#the path of broken oaths

[moomuzan]

THEIR LOVE FOR YOU WAS LIKE…

𐙚 the bsd cast x you x taylor swift lyrics :: just a drabble

They’d keep you hidden, locked away behind the walls they’ve built, a secret they fear even whispering aloud. You, though—your love is eternal, like an oath carved into stone, unshaken by time or distance. They’d watch you from afar, aching to reach for you, but too broken or too bound by circumstance to hold you close. The tragedy lies in their silence and your devotion, two stars orbiting the same galaxy but never touching. This is the kind of love that is both immortal and unbearable, like a song that plays in the background of your life but never reaches its crescendo.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩. ━━━ DAZAI OSAMU, FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY, ODA SAKUNOSUKE, TACHIHARA MICHIZO, SHIBUSAWA TATSUHIKO

They’d hold your hand as if the world might crumble without your touch. Their laughter would ripple like sunlight on water, igniting a joy in you so profound it feels almost holy. With every shared smile, every whispered word, you’d begin to understand the madness of poets and the battles fought for love. They would make you believe that the universe conspired to bring you together, that every fleeting second was leading to this luminous moment. Together, you’d rewrite the meaning of happiness, building a sanctuary in each other’s hearts. Love would no longer be a mystery but a truth you both hold, not in words but in the way they look at you.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. ━━━ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, KENJI MIYAZAWA, SIGMA, JOUNO SAIGIKU, RANPO EDOGAWA

They’d crave your heartbeat, your soul, in this consuming fire that neither of you could control. Love with them is like a storm—unpredictable, raw, and terrifyingly beautiful. You’d fight the world together, not because it’s easy, but because they’d convince you that nothing worth having ever is. Their devotion is loud, messy, and wild, but it burns so brightly that it consumes every shadow in its path. They’d pull you close, teeth gritted, saying, “I’d destroy the world for you,” and you’d believe them because their love is both a weapon and a shield. They love recklessly, unapologetically, and in their arms, you’d feel both invincible and vulnerable, as if you’ve been seen for the first time.

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 / 𝘐𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘪𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ━━━ CHUUYA NAKAHARA, RYUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA, NIKOLAI GOGOL

Their love is the quiet hum of existence, the unspoken promise of “I will be here.” You’d find peace in their arms, a stillness that feels like coming home after years of searching. Their heartbeat would anchor you, a rhythm that reminds you there’s beauty in simplicity, in the silent moments shared between two souls. They’d touch your hand, not to claim you, but to remind you that you are theirs in a way that requires no words. With them, you’d feel timeless, as though the world could end, and yet, in their presence, you’d remain whole. They wouldn’t just love you; they’d be love, a constant, steady force like the tides that shape the shore. This is the kind of love that doesn’t need fireworks to leave an eternal mark—it is profound in its quietness.

𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰? / 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳? ━━━ KUNIKIDA DOPPO, TANIZAKI JUNICHIROU, FUKUZAWA YUKICHI, TECCHOU SUEHIRO

did i…just post fluff?? (barely) the four horsemen of the apocalypse are these taylor prompts

join my taglist @amvpk01 @sophistication-as @ezzyrainrunaway @howls-fallen--stars @plutouran @marsaiki @lovingyouat4am @xumyuii @cultluvin @cryptidfuckerofficial @dazaistn

[22ayla21]

Hello there! Hope you're doing well

He's been barely gone for one patch but im pulling a phainon and already missing my man Mydei, so I'd like to make a request for him! I literally can't get the thought of him being an older brother so I'd like to see anything Big brother Mydei related! I feel like he would be very protective if he had a child sister/brother, he'd probably be the softest towards them even if they were a little troublemaker no one can change my mind lol. Take your time!

A Blood Oath and Ashes

Torn apart by fate, they did not forget each other, and this memory made them stronger on their path to reunion.

In the dusty lore of Kremnos, weakness, especially in men, was rarely spoken of. Here, they were hardened from infancy. Here, tears meant readiness for death. Here, they forged not just warriors – they created weapons worthy of gods. But even in this harsh world, children were born whose dreams were of light, not blood.

Mydei and his younger sister came into the world in a family where darkness stood at the threshold, but their mother's heart radiated light.

Gorgo, a proud and mighty warrior, one of the strongest women of their people, dared to defy Evrepion – the ruler, her husband, a monster. He was the father of their children. And the one who cursed them.

Mydei would forever remember his mother's gentle gaze, as if she foresaw his great future. But even more vividly etched in his memory was how she held his younger sister close to her chest, wrapping her in a thin, wormwood-scented blanket, as if saying goodbye forever.

Their childhood ended on that fateful day. Evrepion... their father... threw Mydei into the River of Souls. Like a defective object, like unwanted garbage. And all because of a prophecy. If not for Gorgo's will, Midei would have long since become a forgotten echo.

But in that final battle, she didn't manage to save her son. So she saved her daughter. She snatched her from captivity, from a future worse than death, buying time for the girl to disappear.

Mydei survived. He crawled out of the River, wounded and broken, and began his journey.

Years passed. He grew older, growing up in solitude. Without his sister, without his mother, without warmth. Only memory, hatred, and duty. He became what he was meant to be: a weapon, cold and merciless. But beneath the steel armor of his soul, hope still smoldered: she was alive. She had to be alive.

And she was alive.

He found her when he had already stopped believing in fate. She stood in the arena, in armor that seemed inherited from their mother. Her movements were swift, and her gaze was like a mirror. In that gaze, he recognized himself. He recognized Gorgo.

She recognized him first. Not by scars, not by armor, not by the banner under which he now fought. She recognized him with her heart. And she rushed to him without fear, without tears – only with a cry:

"Brother!"

The world stood still.

Since then, they had not parted.

It wasn't easy for Mydei. He had forgotten how to be gentle. He had forgotten what care was. But by her side... everything changed. He learned anew – how to place his hand on her shoulder, not on a spear. How to cover her back – not because she was weaker, but because he had sworn she would never be alone again.

She was not defenseless. Like their mother, she could be a storm. But in his eyes, she was still that little girl who once clung to Gorgo, feeling warmth and safety.

He was strict with everyone. But never with her.

She could smash training armor, climb the fortress wall, pour water on the hated advisor in the middle of a meeting – and he looked at her like no one else. Holding back laughter, hiding warmth behind his usual sternness. But his gestures said everything:

"You are my meaning. My only remaining piece of the past. My future, for which I survived."

When she was injured during another training session, he himself washed her wounds in silence. And at night, thinking she was asleep, he would sit beside her and stroke her hair. Just like their mother used to do.

He didn't allow anyone to get too close to her – neither allies nor enemies. He respected her choices. But he never forgot: if anyone dared to raise a hand against her – he would destroy the whole world without hesitation.

One night, sitting by the fire, she asked:

"Do you think Mother would be proud of us?"

He was silent for a long time. Then he replied:

"She would say you have surpassed her."

The girl laughed, burying her face in his shoulder.

And he, for the first time in many years, allowed himself to hug her the way they did back in childhood, when they didn't yet know pain.

He swore to protect her. Always. And, if necessary, to burn the sky just so she would live.

[11queensupreme11]

OKAY I GOT MORE STUFF ABOUT THE KIDS!!!

these are ENTIRELY about beelcy babies btw! some are just domains and some are personality and/or domains!

luke's domains (i had A LOT of fun with these lmao): god of betrayal, thievery, chaos, hatred, broken oaths, and destruction.

do these domains.... remind you of a certain someone????? 😜

nephazor's domains: god of corruption, moral decay, sins and vices, sacrilege, and deception

DO NOT TRUST THIS BITCH. HE IS A FUGLY SLUT.

he is the most beautiful beelcy baby with the most angelic appearance ever. dude LITERALLY looks like an angel; he's got the pure white wings, golden halo, and everything!

but like his domains imply, appearances are deceiving! he is pure evil! (but then again, which beelcy baby isn't 💀). he thrives off of corrupting the innocent. everyone has desires that they keep at bay; like maybe they want to really steal that rare pearl necklace, or maybe they want to kiss that really cute girl, or maybe they hate that one teacher SO MUCH.... but ofc, they never act out on it! cuz they have morals. stealing's bad, kissing someone without their consent is bad, murder is bad. but he makes people the worst versions of themselves by turning them into thieves, rapists, killers, etc. etc.

and he LOVES it. it's his entertainment. he especially loves taking things slow without using his powers by "befriending" a human or an unsuspecting god (or becoming their lover by seducing them). putting on some false charm, makes them lower their guard. he's the perfect friend or the perfect lover. when things go bad for the victim, he'll help them by guiding them to the "right" path ("your friend was in the wrong, you were right to lash out" "you need the money, don't you? just take it from her, i'll help" "he's drunk, he won't remember if you sneak in a little kiss or two", etc), and slowly but surely bringing them to the very end where they do the one act that they can never come back from. fun, right? 💖

anyway, he's another incest freak LMAO. he loves his precious little mother 💖💖💖 his mother's just soooo innocent and sweet. it's cute really. he can't decide if he wants to ruin it or savor it 💖💖 and his sweet mother's just so fun for him to tease! it's especially funny whenever he tries to endear to her and she sees right through it, calls him out, but still continues to love him.

and she's just full of SO many dark desires. he can feel it. her anger, desperation, and pain. it's so delicious, especially when she lashes out at him when she senses him trying to bring those parts of her out and then apologizes profusely for yelling at him 💖💖💖💖

azerathiel's domains: goddess of propagation, childbirth, and motherhood. known as the "mother of monsters".

as you can tell from the domains, she's a mother, AND THEREFORE PERCY'S NOW A GRANDMAAAAAA LMAO 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

anyway, i got the idea from her pic. she's looking like she's hatching from a weird... flesh egg thing, so i got this idea of her asexually reproducing tons of evil little monsters from her body and laying them amongst her weird fleshy parts/appendages where they stay until they hatch.

so yup, percy and beelzebub now got THOUSANDS of evil lil grandbabies 🥺

anyway, she's a very family oriented goddess (duh). she's very protective and doting to her children and azerathiel's the third-born beelcy baby so she's protective over her younger siblings too 💖

but that's IT lmao. that tender side of her is reserved ONLY for her family and family only. she is ruthless to those she considers outsiders and if one were to kill one of her children -- her younger babies are weak enough for particularly strong humans in hell to kill them -- she would lose her mind from grief and destroy said killer. she'd be genuinely distraught to 💔 because humans HAVE killed one of her newborn babies, she absolutely HATES humanity.

(demons and other gods in helheim know better than to touch azerathiel's children, but humans who get hunted down by them, kill out of self-defense, not that she cares lol)

also now that i think about it, she might be the least evil out of the beelcy kids.... literally she's just out there trying to raise her babies 😭

tzammaroth's domains: god of domination, conquest (just like his gruncle adamas!), control, war, and oppression

honestly, the domains were inspired by the meaning of his name which is apparently "crowned in the blood of kings"

extremely arrogant, hedonistic, selfish, egocentric, possessive, and downright cruel and controlling. he radiates with the aura of a leader, but he is NOT the sort of leader you'd want to have. if one were to imagine dictators, mad kings, and tyrants, tzammaroth's the first face to appear!

his presence in midgard causes countries to fall to ruin and once benevolent leaders to spiral down to tyranny.

he acts like he's the first born when he's actually the 9th born. he bosses his siblings around (even the ones older than him lol). he's the god of domination after all, he's gotta assert his authority over them! just cuz they're his family doesn't mean he can't treat them like they're his subjects!

the only people he doesn't dare to control are his father and his mother. he did, however, try to use his powers to control his father, but um... that did not end well 💀 LMAO. and as for his mother, he actually cares for her so he doesn't use his powers on her. hell, he doesn't even try to boss her around 💖

he is also an incest freak. he's the god of domination meaning he wants to dom his mommy in bed

UM ANYWAY--

rozaltha's domains: obsession, love, and marriage 💖💖💖💖💖

barekith's domains: god of voracity (yes... i got the title from hsr too)

sadly, i don't have much of a personality for him yet 😭 i got 2 different versions so i haven't decided which one i wanna pick for him 💔

vorvexion's domains: god of lies, strategy, manipulation, and knowledge

this is the one named after anthonius btw! no personality for him yet sorry..... 💔

ursula's domains: god of the sea and the drowned

no personality for him yet but that's his monster form up there lol. i'm sure you understand now why percy named him "ursula" 😂

ygatha's domains: goddess of pain, torture, suffering, and the forsaken

SHE IS AN INCEST FREAK FOR HER MOTHER LMAOOOOO

okay, first off, she is a sadist AND a masochist. as you can tell from her domains, she thrives off of pain and suffering, either from herself or from others (but mostly from others teehee 💖)

now where does her mommy come in?

well.... take a look at her domains.... pain, torture, suffering, and the forsaken......... very very percy coded 💔

ygatha can sense how much pain her mother's in. percy was stolen from her original universe, all her loved ones are gone and dead, she's been raped by her own husbands and forcefully married to them, she was forced to have thousands of children, etc. etc. OF FUCKING COURSE percy would be suffering!!!!!!!

and ygatha can feel her agony and torment, and it's absolutely addicting to her. her mother's suffering is so delicious to her, she gets turned on just from the thought of it, literally fingers herself in dark corners of the castle cuz it just arouses her sooooo much 😋

she daydreams about telling her mother all about her naughty thoughts. would her mother hit her? beat her? fuck her as a punishment? those scenarios excite her. or would she break down into tears of disgust, her pain worsening at the thought of her own daughter deriving pleasure from her torment??? that's another scenario that excited her too! 💖💖💖💖💖

sharzumel's domains: god of spiders, souls, and death

(i picked spiders because his name means "the web-spinning trickster" lol)

you know how gods have sacred animals? instead of a sacred animal, he has a sacred insect: the spider (cuz duh!)

anyway, that's all i have for him 💔 no personality yet. i do plan on finding a cool spider monster form for him tho. also, i specifically wanted a spider related god cuz imagine poor percy giving birth to a child who's basically anthonius' greatest fear 💔💔💔💔

(beelzebub was definitely partying in his head tho)

yoriel's domains: god of insanity, mentality, and psyche

these were inspired by the meaning of his name "god's unravelling". it kinda gave me a "fall from grace" "descent to madness" sorta vibe!

his appearance is like a twisted version of nephazor's! while nephazor has white wings and a golden halo, yoriel has black feathered wings and a dark halo covered in thorns; and both the wings and halo are always dripping with red mortal blood!

his presence drives people from gods to mortals to the brink of insanity, but he prefers to mentally break people by himself without going the insta-crazy route lol. like nephazor, he's a patient boy who likes to take his time with things 💖 there's no rush after all, he's VERY good at making people lose their minds

he loves frequenting up in midgard. his favorite hobby to do is to pose as a midgardian therapist/psychologist/psychiatrist (he has many jobs related to mental health) and then slowly making clients worse 😭

percy is so sick of his ass 💀 every time she finds out yoriel's there, she marches right up to midgard, goes straight to one of his MANY offices and the secretary's like "sir, your little sister is here to see you" AHSFEHBV 😭😭😭😭 and he's just thinking "aw shit it's my mother again 😨"

anyway, he's another incest freak for his mother 💀

zebuloth's domains: god of insects, infestation, fear and terror, and plagues.

HAVE YOU GUYS PLAYED THE GAME "STILL WAKES THE DEEP"?!?!?! okay zebuloth was SLIGHTLY inspired by the monster in there. sorta. lowkey. just a bit. anyway, in the game, there's this crazy sea monster that attacks and infected the humans on this oil rig, and the humans go crazy and start attacking/infecting other humans. they're kinda like zombies, but less mindless -- they CAN speak somewhat.

anyway, zebuloth can mpreg himself with lil baby zebuloths (hence, "god of infestation"). more grandbabies for beelie and percy 💖

and those babies can go on to infect humans, nymphs, fae, satyrs, lesser gods and demons, basically ANY SPECIES, and take over them kinda like a parasite. the worst part is that the host is still somewhat conscious -- they can't control their bodies, but they can somewhat speak and still see the horrible shit their bodies are being forced to do (kill their loved ones, eat their loved ones, etc.)

yeah zebuloth's basically like those monsters in horror games 😭

zarabeth's domains: goddess of famine (might add more idk)

her domains were inspired by her name meaning "the barren harvest"

i don't have a personality for her yet, but i can explain her appearance at least. she has multiple "heads", but instead of like... an actual head with a nose, lips, and eyes, it's those red mouths you see in the picture. yes, MOUTHS. she has mouths for heads lol.

[skyeventide]

does the Oath of Feanor work as a magical compulsion, or does it have magical properties, and are its consequences real?

yes, because the magic of Arda is also based on words of power, and it would be dissatisfying and limiting to assume that somehow that power doesn't work in this specific instance. no, because even if Feanor is the one speaking, not even his power could bend the fate of elves to that extent. yes, because the fate of any one people can be bent, delayed, or weirdly modified until an oath is fulfilled; in LOTR, the ghosts of the path of the dead prove it. no, because Manwe and Varda would not feel bound to enforce an oath of death with them as witnesses, and it goes against the rules of oathing. yes, because the enforcer is Eru, they just stand as witnesses and do not have the power to release the swearers as Eru would. no, because we don't even know if Eru accepted that oath. yes, because if the oath was invalid from the start, it would be beyond callous of Manwe and Varda not to inform the swearers and allow the consequences of the oath to happen. no, because a magical compulsion would remove or to an extent at least lessen responsibility of actions taken in its pursuit. yes, because the author of the story acknowledges a certain "will" of the oath by making it wake or sleep with active verbs. no, because even swearing without additional magic on top can feel like a compulsion to do things or to keep going that otherwise would not exist or not be felt by a given swearer. yes, because no matter what the everlasting darkness is or does, it can be real independently from any other prior compulsion to act; in other words, there may not be a magical property to the oath, but its called consequences for the swearers are very real. no, because there's several slightly different versions of the oath across the texts, and it's impossible to do a literal, word for word reading of its lines if it's possible to recite it slightly differently at a given time. yes, because the only valid version is the original pronounced by Feanor in Tirion, you can't wiggle out of that one. no, because who's to say that was recorded correctly, it's far too poetic for a sudden decision. yes, because who's to say that Feanor couldn't whip out all that via improvisation, I bet he could. yes, because other characters beyond the sons of Feanor treat the oath as something absolutely serious and real, and that includes Finrod in speaking to Andreth, when he says that Eru's name is not called upon even in jest, as well as Melian, when pointing out the strong forces awakened by involving that power. no, because neither of them can talk to Eru anyway. yes, because it's narratively more satisfying to imagine characters morally struggle against something that is eventually unbreakable and unavoidable like in any good tragedy. no, because it's narratively more satisfying to imagine characters do it to themselves and compromise with who they are out of family loyalty. yes, because the curse of Mandos actively turns it against the swearers into a betraying force, a consequence that wouldn't otherwise be a given, that is, nothing says that everything they start well would have finished badly and that the oath would have led them to defeat, and if it weren't magical before Mandos' addition, it is now. no, because Amrod's death in a draft would prove it breakable through his (admittedly only guessed) desire to turn back. yes, because he still died in the process, aka the everlasting darkness claimed him for being an oathbreaker. no, because how is it possible that it's simultaneously unbreakable and broken. yes, because the fate of arda and that of elves is inscribed within the eternal paradox of everything being predicted and everything being free will, and that will never be solved, neither regarding the fate of the elves nor the oath of Feanor. no, because the oath is a narrative device. yes, because the oath is a narrative device. three hundred more lines.

hope this helps. hope it doesn't. your pick.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:)

Ego Season: You make your secret fuck buddy jealous. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/708731384595988480/ego-season-m-jjk

Addicted: Your boyfie Jungkook fucking you silly. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/682098029477707776/addicted-m-jjk

Oops: A quickie in the airport restroom was all it was supposed to be - not suddenly the whole world finding out about your secret relationship with Jungkook. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/659804906504536064/oops-m-jjk

Naughty Pictures: Perhaps you've gone a little too far with teasing Jungkook with naughty pictures of yourself after he was done with the concert. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/654912366027423744/naughty-pictures-m-jjk

Lucky One: You're horny, but lucky you, you have Jungkook waiting for you in bed. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/647850264703991808/lucky-one-m-jjk

Lovestruck: Jungkook wants you and who were you to deny him? Of course you'd let him fuck you. https://www.tumblr.com/sparklingchim/644493411602268160/lovestruck-m-jjk

The Lionheart's Oath: There was no happy ending, no dragon slayer to save the kingdom and get the princess - there was only him: Jungkook. A simple orphan that was lucky enough to be invited into the castle, a former homeless thief that had found shelter in the form of an elysian heir Now, after twelve years by your side, he was about to lose you to the world you sought to explore. https://sugaxjpg.tumblr.com/post/173831093184/the-lionhearts-oath-m

Starboy: Jeon Jungkook was, above anything else, the type you should not get involved with. He was the guy who slept around; the guy who was gone before you woke up; who left a path of broken hearts and missed calls wherever he went. He was right in just about every wrong way. That being said, maybe the bet you made with your friend could be the best thing that happened to you in a long time, and even enough to break the chain of misfortune that circled your party nights — after all, it was all just a simple, four-part plan to make Jungkook beg for you. What could possibly go wrong? https://sugaxjpg.tumblr.com/post/174470511744/starboy-m

Covert Affairs: The five times you cross paths with legendary spy Jeon Jungkook. https://minisugakoobies.tumblr.com/post/688531919793684480/covert-affairs-jjk

Hiraeth: We are always yearning for someone, even if that person may not exist in this tangible realm.  https://thedefinitionofbts.tumblr.com/post/169281704758/hiraeth-m

[stylesispunk]

"The not so invisible string"

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

masterlist | next chapter

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 5k>>

warnings: angst, implications of cheating (emotional). Probably some grammar mistakes because I write things fast.

a/n: New fic alert! Hello, I got this idea and I wanted to write it, so this is going to be a series depending on how this part performs. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When you’re young, you’re naïve

When you’re young, you know everything

But when you’re young, they assume you know nothing,

That’s why two people falling in love at the age of seventeen doesn’t seem interesting. People will assume a love like that, at that age is just a phase with a tragic ending. Tears, broken hearts, and the promises of never falling in love again.

But this one was different. You and Joel were different, two souls that had met at the age of five, growing up together as best friends, until one fell and then the other. One shared a kiss, and the best friends turned into lovers. 

Isn’t that typical?

It was. Both of you knew, but still, you didn’t listen. Both of you become one soul, destined to be together since you were two kids playing hide and seek together. 

Joel and you traveled the twisting roads of adolescence hand in hand as the years passed. Your shared love was a tapestry woven from the thread of shared dreams and whispered secrets. 

Everything around you changed as well. From the carefree days of children to the turbulent storms of adolescence, your friendship has survived it all. Some tears fell like soft rain, washing away the doubts that crept into our hearts, and there were times of joy that resonated through the halls of your shared history.

Yet, with every rock on the road, you found the strength to rise again, your hands tightly intertwined. Joel became your confidant, the keeper of your fears, and the little light of hope during the darkest nights.

When you both turned seventeen, the very age at which outsiders claimed to be the year of mistakes and growing, one kiss changed everything. The connection between you both only deepened. And when the world might have seen you as naïve, you understood the profound love of your bond. It wasn’t a youthful infatuation; it was a love story written in the stars long before you were aware of its existence. 

People whispered their doubts, predicting heartbreak and the inevitable end of your love story. Yet, in the quiet moments when it was just Joel and you against the world, you knew that your love was timeless. The promises made weren't born out of youthful exuberance; they were the solemn vows of two souls who had found their way to each other, over and over again, since the age of five.

Not even when you left Austin to go to college, the odds against you weren’t able to separate you. The odds seemed stacked against you, with skeptics murmuring that the challenges of a long-distance relationship would surely spell the end of your story. But you defied those expectations.

Letters and late-night calls became your lifelines, bridging the physical gap between you. Each word written and every shared moment over the phone felt like a testament to the enduring strength of your love. You didn’t let the rust grow between you, neither did he. 

He was there the day you graduated, being the first face, you found across the room smiling back at you with proudness. Through that look and grin, there was an oath behind, not only the survival of your love but to distance emerging even stronger. He being there meant that, after this, you both could build your life together, get married, have children, and grow old together. 

“I can’t wait to marry you” he whispered against your lips that night as you made love. 

“And I can’t wait to be your wife” you whispered back, whimpering under his touch.

But with the past of the months, the fights started. He coming home late from work, and your struggling with finding a job added a layer of stress to your relationship. Frustration crept into our conversations, and what were once gentle whispers of love turned into heated exchanges, grappling with the frustration of job rejections and the sense of inadequacy that came with each disappointment. Joel, burdened by the demands of his career, found solace in the late hours at the office.

Spending time with a colleague you dislike because of their closeness, because he seemed to treat her the way he wasn’t treating you now. 

Conversations about the state of your relationship became unavoidable. One evening, as the weight of your unspoken grievances hung heavy in the air. 

"Joel, we can't keep going on like this. I need more from our relationship, and I can't shake off the feeling that you're finding solace elsewhere."

His response was a defensiveness grunt, speaking about the pressure at work, how he needed to prove himself, and how your job search struggles only added to his burden.

“So is it my fault?” You shouted. 

Joel's expression shifted, caught off guard by the sharpness of my words. The defensiveness waned, replaced by a hint of realization. "No, it's not about fault," he began, his voice softer now, "but the pressure at work has been consuming me. I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to balance everything." He sighed, “And you’re not even able to find a job” he added, the words hitting like a sharp jab amid our emotional battlefield.

He ended up calling you a mistake, and you called him a coward. 

 The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of your words sank.  The frustration that had been simmering boiled over into a heated exchange. "A mistake?" you retorted, your voice edged with hurt and anger. "Is that how you see me? As some kind of burden or failure?"

Joel's expression shifted again, torn between regret and the lingering pressure that had driven him to lash out. "I didn't mean it like that," he began, but his attempt to backtrack only fueled the growing storm.

As the argument escalated, each word became a weapon in our emotional battlefield. Accusations flew, and the once-clear path of our relationship was now obscured by the fog of resentment and hurt. The dreams we had whispered to each other now seemed distant and unattainable, replaced by the harsh reality of you present.

“Maybe we should break up,” you said, motionless, tired of the fights. “And I will leave, and take the job I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to leave you here” 

continued, the weight of the decision evident in my voice. The sacrifice echoed the painful truth that sometimes love, even when genuine, isn't always enough to weather the storms life throws your way.

Joel's eyes reflected a mix of surprise and realization, the gravity of the moment sinking in. The prospect of parting ways, of unraveling the life we had built together, cast a shadow over the room.

“Oh, are you surprised I’m not the failure you thought I was?” you asked, a bitter laugh escaping through the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

The room felt charged with the emotional storm of your shared history, the dreams you had woven now frayed and brittle. The vulnerability of that moment exposed the raw truth that love, no matter how deep, could sometimes prove inadequate in the face of life's relentless challenges.

Love has not always survived. 

Joel's silence spoke volumes, his eyes reflecting the complexity of emotions that swirled within. The air felt heavy with regret, sadness, and the painful realization that a choice needed to be made.

And when the lack of words persisted, and in the heavy silence, you walked towards the bedroom, the weight of the decision settling into every step you took. The room, once a shared bright sanctuary, now witnessed the dismantling of a life we had built together.

In the dim light, you fumbled for your suitcase, hands trembling as you threw clothes inside. Each piece of clothing now felt like a painful reminder of what was slipping away. The vulnerability of that moment, intensified by the tears that blurred your vision, underscored the reality that sometimes love, despite its depth, couldn't shield us from the harshness of life's trials.

The sound of the zipper closing echoed in the room, marking the final choice that had been made. Joel remained in the doorway, a silent observer of the disintegration of a shared reality. His eyes, a mosaic of conflicting emotions, spoke of a recognition that what once was could no longer be sustained.

As you carried the suitcase, its weight mirrored the heaviness in your heart. The room, filled with the echoes of your memories from the past, felt emptier with every step toward the door. The unspoken pain lingered a palpable energy that accompanied you through the threshold of a life I had known so intimately.

The choice had been made, and in that moment, the gravity of our decision settled in—the dreams you had shared now relegated to the shadows of what could have been. The door closed behind you, and at that exact moment, you didn’t know how you were anymore, not when this was the first time you would start navigating life without Joel.

And then, when the months passed by, you were face to face again. He tried to change the ending, but it was late. He was going to be a father of a child that wasn’t yours. 

And weeks later, on a night you were out, drinking all your tears and sadness, you met a guy, and three months after, you found out you were pregnant.

Joel and you were going to become parents, but with different people. 

And it seemed like all people were telling the truth. 

When you’re young you know nothing.

Thirteen years later...

Eyes focused on the road, breathe in, breathe out, thoughts wild around your head. 

You were driving back to Austin, back to your past self, to the five-year-old you, back to the seventeen-year-old you, back to…

No, you thought.

Tara was sitting in the backseat, earphones in her ears probably listening to a song that would take her away from her reality, from moving from her home, leaving behind every single thing she grew up loving.

Just like you, you said to yourself. 

“Hey, sweets are you okay?” you asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Can we stop for a burger? I’m hungry” She avoided the question, again

“Your father is waiting for us at our new house, then we will get lunch, okay?”

She nodded, not uttering more words. She nodded, offering no more words. Then, she broke the silence. "I’m mad. I’m mad at you for leaving your life behind for Dad."

Confused, you asked, "What are you talking about?"

“You just had your job that you loved back at home; you had your friends. I had my life too and now we have to move here just because Dad said so?” Tara's frustration spilled out.

“He got a better job, that means—”

“That means nothing,” she interrupted. “Look, Mom, I know he loves me, and that he may love you, but he has always loved himself more than us. I think it's unfair for you to leave all that behind just for him.”

“Tara,” you whispered, struck by her perceptiveness. You thought it was incredible how at thirteen she was so aware of every single detail, and how much he knew you.

“I know if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t leave that life behind,” Tara spoke, her words cutting through the tension in the car. "I know there’s no man you would have done that for.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of the revelation settling in before you spoke. "There was one man before," you confessed, catching Tara’s attention. "His name was Joel," you said, the words heavy with the weight of memories, almost feeling a lump forming in your throat.

As you mentioned Joel's name, the car seemed to carry an unspoken history. Tara's eyes widened with curiosity and surprise.

“He was my best friend when we were kids,” you began, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips. “We grew up together, faced the challenges of growing older, and eventually, we fell in love.”

“What happened to him?” she asked. 

"We broke up, and just when we tried to get back together, he found out he got another woman pregnant," you explained.

"He cheated," Tara concluded, a hint of judgment in her tone.

"No, he didn’t, but... I couldn’t bear to be with him, so I left."

"And then you met Dad," she deduced.

You nodded, acknowledging the sequence of events that had shaped your life. The car carried the weight of shared revelations, and the road to Austin became a journey not only through physical landscapes but also through the landscapes of your history.

Tara sat in the backseat, absorbing the complexities of your past.

"But," you added, "even though Joel and I didn't end up together, he will always hold a special place in my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, and Joel was a significant chapter in my story."

The air inside the car was a combination of anxiety and reflection as it approached its new home in Austin. Tara sat quietly in the backseat, her thoughts appearing lost in the stories you had told, still absorbing the specifics of your past.

As you approached the curb, your tires crunched on the cobblestone driveway. The foreign exterior of the new house appeared before you like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of your new existence. Dwight, your husband, stood on the porch, a bright smile on his face as he noticed the car.

Exiting the vehicle, you opened the back door for Tara, and the three of you stood together in the driveway. Dwight approached, a mixture of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

"Welcome home!" he exclaimed, wrapping both of you in a warm embrace.

Tara offered a half-smile, still processing the weight of the move and the revelations that had unfolded during the journey. Dwight, ever perceptive, sensed the mix of emotions in the air.

"How was the drive?" he inquired, glancing between you and Tara.

"Long," Tara replied tersely, her eyes flickering with a hint of weariness.

Dwight, aware of the challenges the move presented, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy, Tara, but I promise you'll find your place here."

The aroma of fresh starts penetrated the air as the three of you entered your new home. Dwight gave Tara a quick tour of the house, pointing out the right closets and stating to her that moving would be a good thing.

Dwight and Tara began to develop their rhythm of connection while unpacking boxes and settling into the unfamiliar home. The new place of residence began to turn from a new area to an area where shared memories would be established as the day progressed.

You couldn't help but think about Joel as you gazed around at the shifting landscape of your life, the echoes of the past fading into the background as you welcomed the present and the promise of a new chapter in your life in Austin.

It had been a week since Tara started school here, and she had begun to settle at the new school, at the unfamiliar hallways, and faces that were yet to become friends. Adjusting to a new environment, especially in the tumultuous teenage years, was never an easy feat. 

That’s what you feared the most. 

One afternoon, as you were going about your routine at the new house, your phone rang. The caller ID displayed the school's number, and a wave of concern washed over you. You answered with a sense of trepidation, already fearing the worst.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Evans from High School. Am I speaking with Tara's mother?"

"Yes, this is her mother. Is everything okay?" you asked, your heart racing.

"I'm calling to inform you that there was an incident at school today involving Tara. There was a fight, and we need you to come in for a meeting to discuss the situation." 

A mix of worry and confusion filled the air as you tried to process the information. A fight? This was entirely out of character for Tara.

"Of course, I'll be there," you replied, a knot forming in your stomach.

As you arrived at the high school, a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. The unfamiliar hallways seemed to close in around you as you made your way to the principal's office. Tara and another girl with curly hair stood outside the door,

Behind the curly-haired girl, a man loomed, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the possibility, dismissing the improbable thought as wishful thinking. As you walked ahead, the distance between you and the trio narrowed.

Entering the principal's office, the air seemed charged with tension. Mrs. Evans greeted you, her expression stern but professional. However, your attention was drawn to the man beside you, and when you finally looked, Joel stood there, his mouth agape, his eyes locked onto yours.

Time seemed to hang suspended in that moment as a flood of emotions washed over you—surprise, disbelief, and a surge of memories that had long been tucked away. The collision of your past and present felt surreal, and the room seemed to blur around the edges.

You were 22 again.

Neither of you said anything, instead, you allowed the principal to talk about the situation that had happened. 

Mrs. Evans, proceeded to share the details of the incident with a measured tone, bringing the focus back to Tara and her well-being. As she spoke, you and Joel maintained an uneasy silence, glancing at each other intermittently with expressions that betrayed a mixture of emotions.

"There was an unfortunate incident earlier today," Mrs. Evans began, her gaze shifting between you and Joel. "Tara and another student, Sarah, found themselves in a situation where a group of boys was bothering Tara. Sarah intervened to defend her, and the situation escalated into a physical altercation."

Your concern for Tara heightened, but a glimmer of gratitude surfaced as you heard about Sarah's protective stance. You stole a glance at Joel, whose eyes betrayed a complex mix of emotions—perhaps a reflection of his own memories and regrets.

"Both Tara and Sarah are being appropriately addressed," Mrs. Evans continued, her eyes shifting between the individuals in the room. "We take any form of violence seriously, but we also recognize the need to ensure our students feel safe and supported."

As the principal delved into the steps being taken to address the situation, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the reunion with Joel in such unexpected circumstances. The shared concern for Tara momentarily bridged the gap of years and unresolved emotions, creating an unspoken connection.

The meeting concluded with an agreement on counseling for Tara and a commitment to monitoring the situation closely. As you rose to leave, the weight of the encounter lingered. So, you took Tara, delicately by the arm, and walked away from the ghosts from your past. 

“Hey, Tara wait!” The voice of Sarah called out, getting closer to us. 

Tara stopped in her tracks and turned to face the girl with beautiful curly hair, with a smile on her face.

“What?” Tara asked delicately.

“I want you to know I don’t regret what I did for you” She began, “And I have no idea what is like to be in new a place because I’ve always been here, and I also want you to know that you have a friend here. I will defend you from all those stupid guys making fun of you” 

A grin appeared on your daughter’s face at Sarah's words, and she enveloped the girl in a hug murmuring a quiet “thank you” you had still been able to hear. 

Your heart burst, not only for the happiness of your daughter finding a friend but for the tranquility she would feel from now on. Yet you couldn’t bear to lift your gaze from the girls because you knew once you did it, you would have to look at the same face that made you leave this city.

“Okay, Tara it’s time to go home,” you said, delicately grabbing your daughter’s arm, “and thank you, Sarah, for what you did for her”

“No problem” she said, smiling at you.

Once you both, said goodbye, you and Tara walked toward the car until a voice made you both stop your pace, and your heart beated like a drum.

“Yes?” you turned around, finding the strength to face Joel.

“I think it may be great for us to talk about our daughters” Joel spoke, buying some more seconds of your presence.

“Everything is clear." your voice came in a monotonous tone.

“But not between us” he said, with an undertone.

But instead of words, a heat overcame you, and you felt the skin around your eyes burn, you lifted you hand to your eyes, preventing the tears welled up in the corner to fall. But once you did it, you started crying, not knowing how to react and facing your past in front of you, how facing the man you had loved your whole life after thirteen years without any trace of him.

Joel took a step closer, his expression concerned. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, his voice softening.

You took a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself. “It’s okay,” you said, taking a step back from his touch “I’m just stressed with all the changes” you lied, and grace a tiny smile towards him “We can talk another day when I’m settled.”

He simply nodded, caressing his chest with the palm of his hand in an attempt to take away the pain and confusion of seeing you again. 

With a daughter, and probably married to another man.

“Drive safe,” he said, with a caring touch in his voice.

You nodded, turning on your heel, walking towards the car without looking back. 

“You know her, don’t you?” Sarah asked his father, after seeing his longing expression as he watched you walking away from him. 

“I did once,” he said, still looking at your car as if you would get out and tell him you wanted to try again. 

And inside the car, the events weren’t different from outside. Once you put your seatbelt, Tara kept looking at you as if you were going to break at any moment. 

“He is that Joel, right?” She asked you carefully, trying to get her answer. 

You nodded. 

Tara nodded, her expression was pure concern "Are you okay, Mom?"

You managed a reassuring smile, even though the tears still lingered in the corners of your eyes. "I'll be fine, sweetheart. It's just unexpected to see him again after so many years." 

You took a glimpse in the rearview mirror as you drove away from the curb, leaving Joel standing there. As your mind lingered on a sudden encounter, the familiar surroundings began to blend as well. Your heart was heavier with the burdens of the days gone by, and the tears you pushed back threatened to spill over, again. 

As you drove home, the stillness between you and Tara was loaded with unspoken feelings. Your mind raced with old memories, and you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of weakness that Joel's comeback had caused in you.

What were the odds? You thought.

Meanwhile, Joel stood still, watching the car disappear into the distance. The question asked by Sarah still hanging in the air. "You know her, don't you?" Sarah questioned her father, who appeared to be absorbed in the memories that your presence had triggered.

As he tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind was in a rush of emotions. It felt strange and overwhelming to see you after thirteen years. The agony of the past came forward, and he felt for just a moment like an outsider in his own life, watching the movie of the both of you being played all over again.

Joel paused briefly before breaking the silence. "I've missed you," he said, his eyes scanning your face for signs of reconciliation.

You nodded, attempting to conceal the residual worries that had grown during the three months you had spent away from each other “I've missed us as well. Perhaps we should try again," you reasoned.

However, as the talk progressed, the truth began to appear like a storm on the other side of the sky. Joel's hesitation hinted at something more serious, something he had been holding him back. 

"But first, I need to tell you something," he finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I got involved with someone else during our time apart."

The look on your face was enough for him to know that the news he was about to deliver was going to change everything between the both of you.

“She is pregnant.” He confessed, almost inaudible. 

The room seemed to shrink as the weight of his words settled in. Shock and disbelief mingled with the pain of what it seemed as a betrayal in your mind, but you knew it wasn’t. You had hoped for a fresh start, but this revelation shattered those hopes.

He had a girl to take care of, a baby he was going to love.

"You're going to be a father?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation was a heavy blow, and you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the news.

Joel nodded; his eyes filled with remorse. "I didn't plan for this. It just happened."

“No. I don’t need an explanation of what you did when we weren’t together” Hurt, and resignation welled up inside you. "But we cannot be together. No, when you’re going to have a child with someone else. It’s not fair to any of us.” 

Joel's remorse-filled gaze met yours, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the reality you both faced. The dreams of rekindling what once was seemed to crumble in that moment, replaced by the harsh truth of divergent paths.

"This doesn’t change anything between us," Joel whispered, his voice laden with regret, trying to reach for you.

“It does!” you called out, “It does change everything” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the waves of emotion crashing within. "I hope you find the happiness you're looking for, Joel. But it can't be with me."

You stepped closer to him, cupping one side of his face with your hand, tracing his cheek with your thumb, and trying to take a picture of him with your eyes. 

One last picture, the last time you will have him this close to you. 

And you leaned in, sealing this goodbye with a last kiss, savoring the sweet taste of his lips mixed with the salt of his tears streaming down your face. He grabbed your face with his last strength holding you back from slipping from his fingers, but once you pulled away, and looked at him one last time. 

Then, you turned away, leaving the room, and, in a way, leaving a chapter of your life behind. The door closed with a soft click, sealing the end of a love story that had once held a promise, but it ended with Joel losing his princess. 

“Let’s go, baby girl,” he said after a moment, wrapping his arm around Sarah, and walking to the car. 

Tara kept stealing glances at you from the passenger seat, sensing the urgency of the scenario. The worry could be seen in her eyes, and you couldn't help but notice how perceptive she had become.

The car pulled to a stop in front of your house, which had become your new home in a place of spirits of the buried skeletons plotted to ruin your life. Tara unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face you; her face filled with apprehension. "Mom, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

You smiled, grateful for the depth of understanding and maturing in your daughter's eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate that."

As you both entered the house, the now familiar surroundings did little to ease the whirlwind of emotions within you. The past had a way of resurfacing when you least expected it, and Joel's reappearance had reopened wounds you thought had healed.

Once inside, in the quiet living room, your Dwight welcomed both of you with a smile on his face, “Hey is everything okay with you Tara?”

“Yes, Dad, just a misunderstanding,” he said, as if the matter wasn’t important, passing beside upstairs. 

As you and your husband were left alone, he sensed something wrong with you.

"Hey, love, is everything okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for a glimpse of the truth.

You forced a smile, attempting to push away the turmoil that threatened to surface. "Yeah, just a blast from the past today.”

Dwight wrapped his arms around you, a gesture of comfort that, for a moment, allowed you to forget the complexities of the day. He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, and as the warmth of his touch enveloped you, a pang of guilt swept through the figment of your mind, and you couldn’t help but feeling ashamed of yourself for tasting the lips of a man you had settled with because you couldn’t stay with the love of your life.

And you feel disgusted of wanting for him to be Joel.

And at the same time in a different place in the same city, Joel was dreaming of you again.

[foone]

Many people don't understand the difference between a paladin and an inquisitor. I mean, they're both religious warrior guys, right? What's the difference?

I mean, a lot? It's their whole motive and origin story, really.

A paladin is someone who has dedicated their life to a quest, to an oath, and they have done this out of a sense of religious devotion. They have said to their god that they believe this cause is righteous and holy and they will put their life and soul on the line for it, and their god has agreed with them, and given them boons and powers and protection in service of that mission. Paladins are deeply religious people, but you'll never see them praying: for them, their worship is in every swing of the sword, in every innocent protected, in every wrong righted. Their prayer is devotion to their cause.

Inquisitors... Are different. They didn't devote themselves to a cause so strongly it feels like dogma. They didn't take an unbreakable oath to stay on the one path for the rest of their days. They're someone who, at the end of their rope, prayed to the one thing they could still believe in and asked their god to give them a weapon that could destroy everything wrong in the world.

At their lowest moment when everything but their faith had been shattered, they used the last of their strength to ask for something, anything, to renew their purpose in this world. With nothing left to lose, they cried out to the heavens... In response, the clouds parted and glorious light shone down and God handed them a pistol.

A paladin is devoted to a cause, when can be everything from "the lich much be destroyed" to "the city's orphans need protection and food and shelter". Inquisitors are instead people who cried out "beloved god, the world is horrible and broken and full of sin!" and their god said "You're right. Take this sword and go kill the problem."

At the end of the day, a paladin is someone who is defined by an absolutely willingness to do whatever it takes to follow their oath.

An inquisitor is instead someone who has only one singular solution to every problem in the world, and it's kept very sharp.

[achaoticeternal]

caught at a crossroads

prince regent!aemond targaryen x stark!reader

summary: while seeking safe passage down the Kingsroad to Dragonstone, you travels come to a halt. word count: 1.5k a/n: i would consider a part 2 if people are interested warnings: AFAB reader, mentions of violence and death

The journey thus far had been so silent with hardly any issues arising. Twelve men at your aid - six Stark men and six Queen's Guard - were ready to lay down their lives to safely deliver you to Dragonstone. After the eldest of Rhaenyra's sons came to call upon your brother in haste, an alliance was formed through the most sworn occasion. A marriage between the Queen's firstborn and Cregan Stark's only sister would tie your houses together.

Cregan and Rhaenyra had reached such a favorable outcome for the people whom they cared about most. Still, Cregan understood the dangers that came with swearing an oath to the Black council. If the Green's went North, he did not want you to fall into their capture. As such, an agreement was made that the young Lady Stark was welcome to reside on Dragonstone, within the sacred walls of House Targaryen.

Passage of the Kingsroad was a risk for anyone who dared to use. Miles of the path lived anarchic tribes that cared little for the proper laws of the land. With this in mind, the band of men were forged together to keep you safe from those on the road, and from those who would come to hear of the betrothal.

Already, your group had been riding for eight days, traveling south. They decided to avoid traversing the Westerlands, things swaying off the main road would do little to help if word ever got to King's Landing. It was better to take the faster route so that they could escort you quickly to proper safety. Instead, your path would take a slight risk. You would cross over the trident and pass through the villages on the outskirts of Harrenhal.

Harrenhal and its neighboring lands had become greatly abused during the war. The entirety of the Riverlands had been battered and bruised with forests of ash becoming more regular by the day. It was rumored that Prince Aemond Targaryen had laid siege to the region in reaction to the loss of his nephew, Jaehaerys. If you could lay low and stay away from the rotation of troops that came through the area, the remainder of your journey would be guaranteed safety.

At first, the ambush seemed to be nothing. Just a few bandits who were looking to start trouble. Yet when they drew blades of Valyrian steel, your guards had alerted you to seek cover. Metal crashed against metal, the sound echoing through the forest. Luckily, being a northern girl, you had some natural knack for survival. Swiping a jagged rock off the ground, you first hid behind the cart your band had been traveling in.

From the position, you could see how furiously your enemies brandished their swords. The experienced men of the King's Guard had no issue holding their own against the fierce warriors. However, the youngest of the Stark men was the first to meet his fate as a guard slashed his throat open. A broken cry had escaped past your lips, watching the body fall to the earth below. You had recognized him as kin to your dressing maid, a good boy, now dead.

As another Stark man fell, you took this as a warning sign to advance further into the woods. Gripping the stone, you slunk away from the makeshift camp and towards a mixed assortment of oak and evergreen trees. The candle in your lantern would soon be snuffed out by its own wax, but it did aid to light your path. Behind you, more men continued to fight and fall. However, huffs of aggression and assertion echoed towards your ears. The enemies were advancing.

"The scouts said there were thirteen," A voice barked out, "Find the last man. We must know what the Black's are planning."

Quickly, you moved behind the trunk of a large oak tree and immediately blew out your candle. There was just enough bush to keep you covered unless someone was searching intently or you gave any sign. If you stayed silent, maybe they would brush over you.

However, you heard the grunts of one of your guards, his gravely voice panting as you heard him being drug down the road, "Who is your final man? Where were you going?"

A low chuckle resounded from his chest, "Queen Rhaenyra's army is growing, and soon she will march on King's Landing and the Usurper."

As you went to peak upon the seen, you heard the sound of a sword being drawn and plunged through the guard's neck. Now all your guards were dead. You were alone in the Riverlands. Alone in the Riverlands with a two-day journey to Dragonstone ahead of you. If you could make it through the night.

Footsteps filled the area surrounding where you kept hidden. The width of the tree and the bush serve you well to keep you hidden in the dark of the night. With baited breath, you remained on edge, hoping they would soon give up.

"Ser Cole," A guard called out to his superior, "We have reason to believe the thirteenth traveler is a woman. If the raven from this morning is true, then I believe it could be-"

"I'll alert the prince," The other man replied shortly.

Nearly an hour passed with little disruption. Only the chittering of the forest kept you company. That was until a sinister voice echoed through the trees.

"Little wolf... Where are you hiding?"

So they were fully aware of who you were, but they still didn't know where you were hidden.

"C'mon, little wolf, if we don't catch you here, we certainly will before you are ever able to reach Dragonstone."

The voice held some familiarly to you. Though deeper and more confident, the rhythm and tone reminded you of just a few years ago. Your first and only visit to the Capitol.

It had been the King's 65th name day had approached and your father had decided that the three of you would all take the journey to King's Landing. While visiting, you had the honor of meeting the King's children from his second wife. His eldest son, Aegon, and his sister-wife, Haelena, the youngest, Daeron, and lastly, the owner of the current voice...

Prince Aemond Targaryen

"The hunter has become the prey it seems..." He called out to you once more, "It's been quite a few years, little wolf, won't you do me the honor of reuniting?"

Your heartbeat began to increase, hammering against your chest. Part of you feared that he could hear it pumping in your chest, or even the panting of your uneven breaths.

Silence returned to the wood, and you knew it might be your only opportunity to move until morning. As you moved to stand, a twig crunched beneath your boot. A moment later footsteps could be heard running in your direction. It was time to act, time to find a nice place to hide. Your feet carried you quickly and lightly through the forest floor, the feeling similar to chasing your brother through the Godswood as children. A feeling of hope grew in your chest...

Only to be crushed when a sword glinted in the moonlight. You came to a scathing halt as Aemond stepped out from behind one of the trees. His platinum hair and sapphire eye reflected bits of pale light as he observed your movements, "Ah... Lady Stark..."

"Prince Aemond," The lady quickly straightened her posture.

The man sheathed his sword as he approached the lone Stark lady, "Seems you haven't heard the news, it's Prince Regent, now. Though you would know that if you were where you belonged in Winterfell."

"I-" You attempted to stutter out.

"Yes?" Aemond smirked, knowing that he had you practically cornered, "Well, my lady, it seems you should come with me. It is dangerous for a Lady like yourself to be unaccompanied on the King's Road."

Aemond stepped forward which in turn caused you to take a step back. His smirk only remained at this behavior from you, the excitement of it all getting to him. Another step forward and he snatched one of your wrists in his large, callused hand. He tugged you forward to keep you close and minimize your attempts to run.

"I have a promise of safe passage, it's... it's a royal decree," You stuttered out as his glare only continued to intensify, "I have the right to go to my intended destination."

In an instant, his smirk fell quickly, "Your intended destination or your intended betrothed?"

Everything began to piece together as he continued, "That's right, my lady. I received word this morning that a dozen Stark men and traitors were seen along the Kingsroad escorting a young woman. This news arrived shortly after news about my Strong nephew's marriage approached, I simply connected the dots. But it's alright, little wolf, you are now a welcome guest at Harrenhal."

Your head shook at his words, "No, no, I-"

"It wasn't an invitation," Aemond quickly interjected as he pulled you closer, "By royal decree of Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen, you are my guest until I see fit to dismiss you."

[bree-peasant]

The Magic Lake - a Kakashi x fem!Reader One Shot

Author's note: I'm back with a cheesy, fluffy Kk fic. I've had many one shots in the works, but this is the one I managed to finish, so I really hope you like it!

Word count: 2.7k

Sunmary: Y/N and Kakashi are childhood best friends who've lost touch. Can a chance encounter many years later repair a broken bond?

Warnings: some nudity, but it's not very explicit

Happy reading! ♡

----------------------------------------------------------

You and Kakashi had been neighbours. Born less than a year apart (Kakashi was the younger one and you never failed to remind him of that), you quickly became inseparable. From innocent child's play, to training together while you both attended the Academy, the two of you would spend any spare moment together, creating a bond that nothing could shatter. Or so you thought.

Kakashi quickly overtook you in his ninja capabilities, showcasing a rare talent. At first, that only motivated you to try and keep up with him, but the more you grew, the more you realised the shinobi life wasn't meant for you. Your comrades and teachers alike, would often poke fun at your delicate hands and your careful movements, making you rethink your choice of career. Kakashi always supported you, trying to convince you not to give up on becoming a shinobi. You even went as far as to graduate from the Academy, but after that, you were done.

Your relationship with him didn't change immediately. You were both still devoted to the friendship as ever, making sure that every spare moment was spent together, either swimming, play-fighting, or reading in a comfortable silence. You'd talk about the future together, making naive promises to stay in each other's lives forever, certain in your childish minds that you'd fulfil these oaths.

When Sakumo died, your family welcomed Kakashi, who had already felt like their second child anyway. You wanted to console him, support him through his grief, but you already felt your best friend drifting away. You hoped it was only temporary and tried to ignore your growing worry.

He was your first kiss. A very innocent one at that, but it still brought butterflies to your stomach every time you thought of it for days after. He was leaving on his first ever long-term mission, and without thinking, you planted a peck on his lips as the two of you were saying goodbye. Kakashi looked awfully flustered, a bright red spreading on his cheeks, visible despite his mask. He'd hugged you tight after that, promising to return safely. To you.

You supposed both of you were too young to understand the feelings that grew between you; to distinguish where the deep-rooted friendship ended, and something else began. So, when he came back, things remained the same for awhile, neither of you sure how to approach the subject. With time, though, Kakashi's life took him on a very different path from your own. One that was so riddled with grief and regret, that he withdrew in himself, began avoiding you and your family, taking on more missions, being aloof and cold when around you. The more he rose in rank, the more he was away, risking his life over and over again, and when he did come back to the village, he stayed away.

It broke your heart to see the change in him. You tried to plead your way back into the friendship, but it seemed too far gone to be retrieved. Eventually, you had to make peace with how things stood between you, and you silently withdrew, hoping that someday, Kakashi would come back to you.

Now, 20-some years later, you were running a sewing shop in the village, putting your concentrated and graceful hand movements to good use. You were renowned in the village for your needlepoint work, even making garments for nobility outside of Konoha. You hadn't seen Kakashi in years, bar the occasional chance encounter, when you'd awkwardly greet each other and quickly move on. But something in you would break at the sight of him still. You never put a name to the feeling, convincing yourself that what happened long ago no longer mattered. You'd moved on with your life, you'd made other friends, had other lovers, but in truth, a part of you missed your childhood best friend desperately.

It had been a long day at work, the summer heat sweltering in the shop, drops of sweat trickling down the nape of your neck as you worked. By the evening, you were utterly exhausted, but the thought of returning to your stuffy flat was too repulsive to face.

You decided to grab some food to go and take a stroll outside the village, in an attempt to find a cooler spot. By now, the sun was starting to set, the night promising some respite from the blistering heat. You walked aimlessly, allowing your feet to dictate the direction, your mind caught up in tomorrow's affairs. The summer season was a busy one for your shop, with many orders coming through, and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed with all the work you had coming your way.

Pulling yourself out of these cumbersome thoughts, you stopped to take a look at your surroundings. You'd reached a small clearing, not far from the village walls, with a narrow, clear-blue lake in the middle of it. You immediately recognised it, surprised that your subconscious had taken you there of all places. You and Kakashi used to swim in the lake whenever chance occurred in summer, even taking a cold dip or two in the cooler seasons. It had been the centre of many happy memories the two of you shared, basking in the sun, chattering and laughing till your voices became hoarse. You hadn't visited it in years, plagued by sorrow at the loss of what once was. But you found yourself smiling at those memories now, glad that they had happened.

Although night was settling in, the air was still hot from the day's relentless sun, forcing you to consider a swim.

"For old time's sake." You thought to yourself, coming closer to the body of water. You took off your shoes and dipped a toe in, pleased by the slight cool of the water. You looked around, darkness now becoming thicker. There was no one in sight, nor any sound, bar the croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets. Deciding it was safe to shed your clothes in their entirety, you slowly submerged yourself in the water, dipping your head under for that much desired relief.

You felt your body instantly relax, turning over to lie on your back and stare at the stars for a while, grateful for this respite. You weren't sure how much time had passed when you heard footsteps approaching. You quickly shifted position to hide your nakedness under the dark water, when you saw a figure approaching from the path. When he stepped into the moon's light around the clearing, to your astonishment, it was none other than Kakashi. He spotted your head floating above the water, a sound of surprise escaping his masked lips.

"My apologies, Y/N. I didn't expect to find anyone here! It's usually quiet at this time." The way he spoke your name sent a shiver down your spine. You hadn't heard it fall from his lips in so long.

"Do you come here often?" You replied, raising a curious brow.

"Whenever I have the time." He stood motionless, close to the edge, unsure whether to turn back or not. "It's a place of very fond memories for me." He added in a slightly softer, hushed tone.

You blushed at those words, glad for the darkness that enveloped you. There was something so fated in your meeting tonight, that you wanted to allow it to continue.

"Well, if you don't mind the company, you're welcome to join me." You said without thinking your words over too much.

Kakashi hesitated for a moment. He felt almost enchanted, standing there, looking over your figure in the water. After so many years, it felt both odd and somehow right to be there with you tonight. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, deciding to follow whatever magic had brought you together again. He took his jōnin vest off, grateful that you swam away and turned your back to give him his privacy. He already felt his cheeks grow hot, from just seeing you, hoping the moonlight was too weak to reveal them. He continued to pull layers off himself, stopping at his boxers, unsure what the correct thing to do was. Noticing your pile of clothes by the water, with your panties at the top, he shed his own and jumped into the lake in one fell swoop.

You turned at the splash, drops of water hitting your face. With pretend annoyance, you waited for him to emerge and splashed him, giggling afterwards at his sullen expression.

"Can't a man enjoy a peaceful swim?!" He said, feigning his own frustration, only to catch you at your most vulnerable and splash you right back. You both laughed then, flicking bits of water at each other, trying old tricks, falling into an easy companionship, like no time had passed at all.

"Look what I've learned!" You said, diving head first in the water, positioning your hands on the bottom and popping your legs out in a handstand.

"That's nothing!" Kakashi said once you'd emerged from the water, proceeding to mimic your act.

As his legs broke through the surface, you swam over and pushed them, so he'd lose balance, forcing him to quickly resurface.

"Hey! You cheated!" He scolded you in almost a childish tone, making you laugh.

"I'm older, so I can do what I want!" You responded, mirroring his tone.

"Oh, is that so?" A sly smirk spreading on his lips. "We'll just see about that." With those words, he sprang on you like a cat, submerging your head under water. Kakashi was completely wrapped up in your old games, so without thinking, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you out and above the water, just to throw you back some distance away.

You emerged, spitting out water and cackling, admitting defeat. Suddenly, you were aware Kakashi had grown silent, his gaze lingering on you. Both of you now came to the realisation that you were no longer two kids, but grown adults, who were naked in the water. You finally took in his features, new to you since you hadn't seen him unmasked for years. He'd grown handsome, with thin lips that always seemed to hint at a grin. He kept his scarred eye closed, but you recognised the look in his charcoal one, wild and stubborn still. Perhaps he hadn't changed that much.

Kakashi, in turn, studied you too. You'd always been tall for a girl, but he noted how your shape had become more feminine with time, rounder in its edges. Your hair was still as wild as when he used to pull on it to get the advantage, but your face seemed softer, happier than he remembered seeing it last.

You stood in silence for a moment, each caught in their own thoughts of times passed. Eventually, you felt the chill of awkwardness, your feelings jumping between the familiarity of your old friendship, and the strangeness of the person who stood in front of you now. You shook your head, not wanting to drown out the magic that had held you until now. You weren't ready to let go of the moment just yet.

"I've..." You bit your lip for a second, unsure you could say what was truly on your mind. "I've missed you, Kakashi." You finally spoke, darting your eyes away from him.

Your words caught him by surprise, yet soothed his soul like a balm. He'd been thinking the same with so much sadness, not daring to hope that you could salvage what was lost.

He smiled to himself, although he wasn't sure what to say in response.

"You know..." He said, the thought coming out before he could decide if it was good or not. "I had the biggest crush on you growing up."

Your eyes immediately found their way back to his face, trying to read his expression in the pale light. He had a small smile playing on his lips, his gaze downward cast, following the specks of light on the water's surface.

"What?" You managed to whisper, almost in laughter, confused by where the conversation was headed.

"Yeah..." He let out a soft chuckle, reaching to scratch the back of his head. "I was so worried about ruining our friendship, that I never did anything about it... But I've always wondered what would've happened if I had been brave enough to tell you." He trailed off, still not daring to look at you.

You remained silent for a moment, trying to decide on a response. It seemed tonight was about honesty, so once again, you let yourself go along with the flow.

"I liked you too... as more than a friend." You added, shyness taking over. It was ridiculous, you were in your late twenties, standing naked in a lake with a handsome man, but somehow you'd reverted back to your childhood inexperience.

Kakashi finally looked your way, mesmerised by how pretty you looked with your pale reflection mirrored in the water. Was it possible that after all these years, there was still a chance at reconciliation? He wasn't sure.

"Do you think we would've stayed together? If we'd admitted our feelings?" You asked, regret hushing your voice.

"I don't know..." He replied, looking away again. "But I've carried you with me all these years, Y/N. I never forgot about you."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, that you felt like sobbing.

"Why did you never reach out, Kakashi? I waited... for you." Remorse, mingled with grief as you spoke.

"I didn't want to poison you like I did with others." He sighed, his shoulders slouching. "I thought you were better off without me. Then time went on, and it became harder and harder to approach you, so I didn't."

Unnoticed, the current had swayed you both closer, standing at an arm's length from one another. You stared at his silver hair, glistening in the moonlight, catching yourself in a dream about running your fingers through it. Kakashi in turn, lifted his gaze to your lips, made silky by the drops of water, wishing he could cup your cheek and pull you closer. Neither of you moved.

"I was never better off without you." You whispered, nothing better coming to mind to soothe his guilt. "I wanted to be there for you. To be your friend, if nothing more." You paused, taking a breath in to calm your nerves. The air felt thick, despite the coolness of the water around you. You felt both flushed, and a chill in the back of your neck.

"You were my world, Kakashi." You finally said, your voice so quiet, you weren't sure he would hear you. "And I've not felt whole since you left."

He stared at you in disbelief, unable to comprehend how he, of all people, could have had such influence over you. How could he have been so blind, so afraid, to look for you sooner? Had he lost his chance?

"Y/N... do you think there is still a way we could..." You waited eagerly to hear his words, but as he spoke, you felt a slight nudge by the current, making you lose your footing. You stumbled forward in the water, falling right into Kakashi's arms. He held you stiffly for a moment, your eyes wide in surprise, mirroring his black one.

Suddenly, you felt his body relax, as he pulled you in closer. You parted your lips to let his crash onto them in a kiss that bore no resemblance to the one you had shared as kids. Your arms moved of their own volition, wrapping around his neck, fingers weaving themselves in his silver hair. Chest pressed to chest, he held you tighter, as if afraid that you'd slip away from him. Your kisses tasted like the minerals in the lake water, wet and sweet. You remained entangled in each other like this for a while, lost in a moment that felt both familiar and entirely new. As you finally pulled away from each other, still remaining close, unbeknownst to the other, you shared the thought that perhaps it wasn't too late for the two of you.

"Will you go on a date with me, Y/N?" Kakashi said, a drunken smile playing on his lips. The man couldn't believe how happy he was at that moment.

You let out a soft chuckle, giving him a kiss on the cheek and whispered him:

"I thought you'd never ask!"

[blowingoffsteam2]

“All paths are connected somewhere. When I arrive at where you are, we may not appear to be as we were. But we’ll make another promise to keep.”

Yozora fulfilling Riku’s role in this poem and thinking Sora must be the person he made this “promise”, progressed to an oath, to because of the memories of Riku from the broken pieces of Sora’s heart eclipsing and entangling with his own real memories of his promise to protect/oath to save Nameless Star, because he’s in the middle of his own Chain of Memories arc in this essay I will

[altis-of-olympia]

For those who do not know, I have been training under King Zeus Horkios - Watcher of Oaths. As part of this training, I have been assisting others down their paths of training to ensure that they are properly preparing for the oath that they wish to take, or even those traveling down different paths who seek any kind of guidance.

This led me to do a deep dive into the different kinds of oaths in our modern day and Ancient Greece, and to determine if there was a term for the kind of Oath that a Priestx in Training would take once they've graduated out of training, or done their devotional. From what I could find, there was not.

In response to this, I did a small study with my friends (most of whom are either Priests or in training) in order to come up with an appropriate term for this kind of Oath. I wanted to share the findings and results here, as I think it is beneficial for those interested in any oathsworn path.

First, let's talk about the different kinds of Oaths that I could find.

Testimonial Oaths - This is the oath we hear most frequently in a court of law. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" It is an oath that binds the individual taking the oath, typically a witness, to tell the truth, and if found guilty of lying or perjury, they face jailtime.

Promissory Oath - This is something we tend to do on a daily. Saying things like, "I promise to," is a promissory oath. Promising that you will carry out an action in the future, however near or far that may be. This is a kind of Oath despite it not being done in a serious setting on most occasions.

Paternal Oath - This kind of Oath was found in Ancient Greece. Promising and swearing that you are the father of a child and will uphold the duties that come with fatherhood. This may seem silly to include, but I was not going to just not include any kind of oath from my research.

Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath - Historically done to swear loyalty to an individual of a higher class, typically (but not always) done through coercion or made under duress. Historically, these oaths were forced upon lesser Kings to swear loyalty to another, more powerful King.

Coercion Oath - An oath made through false pretenses or via duress. We see this frequently in cases of intimate partner violence, where one partner forces the other to sign legal documents or make statements while intimidated or fearful of their life.

Hippocratic Oath - A promise to do no harm and uphold the ethical standards and act in the best interest of [patients]. Patients is in brackets because, while this is the Hippocratic Oath, most doctors also carry over this Oath outside of their workplace and act with the best interest of the general population in mind.

In addition to this, the only "Oath of Devotion" I could find was in Dungeons and Dragons - it is an option of devotion that a Cleric or Paladin can take in relation to a God or Holy figure. This definition is what got me thinking about a term that could apply to Priestxhood and individuals doing their devotional.

A major concept with oaths in Ancient Times was the concept of curses and blessings. Curses typically came when the individual making the Oath broke this oath or did not fulfill their end of the bargain. Blessings came when the oath was fulfilled. Olympic Athletes took oaths (I classify their oaths as Promissory Oaths as they promised to refrain from cheating and partake in an honest Olympic Season), Government Officials took oaths (Primossory), Heroes made Oaths, etc. If these oaths were broken, it was said that a curse would befall the individual who made this oath. With this in mind, I crafted my questions carefully.

This brings me to the actual study.

The study was done via google form and the individuals who took it will be kept confidential.

I asked a total of nine questions - eight required, one optional - in order to get my data right. I had four respondents (low generalizability, I know), and here is how it went.

There was an even 50% split between people who identified themselves as Active Priests and those who were Priestxs in training.

Based on these identifications, 75% of respondents said that they used wording such as "I promise to" or "I swear to" when they took up training or did their devotional.

When asked if they felt that there would be some kind of adverse consequences to breaking/going against their words or dedication, all respondents said yes. They further explained by stating the following:

"She chooses to share this blessing with me, and She has the right to take this away or give other consequences should I fail to uphold my duties..."

"It not only is disrespectful to the God and their name but the kharis you've spent so much time building. It's grounds for dismissal from working with that God ever again, in my opinion."

"I'm not exactly too sure on what, but I most definitely do not think it will be taken lightly if I were to just give up / go against my dedication."

"I do believe breaking any kind of promise to the ods can lead to negative outcomes ... It's a very serious ask for both the devotee and the deity and to break that without cause will create problems."

The belief across the board is, yes, they feel there would be adverse consequences - or a "curse" - if their oath is broken.

When asked how fulfilling their words or acting in line with their devotions felt and how it made their respective Gods feel, these were some of the responses:

"I get this warm feeling, and I know [Goddess] is with me, and I can feel Her pride. It makes everything in the world feel a little more correct."

"Amazing. Euphoric, really. And kinda addicting. You get addicted to the joy that comes with fulfilling something for Them and the way they reciprocate; whether that be through their energy or blessings."

"I feel so unbelievably good ... It's very gratifying."

" I get my sense of accomplishment x10 ... I know that they (My God) feel appreciative of my devotion, it feels a lot like a proud hand on my shoulder with a warm smile if anything."

Across the board, they feel content and happy, and so do their Gods, which then led to those aforementioned "Blessings."

I then listed the different Oath classifications as I did earlier in this post, and asked respondents to select which terms felt more "In-Line" with the promise they made. These were the results:

0% of respondents selected Testimonial Oath.

100% of respondents selected Promissory Oath.

0% of respondents selected Paternal Oath.

25% of respondents selected Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath.

0% of respondents selected Coercive Oath.

50% of respondents selected Hippocratic Oath.

Of these results, I was shocked that the Loyalty Oath / Vassal Oath was not a more popular pick. I accredited this, in part, to researcher error (i.e. me being stupid) due to the wording of the definition. I was also shocked at the high number of respondents who selected the Hippocratic Oath - though, in hindsight, this does make sense, as the Hippocratic Oath urges doctors to do no harm and act with the best interest of the public in mind and, as a Priest, you are expected to do similar.

I then asked respondents to define the promise they made:

"A promise to live within the values I need to uphold as a Priestess. I also vowed to spread Her domain as well as I can, and to help others as well as I can."

"I am a bird. I promised to forever remain a bird and I don't see myself ever not being a bird again. It is the very foundation of my being, now. It is my life. It is everything I have ever wanted to be and it is the most important promise I've ever made."

"A promise to not only serve my God under His epithets, to carry out His will, as well as to help those who practice Hellenic Polytheism as a whole."

The last respondent did not make an oath, but said "if I were to make a promise, this would be the oath I take."

When presented with the term Devotional Oath, lack of definition aside, 100% of respondents said this term would feel more accurate to their experiences. They each defined the term as such:

"I would define it as devoting myself to living in Her name, and to helping people on her behalf. I have devoted myself and my actions to her."

"A lifelong promise that cannot be broken until fulfilled. And devotion can never truly be fulfilled, because it is continuous. So it is voluntarily spackling yourself to the deity you worship unless they decide you're no longer worthy of the chains."

"The swearing of an eternal promise to work for and serve the person whom you devote yourself to."

"I would define it (In HelPol) as an Oath you take to promise your continuous worship and service to the Deity you are training to fulfill a title under."

The final question was simply asking for any further thoughts or feedback - one of which advised re-doing this form with another option for those who did not take an oath, which I will be doing if I were to re-do this little study in the future.

That was a lot of information, but bear with me, we're almost done!

To conclude this long post, I would like to present my own definition of the term Devotional Oath, derived from the definitions I was suggested by the respondents of my form.

Devotional Oath - A lifelong and continuous Promise to work for and serve the subject of devotion - and such, is frequently neverending or life long.

Of course, this is just a working definition. However, I would love to take this definition and open it up to criticism and feedback. If you have a suggestion for a different definition, perhaps different wording, or anything, please leave it below. And thank you for endorsing my little research endeavors. It was quite fun.

Additionally, I want to pose a question to you. Would you define this term completely differently from how I have, based on the research? And why?

Happy New Year, traveler.

Xaire, Altis.

[nyerus]

The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy

This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.

‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️

⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️

---

Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.

In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.

Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!

But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.

One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.

When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).

In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.

The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.

For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:

Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!

As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.

The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.

This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.

Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.

Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.

Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?

So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)

And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.

So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.

Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.

In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.

[gaysindistress]

A Fool’s Devotion

disclaimer: shoutout to @malsorie for letting me use her stunning art. The center picture as well as the bottom one are her master pieces. All others were found on Pinterest or Google.

pairings: Minthara x f!reader (could be read as gn since I didn’t use pronouns for reader)

Summary: Only a fool would remain faithful to a coward god.

Warnings: bg3 cannon violence

Word count: 2.7k

Bg3 masterlist

A Fool’s Devotion teaser

Drifting through the stale winds of the Underdark on mushroom spores, I have finally found her.

Sitting in a cold and silent room with her chin resting on her closed fist as she watches the city from the window, I have finally found her.

Singing the songs of both her victims and allies, a reckoning begins in the hallows of slit throats and caverns of forgotten hope but I finally found her.

A paladin who’s lost their oath, willfully broken under the pretenses of another’s twisted lies, she sits with the blood of her mother caked into the creases of her hands. A daughter, once sworn to her house and to her goddess, she no longer is but in her place is a creature of darkness.

A wickedly evil thing lives in the mess that Orin made of her mind.

Darkness from the depths of Mykrul’s personal hell has crept into her heart and warped whatever demented love that Drow society left behind.

A soldier for her people, her house, and her goddess has been lost to the wild of Faerun and now only remains a soldier for herself in the haunting study of House Baenre.

Floating through the open window, I watch her stare at a distant fixated point in the city. Alone she has let her guard fall and with it, the look of desired anguish is pulled taunt on her face. The thought of not remembering her time with the Absolute must eat away at her every moment she is awake and those from her childhood must find her at night given the way her brows are pinched together. Within the red of her eyes, dry tears gather but don’t fall down on her lavender cheeks. Her lips are pulled into a tight line and her jaw is set in a similar fashion.

The veil that hides me from her view falls as my boots make contact with the floor. Like the smoke that dances above a dying campfire, I flicker into existence and come to stand beside the window facing her. Her melancholy comes off of her in waves that lap at my feet but from my spot, I’m a safe distance from her sea of emotions.

“You’re here,” her voice cracks for a moment as she speaks to me but continues to stare past me, “I was beginning to wonder when you would make your appearance.”

“There are rules, Minthara.” She interrupts me by waving me off with the hand her chin had been resting on.

“Rules that even you have to follow,” I continue, “and I tried to warn you about what would happen if you broke them. I told you what the consequences would be if you continued down this path of murder and chased a power you would never hold. I sent you all kinds of signs, omens of what your future would hold should you continue to ignore me.”

I feel those exhausted red eyes cut to me, slicing through the leather of my armor and hoping to find a weak spot beneath. When no vein is ripe for her blade, she chooses a different route to maim me.

“A power I would never hold? You are a fool if you think that I haven’t been successful in my efforts to gain whatever it is that I seek.”

A sigh of defeat escapes my lips. I’d hoped that time would ease her determined mind but from what little she’s said, I can tell that it has only made it more rigid.

“Do the consequences of your actions not matter to you? Have you no sense of self preservation?”

Her hand falls to grip the edge of her chair. White strands of hair are disturbed from her movement but flutter back around her shoulders in moments as angry water laps at my feet. I fear that if I look down I would find a stormy wave ready to overtake me so that I may feel her anguish fully.

“Without it, I would have been dead by my mother’s own hand long ago. Self preservation is what has led me to where I am now. It’s been the only thing that has motivated me when all should be lost, when even YOU deserted me.”

The hole where my heart must have once sat clenches at her words; she believes that I deserted her. When all others have left her and deemed her too maniacal for their liking, she doesn’t care because there has always been one person who remained. When everything was stripped from her and she became a plaything for the Absolute and Orin, it didn’t matter what she suffered because her heart still knew there was one person who cared for her. As Tav decided to save her from that prison and make her a part of their camp, she didn’t seek out the companion of the others because she yearned for one person alone. While standing over Orin’s eviscerated corpse, she felt relief at the reality that this monster was gone but grief that she couldn’t share this feeling with one person in particular. When the Nether brain fell and she returned to her city, she searched for this person in every alleyway and noble house alike. Laying awake at night as she tried to ease the tension that unknown horrors had inflicted on her, she prayed to me and asked me to come back to her.

Can you hear my prayers? She cried one night. Can you hear me? Or are you ignoring me, ust-nor?

My answer feels thick on my tongue but there’s nothing else I can tell her, “I didn’t intend to desert you. I had no choice. I’d been called upon and you know that I cannot leave sooner than necessary.”

She lets out a sinister, mocking chuckle as she adjusts in her chair. She’s taken on a more relaxed pose, slouching with her hands folded on her lap although it’s merely a mask. “You reprimand me for making the wrong choices when you have done the same.”

My whole body bristles at her tone, “Minthara.”

She glowers at me with a menacing stare for a moment before sweeping over my appearance. “I suppose that you’re not here for old time’s sake if you’re wearing your armor. You’ve been called here, haven’t you?”

The armor in question is a complex web of leather and spider silk woven by Lolth herself. The chest plate boasts of Her favoritism from small pieces of Her candles that decorate the neckline and to the intricate spider designs carved into the blessed leather. Trousers and boots crafted in the same fashion fit closely to my legs, both blessed by the Spider Queen to grant me advantages in my line of work. However my gloves are the true testament of Lolth’s favor; a rather unassuming set of black leather gloves that grant me the ability to paralyze any creature that I desire. A soft touch to one’s arm in passing is all it would take for the paralytic to take effect in seconds and remain in effect until I release them. They’ve been the envy of many people but Minthara, in particular, has attempted to persuade me into giving them to her numerous times.

I glance down the gloves and flex my fingers to see the lights around us disappear into their black shade.

I allow my voice to fall into a deeper and authoritative one as I ask, “What is the name that people whisper when they speak of me?”

Her eyes narrow at the change before she answers, “Dobluth.”

The outcast.

I nod my head as I move away from the window at last. My boots make small, almost eerily silent sounds as I approach her and fully look at her. Ragged is not a kind word nor is it one she would ever allow someone to call her but it’s too simple of a word to describe the state that she is in. Now that I’m closer, I can see the true extent of her exhaustion and how it has wreaked havoc on her. No longer is she the vibrant and ever imposing Drow successor but in her place is the rotting corpse of a woman who’s witnessed and inflicted far too much evil. Fatigue has dulled her senses to the point that she barely reacts when I remove my cloak and place it on the small table beside her. Crouching before her, I study her face closely when I ghost my hands up her legs and brush them against her fold ones. I take note of the way her eyes almost flutter closed and she lets out a long sigh when I take them into mine.

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

The simple command seems damn near impossible for me as she takes seconds too long to do so. She looks everywhere but my eyes at first and when I squeeze her hands, she finally meets my gaze.

“I’m the first Dobluth, Minthara. I was neither born nor created; I simply have existed since the dawn of time and will continue to exist when all else has perished. I will live in the hearts and minds of all living creatures and will putrefy with them as they take their last breaths. I will feed on the consequences of wrong doings and ease the pain of those who cry out for deaf gods as I do so. I am the devourer of all sin; I absolve souls of their weight and as a consequence, was named the first outcast, the First Dobluth. I am known by everyone yet no one knows who I am.” I keep eye contact with her as I press my lips to the top of her hands and murmur my sacred devotion to her, “No one knows me for who I am but you, Minthara. You may very well be the only person to have said my name in centuries, to know my face, to hear my voice, to have my interest. You’re the solo person who has known who and what I am but yet still chosen to be mine. My heart may no longer beat but it has found sanctuary within yours. My blood may be solidified within my veins but it flows within yours. My body may feel frigid but against yours, it feels alive once more. I may be fundamentally incapable of being anything other than a devourer but I’m sated with you and finally found fulfillment knowing that I am enough for you.”

I cup her face while keeping her hands firmly clasped in the other. Perhaps against her mind’s will, her heart allows her to lean into my hand and savor the feeling of a gentle touch. A lone tear smears against her skin as my thumb catches it and sweeps it across her cheekbone.

“I heard your prayers and I did everything I could to come back to you because without you, my existence would be a blur of fear and loneliness. There’s no reason other than to cause ourselves pain to dwell on what we wish we could change about the past but I need you to know that I never would’ve left had I known what that Bhaalspawn would do. I would’ve fought harder to stay had I known what horrors you would face by her hand. I would’ve slaughtered every cultist and their Chosen myself had I known what I do now.” Her angry waves crashed into me the moment we touched and began to form a hurricane of her emotions and mine within me as I spoke. As more determined tears fall, the hurricane crumbles into a beast of a different nature. Sorrow replaces that anger and tells her that I am here now and that is all that matters.

“You failed to answer my question; were you called here?” she murmurs.

It catches me off guard when it shouldn’t.

“I was called by you, ust-nor.”

Disgust twists her face at the pet name, causing her nose to wrinkle and brows to furrow. She pulls her face from my grasp, meanwhile against the leather of gloves, I feel the minuscule twitch of her fingers as she keeps herself from shoving me away entirely. Although I vowed to never bring her harm, she knows all too well what lethal consequences could come from irrational actions right now. A single misunderstood movement from her could result in endless paralysis with no way out.

A moment passes as Minthara presumably considers her next move. She leans down, close enough that her breath washes over my face.

“I will tell you what I told the first Oathbreaker bastard who offered me a chance at redemption; I will never be governed by another again. I will not vow my life to a thankless coward. I will not force myself to live by an oath that does not serve me nor prioritize my wellbeing. I’ve spent too long serving those who don’t care if it is me or some other mindless soldier who returns victorious. I’ve given everything I have and been forced to give even more for a cause that is not my own. I refuse to praise a god for simply allowing me to worship them.”

I wish disappointment had been the emotion that greeted me as she spoke. I wish I could say that I didn’t expect her to react this way or to say the words that she did. I wish I didn’t know her as well as I do so that this unfortunate reunion wouldn’t bring me as much misery as it does.

Sighing, I pull my hands back and rock back onto my knees. With my hands resting on my knees, I stare at her. It’s an act of submission, my stance but for her, I would strip my armor and present my weapons with a bare heart if she asked.

“If you do not wish to retake your oath, our Goddess has been generous enough to offer…”

“Fuck your goddess.”

The silence is astounding.

She gets to her feet and is at the window in one fluid motion it seems. Candle lights dance down the expanse of her back, across the pale strands of her hair and over her void like black dress. In her chair remained the forgotten over layer of her dress; a structured piece that was crafted to strike fear into the hearts of her enemies and allies alike. Pointed shoulders and gold edges give her a towering illusion that matches her confidence. The dress she still wears reminds me of what she lovingly called her at-ease clothes. It almost feels like a call back to a time simpler and much happier than now.

Almost.

“The so-called Spider Queen has no place in House Baenre.” Her voice is steady now, devoid of any previous emotion as she takes a pin from the window’s ledge and twists her hair back into place, “Soon she will find that she has no place in Menzoberranzan at all. Her effigies will be destroyed, her books burned, and her memory scrubbed from history. I had hoped that you would see reason one day and join me as I fight to reclaim the city but there is no place for a bleeding heart in war.”

Once more she has become Minthara, Matron of House Baenre.

Somewhere lost beneath the countless sins of others I have absolved lies a naive soul that yearns to take my place by her side as she becomes the Slayer of Lolth but it is that very same goddess that binds me to the floor now. Her envy and anger crackles with a ferocity I’ve seen only a few times through my body and into the marrow of my bones. Her power seethes and tightens around me when I try to push back, to stand, to move at all. It was one thing to allow me to come and speak to Minthara but Lolth is not the generous type.

“You are dismissed, Y/N.”

I catch a brief look of longing before Lolth retakes me, wrapping me in her spidery webs and dragging me back to her clutches.

“Goodbye alurlssrin.”

[sparrowrye]

The Archivist's Oath || Chapter 20: results

Summary: Alastor finds an archivist who can translate Old World texts. Equally bound to their duty, reader and Alastor traverse the tricky landscape of love and commitment…but to whom and to what?

Chapter Synopsis: We see the results of our work, Alastor has more internal battles, and a new threat arises

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared out at the ravine full of broken branches and torn roots. Parts of the ravine wall had crumbled away, covering the floor in sharp, jagged rocks and the plots of farmland were completely gone, their soil now coating the ground. It was a mess.

People had crawled out of their deep caves to start the clean up. The next storm was coming tomorrow but the more they cleaned up in between storms, the less they had to do and the easier it was to clean at the end of the season. Women were sawing away at branches while the men lifted heavy rocks to make a path for carts to come through.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Rosie asked, stepping up beside me.

My shoulders sagged further. "It didn't work."

The words added another layer of weight just from speaking them. I had never been good at handling failure. Usually I would get recklessly angry, but this time all I could feel was disappointment and an entire lack of motivation to do anything.

"Didn't work? Didn't work?" Rosie came around to stand in front of me. "This is the least amount of damage we've ever experienced."

"But the trees and the farmland...they're all—"

"Better than any previous Storm Seasons," she interrupted, bending down to be level with my eyes. "The farmland always gets washed away. Our walls are constantly crumbling. And yes, there's branches all over the ground but this is so little compared to years past, dearie."

"You saw the Middle District on the way here. This is nothing," Husker supplied from behind. His hands were in his pockets and he wore his usual scowl. I had seen the damage of the Middle District. The houses were all wrecked like a tornado had swept through. There was barely anything left.

Alastor had been standing at the edge of our viewpoint, surveying the damage. His bright red coat contrasted the gray atmosphere. He kept his back to me as he said, "You haven't experienced Storm Season before."

"That's right," Rosie agreed and put a hand on my shoulder. "You haven't seen what a normal Storm Season looks like. Trust us when we say this is the best kind of damage we've seen in ages."

I surveyed the destruction in the ravine, but it still looked anything but a success.

"So now what?" I asked. I knew I was struggling to hide my disappointment.

"Now we rinse and repeat." Everyone turned at the sound of Lucifer Morningstar's voice.

The short ruler was flanked by his cheerful bright-eyed daughter, his cane tapping on the stone as loudly as his heeled boots. He came right up to me and my neck sent a silent Thank You to him for being the same height as me.

"You are the catalyst for something great," he said with a grand gesture. I'm sure it was meant as a compliment, and I originally took it as one, but the rational side of me remembered I was helping a dangerous city.

No. The city wasn't dangerous. It was just a collection of people trying to survive. Their leaders were the ones taking over smaller communities. Everyone else was just trying to live. I was saving their lives, wasn't I? I was saving humanity, right?

"The wind shields are a huge improvement!" Charlie stepped forward, her grin as wide as ever, and moved like her father with wide gestures. "The Middle District is a mess but it always is. Everywhere else is so much better!"

I picked at one of my nails. "The shields are working?"

"Yep! They're going to be even safer the more we improve them," Charlie went on. I noticed her father watching her with an approving smile. "Vox is already making improvements and fixing the ones that are broken."

I tensed at the mention of his name but, fortunately, no one seemed to notice. No one except Alastor. He saw the stillness in my hands and the tension in my shoulders.

"What kind of improvements?" I pushed out.

"I'm not sure," Charlie answered. "But he said he's experimenting with ways to protect the Middle District better."

I eased at the response. I didn't like the idea of Vox meddling with a project of mine, nor being close to the Agriculture District, but if he was experimenting with a desolate and unpopulated district, then I had no reason to worry. I wouldn't have to worry about him unless I was moving between Districts, and even then I had Alastor or Husker with me.

Lucifer cleared his throat. "Make any changes you need here. When you think you've got a good enough plan, we'll do the same to all the other districts."

I baulked at the sudden authority over a serious project. My plan was originally meant to 'brace' Rosie's district in a way of saying Thank You to her for her kindness. I had expected, but hadn't really accepted, the idea that my work would be used for the rest of the city.

This was actually happening.

"Lucifer." Alastor stepped forward to lean down in the king's ear, "a word."

Lucifer glared up at him and was ready to snap back, but Alastor had already stepped away. Charlie continued to talk to you and Rosie about the new plans as he followed the Radio Demon.

"What is it?" Lucifer demanded once they were far enough away, arms crossed.

Alastor rested his hands on his cane and sneered down at the smaller man. "I expect not to be pulled into meetings regarding her work anymore."

Lucifer scoffed at the second command. "You most certainly will be pulled. Just because she does better work with you doesn't mean you get free rein of her assignments."

Alastor wasn't bothered. "It stands to show that she does exceptional work with a goal she's passionate about, as well as when she's finessed and not maimed."

Lucifer winced at the reminder. "Regardless of what happened, Storm Season is just one of our many problems. If we're being brutally honest—"

"Then everyone should be bowing to me," Alastor interrupted. "Coaxing a suicidal Archivist into working again is not an easy feat."

Lucifer's lips pulled up into a devilish grin. "My sources tell me Rosie is to thank, not you."

"She deserves credit, of course," Alastor replied smoothly, despite the sting to his ego. "But the dynamic between me and our lovely Archivist is also to thank. I found, delivered, saved, and convinced her to work in our favor. Truly I am a man of great magic."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Once Storm Season is over, you're getting pulled into a meeting about what we need to take care of next."Alastor's lips curled into a snarl but before he could say anything else, Lucifer continued, "And since you're so 'full of magic' you can convince her to translate this."

A swirl of gold pulled Alastor's hand into an upright position. A flimsy book appeared in his palm, one that Alastor instantly recognized. His red eyes found Lucifer's hard stare, a stare that dared Alastor to push his luck and place on the food chain.

{|}

Alastor asked me again to join him in the living room. I decided to do a show of good faith and bring down a book to translate. He noticed, of course, but said nothing. I kept the book open on the couch cushion beside me and my translation notepad in my lap. It took only a few minutes to feel comfortable and I breezed through my translation better than ever before.

Tonight Alastor wore a simple red long sleeve with pale red lines. It mimicked his coat but the small, white collar that was undone by at least two buttons made it causal enough. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of his chest fur poking through.

I could still remember what his chest looked like during and after his injury. I could see the blood staining his clothes and clumping his fur together. I could also remember the softness of it after I had changed his bandages.

My mind then drifted to the day he bathed at the stream. His fur had been pressed to his body with water, dripping off him like a wet animal. Well, he had been a wet animal. He had looked anything but the well-composed, cruel, and terrifying Radio Demon.

Then I remembered when he asked me to help wash his hair. My cheeks burned and—

Bright light flashed in the room followed by a large clap of thunder. My body froze, muscles braced, then eventually eased down when there was no sign of danger. The fire continued to crackle, emitting warmth to fight off the cold draft that sneaked in. The temperatures had dropped significantly this time around.

Niffty had spent most of her time lying in front of the fire until she dozed off. Alastor attempted to coax her into going to bed, but when she didn't comply and fell into a deep sleep, he gently lifted her off the carpet and carried her upstairs. My mouth nearly dropped open at the sight.

Another bright flash and crackle of thunder. The storm was worse this time around. The wind shrieked on the other side of the stone walls, thunder shook the floors and shelves, and lightning was frequent. I was too ramped up to focus on my work anymore, so I sighed heavily and flopped on the floor like I used to do in my bunk.

I shifted closer to the fire as another clap of thunder shook the tower. Storms at the bunker were never this bad.

"Have you finally achieved boredom?" Alastor asked as he came down the stairs.

I quickly sat up. "You say that as if I'm incapable of being bored."

He practically glided to his chair with his long legs and I shifted around to keep him in view. "You lived in that bunker without going insane. You must be invincible to boredom."

I smiled despite myself. "That must be why I'm still alive then," I met his eyes, "after knowing you for so long."

He scoffed, clearly not insulted, and crossed his legs. "I find myself rather entertaining. Your work, however, meets the criteria." He reached for his glasses and book. The gentle smile on his lips spoke volumes.

I remained were I was for a few moments, debating with myself, before finally stretching out again. I stared at the ceiling and clasped my hands together over my stomach. I drew in a slow, deep sigh. "You were the first time I didn't feel bored."

Silence hung between us.

I dared a glance in his direction to see if he was annoyed by the comment. The only expression I got was a blank stare. I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign, so I looked back at the ceiling and wrung my hands. "Sorry," I mumbled.

In a way, I had gotten my wish for a more entertaining life, albeit a very challenging and scary one. And painful. Alastor had promised to show me more of the world. It wasn't in a way I liked, but there were moments when it looked like he was trying—really trying. Maybe things would turn out okay.

Alastor watched you from his chair. He had gone very still, stuck in decision paralysis. He wanted to lay beside me, to touch my skin again, to watch me give in to his touch rather than flinch away. Ever since Vox, Alastor wanted nothing more than to make you seek him for shelter. But the cavern between the two of you felt far too wide.

You were the first time I ever felt calm, he wanted to say in return. Why he kept quiet, he'll never know. Perhaps because it was easy to be open around you, and that fact unnerved him. You had very little magic yet could pull out a forbidden side of him with ease.

He lifted his hand to his lips, pressing the cool tips of his claws to his cheek. The memory of your first kiss had chased him in his dreams for weeks after you had banished him. They had subsided when he brought you here, but now? Now it was something he couldn't stop thinking about. It didn't help that it had been the first kiss he initiated; the first one he had actually wanted.

Your eyes found his again and his chest tightened. He wanted to lay beside you like that night on the rooftop. He wanted to feel your hands running through his hair, firm but gentle, and with all the care in the world. He wanted to feel the heat of your words when you were pushed too far. He wanted those gorgeous eyes on him at all times, your focus on nothing and no one else other than him. He wanted to pin you to the floor and have another kiss just so he could feel the buzz of electricity that zipped under his skin.

There were a lot of things he wanted but couldn't have. Acting on any of those wants would damage the weak bond he had managed to piece back together with you. He always had a plan. He always knew what to do and when to do it. He always knew.

And yet, he could do nothing but sit in that chair with your eyes on him and his hand over his mouth.

{|}

The storm eased up the following day. The inside of Alastor's tower remained the same—dark, gloomy, and moist. The air felt thick and I worried the books would be damaged, though there was nothing I could do about it.

After translating a few more pages of the plumbing and electricity texts, I finally wandered downstairs. Niffty was on the couch crocheting something—probably a bug—and Alastor was in his usual spot near the fire and his radio. He wore a dark long sleeve, halfway between black and navy, and his bright eyes were already glancing towards the stairs as I came down.

How the hell was he not sweating?

"Wonderful of you to join us," he greeted. I nodded and quietly went to his bookshelf for the novel I had been previously reading, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. Niffty showed me her crochet project—indeed it was a bug, a cockroach no less—and let me sit beside her.

I tucked my legs up and leaned against the armrest as I began to read. The silence was comforting—the crackle of the fire and hum of radio static were the only things that permeated the peace; aside from the constant rain just beyond the walls. I recalled the long winter nights with my family in the bunker, huddling around a small clay pot and candle, and playing several rounds of card games.

When my brother left it was just me, my mother, and my grandmother. We handled everything just fine by ourselves, but my brother had left a hallow, quiet, irreplaceable hole that was felt by all of us.

Once my grandmother passed away, things took a nosedive from there. My mother couldn't do much of the heavy lifting chores anymore and she spent most of her time sleeping away the hours of the day. I felt her grief as heavy as my own and it nearly crushed me had I not been too busy trying to keep us alive. She stopped translating altogether after she began making too many mistakes, ones I was fortunate enough to catch.

It wasn't long after my grandmother's passing that my mother became ill. I watched as my mother succumbed to her grief. She stopped cooking and could barely make it from her bed to the couch without running out of breath. And when I tried to play cards with her on rainy days, she couldn't concentrate. She would slip in and out of sleep until one day, she didn't wake up.

I spent a week trying to dig her grave. My crying and screaming got in the way, and my usual chores were just as demanding, somehow more so. For that entire week I kept her body wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Once I had finished her grave, right beside my grandmother and her mother, I carefully lowered my mother's body into the grave. It was raining that day.

Niffty suddenly shifted off the couch and it pulled me back to reality. I took a deep breath and my throat loosened as I remembered where I was, the ambience of the tower filling my ears once again. As confusing as Alastor's presence was, I wasn't physically alone anymore.

Niffty scurried into the kitchen to make a light snack for lunch. Alastor let out a heavy sigh then removed his glasses and placed his work on the side table. He stood to his full height and stretched out his long arms, giving me a chance to run my eyes along the muscles pushing against the dark fabric.

"Would you care for anything?" he asked, meeting my eyes as a blush surfaced to my cheeks. I looked away.

"Sure."

I waited until he walked into the kitchen before sagging against the cushions. Things weren't as tense as they were before, but the awkwardness seemed to follow me everywhere I went. Did he feel it too? Probably not.

I stood up and stretched out my arms and legs, and twisted my torso in an effort to relieve my usual back pain. I glanced at Alastor's chair, at the indent in the cushion from his weight. His leather-bound journal was filled with various papers and his round glasses sat atop it. What was even on those papers? What did he spend all his time reading?

I wandered closer, nervously checking around the corner in the kitchen. Would Alastor be bothered? Would he get mad at me for not asking him instead? Would he answer truthfully if I asked what his notes were about?

I figured a small glance couldn't hurt. I carefully pulled one of the pages further out and felt my hands go cold. It was Old English.

I pulled it out the rest of the way and examined the note. It was plain and simple and written in his handwriting. Where did he read this? Did he know what it meant? Has he been trying to decipher my translations and learn how to translate himself? Was that even possible?

Footsteps came up behind me. I turned, bracing myself, and looked up to meet his eyes. They blinked back at me. "I see you found something."

I gripped the note tighter. "Wha—what is this?"

He stepped past me and lowered a plate of bread and cheese on the side table near the couch. "A White Angel prisoner carved it into the floor of her cell." He moved back to his chair and I stepped out of his way. "So I copied it down."

I glanced at the paper, then back at him. "Were you going to ask me to translate this?"

He tilted his head slightly, the dawn of a question on the tip of his tongue, but then he suddenly closed it, eyes widening. "You can read it."

I nodded and looked at the paper again. "It's Old World language. Old English," I explained. The handwriting was crude and clearly a copy of someone else's writing, but unmistakably Alastor's.

Now he was leaning forward in his chair. "Can you tell me what it says?"

His sudden interest sent a prickle of fear along my skin. I felt compelled to deny him, but then remembered this paper wasn't from my archive. I could technically freely translate this. And considering what the paper said, I felt he most certainly should know.

"It says: When the waves are calm, more will come."

Alastor stared at me for several moments, lost in his own mind.

"It could be a warning," I suggested.

He rubbed his chin. "Or a threat."

I read the note to myself again. "Do you think they meant literal waves?"

"Perhaps."

Feeling comfortable enough, I moved closer to him to put the note back on his side table. He watched me intensely as I did, though I avoided his eyes. They were as hot as the fire on my back.

"Do you think..." he began gently, making me stop in front of him. "...that you might be able to translate what the angel says?"

My mind was split. One half of me wondered if it was possible to translate something other than text, while the other half realized that I might be used in an interrogation if I could. Another tool.

"I...I'm not sure." I shifted uncomfortably and glanced into the small fire. It burned away the mist that clouded the room but made my clothes stick to my arms with sweat. "I've never tried," I murmured.

Alastor gestured towards the couch. "Consider it. We have plenty of time thanks to this storm."

His offer gave me an out and I took it, settling on the couch and pulling the book into my lap. But I couldn't focus. The note still burned in my thoughts and I silently repeated the phrase over and over again.

Was it a threat? More had to mean more White Angels. That much was obvious. But the waves didn't make sense. Was it used in a literal sense? A metaphor for chaos? Waves of people? Storm waves? Ocean waves?

Then it hit me like a lightning bolt.

I stood suddenly, clutching the small book to my stomach.

"The coast."

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Author's Note:

You're getting a juicy chapter next week :P

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Taglist:

@drevisrose @until-thedaysof-spring @torustesseract @sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette @eris-norwega

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Reflection Reader:

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[sweetlittlelamb]

I forgot the emojis already but

Happy headcannon/zevlor

And

Happy headcannon/dammon (baby boy)

Oooh I love these! I couldn't decide whether to share a headcanon about them that is happy, or to share a headcanon about how they react when they're happy so I decided to include both😁

Zevlor:

My headcanon that is happy: He starts up his own Hellriders-esque group in Rivington/Baldur's Gate post game. (Listen, I know I included this in my Zevlor x Tav fic but I think it's true even outside of the fic universe).

In the druid grove he mentions wanting to settle down and that his soldiering days are over, but I don't think he really wants or means that. He's been rejected from his home, his paladin oath is broken, and his entire way of life has been ripped out from under his feet, so of course he pivots and latches onto the direct opposite path in desperation.

However, after he saves Baldur's Gate and finds his purpose again, he'll want to share his knowledge and train the next generation of protectors to one day stand in his place. Having people relying on him, respecting him, and ultimately supporting him in return would help him heal and is the perfect ending for him.

And hey, if a cute wizard named Tav happens to fall madly in love with him and he happens to fall madly in love back, then great! An even better ending for him 😉

My headcanon about happy Zevlor: I think Zevlor isn't the type to go around grinning from ear to ear when he's happy. He'll give a small smile, and the tip of his tail will curl like a cat's, but that's the most he'll allow. However! If you catch him off-guard with the right joke he will toss his head back and give the loudest, longest, belly laugh you've ever heard. When he's done, he'll wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes, shake his head, and waggle his finger at you while saying, "Oh, that was a good one."

He will then immediately sober and go along his way as though nothing just happened.

Dammon:

My headcanon that is happy: He finally accepts a blacksmith apprentice and his life becomes 100% better.

Dammon isn't the type to let himself relax if work needs to be done. If I'm remembering right, his home in Baldur's Gate even has a diary in it mentioning that his hands can barely hold a pen after working the forge all day, which is pretty clear he's pushing himself beyond healthy limits. But his new blacksmith business is just getting off the ground and there's a sudden high demand for weapons and armour with the Absolute army on its way so of course he can't take a day off or shorten his working hours. Poor guy doesn't even have time to read that ✨️interesting✨️book of his! (We love smut readers in this house 💖)

So, when someone shows up on his doorstep one day begging to take them on as his apprentice, he agrees. It doesn't matter who the apprentice is, but I think it would be super nice if it's one of the refugee tiefling kids. Anyway, he figures at worst he'll have someone around to talk to while he works and at best he can maybe finish his workday a little earlier with an extra set of hands around the place.

Turns out, having an apprentice is the exact thing he needed.

He could ignore his own empty belly and work through lunch, but he can't do that to some poor kid so he ends up taking the time to actually cook and eat proper meals again. He didn't mind working into the night, but he can't send some kid home in the dark- that'd be dangerous! So he ends their workday at a more reasonable time. He doesn't have to spend hours preparing supplies, because his apprentice can do that instead. He doesn't have to take time away from his forge to tend to the till because his apprentice can handle the customer's instead.

He finally has a work/life balance, his apprentice is getting a great education from a highly skilled blacksmith, the townspeople are very happy with his products, and Dammon finally gets to read his smutty book on his days off 💕

My headcanon about happy Dammon: He whistles and sings when he's happy. This is pretty cute and all, but he's also entirely tone deaf. This makes for some truly terrible torture for anyone within earshot.

When he finally has enough free time to actually go out and start dating again, the whole neighbourhood can tell a date went well by the awful caterwauling coming from the forge the next day.

Thank you for sending the ask and I hope you enjoyed my rambling! The Dammon one kinda got out of control from me there, I didn't mean to write that much about him but I couldn't help myself 😅💕

[paigesbasketball]

Under Oath

Chapter 2: The Crying whispers of Deception Paige x Black OC Warnings: swearing, sister issues

The tension in the air was thick, the kind of atmosphere that presses down on you the moment you walk into a room. Me and my sister grew more apart as the years went on and lets just say she got herself into shady shit, so when the I heard the news of Paige and her teammates breaking the contract with my sister’s company the thought had hit me like a ton of bricks. But it wasn’t the breach of contract that troubled me most—it was the fact that the company was her company, and I had no idea that my sister was involved with something so crucial to Paige’s team.

My sister had always kept me at arm’s length when it came to her work. I understood that she was ambitious—driven, even—but after everything that had happened with the college situation, the shady deals she’d gotten herself into, and the paths she’d gone down... I never thought she’d be involved with something like this. This company? It wasn’t some high-end, adult market. It was for kids.

That thought hit me hard. For all the messed-up things I knew she’d done, this—this was supposed to be a company dedicated to creating a safe, fun space for children. But there she was, wrapped up in a business deal with Paige and the UConn team, a team that had just broken the contract with her. It didn’t sit right with me.

I knocked twice on the door, already knowing the answer. Her icy tone beckoned me inside.

"Come in."

As I stepped into her office, the coldness of her demeanor was immediate. She was seated behind her desk, papers scattered around her, and a sharpness to her eyes I hadn’t seen in a while. The moment she saw me, her lips thinned into a tight line.

"What’s this I hear about you getting involved with Paige and her team?" Her voice wasn’t exactly hostile, but there was an edge to it that made my chest tighten.

I walked toward her desk, carefully placing the file about the contract I’d been looking into. "I’m just asking questions, Sis. I found out that some of Paige’s team broke the contract with your company, and I wanted to understand why."

Her gaze flicked to the file I’d placed in front of her, and I could tell by the way her lips curled that she didn’t want to discuss it.

"I don’t need you meddling in my business," she snapped. "I can handle it."

I didn’t back down, despite the icy reception. "I wasn’t planning on meddling," I said, keeping my tone steady. "But KK is involved in this, and I’m not just going to ignore it. She’s a lifelong friend. I need to know what happened."

At the mention of KK’s name, my sister’s eyes flickered. For a moment, I thought I saw something shift in her—almost like she wasn’t quite prepared for this conversation to take this turn.

"KK? That’s your defense?" She leaned forward, her face hardening. "If you were a real sister, you wouldn’t be helping them. You wouldn’t be involved in this at all."

Her words hit me like a slap. My pulse quickened as I stared back at her, trying to read her face, trying to understand why she was acting this way. She wasn’t usually like this. There was something off. Her eyes, usually so confident, were now dark, brimming with something I couldn’t name.

"You’re not telling me something," I said, stepping closer to her desk. "Why are you acting like this?"

For a moment, she didn’t answer, the silence heavy between us. Her jaw tightened, and the look on her face—one of betrayal, of cold anger—seemed to consume her entire expression. Her features seemed to absorb it, like she was becoming that feeling. I could see the walls coming up, the barrier she’d always put between us when things were too complicated for her to deal with.

"Just get out of my office," she snapped harshly, standing up and gesturing toward the door. "I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you questioning me."

I couldn’t just leave, not when everything was wrong in the air between us. I refused to back down. "Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll leave," I said firmly, crossing my arms. "Why are you so upset? What’s really bothering you?"

There was a flicker in her eyes, a brief moment where I thought she might actually open up to me. But instead, she stiffened, clenching her fists. And then, she said it—the words that would change everything.

"I made a contract with the UConn team to try and get in good faith with Paige," she confessed, her voice almost a whisper, like the words burned her. "I was just trying to make things right with her."

I didn’t believe it for a second. My sister hated Paige. She had always made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with her, especially after everything that had happened between them. This wasn’t about "making things right"—it didn’t make sense.

"You’re telling me you made this deal to make peace with Paige?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "That doesn’t sound like you."

She didn’t meet my eyes. "I was trying to show good faith," she muttered. "But this is just Paige trying to deceive me again. She always does this. I’m trying to play nice, and she thinks she can push me around. Well, I’m not going to be made a fool."

I pushed further, my instincts screaming that something wasn’t right. "What about KK and the others? Why did they sign the deal?"

Her face softened for a moment, and she looked away. "KK signed in favor of chocolate-covered peanuts. It’s part of her brand. She wanted it, so she signed. It was a simple agreement." Her tone was dismissive, as if she were trying to brush off the question.

I must’ve shown my disbelief because my sister immediately noticed. Before I could say anything, she pulled me into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around me in a way that felt… insincere. "You’re overthinking this," she whispered softly, almost too softly. "I didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. We should catch up sometime, okay?"

I pulled back, looking at her face one last time. There was something wrong with her—something I couldn’t put my finger on. But in that moment, I knew: she had lied to me.

I walked out of her office, the cold air hitting my face as I made my way down the hallway. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the silence, and all I could think was how easily she had tried to cover up her lie.

But I wasn’t convinced. KK was allergic to peanuts. The very idea that she would sign a deal to promote something that could hurt her was ridiculous. My mind raced, piecing things together. None of it made sense.

And what hurt the most? The company she was running wasn’t some shady backroom deal for quick cash (like she used to be involved in). It was meant to be for kids—a world that I always thought would mean something pure, something she could believe in. But instead, it seemed like it was just another avenue for her to get what she wanted—no matter the cost. I had to find out the truth.

"Oh sister, sister, what have you done…"

ooooooohh i wonder what's gonna happen next...SIKE only i shall know😌

This was a little treat in honor of thanksgiving but the stories are now going to start lining up with the every Tuesday thing. seeing as i already have stories stuff pending the 3rd chapter might come out 3 or two tuesdays from now.. but i am not sure it may come out earlier if i find time

hope you enjoyed darlings

- Caty writes