle. “Can you be gentle?” 

“Of course I can, sweetheart.” He kissed the inside of your leg again. And gentle he was. He licked a slow stripe up your pussy, taking his sweet time. You couldn’t look away, and you had such a perfect view propped up on your elbows. When he started working on your clit, you had to drop your head back. He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew what you liked, what you hated, how to make you squirm, how to make you cum in less than a minute. His dark curls were sticking to his forehead as he started to sweat. The grip on your thighs tightened, like he was pulling you closer. He was so far buried inside your pussy that his nose was going to be covered in your slick by the time he was done. He was stalling, you could tell. This was maybe his millionth time doing this, and he was giving you just enough to keep you on the edge, and he knew it. Even worse, he liked it.

“Please, Bradley.” You whined, letting your arms drop to your sides and falling onto your back. He shook his head into you, not relenting in the way he was licking you up, almost like he couldn't stop. You tried to grind into him, but his arms kept you in place. 

It was almost like he could not get enough of you, which would honestly make sense. You genuinely couldn't pinpoint the last time he had done this for you. Well, done it and actually tried.

One of his hands unwrapped from around your thigh, coming to push his fingers inside you. “Oh my god.” You groaned. Now that his mouth had full focus on your clit, and his fingers were stuck inside of you curling upward, both of you knew you were close. “Bradley, oh my fucking god.” 

His pace was steadily increasing, making your back arch completely off of the mattress. You could feel him smiling against you. Your orgasm all but crept up on you, starting off slow and then completely taking over your whole body. Eyes closed, your whole body pulsed, falling over you like warm water. 

Inexplicably, at your highest peak, Jake Seresin wearing his dress whites came into your mind. And it made you cum harder. When you came to and realized what the fuck you just did, your eyes popped open and your face heated up. You couldn’t help but slap your hand over your mouth. You just came from your husband eating you out, and you thought about his best friend.

Bradley crawled back on top of you and you pulled your hand away from your mouth. He said nothing and kissed you. You could feel him panting and his chest heaving, yours was too. “Was that good?” He said an inch from your mouth, giving you a soft peck after.

“Mhmmm” Was all you could get out. 

“Do you want more?” He said in between soft kisses. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

All you could do was nod. 

He fucked you slow and sweet. He kissed you a million times and told you he loved you even more than that. Afterwards, he fell asleep with his head on your chest and your hands in his hair. His head moved up and down with your breathing, like the sun set and rose for you. His arms were wrapped around your torso, so you could barely reach your phone when you heard it buzz. Straining, you picked it up off your nightstand. 

How’d it go?

The text made your stomach drop and subsequently knocked you back into reality. You can’t go on pretending like everything's okay because Jake knew. That girl is still out there, she knows. The man with his head on your chest knew. God knows who else knows about it. You turned your phone off and closed your eyes.

[razorblade180]

While I love Amber dearly as she is, I got curious - if you could upgrade or entirely change her kit to put her on a five-star level (or alternatively, as strong as she could be in the lore of how you view your Genshin playthrough, with all her training and seniority), how would you do it?

I feel like somewhere on this blog I’ve talked about a supportive Amber before but the second half of your question is thought provoking in a new way.

What sucks is in a lot of way, Lyney really took main mechanics of Amber.💀

For the sake of keeping her identity, the bow stays. I’m thinking unique enhanced charge shots that are the size of one of Tighnari’s burst arrows. What makes them special is not only would the size make it easier to hit enemies close together, but the arrow is piercing. We’ll call them Scouting Arrows

Rework her skill to be a better Baron Bunny that has a stronger taunt and doesn’t get flung away to create more opportunities to hit multiple enemies. By either using the skill or hitting more than one enemy with a single arrow, the time to charge the next arrow essentially doesn’t exist at all; that way it creates a sharpshooter style of combat I think an Outrider would be an expert at.

Her burst would be a reference to the WEBTOON and let’s call it Flaming Vanguard; she’d create a pyro shield and lose her enhanced charges, but gain an infusion on her normal attack arrows for a short time that are weaker than charge shots obviously but stronger than normal arrows. Her skill would also temporarily changes to a scatter shot of flaming rocks in front of her. (I’m never getting over that)

When the burst state ends, if the shield wasn’t already destroyed, it will vanish and Amber gains a single free enhanced shot with a multiplier that’s higher than her other enhanced shots called Outrider’s Arrow; her cooldown on her next Barron Bunny is also reduced. Cause, y’know…

She can keep her gliding passive. As for her second passive, considering Ganyu exists, I think it would reasonable for Amber to gain a crit dmg bonus whenever facing multiple enemies, but gain a crit rate buff instead when there’s only one. That somewhat helps compensate for the fact in boss fights she wouldn’t have the opportunity to sharpshoot as often since there’s only one enemy to hit.

So in essence, a mid to long range DPS with a core play style that shows her proficiency in archery as well as her job as Outrider; with an elemental burst that shows her personality by Amber being able to temporarily rush into the frontline when other party members need help.

I’m feeling silly right now so I suppose I’ll think of constellations.

C1 Team Player- When Flaming Vanguard state ends, the rest of the party gains an atk buff based on total atk

C2 Double Trouble- Two charges of Barron Bunny and Scatter Shot! (I know she has that in game, and honestly it’s too good to not have that in this hypothetical)

C3 Outrider, the One and Only- Normal attack talent increase

C4 Survival Expert- Scatter Shot and normal attacks performed in Flaming Vanguard independently grant a certain amount of pyro damage bonus up to a certain amount. The bonus ends after firing an Outrider Arrow.

C5 Favonious Hardwork- Talent level on burst increases. (This would effect shield absorption and Outrider Arrow conversion multiplier since it’s already getting the benefit of increased dmg from leveling charge attacks)

C6 A Granddaughter’s Oath- Shooting a Barron Bunny will now automatically detonates it. Deploying a Barron Bunny instantly gains one Outrider Arrow. Upon detonation, gain another Outrider Arrow.

Unintentionally this kit has not only made Mondstadt’s god of wind one of her best teammates in mob situations, but her and Collei would do well in a burning team alongside characters like, Sucrose, Emilie, and even reverse melt Kaeya. Not my intention in the slightest but hey, that works out pretty well in a satisfying way.

By the way can you tell that after nearly four years Amber is still easily one of my favorite characters?

[beaulesbian]

I need to talk about zolu in the terms of dnd because I can't get this idea out of my head!

Zoro who starts as a fighter class - a swordsman through and through - that's all he's ever know since childhood. He fights to become the best, the strongest, to keep his promise to Kuina.

But then, an impossible guy saves him from a certain death. A guy who becomes his captain, his guiding light. And Zoro becomes his, his pirate despite never wanting to have anything to do with them before.

Zoro has never believed in any gods or higher power or miracles, it's just not who he is - to depend on something or someone intangible.

But he believes in Luffy, because he's seen what he can do and knows what Luffy wants. Their goals allign.

He believes in Luffy so much that he saw him as a god before anyone else did. And that's where it changes - when he's faced with his biggest rival whom he wants to beat, defeated, and swears to Luffy an oath to stand by his side to reach their dreams together. Calls him the Pirate King.

He believes in Luffy so much, that he would swap their places in facing death just so Luffy could take another breath, pain-free. He believes in him with absolute certainty, even to become the King of Hell for him, and to defy Death time and time again, with absolute faith that he would keep standing and breathing, to stay by his captain and crew's side.

(Luffy believes in Zoro, too, in his strength and his words, that's why he can always trust and lean on him.)

With Luffy behind him, Zoro becomes his champion, his paladin, not only to the alternation of the Sun God Nika, but most importantly to Luffy as a person and what he represent - freedom, joy, infinite possibilites; and then he can show this trust to all the other people they're helping along their journey. It changes his whole world, but in a way he might not even notice- in the small every day things, like not traveling alone and knowing his crew has his back. Their bond - the oath, the promise - re-affirms the powers Zoro can wield (*cough* unlocking Concqueror's Haki), he's much more stronger now than he could ever be as a fighter with no other purpose except to fight. He no longer fights for the sake of fighting, but for the sake of protecting.

(Official art from here X)

[pharmaciacatholica]

Someone once told me that suicide isnt like a "you're going to hell rn" situation because its often done under extreme stress/altered mental states and people aren't always in full control of themselves. I am sure the "instant hell" sentiment is probably a protestant thing but do you happen to know more on this?

I actually have a post in my drafts about this but is a subject that I do not love to speak on because it is inherently sensitive and it can often be difficult to express hardline truths without coming off as callous.

The cool part about being Catholic is that I often do not need to wade into the waters on my own. For the most part, I am able to point to the words or a far more learned and pious man than myself. In this case, I have the written words of Pope Saint John Paul II:

Suicide is always as morally objectionable as murder. The Church's tradition has always rejected it as a gravely evil choice.(x)(x) Even though a certain psychological, cultural and social conditioning may induce a person to carry out an action which so radically contradicts the innate inclination to life, thus lessening or removing subjective responsibility, suicide, when viewed objectively, is a gravely immoral act. In fact, it involves the rejection of love of self and the renunciation of the obligation of justice and charity towards one's neighbour, towards the communities to which one belongs, and towards society as a whole.(x)(x) In its deepest reality, suicide represents a rejection of God's absolute sovereignty over life and death, as proclaimed in the prayer of the ancient sage of Israel: "You have power over life and death; you lead men down to the gates of Hades and back again" (Wis 16:13; cf. Tob 13:2).

Evangelium Vitae (paragraph 66)

So you are partially correct and partially incorrect in your assessment. For some people, and I’ve seen this before, to go around telling those who have had a loved one commit suicide that they are burning in hell is completely insane and unjustifiable. It is also extremely dangerous to play off suicide as something that isn’t a grave sin or that every time it happens the person isn’t culpable for their actions. Suicide is one of the sins that landed Judas in hell, because he chose despair over repentance and mercy. I also think G.K. Chesterton spoke very poetically on the subject here:

Not only is suicide a sin, it is the sin. It is the ultimate and absolute evil, the refusal to take an interest in existence; the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life. The man who kills a man, kills a man. The man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world. His act is worse than any rape or dynamite outrage. For it destroys all buildings: it insults all women. The thief is satisfied with diamonds; but the suicide is not: that is his crime. He cannot be bribed, even by the blazing stones of the Celestial City. The thief compliments the things he steals, if not the owner of them. But the suicide insults everything on earth by not stealing it. He defiles every flower by refusing to live for its sake. There is not a tiny creature in the cosmos at whom his death is not a sneer. When a man hangs himself on a tree, the leaves might fall off in anger and the birds fly away in fury: for each has received a personal affront. Of course there may be pathetic emotional excuses for the act. There often are for rape, and there almost always are for dynamite. But if it comes to clear ideas and the intelligent meaning of things, then there is much more rational and philosophic truth in the burial at the cross-roads and the stake driven through the body, than in Mr. Archer's suicidal automatic machines. There is a meaning in burying the suicide apart. The man's crime is different from other crimes - for it makes even crimes impossible.

Orthodoxy

This is just the writing of an overrated layman poet, but it really drives home the point.

[devout-of-the-elder-scrolls]

Positive Aspects of Daedric Princes and Things They Help With

This post is primarily UPG, and focuses exclusively on the positive aspects of these wonderful beings and what they can do for you, so while I acknowledge the negative aspects, it's not the point of the post. This is in no way an exhaustive list of everything. I use the term "follower" in here to refer to worshipers, deity workers, etc as a general catch-all. Sorry if it's not accurate to your relationship! /gen

Read more due to being a long post.

AZURA

A very calm, collected, loving individual who wants followers to love themselves the way She loves them.

Teaches divination and warns us mortals about upcoming events that may harm us. Focuses a lot on growth, healing, and progress within life. Blesses mortals with divinatory powers and prophetic dreams. She's really lenient and patient.

BOETHIAH

Generally protective and shares His wisdom to all who seek it. Is stated to be the patron of rebellious exiles in TES lore, and accepts those who have been exiled for one reason or another.

Teaches and preaches strength and personal power to a high degree. Getting vengeance and standing up against the cruel and those who wish to hurt you. Teaches a lot of baneful related magic.

CLAVICUS VILE

Very active in the lives of followers, and often works to help them achieve their goals and what they want. While deals with Clavicus tend to have you receive in a way you didn't quite expect, They usually work out in your highest good. Quite silly and goofy overall.

Doesn't sit by while followers are upset and enjoys cheering up followers into better moods. Spends time with followers when upset or hurting. Fulfills deals and grants wishes.

HERMAEUS MORA

Answers questions and delivers knowledge easily and quickly, and with just an offering in return. Calm, collected, and quite chatty when you get It going. Protects mortals from knowledge they're not meant to know that would genuinely harm them.

Teaches about pretty much anything. Generally calm and collected, making a good person to debate with, such as pros/cons on a situation, or anything else like that. Works hard to beat ignorance in all forms, and will educate followers in places their knowledge lacks even without being asked.

HIRCINE

Calm, collected, quiet, and acts as a pack leader. Cares a lot about followers, and is very clear about what They want. A very calm worship/working with/etc experience.

Brings in more people into a followers life that truly care for them and want their joy. Helps with achieving goals. Helps with anything life related, guiding to a better future.

JYGGALAG

Acts as a stern yet kind teacher. Will make it clear to a follower what they need to do for each thing.

A great god for the neurodivergent, especially ones stuck living in very neurotypical pushing lives. Puts things in your life in order, and makes sure you have a peaceful place to live within, or at least as close as They can get it.

MALACATH

Protective and strong-willed, and generally cares a lot about building people up in their circles and helping them regain themselves.

Regaining personal power, and establishing yourself within society. Helps with rebuilding from the worst of the worst, and with rebuilding your status/reputation after someone harmed it. Protects against abusers, and protects people who have been betrayed. Ensures followers keep their oaths and that those around them keep theirs to them. Helps with lying and deception for the sake of self-protection. Helps with curses and other baneful magic.

MEHRUNES DAGON

Has a lot of interest in making things better for people.

Helps with change and revolution. Aids with making plans for such changes. Helps with destruction of those who have wronged followers. Helps with big shows of power and greatness, helping a follower to assert themselves and their capabilities to others. Protection from natural disasters to followers.

MEPHALA

Watches over a followers life in every way, and often notices problems very quickly. Very sly and cunning, often using this to a followers benefit.

Teaches skills to avoid enemies and harm. Helps uncovering plots against followers, and rats out those who wish to harm them. Helps reveal secrets that are kept that don't help ones highest good. Helps with gender related things.

MERIDIA

Cares a lot about followers and their safety, wanting a better life for all of them.

Freeing followers from struggles and difficulties. Brings light onto situations that require of it. Helps re-find the joy in life and in living. Helps with surviving day to day and dealing with life matters.

MOLAG BAL

Very, very protective.

Protects against abuse and helps with vengeance. Fights back against bigotry and discrimination. Teaches to be strong and grand, and helps with facing fears. Provides guidance about how to be strong and with strength.

NAMIRA

Watches over a followers life, much like Mephala, to help notice when things go wrong.

Helps those in deep need, be it from poverty or anything else. Helps with that you can't discuss with everyone/anyone. Overcoming anxiety and fears. Finding beauty in things you didn't think you could before.

NOCTURNAL

Calm, collected, and generally kind to followers that listen to Them.

Revealing hidden things, and finding lost things. Being hidden from harm, cloaking during spells, and keeping cruel spirits from even noticing you. Uncovering mysteries and that which confuses you, bringing enlightenment.

PERYITE

Cares a lot about illness and healing in all sorts of ways.

Healing from illness, and managing chronic illness or physical disability. Accepting the above three things when they occur to you. Dealing with and finishing tasks, especially ones you don't want to be doing.

SANGUINE

Generally a kind and sweet person when in a good mood.

Succeeding in all forms of interpersonal endeavors. Managing addiction. Obtaining an lot of something you want.

SHEOGORATH

Very silly and goofy, doesn't take things too seriously unless it really calls for it.

Managing mental illness and neurodivergency, and accepting it too. Finding fun and having a good time. Cheering up during hard times.

VAERMINA

Rather friendly to followers, and enjoys helping them out.

Delivers messages through dreams and nightmares. Helps with dream/nightmare deciphering. Delivers omens and warnings to followers. Deals with corruption.

GENERIC THINGS TO NOTE

They all work to protect their followers in some way, in some way that relates to their sphere.

They'll all teach Daedric magic to those interested in it.

[crepes-suzette-373]

I never tried to look, so I don't know if anyone else ever mentioned this, but ASL's "Brotherhood cups" (兄弟盃) is reminiscent of the "Peach Garden Oath" from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms novel (the fiction, not the actual history).

The vibes of it is even stronger in the side story sensei made, where there's a scene of the ASL trio having the sake as grown ups under some kind of flowering trees. From what I can see those trees are sakura, but peach blossoms and sakura look very similar.

(you can read the side story here BTW)

In the Three Kingdoms, three men gathered in a garden of peach trees, offered some offerings, and then made this oath of brotherhood:

When saying the names Liu Bei, Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, although the surnames are different, yet we have come together as brothers. From this day forward, we shall join forces for a common purpose: to save the troubled and to aid the endangered. We shall avenge the nation above, and pacify the citizenry below. We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. May the Gods of Heaven and Earth attest to what is in our hearts. If we should ever do anything to betray our friendship, may heaven and the people of the earth both strike us dead.

Kyoudai Sakazuki in general is something that the yakuza do, but the feeling of brotherhood oath that ASL swore is more similar to the Three Kingdoms one, especially because there's literally 3 of them.

In the actual text of the Three Kingdoms novel, there's no mention of wine being drunk while the oath was made, but it's a pretty common depiction in adaptations that they do drink some kind of wine (see the pictures above).

I think this is just a one time reference too, and not anything theory-worthy, but who knows.

[siringadev]

Sacrifice

Another love story, so strong that I wanted to depict this unusual relationship. Toma and Chobei.

And again, this is an example of love between two brothers (I did not deliberately choose brothers, I just watched/read Hell's Paradise manga/anime on the advice of a friend and found the relationship between these two guys the most touching, and it just so happened that they are brothers... again)

Their love at first glance seems like ordinary brotherly love. But as the story progresses, it is revealed that the brothers are very dependent on each other, and Chobei will go so far as to sacrifice himself, his well-being and his humanity for the sake of his younger brother Toma, ensuring his safety, he even disfigures his face in front of bandits to keep Toma's beauty intact. And Toma deeply loves and admires Chobei, he listens to his every word, he does everything for him, because Chobei doesiseverything for Toma.

Several times, being on the verge of life and death, Chobei puts Toma's safety above all else. While wounded, he climbs out of a deep hole with terreble effort, carrying his weakened and wounded brother on his shoulders. He kills monsters, and he resists the spell of the mystical Island with only willpower. All for his brother. "I DO... ... HAVE SOMETHING TO LOSE. BEYOND THAT? DON'T CARE... ...WHAT I GOTTA LOSE. THAT'S ENOUGH. HE'S... ...ENOUGH FOR ME."

While the others were infected and turned into plants, Chobei mastered the power of monster-plants, and reached a godlike level. Because he could not lose Toma, and Toma could not lose him. This delighted the protagonist Gabimaru and even the Tensen. "WHAT SEPARATES CHOBE FROM THE OTHERS... IS THAT HE HAS SOMETHING TO LOSE. HE FIGHTS FOR SOMEONE BESIDES HIMSELF. THAT'S WHERE HE FINDS THE STRENGTH TO DEFY DEATH." - Gabimaru about Chobei and Toma.

When Chobei turned into a monster in battle and lost himself, he wounded Toma and almost killed him in madness, but his brother's voice called out to him: "SORRY... BROTHER... I'D HOPED TO FIGHT ALONGSIDE YOU...YET YOU'VE ALWAYS FOUGHT ALONE. BECAUSE, ALAS, I'M WEAK... UNRELIABLE...

SEE WHAT'S BECOME OF ME? SO COME BACK TO YOUR SENSES, BROTHER. BECAUSE, WHILE I AM A PART OF YOU... YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME." - Toma to Chobei. After that, Chobei regained himself and remembered everything.

Toma, in turn, casts aside his pride and asks to be an apprentice to a samurai from a rival side to learn swordsmanship so that he can fight for his brother, because he wants to protect him. As a sign of his determination, he cuts his long hair and braids it on the left side, mirroring Chobei's on the right.

The origin of Chobei's braid and his words "Break Down, Come Apart" are connected to Toma. In the beginning, when Toma was born, Chobei picked him up, and as a fragile and cute baby, Toma pulled Chobei's hair, and Chobei smile with tears, realizing that he wanted to protect this little creature. Since then, he wears his braid on the side where Toma pulled it. A symbol of his desire to protect Toma. A symbol of his love for him, his oath, his loyalty.

So later, Toma cuts his long hair (a symbol of his beauty and delicacy that Chobei so guarded) and braids his own hair as well, wanting to protect Chobei and save him from the Tensen's hands. It is also their sign of truth.

Their love for each other is absolute and goes beyond everything.

I find it interesting how the author explores humanity and love, it's limits, it's essence, it's manifestations, how Chobei, being selfish and aggressive bandit, who never cared about other people, who robbed, lied and killed, could be so strongly motivated by love for one single person - his younger brother. He even gives up his own humanity, he surrenders to the demonic gods Tensen, voluntarily subjecting himself to violence and cruel experiments, where he was cut into pieces - and all this time he thought about Toma: "He is my priority. Toma, wait for me." He also instantly feels Toma's closeness, although he does not see him. He feels his energy, there is an extraordinary connection between them.

[catholickedd]

if you need to be mean, be mean to me

(a hilson fic)

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a full-length fic!! feel free to criticize. i had so much fun writing this & i hope you enjoy it!

tags: @sillyhyperfixator @danexist @rapidlydecayingcorpse

chapter 1

“And the patient is still refusing to cooperate?” Dr. Gregory House asked, before shaking two Vicodin into his hand and downing them. It was too early to be dealing with this bullshit.

“Yes,” Dr. Cameron replied, her hands folded on the table. She looked exhausted. “He won’t agree to even the least invasive treatments or tests.”

“Then why does he even have a bed?”

“He collapsed in public and was brought here by ambulance. He’s tried to escape multiple times, but his condition is severe and we can’t let him leave in that state,” Dr. Chase explained.

“If he wants to die so badly, let him die, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know you love to ignore it, House, but there’s a little thing called the Hippocratic Oath that forbids us from things like that.”

House let out a loud and obnoxious sigh that dragged on for an almost awkward amount of time. He had to do everything himself around here.

“Let me deal with it,” he said exasperatedly, and walked out without elaborating.

The fellows exchanged a look. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Foreman muttered.

“Nothing we can do now except sit back and watch the show,” Chase replied, putting his hands behind his head and resting his feet on the table.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” said Cameron.

–

Wilson had been busy, but he’d forgotten what he was working on as soon as he heard House limping into the lobby. “Uh-oh,” he said with a small smile, putting down the papers he was sifting through and dropping into the easy rhythm he and House had, walking side by side. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look? I don’t have a look,” House said defensively.

“You have all sorts of looks.”

“Then what’s this one? Allegedly?” The last word was said with a sarcastic emphasis and a turn toward Wilson.

“The look when you’ve done something that’s going to get you in trouble and you want to tell me about it.”

“Well, you’re wrong. I haven’t committed one act of medical malpractice today.”

“I think just you being in the building is considered malpractice at this point.”

“That’s what they pay the lawyers for.”

“They must pay them pretty damn well.”

“Not enough, from what Stacy used to tell me.”

Wilson was about to make another witty remark when Cuddy’s voice cut through the hall and stopped the two doctors in their tracks. “HOUSE.”

“Uh-oh,” House said, raising his eyebrows performatively. “Somebody’s in trouble.”

Wilson rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You anesthetized a patient without their knowledge or consent, and then performed a series of tests the patient explicitly refused to have done?”

Wilson smiled to himself.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. Who’s to say?”

“God, you are insufferable! Do you realize the consequences we could face for this?”

“Oh, don’t act like this is anywhere near the first time I’ve done something like this,” House said with a roll of his eyes, turning to continue his walk with Wilson. “It’ll all work out in the end. Trust me.”

“The patient’s mother is a member of the hospital Board.”

House froze. “She’s what?”

“She wouldn’t let you know because she didn’t want that to influence your treatment of the patient. Look where that got us. They’re holding a meeting this afternoon. Good luck getting past this one without a court summons.” Cuddy turned on her heel and walked angrily back into her office.

Wilson and House shared a look, House’s expression expectant. Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’ll cover your ass again.”

House gave Wilson a wry smile. “Thanks, Jimmy,” he said in a half-sarcastic tone, and walked away.

Wilson watched him go for longer than he should have, then shook his head and got back to work.

–

The next time House saw Wilson, he was bursting through the doors of his office as House sat with his feet up on his desk. The sun was dipping down into the New Jersey horizon, and Wilson was dressed to leave in a black trench coat which swished behind him as he entered the room. His face was flushed, and he was clearly distressed.

“They’re reviewing both our jobs, House.”

House stood up, hands on the desk to balance him. “They can’t fire me,” he said, a hint of a hint of a waver in his voice. “I’m the best doctor in New Jersey. ”

“They’re spending too much on lawyers to keep you out of malpractice suits. They needed a unanimous vote to fire you, and I vouched for you because of course, because that’s what I do, and now they’re thinking about firing me along with you, and House, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I stick my neck out for you again and again, and for what? All you do is take and take and you never give anything back, and-”

“Why?”

“Why what? I-”

“Why would you do that, in the first place? You never had to do everything you did for me, but you did, you just kept doing it.”

“Because I’m a good person, House! Maybe you don’t understand that, but-”

“No. Even good people burn out after a while of giving to dickheads like me. There’s something else. There’s something you want.”

“All I wanted was to be kind! Maybe if I gave you what you wanted, maybe you wouldn’t be so miserable for once-”

“Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Everything stopped. Wilson seemed to realize what words had just come out of his mouth and sat down on the couch, head in his hands.

“And I thought maybe…someday, you’d look at me that way, and I just kept waiting, hoping you would say something, but you never did.”

Silence. House’s head was cocked, looking at Wilson. When the silence became too much to bear, Wilson took his hands off his face and stood up.

“Well? Say something! Say anything, Greg!” He tried to hide the tears that were rolling down his face.

House looked away.

“Fine,” Wilson hissed through his teeth. “Goodbye.” And he slammed the glass door behind him as he left.

Wilson hadn’t noticed in the dim evening light, but House was crying too.

–

Wilson was drunk. Drunker than he had been in recent memory. He was lying on the couch with one arm and one leg draped over the back, open whiskey bottle in the hand that hung toward the floor. His apartment was dirty, he was wearing heather-gray sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and he felt like dying. He was listening to the Tallahassee album by The Mountain Goats through the headphones connected to his iPod, and for this reason he didn’t hear the knocking on the door the first few times it happened, and ignored it the next couple of times. When it became clear the knocker wasn’t going to leave, Wilson got up to open the door, hoping it wasn’t House and praying that it was.

Unfortunately, his prayers were answered. He was standing there, in the same clothes Wilson had last seen him in, leaning against the doorframe, head turned to the side. “Thought you’d never open the door,” he said, playing with his cane.

Wilson began to close the door.

“No, no, no, no, waitwaitwait-'' The door closed on House’s cane, which he had stuck in the gap. Annoyed, Wilson reopened the door. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Jim…you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Wilson dug his nails into his palm. He’d probably fallen asleep on the couch and that’s where he was right now, dreaming this. Because it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be this perfect.

House took a deep breath.

“AndIneversaidanythingbecauseyouweremarriedandthenyouwerealwaysflirtingwithwomenandweweresupposedtojustbefriends, Ithoughtthatwas justhowpeoplefeltabouttheirfriendsbutIknewitwasn’t,andIlovedotherwomenbuttheyweren’tyoubecauseyouweredifferent, Wilson, you were everything, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, and-“

Suddenly Wilson was grabbing House’s tie and pulling him until their faces were only inches apart and they could hear each other’s soft breathing as their eyes met and locked.

God, the alcohol had made him bold. But how long had he waited to have House’s lips against his? How long had he waited for what he hoped was about to happen? He moved one hand to the back of House’s neck.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Wilson whispered, and pulled him in for a hard kiss.

————

The morning came far too soon, as it always seemed to. Wilson was incredibly hungover and had one of the worst headaches of his life.

But he forgot it all the moment he realized he had one hand pressed against Gregory House’s bare chest, his head resting near his shoulder, and his other hand loosely placed against his back. He felt the other man’s soft breathing, his chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm. He had a peacefulness that he had never seen in the waking House, and therefore Wilson lay back and appreciated it, appreciated that there was nowhere in the entire world he’d rather be than right here, House’s breath soft on his ear, chest hair rough against his palm.

“This is it,” he thought. “This is what I’ve been waiting for all this time.”

He lay and watched the sleeping man for a bit longer.

Wilson’s breathing patterns changing must have stirred House, because his blue eyes opened before too long. Realizing where he was (and who he was with,) he smiled and pressed a light kiss to Wilson’s neck and then to his mouth.

“You have terrible morning breath,” Wilson said.

“Good morning to you too,” replied House.

Wilson smiled. “Do you want coffee?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’ll make some.”

“Black, no sug-“

“I know how you take your coffee, House,” Wilson said with a smile and pulled on a t-shirt.

House watched him leave the room and lay his head back against the pillow.

Sometimes the world was good.

————

[audreyscribes]

Hii i love your writing <33 could you do headcanons for a child of zeus? l always wondered what it would be like for a child of zeus to be in camp half blood. Maybe they went to the same school as percy and grover brought them back too? How would her getting claimed by zeus change the situation between gods in the first book and stuff(lightning theif) specially since the prophecy said 1 of the kids of the big three wpuld overthrow the gods when they turned 16. Would hera be mad at them and send mosters after them since they're a byproduct of zeuses infidelity ? Thanks in advance ♡

If you’re just talking about being a child of Zeus, I have the headcanons already written in the Major Demigods H/C’s. I already have my own thoughts written about it there. 

Though, you’re talking about stuff as if the daughter of Zeus being in the main storyline. Well dear anon, let me first warn you that this is not going to be as cool and as great as it you might think it will lead to be. There’s a reason only why Thalia is there and being a child of Zeus is already a set-up for having a hard life. Not necessary a happy story with a good ending either. That just makes it worse. [Disclaimer: massive text wall below]

First addressing the daughter of Zeus being a daughter of Zeus. Hera is already historically going to do something and take out her anger at Zeus’s infidelity again at the daughter of Zeus and her mother.

What’s worse is that this daughter of Zeus would be the second or worse third time Zeus has broken the Oath the Big Three swore after WW2; since depending when, the daughter would be born right after Thalia or around the same time as Jason. 

So not just Hera, there’s going to be other gods after her. We already knew Hades will be evoking his wrath at the daughter of Zeus, because he did it to Thalia. Her existence would stoke Hades’ anger even more because what Zeus did to Nico and Bianca’s mother, so for him to break the Oath again? Not looking too well on her prospects. And following Zeus, it’ll be Poseidon because up until Percy, he hasn’t have any demigods since the Oath; he’s the only god out of the Three to not have any children since WW2 started or had any before the Oath (like Hades). So for Zeus to break his oath twice/thrice? The gall of him being King and not upholding his own oath, law, and honour? That’s absolutely not fair. Oh it’s all hands on deck. (Side tangent: Poseidon has a whole lot of restraint for a sea god. He kept his word and it really paints the picture that Poseidon broke his own oath because of Zeus breaking the oath (twice if you include Jason as well), and Hades having his own children still alive really leaves him left out of fatherhood). If the daughter of Zeus hasn’t died or majorly cursed after all those THREE gods, and more gods along the way, and there are also monsters, SOMEHOW, and I’m assuming they do for the sake of your ask, I’m going to assume that this daughter of Zeus is either a year younger or the same age as Percy. Then there’s when her birthday is, is it going to be one month or a few months before Percy’s birthday or after that? It’s going to be tight and absolutely nerve-wracking because of the prophecy. The daughter of Zeus would not be naive to the world of the gods and monsters after what I said earlier. There’s also how she would survive that long being in Nancy Academy with Percy for that long, even if she is a new transfer student. Cause two children of the Big Three surviving in the same vicinity? Percy only survived that long because of Sally’s endurement and love to be with Gabe to mask his demigod scent, him being ignorant as a demigod,  Grover and Chiron doing their absolute damnest to keep him alive and yet they still didn’t know Mrs. Dodds was one of the furies among them. 

So that doesn’t paint a good picture for the daughter of Zeus. Even if it was the same scenario like Percy, she already be exposed to the world of the gods, so her demigod scent would be activated. To be hidden, would mean interference from a god like Zeus, and that’s not fair. 

The Lightning Thief plot wise, it doesn’t paint well either. Zeus’ thunderbolt is missing so it would be natural for the Daughter of Zeus to target whoever searching for who stole her father’s weapon…meaning she would have to fight Percy in accusation; thus splitting the camp in half much more earlier; between those who support Zeus and those who support Poseidon. There’s also to consider the Hades's Helm of Darkness also missing at the same time, which is also another thing. 

It would be super easy for Luke and Kronos to convince, trick, and manipulate the daughter of Zeus. Not just in the Lightning Thief but for the entirety of the books. That’s where it gets sad/unpleasant. Percy has always been meant to be the child of the Prophecy, and the one to turn the tides. He has the necessary perspective and personality, his journey as a hero adding to his nature and the people he has met along the way, both good and bad. Those experiences making up Percy for the prophecy to come to fruition is the key. Anyone else would have succumbed and led to the downfall of Olympus and the gods. If the daughter of Zeus’ birthday is a few months after Percy’s, then it's a matter of holding out till then, and everything is fine. It’ll be a tug of war over who is the child of the Prophecy that’ll make great tension in the books.

If her birthday is before his, well…not so good. She’ll be at peril by the gods to smite her so the prophecy doesn’t come true, like they tried with Percy and Nico. She could have been or is on Kronos’ side. If not that, then she’ll either be in a state to be suspended in time like Thalia joining Artemis’ huntresses or being cursed into one in an untimely way (i.e. being frozen as a statue), or meet an untimely demise (like Bianca).

[ask-the-critters-survival-au]

Static breaks out from the Monitor's speakers...

"Ah, I am sorry young one. There is a delay in these messages. I would have tried to time it better if I could have. And to you, loving one, I am sorry as well... but please give me a moment. There is another child that requires my voice. I will however try to let you listen in on what I can, rest assured of that."

Static spikes as magic twists and pulls. An attempt is made to allow Picky's voice to pass through the medium's speakers- but if failure on that front occurs... Then only the voice from the monitor shall be heard.

"Child- I cannot reassure you- cannot give you proof. If you were to even dare to say to Catnap that Dogday is trapped within the Playhouse... He will do far worse to you then he did Kickin. He is not ready to be saved yet. He will not listen to reason yet. The prototype still enthralls his mind. I wish not to make a deal with you either- To ask to see Dogday's whereabout would cost you your eyes child- if not more. That is not something I wish to take from you."

"I promise you this- I will do all in my limited power to save him. That is my oath to you children. That is what I hope my fellows swear as well. To keep all 8 of you destined children breathing, you 8 stars who now find yourself upon a stage after 10 years of plans and schemes and tragedy begin to finalize as the first act of this story's finale arrives. You who's very fate lays connected- where one death may lead to loss of you all." "I swear to you that even if the worst is to come and Ᏽዐ𐌃'𐌔 𐌂ⶴꝊነ𐌄ክ truly does descend these hallowed halls, I will do my best to arm you against their divine march. That is how far I, and I hope my fellows are willing to aid you- for however much that means to you child. Please. For all of your sakes. Stop this purist of your fellow star. I beg and grovel to you. Please."

Static shifts and churns once more as once Picky's response may or may not be sent through old speakers- the connection is changed so that only Bobby and Hoppy may hear these next words.

"You have questions Bobby... You must. I hope you heard all of what I spoke of earlier... and Hoppy I hope can tell you of everything that has happened leading up to this as well as the rules of the magic that allows all of this to occur. I ask this of you Hoppy, no secrets. Please."

"Ask away your questions once your friend fills you in Bobby. Me and my fellows will do out best to answer as best as we can- but there are delays and the warping of time with these messages. Apologies if your responses are not post haste."

"Talk with you both soon... be safe."

(Let's be honest here. The Player's objectively horrifying if you take game mechanics into account- and even without them their luck is just- What do you do against that? Let's hope God's Chosen doesn't show up gang- Cause that would be really bad. Hope just hinting at the Player is okay with you mod! Have a great day!)

I don’t believe you. DogDay turned tail and fled. Left us. Like a COWARD. I am going to find that rabbit. And I am going to rip her limb from limb. And once I am finished, DogDay is next.

Meanwhile…

Thank you so much. You are far too kind.

(They did not hear either the voice from the monitor or Picky speaking)

[Mod note: Still indecisive about the player, but thank you for that anyways! Have a great day as well.]