#and filling out her own backstory her masters/the ones who trained her were so

[martialartslover7]

Tenten's Untold Backstory

After another long day of training, Might Guy has decided to treat his own pupils for dinner at the steakhouse. As a final protein boost, post-workout, always hits the spot for them. And as always, Rock Lee is the most enthusiastic about it, with Neji just wordlessly eating the beef, being always too exhausted to be dealing with his teammate's and his sensei's innate inability to ever put the brakes on with their enthusiasm overload.

But surprisingly, it came to the Hyuga's notice: Tenten wasn't looking as cheerful as she usually did. She wasn't even touching her own plate. She just looked... depressed. But Neji wasn't the only, gradually, even Rock Lee and Guy stopped their verbal assault on all senses, just to put all their focus on their weapon master, sharing the same genuinely concerned look as the Hyuga. With the latter asking in a gentle tone of voice:

"Tenten... Are you alright? You're unusually quiet today. Did something happen?"

When she looked up, she tried to act as if all was well, forcing herself to smile, in a vain attempt to not burden her team with her "nonsensical" burdens. Defensively holding up her hands throughout.

"Oh! Uh, it's nothing, really, I just... I just don't have that big an appetite today, is all. Can't help it, when I have already eaten my lunch, y'know. I don't need as much food as you guys. Hehe..."

But Rock Lee, who is usually the one to play along, saw right through her, and normally, he is not one to dwell too hard on something, as training and protein are his daily bread and butter. But beyond all else, he was still a loyal-to-a-tee teammate, and seeing her putting on this mask of "it's fine, don't worry about me", only served to add fuel to the fire. He asked in a very caring voice:

"...Come on, Tenten. We can tell something is bothering you. I have seen it all, while we were training with your weapons, today. You looked quite frustrated, and not even in a way that I would laugh at it. Tell us, what's the matter?"

Knowing she was caught, the weapon master lets out one sorrowful sigh, heavy of heart, she lets them know, what exactly was weighing heavy on her soul. And she began, with a question.

"...Have you guys ever wondered why I am so drawn to weapons? And why am I so obsessed with them? I know, it's cheesy to start it now, but... I need to fill you in."

Without saying a word, wanting to be respectful, her male teammates nodded, wanting to listen to her. And it starts with Tenten smiling in a nostalgic way, as she began looking back on her childhood. And we see images of a small Tenten, running around with toy swords, toy guns, toy bow & arrow, etc.

"Ever since I could think, I thoroughly enjoyed playing with toy weapons growing up. While all the other girls were busy playing with dolls, or collecting flowers, I was not one such girl. This stuff just bored me to death. ...I guess that's why Ino and Sakura refer to me as "the queen of tomboys", considering I am always sticking out like a sore thumb, every time I meet up with them, and Hinata. …Let alone the fact that I am nowhere near as boy-crazed as these three. And on every playground, you would see me, running around, wielding my toy sword, as if I was the queen of the playground, and everyone else is my servant."

Her teammates could only smile at that endearing imagery. A tiny Tenten, acting like a shogun, commanding an army with a toy katana.

But that is when Tenten's tone mildly darkened, as, the very moment she entered the academy, things went south, fairly quickly. She still recalled her first few days in classes, and how she was approached by a bunch of bullies, who called her a "freak", for casually wielding ninja tools, while everyone else struggled with them. The insults from the other fellow kunoichis hit the hardest. They would go as far as evading her completely, calling her "a degenerate", a "potential threat to their lives", and just straight up finding her weird. God forbid, a female shinobi obsessing over weapons, and being relatively efficient at using them, too, where would that lead to? 

"But then, once I got to the academy... If I were to describe it, it would be the equivalent to a straight nosedive from a plane crash before impact. All of a sudden, the people I grew up with, whom I had thought to be my friends, turned on me, and began calling me "weird", "mentally unwell", or worst of all, "potentially dangerous"... All because of my hobby with collecting weapons and studying them. And previously, they were all fine with it... I don't understand... Even now, I am confused out of my mind, at that sudden heel turn. And all the fellow kunoichi, they were the most nasty towards me. They would go as far as stealing my toy weapons, putting me on the spot in front of the whole class, making fun of me, all because of my "not-so-feminine" hobby. I mean, come on. A kunoichi proudly wielding weapons, what comes next? A male shinobi using an umbrella in battle?"

The venom and sarcasm at that last part really caught the three men off-guard, but their gazes softened, once they realized: Tenten quickly shifted from angry, to deeply upset. As she slumps onto the table, leaning her head onto her crossed arms, looking all kinds of deflated and frustrated.

"And it's all because of them, I have become so defensive of my hobby, turned specialty in combat. I am taking huge pride in it, because... ever seen a kunoichi with such a simple-minded, boneheaded approach to battle? ...It still won't protect me from the occasional reminder that I used to be made fun of for it, but, you know... you know..."

Her hazel eyes began growing mildly watery, as the more recent reminder, involved her humiliating loss against Tenten. Even though she knew that the circumstances at the time were the same that caused Temari to be this nasty and hostile towards Leaf ninja in general, it still didn't help. Those wounds still feel fresh to her. They didn't close up. And she still felt the side effects of that loss, to this day. Which explains her more recent grievances and doubts involving her fighting style. She began asking way too many questions about whether her specialty bore any weight any longer, or not.

"And well, losing to Temari really didn't help. It admittedly only served to scratch my ego even further. I gave it my all against her, and she just brushed me aside like I wasn't even worth her time, both literally and figuratively. All my weapons and tools proved useless against her, and she defeated me in a way that left a permanent scar in my mind. Sorry, if I end up sounding so miserable, but... that's how I feel, I can't help it."

She looked at Guy, knowing he might be having the urge to tell her that, "nothing is impossible", "hard work will always beat out natural talent", but right now, even he knew, this wasn't going to help her. As Tenten's issues run way deeper than just "needing to work harder". And yet, she longed for his encouragement, as she felt her own voice cracking, as she spoke:

"Sensei... I know what you might say next, "I am giving up way too early", but don't forget... I am not like you guys. My chakra nature and size is only SLIGHTLY above Lee's, and to be an efficient ninja, I will need way more than just consistent repetition and hard work to make it happen... I am sorry for sounding so gloomy, but... What can I do...? I am literally... at a loss, right now..."

As she spoke in such a self-punishing and deprecating manner, a sob escaped her lips, as the tears began flowing out of her eyes, feeling so overwhelmed and helpless right now.

Guy knew, that these issues must have been eating away at his young student for quite a while and seeing her expressing her insecurities in such a profound, deep-rooted way, his fatherly instincts kick in, as he goes over to Tenten's, kneeling down, embracing the young kunoichi, knowing she really needs this kind of emotional support right about now. He tells her gently, while caressing the back of her head:

"Don't worry, Tenten. Even with this, you shouldn't give up on yourself like that. We will figure something out, like we always have. Remember, in life, you only truly lose, if you give up. If you stop trying, then you'll be at a loss. But you're way stronger than that. Don't let anyone take this away from you, the fact that you made it this far with your love for weapons, should be more than enough for you to realize: There will always be a silver lining, waiting to be discovered."

Rock Lee cuts in, firmly agreeing with their sensei, but this time, it was his conviction speaking too. He knows it as well as her, when he lost to Gaara, and he was told he wouldn't be able to ever participate as a shinobi, ever again, he was also ready to throw in the towel. Luckily, this didn't happen, thanks to Lady Tsunade, and his bravery in facing the surgery, despite the outcome of it having been uncertain.

"Guy-sensei is right, Tenten. And I am saying this as someone, who would have nearly given up the path of shinobi, due to my injuries against Gaara of the Sand. If I can leave this seemingly hopeless situation, then so can you. I mean... I cannot exactly speak for myself, when it comes to weapons, but... maybe if you were to create your OWN tools, then there might a chance--"

But once Tenten processed over what Lee had just dropped for a phrase, her head abruptly looks up from Guy's shoulder, as she asked her teammate with wide eyes:

"Wait-wait-wait, what did you just say, Lee?!"

"Uh... my injuries? Never giving up?"

"No-no-no, after that! You said something like, "If I were to create my own tools, it would be a way to start over"..."

Rock Lee began smiling in a cheerful way, as he felt a little proud of himself for that small brainstorming of his.

"Oh yes... ...did I strike gold?"

Neji playfully added, with his arms folded:

"...Seems like you did. Look at her go."

And before anyone could guess what came next, Tenten was off, speeding home, but not before smiling at her teammates in such an adorable way, it would make anyone's heart flutter on sight.

"Thank you, everyone...! I now know what I must do... I'll create my own workshop! See you around!"

All three of them waved, as Guy began chuckling to himself, being quite proud of the two.

"Well, it seems that we may have ignited a spark within her. ...Are you two prepared to become her personal guinea pigs, along with me?"

Rock Lee nodded, and Neji commented by saying with his trademark smirk, all the while speaking in a gentle manner, knowing that this means the world to their teammate:

"Well, anything to make her happy. I will be right there."

"Me too, Guy-sensei!"

"That's my team. We succeeded again! Hahaha!"

He does his trademark toothy grin, before doing his thumbs-up, a shine appearing on his teeth.

Author's note: There you have it, folks. I gotta say, it took me a while, but I finally cracked the code on how to make Tenten based, in a sustainable way. Just make her an inventor, a builder of weapons, tools, even VEHICLES. Imagine her building aircrafts, using Shino's beetles as the basis for it, to chase after someone like Deidara. Just an idea. Or her building a visor that replicates the Byakugan's and Sharingan's property of reading chakra flow within a person's body. Also, you can call this the prologue to her rematch with Temari that I posted a week or so ago.

[casp1an-sea]

Reese Tal

I know the lighting and shadow are terrible it’s old

Eli’s Art :)

other characters to know for their story: Pical (Master)

Birth Year: 34 BBY

Age at beginning: 12

Species: Twi’lek Human Hybrid

Gender: Intersex, unlabeled (They/Them, Predominantly masc terms but they don’t consider themselves masculine)

Height: 4’9”

Occupation: Padwan (Pical is their master)

Force Alignment: Neutral (but they’re a child so this will change as they get older)

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Personality: Rees is very spunky and carefree. They take absolutely nothing seriously at the beginning of the war and are impatient. They just barely passed the test to become a padawan. Because of their immaturity the council thought it would be best to put them with a stricter master to help straighten them out so they suggested to Pical that he might want to consider taking them on. They don’t really want to become a jedi because they don’t think it’s any fun and they just want to be a child and live their own life. They look up to the clones and would prefer to be like them. They often call master Pical “master Pickle” because it bothers him. Despite the recklessness, they do not like to see when other people get hurt.

Appearance: Rees is more twi’lek than human. has light blue skin with small patches of human collared skin which is pale. has brown eyes and short Lekuu. very androgynous and their body is slightly effeminate. Reese only wears robes when they have too. If they do their robes are the standard bege and oversized. Reese has a dark brown leather head covering for their leku. When they don’t have to wear their  robes they wear a gray jumpsuit with an orangy-yellow armored chest plates amongst other pieces of mismatched clone armor welded to fit them. (they try to get clone  squadrons to sign it) They also often carry an oversized brown bag to put trinkets in cause they’re a bit of a hoarder. Since they don’t have hair their Padawan braid is made from beads.

Weapons: They have a single bladed blue lightsaber with a gold hilt. By twisting the bottom they can set off a sort of smoke bomb so non toxic smoke will fill the room. By twisting it again the smoke will stop. Once it runs out they have to refill it with tabana.

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Backstory: Reese like all other padawans was taken as a child and knows nothing about their birth family. They make up fantasies about the family they never knew as a way to keep themself from missing them. They were gifted their families kalikore but it was taken by the council because attachments are forbidden. Ayla Secura gave it back lol. They were mainly taught by plo koon as a youngling. They barely passed the test to become a Padawan and were one of the two Padawans were suggested to Pical. Pical ended up picking them because they seemed like the lesser of two evils, they were Bob is a menace. The relationship started off Rocky because pical didn’t really know how to train a padwan, and often left them places to study, while going on dangerous missions, which angered Reese who got to see Zac go on cool adventures with his master. Their relationship eventually bettered, and Reese viewed Pical as a father figure.

TW: Child Death and also really depressing shit because it’s order 66 guys

(Might release this part as a one shot)

Reese was at the temple during order 66. Pical head went on a particularly dangerous mission and left them behind. Reese had tried to stowaway, but Pical caught them and forced them to stay behind. They had been studying in the library when it happened upon leaving they found the librarians dead body, and realize that the whole temple was under attack by the very clones that they admired. They started running, trying to find anyone that could help. as they were searching they saw another Padawan who was trying to escape the clones, but she had been shot in the leg and was limping. They grabbed her, and the two of them hid in a closet. They waited there for a long time. Things got quiet, but none of them dared to step outside. Then the door opened and Reese sighed with relief as they recognized the Clone that opened the door. But the Clone held up his blaster and shot at Reese at point blank range. Through tears Reese deflected the bolt into the troopers chest and began running, again, taking the girl with them, not able to look back at the Trooper’s body. They searched and searched for a master who could help them and stumbled upon one of the Youngling classrooms were they saw the massacred bodies of the Youngling’s Anakin had slaughtered. They were shaking they didn’t know what to do, and then they heard Anakin’s voice. They stepped into the hall to get his help, but witnessed him murder Another Padawan. Reese wanted to help, but the padwan was already dead so they ran, but Anakin heard them and sent his saber flying down the hallway. In a last ditch attempt to make their inevitable doom worth something. They pushed the girl out of the way of the blade and took it for her, collapsing to the ground as it sliced through their chest. They would never know this, but Anakin still murdered the girl shortly after. Pical got the distress call and arrived at the temple around the same time as Obi-Wan and Yoda he searched through the force, finding Reese’s faint presence. He knelt down beside his padwan laying their head in his lap. Reese died there in his arms. Pical blamed himself. —————————————————————————

REESE AND PICAL DRAWING

I know Reese’s Leku aren’t that long I just wanted to show the Twi’lek sign for love. Also the height prob isn’t accurate either lol

Art by @kira-mortham

art by @arsonisticpotato

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@xen-blank, @thehollowwriter, @l7k-a, @ferris-the-wheel, @keii-starz

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@theosb0rnway @fizzydreamz @ravenwing0110

@diabollicallyangelic @xentari94 @tomatette

@dragonflies-draw-flame @sunshinechildskywalker

[ask-mikitama-suzuki]

Name: Mikitama Suzuki (goes by Miki)

Age: 14

Species: Half demon and Bakeneko yokai

Important Relationships: Mikitamo (Miko) Suzuki (twin brother), Michio Suzuki (older brother), Haruki Suzuki (uncle), Giyuu Tomioka (adoptive father), Tanjiro Kamado (best friend/boyfriend depending on what universe it is)

Occupation: Demon Slayer (3 years)

Rank: Hashira (2 and 1/2 years)

Breathing Style: Starlight breathing

Backstory: The Suzuki siblings’ parents were killed by Douma 2 years after the twins, Miki and Miko, were born. They were members of his cult and he found their mother to be very beautiful. He killed her first, not knowing that Miki was watching. She quickly alerted her father, resulting in her father’s death as well. Michio ran away with his 2 year old siblings to their Uncle Haruki’s home. Haruki took them in with open arms, but a year later a low rank demon killed his wife when she was protecting the children. After this, Haruki became very abusive towards them since he blamed them for the death of his wife. Michio tried to protect his younger siblings, but he was almost never able to. Michio, Miko, and Miki discovered the existence of demon slayers after one came to protect them from Haruki after he was turned into a demon. The slayer brought the kids (Michio was 13 while Miki and Miko were 10) to the demon slayer headquarters. The Master talked with them and decided to allow them to train under the hashira so that, they too, could become demon slayers. Miki and Miko trained under Giyuu Tomioka, the water hashira, and MIchio trained under Kyojuro Rengoku, the flame Hashira. After training for a year, the siblings went to the final selection and passed easily. 6 months later, Miki crossed paths with Douma. Recognizing him as the one who killed her parents, she quickly killed him. Miko and Michio were very happy when she killed Douma. They were surprised to find out that she could now be a hashira. Miko and Michio became hashira as well around 6-7ish months after Miki did.

“If I could, I would go back and save mother and father, but I was too young to understand what was happening… All I can do now is stay strong for the ones I love.” -Miki Suzuki

Fun facts:

When Miki saw Douma for the first time in 9 years, she was immediately filled with pain and rage as the memories of seeing her parents eaten by him filled her mind.

Miki’s favorite food is chicken udon since Michio used to make it for her and Miko, eventually teaching them how to make it too!

Miki wears a mask because she’s insecure. It helps her feel more confident and happy!

Miki loves doing crafty things like sowing, pottery, painting, and drawing.

Miki is often underestimated because of her small size and her age, but she doesn’t let that stop her!

Miki uses the breathing style that was passed down through the Suzuki family for generations: starlight breathing.

rules:

1. Don’t message me, I’m not allowed to dm

2. No nsfw, mod is a minor and so is Miki

3. I am very open to multishipping, so just know any ship you see on this blog is it’s own universe

4. Please ask if you want to ship your character with Miki. I will likely say yes unless he has a weird age gap from Miki or smth (I only ship her with male characters for religious reasons)

5. Have fun!

au list:

1. Main

2. Royalty (princess)

3. Royalty (maid)

4. Civilian

5. Butterfly girl

6. Ubuyashiki (alternate ver. of civilian au)

(more TBA)

[envys-stories]

Busy day so here is the backstory for my tiefling rogue I played in a few one-shots last fall

Born to a powerful teifling general and a royal hand servant, Akaria is no stranger to the decadence of the rich and powerful. As a child she brushed shoulders with royals, but became quickly bitter at the privileged lives they led that she could not afford. As she matured she often found herself amongst the children of nobles by day and servants at night, causing her to learn the value of different personas among the classes. When she was 14 she was apprenticed to a blacksmith. Before a season had passed, she started cheating soldiers out of their coin at cards while they waited for their swords and armor to be repaired. At 17 she was sent to a boarding school for young ladies in order to give her a sense of morality, when the master blacksmith realized her winnings were not just luck. While at the boarding school, paid by her earnings at cards, she developed a fast friendship with the daughter of a powerful nobleman from the south. Her stay at the boarding school lasted for four years, longer than anyone expected. By all rights she should have graduated, except that she would sneak out in the evenings to frequent taverns and perfect her skills at games of chance. In the spring of her 21st birthday, the headmistress caught her in the attic with the nobleman’s daughter. They were both expelled, and akarias first love was quickly married off to a minor baron, never for them to meet again. Now above the age where she could be apprenticed, Akaria set off to find anyone who would take her in. She was met with little success, until an early fall evening in a tavern when she got bold and swindled a years worth of profit from a local farmer. The farmer, understandably upset, gathered other local men she had cheated in the past months and began a fight. Some hours later, she found herself bloodied and bruised in an alley, without a cent to her name. This was when she met perhaps the most important person in her life- Malimortus Xai, head of the local thieves guild. Malimortus had heard of Akari’s gambling skill and had been watching her for several months. Impressed by her perseverance, he offered her an apprenticeship of a nontraditional nature. He would train her in the art of disguise, forgery, stealth, and other illicit trades, if she killed the head of another guild before the years end. Akari refused at first. Malimortus visited her at the tavern every evening, beating her at her own con, until she accepted his terms. That night, she broke into the home of the head of the merchants guild, an old man who lived alone and remained the head of the guild out of tradition while his son truly ran the guild. She slit his throat in his sleep, and left thanking whatever god had favored her that night that he chose to live alone. Akaria spent the next four years training with Malimortus, and the two of them became more jaded against the nobles akaria once was so familiar with. The culmination of her training was a plot with Malimortus to steal as much as they could carry from the nobles manor vault. It was all going according to plan until they were leaving the manor, when (due to an unfortunate bout of the stomach flu among the the guard) the guards changed post an hour early, with the chief wizard filling in for the patrol. When he caught them, he immediately knew who Malimortus was and used a powerful spell to erase his memories, as he had a bounty of 5,000 gp as reward for incapacitating him. Unfortunately, the edge of the blast caught Akaria, leaving her with some skills remaining intact; and others at the level of a novice apprentice. On the eve of the winter solstice, Malimortus was publicly executed, leaving Akaria with a burning hatred for the nobles, and a vow to one day return and ruin the lives the nobles and the wizard who took her mentor from her. Until then, she is in search of adventure and allies to gain the skills and forces to take down the nobles and take their place.

[catras-breakup-song]

this is the last time i'm going to be discussing this "sisters" discourse (i hope), but i feel like i need to get the last word in for my own peace of mind; no hate to the OP but this was subposted about without my prior knowledge and i don't want to get confrontational by responding directly. if OP see this, by the way, i'd be okay with talking in DMs to get stuff sorted out peacefully, but i'd really rather not debate or even discuss this topic any further altogether. this response is for myself and my followers only for archival purposes, so for my own safety because i can't change the settings, please do not reblog if we aren't mutuals.

i talked about it more with one of my mutuals (who has asked to remain anonymous), who shared some thoughts that i agreed with and has allowed me to post them here, which i've re-worded and added to, in case i could ever make use of them for reference again in the future.

firstly, someone else and i have acknowledged & disputed the canon sources which say they're sisters in a different thread from this as being inconsistent with what's true to the story.

To fix this issue, all the writers had to do was to have Adora be raised by Hordak, and Catra by Shadow Weaver. That's it, problem solved. The ship is no longer incestuous because Catra and Adora, in this scenario, were raised in the same place since childhood, BUT BY TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE. There would be no goldenchild/scapegoat dynamic. There would be no jealousy on Catra's part regarding the fact that she thinks Shadow Weaver will never "love" and "cherish" her the way she "loves" and "cherishes" her sister.

this comes across as a little dismissive of the abuse that adora faced as well since it mostly revolved around expectations of her and actions done to catra were in part to make her feel guilty, and suggesting they be "raised" separately tears apart the foundations of their dynamic which sets up the story in the first place ─ whether they were destined to be sisters or lovers, their turning into enemies heavily relies on their conjoined relationship with shadow weaver. for as terrible as a person as hordak is (he's literally the one who brought the horde to etheria in the first place and was a mass warlord who terrorized & conquered more territories than anyone else ever would, besides maybe prime), he's not a guardian of any type. not a parent, teacher, mentor, or what have you. he's definitely not a master manipulator either; as we can see in the third season when his arc kicks off with entrapta, he's not very sociable, so that wouldn't make much sense. i guess if the backstory was written a bit differently he maybe could have trained adora to be a ruthless soldier without anyone ever knowing of she-ra (though it's worth noting that shadow weaver sensed her existence in a flashback from season two), as i've somewhat seen in edited AUs many times before (credit apparently goes to @/sapphiscientist, whom i cannot find), but he would never single her out as "special" or have the same motivations to gain power from using her specifically.

with all that being said, the golden child & scapegoat dynamic isn't even exclusive to siblings, it's just the most common form. it still could've theoretically worked even if hordak (supposedly a better and more involved "parent") & shadow weaver had mentored adora & catra separately but worked together to divide them so intentionally, as long as they interacted enough throughout their childhoods to be close (which, again, the whole show relies on).

"If she was just their caretaker, then why do Catra and Adora have a goldenchild/scapegoat dynamic that mirrors sibling rivalry? Why does Adora admit to Glimmer that Shadow Weaver raised her as a mom would? Why is Catra filled with genuine happiness after Shadow Weaver caresses her cheek? Why does she gently touch that spot and smile? Why is Catra so heartbroken and furious when her mind basically tells her: 'Shadow Weaver betrayed you.' Why does Catra immediately give up her potentially happy life with Scorpia once she reveals to her that Shadow Weaver once again chose Adora over her"

the centering around a nuclear family structure here is very assuming and interpretative, but none of these gestures are exclusive to that. the soft caressing of faces means something special (or is supposed to) as long as it comes from someone the recipient looks up to and idolizes. also, shadow weaver also attempts to cup glimmer's face the same way in season four, so again, if it's a motherly act then what does that say?

Like… this rivalry is at the heart of C//A. Not romance, but rivalry between two adopted sisters who have a toxic and abusive adoptive mother.

essentially this hints that the heart of catradora's romance would be better off removed from the story because it's incestuous... but to quote the person i was talking to: "Except it's not, because rivalry is not exclusive to siblings. Any adult mentor/caregiving figure can pit children against each other. I get that this level of attachment to Shadow Weaver is really only shown in media as familial dynamics, but imagine having no caregivers or mentors except the people in the Horde. They depended on them to survive as kids. There is going to be a bond there. They're going to seek those people's approval. I know why it comes off as parental and in a way, it does have that energy. However, I really do not see how this parental dynamic is exclusively different than something that could develop between, say, caregivers and kids at an orphanage. I just don't see a fundamental difference enough to see this as having to be parental/like adoptive parents." regarding the last sentence, i feel like even if catradora's relationship can be technically read as sisterly in any way, it's enough to overlook for the main plotline that we were given, which was intended to be a romance.

"Uhm… no. Close friends ≠ siblings, unless everyone admits that they see each other that way. Then they wouldn't consider a romantic relationship in the first place, unless there's some confusion present."

it seems like i was misunderstood again...? the whole point was that glimmadora aren't sisters, because it was arguing against the inconsistency of that logic when they can be paralleled back to catradora, especially in regards to how angella sees adora as almost familial, if not so (remember of course that "family" has a broad and open-ended meaning, and doesn't necessarily mean relatives or whomever would share the structure of adopted relatives). i don't agree with the sentiment that angella adopted adora, but it would be as valid of a statement to make as about shadow weaver taking on adora + catra. besides, i don't think there are any actual siblings in this show, that aren't outright stated to be anyway, except for micah & castaspella.

"Angella was a mother figure in Adora's life (and in Bow's life, too), but she was not her, or Bow's mother. Shadow Weaver was Adora and Catra's mother, until the end. Why? She. Raised. Them. She. Taught. Them. Everything. They. Grew. Up. With. Her.

this implies there's a cutoff to how far you can go in life before considering someone you met as parental. it's a bit insulting to many families out there to say you can't be adopted by someone once you hit your late teens (which is the legal cutoff limit in the US before you're released from the system on your own anyway) just because the person you've grown to love didn't raise you until that point.

also, do we even know how long bow has known glimmer and therefore angella? there is an old drawing by nate of them as kids, with angella included too, so if you consider his work outside of the official series itself canon then who's to say bow didn't have a third parent/mother since she was present for a good chunk of his life?

"Shadow Weaver was Glimmer's mentor (why tf would she view her as a mother figure??? It was out of despair that Glimmer had to learn from SW, not genuine affection. Also she still had her biological mother???)"

again, i think this is kind of playing into my point a bit because i wouldn't unironically argue that shadow weaver is a mother figure to glimmer. considering she mentored micah and glimmer is his daughter, it would be weird to see them that way and make it seem like she was a (grand)parent. that being said though, since she does small but similar things to glimmer that she's done with her "actual daughters" that are motherly apparently, it would be difficult not to make the comparison.

it's also strange that you would mention her biological mother still being alive, just absent, considering this whole argument is based on parental figures who are not related to their supposed kids. it's oddly specific, since aside from the fact that glimmer missed angella dearly, what she needed as queen was not just guidance/mentorship and motherly love but also simply support in general because she wasn't ready for the role. it doesn't necessarily matter how she gets it or who she gets it from in terms of relationship dynamics, she was still unstable and desperate. if there had been another character in the show besides angella & shadow weaver, they could've very well been parental, in fact if the events of season four had played out earlier and/or differently then micah would've been that person and she might've been able to step down as he regained his kingdom.

"About that "argument"… the underlying issues and insecurities Adora and Glimmer acted out are literally present between Catra and Adora, so… yeah. Case closed, goodbye."

this is still exactly what i'm talking about... i'm sorry, no offense, but this reads to me in favor of my point. the conflicts between catradora & glimmadora are similar, and if one pairing is sisterly and the other is friendly then that just proves these dynamics are not exclusive to one type of relationship or the other. they (either duo) can't be an example of schrödinger's cat as both sisters and not sisters simultaneously.

aside from quoting parts of the post, for whatever it's worth, it may also be worth mentioning that not only to catra & adora not see themselves as sisters despite everything, but adora didn't even know what an aunt was, which is a pretty basic familial term. i guess this point could really go either way since i've seen it speculated before that they were dating in the horde without really having the words to describe being girlfriends, so it could apply to sisterhood too, but i'm just throwing it out there for now.

another thing i never really see get brought up anymore (although i think it has been in the past), unrelated to sisterhood specifically but along the same vein, is that catradora are technically of different species, but both are humanoid enough for it to not be strange or otherwise socially unacceptable with the way their world's biological compatibilities work. does this discomfort to a small percentage of the viewers mean scorptra would be weird as well, since the fandom thought they were headed in that direction for a while, and scorfuma since they're implied to become a canon couple? my understanding is that this would be more analogous to interracial couples rather than comparable to interspecies ones as we consider how they'd be built on earth.

anyway, as i stated when i initially came across the subpost, it was kind of baffling to me how this person was so respectful to me when approaching my inbox the other day (which is a good thing because i would've gotten really defensive and not been so cooperative otherwise), but a couple days before that he came across as so aggressive in the tone & tags when talking about me behind my back originally. i hope this doesn't come across as too hypocritical for me to also be responding without direct notice, but as i said it's mostly for my own circle rather than for him and i'm trying to be fairly humble here.

if you (general audience) read this whole thing, then i'm not really sure what to say... i definitely don't want to cause anymore trouble, so i'm going to leave it here and not come back to it unless i feel attacked. i wanted to get this rant out because i felt obligated to for my own sake, sort of like an egotistical fear over my reputation if that makes sense. both the OP and i have acknowledged that we can't change each other's minds beyond this point, so that's not what i'm attempting to do.

seeing your defending catradora/catradora antis dni post, do you have any arguments against the whole "they're sisters" thing?

i do, yes!

growing up together does not make your friendship a sibling bond/dynamic unless you choose for it to. i saw someone claim that it inherently does unrelated to catradora specifically, but like, surely that has to be a troll because there's no way. 💀 i guess that means lonnie, kyle, and rogelio are also catra & adora's siblings, like a family of 5? what about the other unnamed human-looking characters (i think one had short green hair and another with a dark purple mullet)?

shadow weaver was never their mother (figure). she was their caretaker, basically just the supervising adult in that segment of the fright zone. but like, even if she was, it doesn't take a genius to infer that she was disowned once they both got out of there.

if catra & adora are sisters, then glimmer & adora are too, and also bow is their brother, which crosses glimbow off the list as well. you can't ship anyone without it being incestuous, unfortunately (sarcastic). considering queen angella is a direct parallel to shadow weaver, and angella's last nurturing words to adora before kissing her forehead was that the best friend squad needed to take care of each other, and shadow weaver's last act was ensuring catra could take care of adora the rest of the way to the heart... well, i guess love can only be familial.

in S4 shadow weaver took glimmer under her wing and taught her the same lessons in sorcery that micah (her father) would have if he was around in her life, literally after he learned from her first, so by this logic, glimmer & adora share two adoptive mothers; especially when you take into account their "argument" (canonically it was fake for a setup, but there were some underlying issues & insecurities there) about being the "favorite" with regards to the "golden child" method shadow weaver uses against scapegoats.

i would suggest reading this great post by @witch-apologist, which is where some of the points above come from, and you could probably also search sisters/siblings on their blog since they've challenged antis about this topic before!

[thesilentgothitelle]

Au Info(Updated)

So what is this AU? Well, both LoZ and PLA have a character who gets separated from someone they care about, and also complete retrograde amnesia. And we’re big fans of both, so the content basically writes itself. Here’s the rub:

Backstory:

In this timeline, sometime after Unova was founded by the twin heroes of Truth and Ideals, but before the original dragon split in two, the region was laid asunder by a mysterious beast from beyond their world called Necrozma. The dragon gifted two heroes the means to defeat it: the Hero of Ideals was gifted a sacred blade, and the Hero of Truth was blessed with a sacred power. The twin heroes oversaw the construction of four mechanical beasts, imbued with the souls of the four sacred Pokémon that gave their lives to protect the Pokémon of Unova, designed to be commanded by four individuals of exceptional skill. Artificial Pokémon known as Goletts and Golurks were also crafted. It was through these efforts that the twin heroes were able to defeat Necrozma, Sealing the beast away. Millennia would pass and Unova would go through many changes,and the history of Necrozma would fade into legend. Until one fateful day, when a prophecy was uncovered. Necrozma would one day return, and the twin descendants of Unova’s founders would be the ones to seal the beast away once more.

Basic rundown:

the story is set in a sort of Unova/Hyrule combo, using the B&W region map but, like, more fantasy

the Divine Beasts are Cobalion, Terrakion, Virizion, and Keldeo

the Master Sword is a dormant Hohnedge, or it’s modeled after a Hohnedge, depending on how you wanna interpret it

Emmet and Ingo fill the roles of Zelda and Link respectively, but since they’re twins they’re both princes

the king is Drayden, who is their Uncle and took over as regent when their parents died in their childhood

Elesa takes Impa’s role as the twins’ former mentor and is chillin’ 100 years older in Anville Town until Ingo gets there. She gets de-aged post-story through that handy de-aging rune so that she can live out her life with her besties

the champions post-Calamity are the Unova Elite Four from B&W, pre-Calamity are some original characters based on existing Pokémon characters

original Elite Four are: Hildegarde (ancestor of Hilda/Hilbert, the B&W protagonists), Alba (ancestor of Marshal), Peyx (ancestor of N), and Maelen (ancestor of Caitlin)

Reshiram, Zekrom, and Kyurem are worshiped as deities. each has their own sacred spring where their followers can offer their prayers. the three dragon Legendaries guard their respective springs, though they are believed to be the only creations/emissaries of the dragon gods, and not the gods themselves

Ingo after waking up is selectively mute both from anxiety and his fatal injury, but he can still talk out loud sometimes, he gets better at it as time goes on

Emmet can talk to him telepathically like Zelda can to Link in the original game

Ultra Beasts replace the monsters that you fight on the overworld

in this world, humans fight with weapons on their own, but keep Pokémon as sort of fighting partners/familiars who aid and defend them in battle

Ingo’s original Pokémon team is being held somewhere else and he does get them back at the end, but during his quest his team consists of Unova-native Pokémon that he catches (Mienfoo, Sigilyph, Tirtouga, Venipede, and Staldash which is an original Ghost/Fire-type variant of Rapidash and also the ghost of his former Rapidash)

Chandelure is the one who brought the Master Sword to Lostlorn Forest for repair and she chose to wait there for him instead of returning to the village

Ingo frees all four Divine Beasts before retrieving the Master Sword

his memories of Emmet and his previous life come back slowly, but they do come back

also. very important. yes trains do exist in this world, of course they do, and you’re welcome

More detailed order of events under the cut:

- While the twins are growing up, it wasn’t known which twin would have which role so they trained for both. After Ingo pulled out the Master Sword, they weren’t able to spend as much time together due to being pushed to focus on their individual training. - Ingo gradually became quieter after obtaining the master sword because the weight of his role forged him into the stoic, silent knight type. Emmett was increasingly upset at this.

- Meanwhile, Emmet practiced his permanent smile, learned to have refined control over his expressions and be the diplomat he was meant to be. He still kept his sentences clipped, but tried to maintain a sense of peace about him.

- They remained close, but it hurt to see how much each other was changing due to the pressures of their roles.

- - - - At some point the Golurks and Gollets are discovered and reactivated.

- Four of the most skilled individuals from across Unova were chosen to command the Divine Beasts, and were dubbed “the Elite Four”. - Upon Necrozma’s sudden return, it took possession of the Divine Beasts and the Golurks, killing the Elite Four and bringing devastation to Unova.

- Emmet finally awakens his sealing power, but too late: Ingo had been mortally wounded and has to be taken to the Shrine of Ho-oh. - Emmet faces Necrozma alone and seals both it and himself in Nimbasa castle.

- - - - 100 years later, Ingo wakes up with no memory in a ruined Unova. Now it is up to him to free the four Divine Beasts, find the sacred sword once more, and defeat Necrozma, while also trying to recover his lost memories.

- Ultra beasts have infested Unova due to Necrozma’s presence there, catching Pokemon became more widespread and mainstream over the 100 time gap, due to the protection they offer from the UB.

- The first Pokemon centers have popped up along roads people travel down.

- Some of the few survivors of the calamity are Elesa, who was friends with the twins 100 years ago, who now lives in Anville Town and is very old now; Professor juniper who is currently stuck as a teenager due to experimenting with an anti aging rune 10 years ago; and Professor Fennel, who is also very old.

- Despite, or maybe even because of the destruction it brought, Necrozma gained a following of its own, calling themself “Team Photon”. This villainous team has persisted for a century, despite their mediocrity.

- Team photon has two admins, Beryl and Spinel. Spinel was recruited into the team while Beryl was born into it.

- Beryl is eccentric, loud, and easily angered, while Spinel is generally apathetic, gloomy, and tired of listening to Beryl blabber.

- When Ingo first meets Prof Juniper in Nuvema Town, she fixes the Pokeslate’s camera and Pokedex features by putting a Rotom in it. This Rotom is an agent of chaos, it shouldn’t be trusted with bombs.

- - - KELDEO QUEST - Liberty Gardens survived the calamity, but due to Maelen’s death and the failure of the royal family to stop Necrozma, Maelen’s family shut Liberty Garden off from outsiders.

- During Ingo’s journey in the present, he finds a bunch of guardsmen searching for Caitlin.

Ingo ends up accidentally finding her, who ran off. - Like her ancestor Maelen, She also possesses uncontrollable psychic powers, but on a much more dangerous level. She also snuck off from her home because the Divine Beast vah Keldeo has been producing torrents of water, which threaten to sink the island, and her parents refuse to look for outside help.

- Ingo agrees to help Caitlin with Keldeo, and journeys to Liberty Harden. The residents of the island don’t really have a high opinion of the defunct royal family, but luckily do not recognize Ingo as a member of said family.

- Caitlin’s parents are stubborn and don’t want to accept help and they won’t allow Ingo to use the only boat that can get close enough to Keldeo, so Ingo has to prove himself by taking out the Xurkitree that have holed up in one of the coves. - While clearing out the cove, ingo finds a neat rock and keeps it (psst…that’s Tirtouga).

- Caitlin manages to get them to allow Ingo to use the boat. Ingo uses the boat to board the divine beast and free both it and Maelen’s spirit by defeating Aurora Sabre Necrozma.

- - - VIRIZION QUEST - After returning to the mainland, Ingo travels to Aspertia Village on the advice of Professor Juniper, where he meets Professor Fennel. - While he’s there she notices the rock he picked up and realizes it's a Cover Fossil. Using an ancient device, she is able to resurrect the fossil and Mink the Tirtouga joins the party.

- Divine Beast Vah Virizion is causing Pinwheel Forest to overgrow, turning into a mess of vegetation that threatens to overtake and consume Nacrene Village.

- Ingo ends up in Nacrene on his journey, meeting Lenora who upon realizing he has a Pokeslate, believes him to be a descendant of the old royal family. - since Ingo needs to board Virizion, she points him in the direction of Shauntal, a local novelist who accidentally figured out how to get close to the divine beast without getting hit with its sleep spores, while wandering the forest for inspiration for her next book.

- Ingo finds Shauntal near the outskirts of Pinwheel Forest, she is injured. She had gone into the forest, gotten ambushed by a swarm of Kartana, and been separated from her partner Pokemon. - Ingo enters the forest to help find her Pokemon, and while searching catches a runt Venipede, and BB the Venipede joins the party. - He eventually finds the Chandelure, which triggers some faint memories of his own partner.

- After reuniting Chandelure with its trainer, Shauntal shows Ingo the key to getting close to Virizion, a mask made of Petilil leaves. It’s crafting one of these that triggers a memory of Peyx for Ingo.

- Using this trick, Ingo is able to board Virizion and free it and Peyx’s spirit by fighting Twilight Rapier Necrozma.

- - - - At some point, while visiting a Pokemon center, Ingo hears a rumor about a ghostly steed wandering the hills, few have seen the skittish specter, though others claim to have been saved from UB attacks by the strange Pokemon.

- He ends up encountering this mysterious Pokemon one night, a skeletal Rapidash with purple-blue flames. Unexpectedly, the Pokemon seemed very fond of him. - Though very confused by this behavior, Ingo allows the Staldash to tag along.

- Much later, ingo begins to remember that before the calamity, he had had a Rapidash named Louis that he got separated from at some point. - Unbeknownst to him, Staldash and his old Rapidash are one and the same. After being separated from her trainer at the start of the Calamity, Rapidash wandered the region and died, but her desire to reunite with its trainer allowed her to cling to the world as a ghost type.

- - - TERRAKION QUEST - Desert Resort has become untraversable, due to the sandstorms Terrakion generates. - Ingo arrives in Alba’s hometown and learns that she used to own an artifact known as the go-goggles which could allow someone to withstand sandstorms, but it was stolen by Team Photon. They say another wanderer had offered to get them back from Team Photon but had yet to return.

- Ingo travels to Team Photon’s HQ in Relic Castle, and finds some Team Photon grunts harassing a wild Sigilyph. After defeating the grunts, Railway the Sigilyph joins the party.

- Afterwards he meets Marshal, the other wanderer. Marshal is a descendant of Alba and had grown up hearing stories of his ancestor, which spurred his quest to get stronger.

- Ingo and Marshal enter Relic Castle and separate to try and look for the go-goggles. Ingo faces the Team Photon admins one last time before facing the team leader Moissanite. After defeating Moissanite, Ingo retrieves the go-goggles, which triggers a memory of Alba.

- Using the go-googles, Ingo is able to board Terrakion and free it and Alba’s spirit by fighting Comet Claymore Necrozma.

- - - COBALION QUEST - After the Calamity, the people of Lacunosa had to build walls to protect their town from UB, which would go into a frenzy at the sound of Cobalion’s cries. - With no one able to look after the spring, Kyurem ending up getting possessed by Necrozma and cutting off Victory Road with ice and without knowing what befallen the dragon, the town began to fear the creation of their god.

- Ingo travels to Lacunosa Town and is told that Cobalion is at the end of Victory Road, but the way is blocked by ice. - another traveler by the name of Grimsley, son of a merchant family that went bankrupt, tells him how to get to the Spring of Absolution. Ingo frees Kyurem from its possession, which triggers a memory of Hildegarde.

- While traversing Victory Road, Ingo finds a lone Mienfoo facing off against a Naganadel. After saving the little critter, it runs off, but later returns to help him fight a Guzzlord. Talgo the Mienfoo joins the party.

- After reaching the summit, Ingo is able to board Cobalion and free it and Hildegarde’s spirit after defeating Nova Falchion Necrozma.

- - - The Master Sword rests in Lostlorn forest and is looked after by Alder, a cryptid of a man who has been around for millennia, who is supposed to be watching the sword but sometimes wanders off, leaving his Volcarona to guard it.

- Ingo enters the forest to retrieve the Master Sword and finds his Chandelure there waiting for him; Emmet had asked it to take the sword there 100 years ago, and it decided to stay and wait for its trainer. They are happily reunited.

- Now the only thing left to do is make the journey to Nimbasa Castle, face Necrozma, and free his brother.

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

And thats the botw au! If you guys have anymore questions about this au, don't be afraid to send an ask

[bloodycassian]

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes. 

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

 Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake. 

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood. 

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second. 

+

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed. 

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around. 

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master. 

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then. 

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

 "Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place. 

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

 "I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up. 

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury. 

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible. 

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking. 

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked. 

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern. 

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal. 

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation. 

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you. 

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

 "Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

+

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon. 

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.  

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider. 

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles. 

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby. 

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing. 

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

+

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time. 

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

[moonlit-ocs]

OC Bio: Star Wars

Name: Berri Skywalker

Name Meaning: Berri: Derived from mother, Padmé’s, family name “Naberrie” in memorial of Anakin’s late wife. //Lydia: “Lydia is a feminine first name. It derives from the Greek Λυδία, Ludía, from λυδία (ludía; "beautiful one", "noble one", "from Lydia/Persia"), a feminine form of the ancient given name Λυδός (Lydus).”

Nickname(s): Lydia (given name by Padmé), Berri Vestal (Imperial name)

Alias(es): Fourth Sister

Occupation: Inquisitor

Alignment: Varies

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Age/Birthday: 19 BBY

Height: 5’8”

Hair Color/Type/Length: Brown/Straight/Chin

Eye Color: Brown

Body Markings: Scarring from training/battle (blaster fire, lightsabers, Force lightning)

Family: Padmé Amidala (Mother), Anakin Skywalker (Father), Luke Skywalker (Brother), Leia Organa (Sister)

Love Interest(s): n/a

Birthplace: Polis Massa

Languages: Galactic Basic Standard (+Aurebesh), Binary, High Galactic, Mando’a,

Skills/Powers: Force-related powers, intensive lightsaber training

Likes: (Imperial Era) her lightsaber, piloting, critical shots, praise, violence, Vader’s Castle. (Jedi Era) righting wrongs, her new lightsabers, learning her history, rebuilding.

Dislikes: (Imperial Era) Rebels, Palpatine, Fellow Inquisitors, Stormtroopers, failed missions. (Jedi Era) Imperial apologists, herself (sorry), being recognized.

Catchphrase: (Imperial Era) “You have no idea who you’re up against.”//(Jedi Era) “I’m trying. It’s all I can do.”

Backstory: Berri Skywalker, born Lydia, is the eldest Skywalker-Amidala triplet born alongside Luke and Leia on Polis Massa. After the three were split up, clones intercepted the transport bringing Lydia and her Jedi escort to safety. Lydia was brought before Darth Sidious and was sensed to be Anakin’s offspring.

Presented to Darth Vader as his own, he thought this to be his only child and named her after his late wife, Padmé. Lydia was renamed Berri, unknown of her original name. Despite the fact that Vader was forbidden to train his own Padawan while his master, Emperor Palpatine, was in control, Vader had convinced his master to have Berri raised within the Empire and trained to be an Inquisitor when of age. His request was granted and Beri was given a false last name to hide her parentage.

Berri was titled the Fourth Sister of the Inquisitors at 13 years of age and began enforcing the Empire’s will across the galaxy, crossing paths with many rebels along the way. Of them were Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla, Zeb Orrelios, Ahsoka Tano, and more. She’d been keen on impressing her father by killing Obi-Wan herself, but never had the chance.

Berri had been told of her family’s past through the eyes of her father as she grew up, well aware of many figures in the former Jedi Order and Galactic Senate, but his memories were filled with malice. He spoke of her mother lovingly, but Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and so on were made out to be villains.

It was revealed to Berri that she had siblings when Luke was brought to the Emperor’s attention and Vader sought to recruit him, which filled his daughter with jealousy as she was promised to rule alongside her father and destroy Palpatine.

Berri attended the Battle of Endor, teaming up with her brother and father to destroy Palpatine and finally watched her father die trying to save his children. Vader was her guide through life, his word was her will. His final words inspired her to give up her life’s teachings under the Empire and follow her own path on the Light Side of the Force. Berri followed her brother, Luke, to Endor and met her sister, Leia, as well.

Berri, filled with guilt over her past actions as an Inquisitor, was driven to right her wrongs and teamed with her siblings to start anew, building the New Republic from the ground-up and training as a Jedi. After some time, she was even open to training the next generation. For a brief time, Grogu was her Padawan. She met Ahsoka once again and made amends, hearing stories of their shared master, Anakin Skywalker. The two became quite fond of each other.

Soon, Berri chose to move throughout the galaxy, restoring what she could. It’d only be a matter of time before her next battle.

Faceclaim: Sela Ward

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. ix

→ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part nine / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence, minor angst

» a/n: short chapter D:! edit: i’ve tried and tried but it just doesn’t flow right when i try to make this into an x reader:// HALF will be an oc fic and i’ve decided to cut the backstory here;( thanks for the love and support!

» word count: 2,494

☾ix. pt. ix: youth

3 months later

Loud, bass-bumping music and too many flashing lights fueled the exhilaration and excitement of one of the biggest night clubs in Yorknew City.

Sayomi had defeated her second opponent on the 200th floor with the help of Hisoka’s training earlier today, making this little outing a sad excuse for a celebration.

In reality, Hisoka just wanted to see whether Sayomi could dance or not.

He had insisted they go out and experience the nightlife the city had to offer, and with Sayomi still upbeat from her match, they found themselves sneaking into Octagon- a hip club located in the heart of Yorknew City.

Though technically Hisoka was 21 and therefore could have gone about this in an easier way, he insisted they sneak in ‘just for the fun of it’. The truth was that he’d been kicked out of the club previously after using his ‘magic tricks’ to make people’s arms disappear, but it made his intrusion all the more fun.

As Hisoka watched the floor from his spot at the bar with a drink held loosely in one hand, Sayomi was currently lost in a crowd of passionate clubbers, her violet eyes gleaming with the thrill of the environment.

The black and silver dress she wore highlighted her figure as well as electrifying eyes and hair, the metallic material dazzling under the club lights as she lost herself in the music and people.

She was letting herself go for the night like she often did on her chaotic trips to the city with Hisoka. Free from repressive parents or a fight for her life, Sayomi was at peace with her new life, expressing herself however she wanted to.

Draining the rest of his Cosmopolitan, Hisoka’s eyes shifted to the young assassin, his face remaining expressionless as he watched her draw a crowd with her alluring glow. 

He’d been staring so intensely he didn’t even notice a man take the seat next to him. The sound of the man’s voice established his presence, yet Hisoka’s line of sight ceased to drift from the girl with the bright silver hair.

“A stunner isn’t she?”

Hisoka blinked slowly, hardly registering the man’s words. A stunner indeed, but what more? “A pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty soul.”

The man laughed, setting his drink down on the bar to face Hisoka. “I take it she isn’t yours then? That’s a relief.”

Hisoka rested his chin in the palm of one of his finely manicured hands, his other tapping on the smooth surface of the bar impatiently. He couldn’t seem to figure out why his bloodlust was seeping through as he followed Sayomi with his eyes.

His? She could never belong to any man, she was her own person.

“Careful with your words there, I’d hate for them to be your last.” His words were venomous, filled with the intent to kill.

Hisoka’s nails had cut through the skin of his own cheek, his other hand clenched into a fist on the bar’s surface.

The man had shifted away from him, quietly taking his leave as he watched crimson seep down Hisoka’s pale fingers.

Over the past 3 months, he’d been able to fight her more than enough times, and now he no longer felt the same intoxicating feeling when he was with her. Sayomi never fought Hisoka to hurt him, only with the intentions of improving her own skills, which in turn left Hisoka aching for more.

However, as the days progressed he was slowly coming to the conclusion that the Zoldyck girl had an undeniable flaw. She doesn’t put up a fight when I’m with her.

He was losing interest in the girl who’d once swayed his unshakable feelings, and it distressed him that he almost felt bad for wanting to leave her behind.

His sharpened fingernails dug farther into the pale skin of his cheek as he watched Sayomi throw her slender arms around a man she’d only just met. 

She was laughing and smiling, her silky voice seeming to reach his ears through the music and cheers from where he sat. Loud and clear, the sound of her laughter rang through Hisoka’s head in an almost painful way.

She was becoming a weakness to the man who believed himself to be the strongest, and that didn’t sit right with him at all.

☾ix.

Sayomi wasn’t too sure of what exactly it was that she felt towards Hisoka.

When he took her to dinner with an amazing view or complimented her progress with training, she couldn’t tell whether it was her lack of social contact or actual feelings that led her heart to race when she saw his face.

It didn’t help that on some days she could notice the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, only to leave her heart stinging with his harsh words on other days.

He was taking mixed signals to the next level, playing with her feelings while he was trying to figure out his own.

It was selfish and cruel, falsely gaining the trust of someone who’d been through so much betrayal, all for his own entertainment.

But that was just who Hisoka was, he didn’t care for distractions or hindrances. And as fast as he’d first fallen for the young assassin, he was already in the process of making himself forget her.

He was moving on.

☾ix.

3 months later

It was the day after Sayomi’s 7th match on the 200th floor of Heaven’s Arena. She’d been scheduling her fights randomly, with no regard for who her opponents would be.

With 7 wins under her name, she only needed 3 more to challenge a floor master. 

However, with her longtime goal fast approaching, she wasn’t as happy as she thought she’d be.

It’d been about half a year since Sayomi had first met Hisoka, and all the excitement and jitters about spending time alone with a guy had died down. 

It’d also helped that for some reason Hisoka was rather occupied recently. He rarely took her out to the city, claiming he had other business to attend to, and when they did go out, he’d always turn in first mumbling that he was tired.

Sayomi was no fool, she knew that Hisoka was either losing interest in her as well or felt his job was almost through. To herself, she hoped that it was the former, for it would hurt less than to find out he’d only been around her for business purposes.

Regardless, Sayomi’s current situation was puzzling. She stood waiting for what seemed like forever in front of Hisoka’s room, ready to go out and train.

However, after knocking more than enough times and even calling his cell, there was no sign of her trainer. 

That’s odd.

Sayomi trained on her own that day, taking it upon herself to get strength training in at the gym.

It was the first time she’d spent an entire day without Hisoka since they’d started training. Deciding that he was out on his so-called ‘business’, Sayomi shrugged away his absence, going to sleep early for the first time in a while.

Yet, another day passed with no sign of the magician, and Sayomi began to grow concerned for his well-being. What if he was picked off by someone? No, he’s too strong to lose to anyone here… Did he pass out in his room?

Sayomi walked briskly to Hisoka’s room with a worried mind.

Once again there was no response to her knocking, and she decided she’d break into the room.

Using one of her longer needles, she picked the lock in no time, stepping into the unfamiliar room. 

It was empty. Only the faint smell of bubble gum and something sweet lingered in the abandoned room, the closet and space empty.

There was a note left on the cleanly made bed, the red ink standing out from the otherwise white sheets surrounding the note.

That lazy ass, of course he’d leave a note in his own room. 

Picking up the sheet, she read:

Zoldyck-

It’s about time you sneak into my room, I know you’ve thought about doing it before;) 

But jokes aside… 

I’m sorry, darling. 

It’s not like me to apologize(you can ask Kite)and that alone scared me, because I feel like you’ve changed me. Your smile and intoxicating eyes make me weak in the knees…

And I despise myself for it. 

I’m not sure why I’ve chosen to expose my faults to you, for that just makes you all the more dangerous to me.

But perhaps I want you to hold my weaknesses, and perhaps I’d like to see you come tear me apart. Yes, that must be it. 

I’ve departed Yorknew City to meet up with your twin brother, as it seems as though he’s been searching for you. And perhaps I should have taken him to you instead, but I’m not, because when the time is right I’d like you all to myself.

So don’t forgive me, Sayomi. Resent me, grow stronger, and when the time comes I’ll bring your brother back to you.

Ah, and there is one thing I’d always wanted to tell you… 

I always thought that you were most beautiful when you showed your true colors-

A cold-blooded, cold-hearted Zoldyck assassin with no regard for the pain and suffering of your victims.

Stop holding yourself back, people like us can be forgiven for our sins because of the hell we’ve been put through. 

-Hisoka 

☾ix.

A single tear rolled down Sayomi’s cheek. 

And that was all.

The flurry of sudden information rendered Sayomi breathless as she tried to make sense of his words.

This idiot really just admitted his feelings for me after all this time right when he decides to leave me here. Selfish bastard.

And he knows Illumi… but how? Illumi was looking for me? 

I have to become a floor master and get that clown to bring my brother back.

☾ix.

6 months later

Sayomi gazed out her window with a blank stare, 241 floors above the ground.

Just a week ago she’d claimed her spot on the 241st floor as the newest and youngest Floor Master at age 19.

She knew Hisoka would find out about her achievement soon, and all she could do now was wait.

Up until defeating and killing her last opponent, time had flown by easily. She was fueled by the goal of finding her brother and confronting Hisoka, but now that she was here, the loneliness began to sink in.

Kite and his student had taken off to another country in search of wildlife to study, leaving Sayomi all alone in Yorknew City.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of her situation. Here she was at the top of the tallest building in Yorknew City, a place that others died trying to get to, yet she was unsatisfied.

Her face and name were plastered on billboards and posters all throughout the city, and citizens stood envious of the young teen’s life. She had enough money that she’d never have to work another day in her life, but in exchange she no longer had a family to accept her nor friends to laugh with.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, there’s plenty of others that have it worse.

Sayomi sighed as she turned away from the window, grabbing her mask she’d started using as a floor master to attempt to conceal her identity. 

I won’t have challengers for another month or so… might as well hit the city.

☾ix.

Sayomi walked through the dark streets of Yorknew City, her hands clasped behind her head and her eyes vacant.

She didn’t have a destination in mind, just mindlessly strolling through the city covered with news of her promotion to Floor Master. There were citizens recognizing her as well, pointing and jumping back as if she were some monster.

Though she couldn’t blame them, as her nen happened to be on the disturbing side. The replays of her fights were mostly censored, deemed too inhumane for the public eye as they played on repeat on the sides of buildings,

She wasn’t too sure how far she’d walked, spotting Heaven’s Arena rather far in the distance behind her. The shops and glamorous hotels began to fade as she approached the run down parts of Yorknew City.

It was an abandoned lot of buildings, the ground littered with oil cans and shattered glass. In a way it was tranquil, free from angry drivers and the revolted gaze of commoners.

Walking through an opening in the wired fences that surrounded the lot, Sayomi wandered through a certain building that’d caught her eye.

She felt a faint aura coming from the abandoned office building, but oddly enough it wasn’t hostile or repelling. It was rather comforting.

Sayomi’s curiosity grew as the aura increased, drawing her towards the room located at the far end of the first floor.

She saw the man before she sensed him, his large coat catching her attention. His back was turned to her crouched down on the dusty floor, the windows adjacent to him shattered, letting the pale moonlight reflect off of his coat.

St. Peter’s cross. Interesting taste in fashion…

Another careless step closer and the man’s head turned abruptly in her direction. Sayomi had ducked behind a wall, but not fast enough.

The man stood from his spot, revealing a vibrant patch of violets by his feet. Upon his loss in concentration, the flowers wilted, withering back into the cluttered floor as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Sayomi could see the man’s face from where she crouched, hidden by a barely intact wall. Her heart skipped a beat upon meeting his eyes, deep gray and captivating as he easily identified her from her hiding spot.

It felt as if time was frozen in place, the young man staring intensely into Sayomi’s eyes as if he could read her mind. 

Sayomi was unmoving as well, having been caught examining his figure from behind the wall. He was by far the most appealing man she’d ever seen, his dark, raven hair slicked back to reveal a tattoo decorating the middle of his forehead, contrasting with his gentle eyes and youthful facial features. 

Handsome, she thought. 

The man took a slight step forward, snapping Sayomi out of his hypnotizing gaze as she sped off jumping through an empty window and out of the building. 

Though she was eager to know what he’d been doing with the flowers, his aura had changed when he’d noticed her watching. It had been dangerous and intense, a total opposite of his warm and placid one when dealing with the violets.

Her quick steps transitioned into a run, feeling the need to distance herself from the lingering intensity of the mysterious young man’s aura.

She ran back towards the towering building of Heaven’s Arena, not stopping her pace a bit until she was met with the familiar neon signs and billboards that surrounded the heart of Yorknew City.

Her dreams were taken over by the man’s captivating eyes that night. His familiar aura had seemed to beckon her to him, as if she’d known him for 100 years prior. 

But no matter how hard she thought that night, she couldn’t come up with an answer as to what he’d been doing with the violets conjured by his feet. 

In her dreams she saw her own eyes within the vibrant flowers, it was an abstract thought, though for a second she wondered if he had meant for her to see them. 

She quickly dismissed this, however, scoffing at the absurdity of her own thoughts. 

What am I, a child? I must be beyond lonely if I think some random guy has something to do with me.

Though deep down inside her heart, she wished it were true. To be fated to somebody, needed by somebody who she could trust with her darkest secrets and love.

☾ix.

to be continued.

[noctis-noctua]

I, Kaeya Alberich, Take Thee

Pairing: Kaeya x Fem. Reader

Count: 1976

Description: Kaeya knows that be does not deserve anything he desires. There is nothing he can do to make you his, but so badly does he wish there was.

Content: Unrequited love, angst, bittersweet ending, marriage.

Warnings: Slight spoiler for Kaeya's backstory but an addition of (non-canon!) Prince Kaeya.

In another universe, maybe I am not cursed so by the Gods. Kaeya resists the urge to nibble on the tail-end of his quill. It was unbecoming for a man of his stature to succumb to unsanitary habits. Plus, this particular pen hailed from a crow’s feather, hunted by the hands of a childhood friend. The intricate quill had not been put to use for a substantial amount of time, but it fits into Kaeya’s hand as if it came to shape its spine based on the curvature of his own grasp. He could get used to signing off documents and organizing civil affairs if it meant succumbing to such mundane sensations. The morning sun dripping onto his mahogany desks and floors, a faint scratch of keratin against ivory paper filling the empty space… It has been a long time since he’s made the decision to take over petty bureau duties. Today is a special day. Kaeya needs to focus on the satisfying echoes of paper and pen, on the sunlight heating his back, or he might just go insane.

    The clamor of bells tugs Kaeya from his mechanical performance. Each ring is a song of desperation, a performance begging for his attention. Come out and celebrate! Indulge in the pain. He is not a man that falls prey to anger, but he cannot help that frustrated itch in his stomach as he hears the iron reverberating. Please just be quiet, Kaeya thinks. Let me forget. The hesitant croak of his door alerts Kaeya to the presence of the Acting Grand Master. She dons an outfit unique from her usual uniform - a cream-colored dress, embroidered by floral lace, a single azure ribbon tying at the waist. So even the straight-edged Jean has taken time off today? 

    “Kaeya, you can’t make these excuses forever.” He knows from how Jean closes the door with unperturbed silence that this is not a conversation regarding hilichurl nests or Fatui diplomats. He can tell from the way Jean drops the mature title of ‘Sir’ in favor of his childhood nickname, that it is a conversation Jean feels must be approached with gentleness as if Kaeya is a stray cat that claws at feeding hands. The Grand Master releases a heaved exhale because both of them dread this discussion as much as the other. There is an inherent wrong in seeing Kaeya distressed. He may not be shedding tears in solitude or resigning himself to the dormitories, but he is hiding, and that is enough for Jean to observe that he is not functioning as normal.

    “Please, come for a little while. I know it’s not… something you want to see, but he’s your brother. Offer a small congratulations at the least.” Her heels tap on the polished hardwood.

    “I was planning on coming by later this evening.  Tell them I’m sorry for not being able to attend the main event. How could I? Just look at all this paperwork.” Kaeya’s signature chuckle follows, putting up a front of careless flirtation. It is not uncommon for Jean to rope the Cavalry Captain into his desk chair. Lord knows he’d never do it otherwise… yet now he claims servitude to the dulling labor. How ironic. 

    “I’ll tell them of your apologies… but both of us know that paperwork isn’t the reason you can’t make it.” Jean turns around, blonde hair trailing in the breeze left behind before Kaeya can quip up a rebuttal. She’s right. Jean is always right. The papers piling on his desk are from the drawers of his subordinates, filed away to be completed in another five months' time. There is no reason they had to be done today. He is hiding. He is a coward and a pathetic one at that. The thought alone provokes Kaeya to tug on his studded gloves and push out his chair. His sights are set on leaving because to be seen as a frail child is to fail at the sole thing he succeeds at. Being the chivalrous Cavalry Captain renowned for his beauty and failsafe charm is the one thing he cannot lose because he cannot let Mondstadt see how fragile he is behind the visage. 

    Mondstadt’s avenues are bustling. Oak tables identical to the ones across local taverns have been dressed in linen tablecloths and topped with miniature feasts. Children run between tables, tugging at each other’s shirts in a feisty game of tag as festive music tempts the adults to a dance. The tell-tale strums of Mondstadt’s No. 1 Bard’s lyre lead the crowds to the statue of Barbatos. Behind it, trails of petals line the paths leading to the limestone Cathedral. Couples, singles, and families alike make haste to enter through the carved doors. No one wants to miss this. Kaeya tugs on the collar of his fur coat, gazing at the entry before him. He can hear the music of an organ, romantic and rich, ricocheting from inside. 

    He steps into the Cathedral. The ceremony has yet to start and the pews continue to fill. Citizens scoot as close as possible to allow for more onlookers to take a seat. He finds a spot next to Huffman and a few other Knights, squished on the outer edge. It is three benches from the front. Too close for Kaeya to be comfortable. The croaking benches have long since met their capacity by now. Not a soul is missing, Kaeya reckons. Diluc Ragnvindr, the wine Tycoon, Mondstadt’s famous magnate, is marrying after all. It is no small occasion. Diluc’s brazen hair is a torch amidst fog, its perk hue garnering the eyes of all in the Cathedral. He is dressed in a suave black suit. It boasts minuscule gold embellishments followed by a hefty crimson cape draped on his shoulders. Even dressed in the furs and fabrics of royalty, one could sense a distinct awkwardness from him. If you’re going to marry her, at least look confident, brother. 

    It hurts. He cannot lie to himself - not that Kaeya was trying to in the first place. There is a pain associated with seeing the woman he loves marrying the brother that no longer desires to even speak to him. Now, Kaeya regrets standing up from his busy work. These thoughts won’t stop their festering, and it punches a hole through his stomach. Kaeya is all-too-aware that tonight, you will climb into Diluc’s sheets. He’d treat you kindly, of course. He grew up with Diluc and has seen his rigorous nobility tutors shape him into the gentleman he is today. There is no doubt that you will live a lavish life of luxury. A life Kaeya could never afford to give you. 

    In Khaenri’ah, Kaeya’s title of ‘Prince’ holds as much merit as it does in Teyvat. His people are dead or suffering. His city has crumbled into dust and shards of a forgotten legacy. Kaeya himself serves one purpose, and that is to bring glory back to the Eclipse Dynasty. It is in these times that Kaeya regrets being born royalty to a lost nation. In the solace of his chambers, Kaeya would stare at the painted ceiling and ponder. If I were born someone else entirely, would you give me a chance? But who is he kidding? Kaeya knows he’s handsome. It’s stupid and unreasonable to be so self-deprecating. He isn’t the one marrying you because he wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr. He wasn’t from a line of Mondstadtian heroes; he was from the ashes of sinners and embers of civilization. He was Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, caught between familial loyalty and a stinging betrayal. Of course he wasn’t marrying you. 

    The Cathedral doors groan as the nuns heave them open. Light floods in and frames the feminine body of the lady of Mondstadt. In your hands, a bouquet of calla lilies. On your body, a silken robe of pearls and diamonds. It flows at your back, fluttering in the blessed gales of Barbatos’. Kaeya swore that as a Khaenri’ahn, he would never see the Gates of Celestia. But this… this, he thinks, might be the closest glimpse he gets. No one dares to speak. She is beautiful. She has always been beautiful. Time slows as Kaeya lets himself take in the sight of you pledging your livelihood to his brother, and his brother’s livelihood to you. 

     Then, as if he is an innocent child once again, Kaeya closes his eyes as you two kiss. Clapping and cheers fill the atmosphere. 

    “To the Ragnvindr’s! Oley!”

    “Say, Kaeya, do you ever wanna get married?” The girl questions from Kaeya’s backside. 

    “Maybe. Then I can show off in front of my lovely wife! That would be cool, wouldn’t it, Diluc?” Kaeya jests, elbowing his step-brother’s chest. Diluc rolls his eyes, ever the prodigy. 

    “We’re still young. There’s no use thinking about such things. Shouldn’t you focus on training?” He grumbles. Kaeya knows that he will never have a lucky wife. He will never have a healthy family, or a thriving home, or a genuine relationship. Those are nothing more than dreams to Kaeya.

    The girl grabs Kaeya’s arm and begins running into the fields of grapes and firs. There is a childlike giggle dispersing for all in the neighborhood to hear, fading out as they lose sight of the manor. Reaching the edge of the cliffside, they halt. It overlooks a sapphire river below, fit for one of Master Crepus’ paintings. Diluc had been abandoned long ago. 

    “Hey, Kaeya, the water kind of looks like your hair.” The girl remarks, nuzzling closer to him. He feels his heart thrashing in its cage, begging him not to react, begging him not to ruin the fate of his country. To the girl, he smells of linen, lampgrass, and sweat, much as a kid his age should. Silence settles onto their shoulders, both of them catching breaths that had been stolen in the wind. “I didn’t ask before because I thought Diluc would get mad, but… Kaeya, how about we get married when we grow up?” How silly, Kaeya thinks. I couldn’t marry you if I wanted to. 

    “Hmm, okay. So you’ll be my lucky wife then?” Kaeya plummets down onto the grass and grins. It tickles the back of his neck and stains his blouse a verdant green. He dreams of dreaming, because that is all Khaenri’ahns like him can do. He dreams of coming home to your embrace or trudging back from battle hand-in-hand. Either one is okay. Anything with you is okay. 

    “Of course, stupid. That’s what marriage is. So you’ll be my lucky husband!” Lucky husband. It fills his heart with an immature pride too chaste for a traitor of his caliber. 

    “Deal!” 

    “Deal.” 

    They are naive children making impossible promises, but a part of Kaeya has never unlatched from those delicate whispers. Khaenri’ahns dream of dreaming, but just this once, Kaeya wished he could dream of you.

    “So, Sir Kaeya, are you going to marry soon? Youth is fleeting! Get a wife while you’re young.” One of the Knights suggests, sliding him a suggestive beam. Kaeya let’s himself open his eyes. He processes the blinding light from colored panes of glass spilling over him, the jovial expressions of the citizens he has sworn to protect, and you grasping onto Diluc’s arm, a longing of adoration phasing across your features. Happy. You are happy. He turns towards the knight, cracking a smile.

    “Don’t be silly - I’m already married, Huffman.” He lets the novice soldier ogle at him for a few seconds. “I’m joking. Lighten up.” Huffman releases a hearty chortle, commenting on his Captain’s sense of humor and putting a hand to his chest. He laughs along, but Kaeya knows there is no joke. 

Don’t be silly. I’m already married. It was a deal, after all.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Burden of the Survivors-- Chapter One

*not my gif*

Burden of the Survivors

Pairs: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: a little bit of cursing but otherwise fairly tame *no spoilers- takes place in Season 1 timeline* Summary: Mando works alone- except for when he absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] or Available on AO3

A/N: It’s been ages since I wrote a reader series, I do my best to write them with as non-descriptive reader as possible but if there’s something I miss let me know. Reader does have a backstory and obviously has certain skills sets as a bounty hunter but I don’t believe that will cause any issues going forward. Also thanks to @fishingwithstring​ & @flyingmarshmallow64​ for kinda beta-ing for me

Chapter One--

When you had given the Mandalorian your commlink info you had not thought the stoic man would actually use it. He had a reputation to uphold after all- he couldn’t be seen willingly working with another bounty hunter. You could respect that; the Guild was cutthroat and there never seemed to be enough credits or jobs to go around these days. The New Republic was a blessing and a curse to those trying to make a living in the Outer Rim. Your regular contacts were coming up short on good jobs and everything Karga was offering wasn’t worth the cost of fuel. It all had you wondering if you should take up running with Tillis’s crew again, the cuts were always fair and at least you weren’t burning credits on your own fuel.

Yet despite your initial beliefs, Mando had called, and he’d called with an offer for a job. They were high rollers from the underworld, apparently. Nothing you had not worked before. The first job you had worked with Mando on had been an under the table job from Karga as well. You allowed yourself the slightest bit of pride that after how well you two had worked together, Mando felt you would be a useful addition on this job.

You jumped on the offer. Whatever job Mando had taken had to be worth a decent stack of credits if he was willing to go with an even split. Hopefully, this would be enough to hold you over for a while, maybe pay for a few fixes to your ship while you were at it. The navicomputer could use an update, and there was the leak in the cooling lines that could probably use a proper fix instead of your last patch job… but you were getting ahead of yourself. Mando had asked you to meet him at his ship just outside of town on Navarro, which was convenient considering you had been laying over on the backwater volcanic planet after your last round of bounties. Karga may be cagey but at least he paid you what you were owed in the end.

Mando was waiting for you, leaning against the side of the Razor Crest, looking as much the stoic and hardened warrior as ever when you arrived. Though he had upgraded a bit since you last saw him.

“Looking spiffy Mando! Is that a new pauldron I see?”

He shrugs, pushing off the Razor Crest, “maybe.”

Man of few words, some things never change.

“You mentioned before that we didn’t have much to go off of. What do you know?” Hitching your bag of gear up your shoulder you follow Mando up into the Crest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been on Mando’s ship, but it amazed you every time you boarded how he managed to keep such a relic up and running. You would not be surprised if it cost him a fortune in repair costs over the years. Sure, your ship wasn’t a spring chicken either, but it had been built within your lifetime.

“Tracking fob.” He quickly fishes the device out of his belt, flashing it at you briefly. “Last known position and age.”

“Wait, not even a chain code?” That was just common courtesy in this line of work, and it kept mix-ups to a minimum. “Just the last four digits?”

Mando nods before clambering up the ladder to the cockpit leaving you stunned. Who exactly were you working for and who were they after?

After ditching your bag in the hull you follow Mando up to the cockpit. “How trustworthy is this client of yours?”

You lean against the doorway, watching him program the ancient navicomputer. “It’s underworld, what do you expect?”

“At least some minimal assurances,” you throw back, “I don’t want to end up a prisoner of the New Republic for the rest of my days if I can’t help it.”

“The chit came through Karga.”

Well, that was the definition of minimally reassuring.

“But no puck?”

Mando shakes his head, or rather, his bucket.

“Well, this will be interesting.”

.

“Arvala-7, can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” You’re sitting in the co-pilots chair with your boots propped up against the dash, fiddling with one your rifle sights as Mando attempts to pull planetary info up on his navicomputer.

Your partners huff of displeasure filters through his modulator, you can imagine he’s rolling his eyes behind the visor. Over the course of working together you had managed to pick up on a handful of the man’s cues, his body language was fairly expressive, and irritation with you was one you were aptly familiar with. It had been obvious from your first meeting that the Mandalorian was all work and no play. So, your occasional flippant remarks were not always received well. You were by no means trying to agitate the bounty hunter- you had better self-preservation skills than that- but you were trying to lighten the mood a bit. Two sticks in the mud didn’t make for an entertaining partnership.

Even after a few smacks to the computer Mando cannot seem to pull up the data he wants. His fists clench and unclench rhythmically, the creak of his leather gloves filling the silent cockpit. This one was wound way too tight. You wondered what mandalorians did to relax and unwind, and how exactly could you get him to do that before you landed?

“You’ve got the tracking fob, we aren’t completely screwed, if that’s what you’re all upset about, Mando.”

The helmet snaps around, his black t-visor staring unblinking into your soul.

Maybe that was not the best button to push.

“I’ll- ah, go get my stuff together.” You wince at the crack in your voice but gather up your blaster parts before preparing to shimmy back down into the cargo hold. You were a bounty hunter, same as him. His attitude should not unnerve you like it did. He was human like you after all- or at least you assumed he was- one faceless man should not affect you so strongly. You were better than this.

Master trained you better than this.

“Coming into atmo,” Mando shouts down from the cockpit, “may want to hold onto something.”

The ship lurches forward, throwing you into the back wall. “Thanks for the warning,” you grumble, latching onto the refresher door to stay upright.

Mando comes in quick, the Razor Crest touching down shortly after entering the atmosphere. Moments later the helmeted man is down the ladder, amban sniper rifle in hand and already heading down the ramp. Always in such a rush. The Mandalorian really had no clue as to how to stop and assess a situation or take a moment to breathe.

You scramble over to your bag of gear, assembling one of your own blaster rifles without having to look. It was all second nature now; you know every weapon in your stash like the back of your hand. As you slide the newly fixed sight into place a roar echoes through the ship followed by a loud curse. Down the ramp in seconds your blaster is trained on the approaching creature, ignoring Mando with his arm trapped in the jaw of another felled creature.

The tadpole-shaped beast falls before you pull the trigger, sliding in next to Mando with a bright red electro stun dart sticking out of its side. You let out a sigh as Mando groans, freeing his arm. At least your partner in crime was not out for the count yet.

A third creature approaches, this one saddled and ridden by an aging ugnaught wielding what you can assume was responsible for the stun darts. You lower your blaster, hoping that there would be no quarrel after he seemingly saved Mando.

“Thank you.” Mando’s panting as he stands, his arm clutched tight to his chest.

The ugnaught nods before looking back between you two. “You are bounty hunters.”

“Yes.”

“I will help you.”

You shrug at Mando, if he wanted to assist you with this odd bounty you had qualms.

“I have spoken.”

.

Kuiil had been more than accommodating to you both at his moisture farm. Offering up his bed to you for the night and sharing his dinner and a warm cup of tea with you both after the sunlight finally fell below the horizon. You jumped at the offer for any food that was not freeze-dried rations or protein bars. Mando on the other hand stiffened when the ugnaught passed him the meal.

“You can use the bedroom to eat, Mando.”

This was not the first time you had run into this problem while working with the Mandalorian. He never took the helmet off around you, not even in the safety of his ship, not to stop and eat while you were drifting along in hyperspace, or to fix up wounds after a particularly nasty fight with a quarry. You wondered if he even took it off to sleep when you were on board with him.

It was not as if you did not understand the draw of a helmet. The lifestyle of the faceless. You own tactical mask offers a small sense of anonymity, bringing some comfort after years of running from your past, but you were not unnaturally attached to it. Whatever tentative relationship you had with Mando; you were comfortable enough to take it off around him. You could eat in his presence. The mask did not inhibit your job or your lifestyle. While it had been ages since you had been in contact with mandalorians-other than the faceless and nameless Mando- you did have shadowy memories of those you had met taking off their helmets in the presence of others. Not that you had dared to ask about it. Your first few meetings had been tense enough and you liked to think you were smart enough to not insult the beskar clad warrior who walked around armed to the teeth.

Kuiil did not ask until Mando had settled into the other room. “He does not remove his helmet in the presence of others?”

“For as long as I’ve known him,” you nod.

“And how long have you known him?”

That was a good question. How many years had it been since you worked that job with Tillis’s crew that introduced you two?

“Four standard years now, maybe?” You ponder, “but we’ve only been working together for about two.”

He nods, looking thoughtful, “like a Mandalorian warrior of old.”

“I suppose,” you shrug.

“You do not agree with his choice?”

“Oh no, my opinions have nothing to do with it. Can’t say it appeals to me, but I respect the restraint it would take to wear a helmet all of your life.”

Kuiil nods before pottering off, cleaning up his small cooking station. You cannot help but smile, the ugnaught reminds you of someone but you cannot recall exactly who. They are just echoes of memories now, a childhood long gone, but something about Kuiil’s wise demeanor picks at them.

Mando returns moments later, shaking you from your melancholy as he takes a seat next to you.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

What kind of job exactly had Mando gotten for you two?

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

You gape at the ugnaught, unsure if his honesty was all that helpful now.

“Well then I don’t know if I want your help,” Mando scoffs.

Kuiil shakes his head, “you do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“Encampment?” Who in the galaxy would have an encampment all the way out here and how to Kuiil know about it?

He nods but divulges no further details.

“What’s your cut?”

“Half.”

Your head whips around, Mando had promised you half the cut already, that is why you had agreed to come in the first place.

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep.”

“No. Half the blurrg you helped capture.”

You left out the breath you did not realize you had been holding, gaze softening. The blurrg would not be an issue. “I can assure you Mando has no use for a blurrg.”

The helmet nods, “you can keep them both.”

“No. You need them. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

Mando sounds unconvinced, “I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

You did not happen to know how to ride a blurrg either, but you decided it would be best for everyone’s health to not mention it as the Mandalorian struggled the next morning to even stay on the creature. Mando had insisted on letting you attempt to ride first. Kuiil had kindly walked you through how to greet the beast and the best way to mount. You had struggled a bit, the tallest point on the blurrg’s back was nearly a head taller than you and required some interesting moves to get to but after some coaching you finally managed to get the hang of it. It was smooth sailing from there. They reacted to the reins about the same as most other animals and their walking rhythm was not too difficult to adjust to. After Kuiil seems satisfied with your progress and let Mando into the ring you thought maybe this job would not be all that bad.

Yet as you watched Mando fly off the blurrg’s back for the umpteenth you decided you had called that much too soon. For a man who always walked with such swagger you did allow yourself to enjoy the scene. Just a little.

Even the patient Kuiil was becoming frustrated with Mando’s slow learning curve.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet.”

That would never happen.

Mando’s shoulders stiffen, “perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.”

Kuiil shakes his head, “this is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

You try, you really do, but all your willpower combined at the moment is not enough to contain the laugh that bubbles up in your chest. “Ha! They’ve got the right idea.”

Mando’s helmet tilts back just a fraction. He’s rolling his eyes at you.

Kuiil chuckles softly at your side while you stick your tongue out at the bounty hunter. He blatantly ignores you, going in for another attempt at the blurrg. It ends the same of the others, Mando flat on his back in the dust.

You understand he’s frustrated, Mando’s never been the patient type, and just wants to complete the job and get back to working alone. A wound up, frustrated Mandalorian was never a good combo. Your hand hovers over the blaster in your thigh holster as he stalks towards Kuiil, just in case.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps at the ugnaught. “Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

“You are a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.”

Kuiil’s jab at his ancestry is enough to get Mando to try again. You look on as he approaches the blurrg, arms outstretched, murmuring calming words as he goes to pat the creature between its eyes. You would almost describe the scene as gentle. Not a word you’d have ever used to describe the helmeted man in the past. Where had this Mando been hiding all this time?

.

When you spot the compound in the distance the worries begin to creep up again. You wonder who exactly you were after and what Karga’s underground client wanted with them. People don’t just build fortified compounds on backwater, nearly uninhabited outer rim planets for no reason.

Kuiil points to the structure as the three of you come to a stop, “that is where you’ll find your quarry.”

Mando attempts to give Kuiil a pouch of credits. It was the least he deserved for all the help he’d given you. The ugnaught turns it down.

“Please. You deserve this.”

“Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.”

“Then why did you guide us here?” you ask.

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they are gone.”

Mando turns to Kuiil, “then why do you help?”

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you two will make quick work of it. Then there will be peace again.” The ugnaught guides his blurrg around, ready to make the return trip, “I have spoken.”

You and Mando sat for a moment, watching him ride away in silence.

For peace then.

[cottoncandyjester]

Let sleeping dogs lie(salem backstory)

People have been asking a ton of questions about salem and his backstory so i decided to answer them in one big post.

This story contains: a lot of child abuse, death, cannibalism, childhood trauma, all around bad times for salem

Salem was a dog, not a child. He slept in a cage,ate scraps and was abused to the point where blood was a permanent taste in his mouth. His brother on the other hand was the perfect child, salem didn't know why his mother loved axis more than him but salem was to believe that something was wrong with him

The truth was that nothing was wrong with salem, he was actually quite gifted in singing and would sing himself to sleep when the late nights scare him. Salem was deemed an ugly child from his mother, his eyes were dead and empty..he never smiled in his life and he doesn't even know how to laugh.

Salem hated axis, he hated axis with every fiber of his being. He hated that axis was treated like royalty while he was dragged through hell just to live, how come axis was so perfect?

The worst part of it was that axis was so sweet to salem, he would sneak down and give salem food when their mother isn't watching. Salem thought axis was just belittling him and that made him hate him more

It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. His mother was supposed to love him more than anything, why was axis so special?!

"your father was an ugly man, a monster and you look just like him..those demon eyes. It's natural for any mother to love the more beautiful child. You're only here cause you are make a lovely trash can"

Maybe asking his mother wasn't the best option, it only broke salem more. Salem finally broke after that, he snuck into axis' room that night. Axis had a fever so the window and door was wide open to cool him off, salem let out a shaky sigh as he walked towards the sleeping boy

Its not fair

I was born first

It's not fair

Even sleeping he looked perfect, salem opened the bottle of chemicals and poured it over axis' eyes. The sounds of screaming and choked sobbing flooded the room as salem stared at his younger brother his eyes being empty of any emotions.

He got beaten extra hard that night, he ruined his mother's perfect little boy so it was only natural for her to want him dead, but it seems she had a far better idea for him.

The next morning he was sold like some rusted toy, a rich family wanted to treat their son to an early birthday present and a commoner slave seemed to be the perfect gift.

"but it's not salem's fault he was just really mad at me! I swear it doesn't hurt anymore!"

Hearing axis sob and cry for him only made salem hate him more, damn him for being so kind.

Salem felt someone force his head up and his blank eyes stared into blue ones, there he met his master.

Hikaru looked beautiful to salem, a pretty boy dressed in pink. He dazzled like a star and the utter sight of him made salem blush.

It seems that hikaru wasn't as sweet as he looked, salem wasn't sure which was worse his mother or hikaru. Salem was forced to wear a shiny collar and crawl around on all fours, he truly was a dog. Hikaru trained him to be obedient and submissive, salem started to forget that he was even human

Hikaru's family were rich and dirty, they could get away with anything even murder. Salem was their dog and as such they fed him whatever remains of the victim they dealt with.

Eating human remains seems to have been the last nail on the coffin when it comes to his sanity, he had finally lost it.

His mind had broke and he couldn't function as a normal person anymore, he wanted nothing but death.

When salem turned 15 years old the toment was too much for him, the constant abuse from hikaru and his family had not only broke him mentally but physically as well, the amount of blunt Force trauma gave him enough brain damage to most likely kill him.

One thing salem hated most of all was the abandonment of his own mother, she was a horrible person but he still loves her yet he despised her for leaving him. He just wanted someone who wouldn't leave, someone who will stay by his side no matter what.

Salem had slit his throat that night, it was hikaru who had found him choking on his own blood and stitched him up before he died. Hikaru was nicer to salem after that, instead of a stray he was treated much like a beloved pet. Salem wasn't sure if it was the stockholm syndrome or what but he grew attached to hikaru

As the two got older their relationship started to become far more twisted, hikaru started using salem for sexual pleasure and salem of course let it happen.

Hikaru's version of sexual pleasure involved hardcore violence, things such as burning and branding filled his excitement. Salem felt as if he owed hikaru his life, hikaru was his master after all and as a lowly dog you do as you were told. Sex slowly became salem's high, he wanted more and more to the point where he would go to other people in hikaru's family, begging to be touched to be used. People don't leave of you offer them sex, that was the one lesson salem learned

When salem turned 19 he was reunited with his brother once more, seems like axis got into the same school hikaru was in thanks to an art scholarship and so the two met and became 'friends'.

Salem as this point was on his way to becoming a drooling mutt, the amount of abuse and trauma he dealt with messed with his brain beyond repair.

When the two brothers reconnected salem didn't remember his brother much, he could barley remember his own name some days. Axis still adored salem with every fiber of his being even if his blindness was salem's fault. Hikaru had no intention of giving salem up, after all salem was his wonderful pet and any pet owner would be sad to give up a family pet.

"i-i want my brother back, please.."

"is that so? Salem what do you think about that?"

Salem, who sat on the floor with his head nuzzled against hikaru's lap shuddered at the thought of not having hikaru. Was hikaru leaving just like his mother?! He couldn't stand it, he can't handle someone else leaving his life or discarding him.

"no no no no no no, ah- no!"

Salem started to spiral at the very thought, why did everyone leave him? Why can't anyone stay for him?! What's wrong with him that makes him just so unloveable?

Salem didnt go back to axis that night, but axis never stopped trying. Every single day he came to bother hikaru into releasing the hold on his brother.

Salem's feelings for his brother were neutral, he was too messed up in the head to clearly piece together how exactly he felt but he didnt hate him anymore

Salem didn't want to leave hikaru and hikaru wasn't finished playing with salem, wherever hikaru went salem did too those two were far too toxic to each other and still are incredibly toxic.

After all salem was just a damaged dog and he only had everyone around him to blame, it's a wonder how he would turn out if he was raised normally.

[mrs-daddyissues]

considerably

~ C H A P T E R  7 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Sexual innuendo, swearing

Word Count: 4019

Author’s Note:

In this chapter a classic DC character appears (they won’t be a recurring character, just a little nod). I want to preface this by saying I do not own the rights to that character and have also changed their backstory slightly. There’s also a couple of references to previous Batman films. One other thing, I am returning to work in the next few days and that means that my posting schedule with be much less consistent, sorry. Also apologies this chapter’s a bit long but still, I hope you enjoy!

The process of getting Sarabi and Claudia ready for the gala was both stressful and relaxing at the same time. The whole operation took at least 7 hours and the gala started at 7, so they had 9 hours from the time they got up.

It started with the two girls cleaning Sarabi’s bed from all of Sarabi’s previous experiences. They then had a warm bubble bath each and Claudia instructed Sarabi to scrub every inch of her skin.

The two girls then got dressed in simple clothing and Bruce welcomed in his private spa technicians. The lady was named Frida and she had a sidekick Jonathan that was in training. Claudia planned to get Jonathan’s number before quickly realising he was much more interested in Bruce. Sarabi had to hold in her giggles at Claudia’s disappointed face.

Sarabi and Claudia both got their nails done, Claudia’s a dusty sand colour and Sarabi’s a deep red. They each got every follicle of hair removed from their bodies and then a cleansing facial. 

After the spa part was taken care of, they bid farewell to Frida and Jonathan and had lunch. It was already 1 o’clock and Bruce was busy looking over the final decor for the mansion. 

Sarabi’s mind had been completely distracted from Alfred with everything that had been going on but as soon as she and Claudia stepped foot in the dining room it all came back to her. Alfred wore an apron over his clothes as he dished up their lunches. Sarabi’s heart started beating so fast like a rabbit running from a fox. Claudia noticed her sudden behaviour change and tapped her shoulder.

“Relax girl, I’m right here,” Claudia assured her as the two sat down.

“Thank you, Alfred, this looks amazing,” Claudia’s mouth practically watered at the display in front of her. Claudia rarely got treats like this and she worshipped Alfred’s cooking as much as Sarabi.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Sarabi then dug into her plate of pasta.

“You are more than welcome, ladies. If you need me I’ll be in the ballroom. Master Wayne is being the picky bastard that he is,” Alfred dissed Bruce and Sarabi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alfred!” Bruce’s voice screamed and Sarabi rolled her eyes. His voice was so whiny and loud. He was clearly stressed because of this gala.

“Master Wayne, I’m coming! Calm the hell down!” Alfred yelled back before turning back the women.

“See what I have to deal with?” Alfred fixed his glasses before rushing off to Bruce.

“Thanks again, Alfred,” Sarabi commented to his retreating form.

“My pleasure,” Alfred turned his head around, bowed slightly and ran off to the ballroom as Bruce continued shouting the house down.

Sarabi gaped after Alfred and kept looking at where he had been just a few seconds before.

“Sarabi!" Claudia waved a hand in front of her zoned out face to get her attention.

“Wow, you must really be in love,” Claudia commented and Sarabi snapped her attention back to her.

“I am not in love. I am infatuated,” Sarabi corrected but couldn’t meet Claudia’s gaze. Sarabi didn’t know if she was in love. 

Whenever she saw Alfred her breath came out heavier and her heartbeat quickened. She also became immediately turned on without him needing to do anything. She had no idea what it was she was feeling but she didn’t think it was just lust now.

“No darling, infatuation is short-lived, this has been going on for way too long to just be an infatuation,” Claudia explained with a shoulder shrug.

“Right now it doesn’t matter. Tonight you’re gonna blow him away and maybe get some, you never know,” Claudia beamed as she spoke and Sarabi’s body filled with hope.

“Who knows?” Sarabi finished up her pasta and the two girls talked for longer than they should have. They only had about 5 hours to get the rest of their looks put together and knowing Claudia, she’d take all the time she could get.

It was a good decision on Claudia’s part to start getting ready at 10 o’clock as makeup and hair, on both of them, took a collective 4 hours. Sarabi still can’t believe she sat there for 2 and a half hours while Claudia fussed over what the hairstylist and makeup artist should do. Claudia ended up having her hair parted on the right and curled lightly. She also placed it on her left shoulder. She looked effortlessly and classically beautiful. Claudia had such a unique and model-like look, it was astounding. Claudia also wore more very simple makeup with some golden shimmer on her eyes.

Sarabi was much less fussy about her look but Claudia made up for it by fussing for her. She said it had to be perfect and nothing short of it. Sarabi opted to have her naturally curly hair but part it the same as Claudia. She also had very light makeup but decided to wear a deep red lip to go with her dress. 

Once their hair and makeup were done, it was time for the outfits to come together. It was 6:30 and Claudia planned for the two of them to be fashionably late. Claudia had this all planned out like it was a spy mission.

“I’m gonna go down first and find Bruce and Alfred. I’ll tell them that you should be down any minute and then there you are. You come down that staircase like you own the joint, which you will,” Claudia further reiterated her point with large hand motions.

“Don’t you wanna walk down together?” Sarabi asked, confused. She thought they’d be much more powerful together.

“No, because how will we know if Alfred is watching? You need him to be watching. Cause once he sees you and your assets, he’ll swoon,” Claudia reassured as she stepped into her dress. Sarabi helped her pull it up and was stunned by Claudia’s effortless beauty. The dress Claudia wore was gorgeous. It was a golden, spaghetti-strapped Jovani gown with a sweetheart neckline. 

“Wow, I look hot but not as hot as you. Let’s get you dressed,” Claudia spun around quickly before picking up Sarabi’s gown.

“Holy shit! You’re gonna look so hot,” Claudia assisted Sarabi in getting the dress on and Claudia’s mouth dropped. Her eyes bugged out and she gasped.

“Sarbi! You look stunning! You look perfect,” Claudia moved aside so she could peer in the mirror and Sarabi didn’t even recognise herself. It was a Lora tight-fitting, multiway red gown that accentuated her silhouette. She sported it with both straps coming straight down over her breasts and there was a small court train behind her. It was made of satin and shone in the light.

“Fuck! I do,” Sarabi marvelled at how extraordinary she looked.

“How are we doing for time?” Sarabi asked as the nerves started building up again. She was anxious to impress Alfred but was also scared about the other men and how they’d drool over her.

“Gala just started,” and just as Claudia answered, a large bout of laughter filled the house.

“There they are,” Sarabi put on her silver diamond high heels and her silver necklace with an eye-catching ruby in the centre. She also put on her matching earrings while Claudia put on her limited accessories. 

The two girls turned and looked at each other. They nodded which was a mutual sign of their readiness to steal the spotlight. 

They waited for a while, just doing small touch-ups here and there.

“It is now 7:14, in about 5 minutes or so I’ll text you to walk down. Good luck, you’ll rock it,” Claudia gave her a large hug before walking down to the party.

Sarabi could feel the nerves gradually build up as she stood there waiting for her text. She hated living to impress a man but this was the only reason she was there. She wanted Alfred to feel the same things she had been feeling for the past weeks. For Alfred, she made an exception. She was going to this gala for one thing and one thing only, to impress a man.

Just then she got a text from Claudia.

They’re ready. I requested this song by the way. Steal the show xx

Sarabi could hear Feeling Good by Michael Bublé start playing and she snickered. Claudia stood by the fact that walking to this song screamed power and Sarabi didn’t disagree.

Sarabi made her way to the staircase and peered around the corner. She could see a clear path from the top of the stairs of Wayne Manor to Claudia, Bruce and Alfred’s spot in the ballroom. 

Sarabi’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes spotted Alfred. He was dressed in a simple black and white suit with a red and black bow tie. Even though it was simple, he made it look like the most sophisticated and classy thing on the planet. 

She breathed out heavily and then harnessed all the sexual feelings she had for Alfred. She used these to fuel her confidence as she made her way to the top of the stairs. She leant into her right hip and looked around the ballroom with her head held high. She noticed the many men and women who turned to look at her. 

Sarabi’s skin glowed under the chandelier and the satin of her dress gleamed with it. She looked ethereal, like a Greek goddess but also dangerous, like a vampire or siren looking to capture the hearts and souls of men. She looked and walked like a seductress. But there was only one man on her mind and she locked eyes with him as she stalked down the stairs slowly, deliberately. 

Every man and woman in the room watched her make her way down the grand staircase. The song, her outfit, everything about her was exquisite, graceful and demanding. She commanded the attention of everybody in the room and those who were facing the other way felt the sudden urge to turn around as well. Each step she took, another head turned in her direction until every person was under her spell. Sarabi loved the power she had and enjoyed how each person was lost for words.

Alfred also couldn’t take his eyes off Sarabi and it seemed like he was caught in a whirlpool, not being able to pull himself out of her grasp. His jaw dropped as she looked at him with the same intensity. Alfred always found Sarabi beautiful, she was easily one of the most attractive women he had ever laid eyes on but tonight she blew all the competition out of the park. She looked powerful, dangerous and dominant. Alfred was hexed by her and trapped in her spell. She was a sweet siren singing a song in the water and he had followed her in and drowned. He had drowned in her beauty and had no complaints whatsoever. She held all the power over him and he let her take up all the room in his mind. 

Alfred felt nervous but excited as she strutted towards him slowly, knowing exactly what she did to him. Sarabi revelled in the power she had other Alfred at this moment. She could see the way he licked his lips and watched her intently with his deeply inquisitive brown eyes. 

“Sarbi, my God you look beautiful,” Bruce commented, handing her a champagne glass. 

“Thanks, Bruce. You look like shit,” Sarabi joked while taking a sip of the champagne.

“Just kidding, you look amazing as always,” Sarabi exaggerated her movements and Bruce scrunched up his nose mockingly. 

Sarabi looked at Alfred and watched his eyes look over her body carefully. He didn’t miss an inch of her, he took in every little bit. Sarabi had her intended effect as Alfred’s tongue tied itself into knots. He didn’t know what to say but when his eyes made their way back to Sarabi’s, she smirked and Alfred blushed lightly. ‘She caught me!’ Alfred thought as he panicked internally. 

“Miss Nichols, you look stunning,” Alfred was hypnotised by her very being and Sarabi smirked brightly but could feel her mouth go dry at his compliment.

“Thank you, Alfred. You look good yourself,” Sarabi commented, snatching all the breath from his lungs. Alfred nodded quickly before downing the rest of his drink.

“Thank you, Miss Nichols,” he croaked out quickly before grabbing another glass of champagne.

“Sarbi, you have taken the words from my mouth. Sarabi, the light of my life, fire of my loins,” Claudia quoted as Sarabi chuckled.

“Claudia, what the hell are you even saying?” Sarabi looked at Claudia but kept an eye on Alfred. He was still transfixed and trying to gain his urbane, charming persona again.

“It’s from the book I’m reading but you look hot as hell,” Claudia gave her the flattering remark as she also finished her drink. 

“Thanks, Claudia, you have set fire to my loins as well,” Sarabi laughed with Claudia at her misquote.

“I think you’ve set fire to a certain somebody’s loins,” Claudia observed as she whispered to Sarabi.

“Shut up,” Sarabi blushed at the thought of Alfred being turned on by her but she knew it had to be true. Nobody acts like Alfred just did if they weren’t turned on to some extent. 

“Ma’am, would you care to dance with me?” A man asked from behind Sarabi. She turned around and nearly choked on her champagne. It was some old, balding man with a beer gut. He wore a simple suit and reeked of way too much cologne. He wore even more than Bruce.

Sarabi looked back at Claudia for help. She had been at the gala for less than 5 minutes and the men in the building were already asking her to dance. Claudia gestured with her head and gave a small thumbs up. Sarabi cringed but turned back to the man with a smile. She looked Alfred’s way and noticed the way his jaw clenched.

“Of course,” Sarabi took his hand as he led her out to the dance floor.

While they danced he asked a million questions. He asked how old she was, what she did for a living, how she knew Bruce and so forth. He was the most boring man on the planet but Sarabi didn’t want to piss him off.

“Do you mind if I step in?” A younger man around Sarabi’s age questioned and the older man pulled Sarabi closer to him. This man was tall and skinny with pale skin. He wore a green suit with black gloves and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. From the suit alone Sarabi could tell he was eccentric and would fit right with Claudia. He wasn’t bad looking, just not her type.

“Can’t you see we’re busy,” the older man stated and Sarabi pursed her lips in annoyance. This younger man noticed that and put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I think it’s time for the lady to move on,” the younger man was persistent and grabbed Sarabi’s waist and pulled her away.

“Fine, you can have her anyways,” the older man walked off defeated and Sarabi started dancing with the young man.

“Edward Nygma, and you are?” Edward asked with a kind smile.

“Sarabi Nichols, nice to meet you,” Sarabi thought the man was cute but her eyes were set on another man.

They danced around the floor and Edward kept his hand chastely on her waist, unlike the old man who tried countless times to move it lower. He seemed gentlemanly enough but something about those dark eyes said otherwise.

“You definitely know how to catch people’s attention, don’t you Sarabi?” Edward queried as Sarabi caught sight of Alfred. He looked mad in every way. His jaw was still clenched and he grasped his champagne glass so hard in his hand it might smash. ‘He’s jealous,’ Sarabi celebrated in her head as Alfred kept a stern eye on her and Edward.

“I clearly caught yours,” Sarabi commented quickly and Edward smirked at the snark response.

“I actually wanted to ask about your friend there in the gold dress,” Edward moved his head to the side and Sarabi smiled knowingly. 

“Ah yes, Claudia Flynn her name is, I think she’d like you too,” Sarabi was glad to set up Edward with her bestie but she wanted something from him too.

“Do you think you could introduce me?” Edward looked Claudia’s way and Sarabi watched his eyes glinted with lust.

“Most certainly but I need you to do something for me first,” Sarabi smiled as Claudia looked bored out of her mind.

“Within reason, what is it, Sarabi?” Edward was a much better dancer than the older man from before. He had at least some rhythm that Sarabi could easily keep up with. 

“There is a man in here I have my eyes on and I want you to help me-”

“Make him jealous? Easy,” Edward finished her sentence and Sarabi nodded.

“Are we in his eye-line?” Edward inquired and Sarabi gave him another nod.

“Move your hand lower,” Sarabi demanded and Edward complied, moving his hand close to her butt. Sarabi glanced at Alfred and if he were a cartoon steam would be blowing from his ears. Sarabi loved having the switch flipped for the night where he was the one having trouble controlling his feelings. 

“Move closer to me,” Sarabi pulled him in until their bodies were practically rubbing against each other. To an onlooker, they looked like they were having a very sensual moment and Alfred was one of them.

They danced like this for a while until Sarabi took it a step further by locking eyes with Alfred. While she looked in his eyes, she whispered something in Edward’s ear.

“It’s working, thank you,” Sarabi made it look much more sybaritic than it actually was, brushing her blood-red lips against his ear.

“No problem as long as I get to meet, Claudia,” Edward whispered back and Sarabi gave a light giggle.

“I’m guessing that was for him?” Edward asked, slightly confused.

“Yeah, I’m gonna pretend you’re saying something really funny,” Sarabi started laughing uproariously while a man started talking to Alfred. 

She watched gleefully as Alfred tried to keep his attention on the man he was talking to. Sarabi’s orbs locked with his and she let them do all the talking. She hoped that Alfred would get what she was trying to get across and from his loss of exasperation and now just desire, she was pretty sure he did. She looked away before she got trapped in their beauty.

“It worked, let me introduce you,” Sarabi grabbed his hand and led him over to Claudia who’s eyes bugged out.

“Claudia Flynn meet Edward Nygma, Edward meet Claudia,” Sarabi introduced the two and gave a wink to Claudia.

“I’ll let you guys get acquainted,” Sarabi added cheekily before letting them talk to each other.

Sarabi stepped away with a large grin. She hoped Claudia had some fun tonight. Sarabi then felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around to find Alfred standing there with his calm and collected charisma back. 

“Would you care to dance, Miss Nichols?” Alfred held his hand out for her and she took it gratefully.

“It would be my pleasure, Alfred,” Sarabi let Alfred lead her onto the dance floor. He pulled her in so quickly it stole the breath from her lungs. Their chests touched as Alfred placed his right hand dangerously low on her hip and held her right hand out to the side. Sarabi wrapped her left hand around his shoulder as they waltzed to the beautiful melody playing from the band. 

“You seemed mad before, Alfred, do you not like Mr Nygma?” Sarabi asked with the right amount of sarcasm to tease him.

“No I do not like Mr Nygma, he is not a good person. I don’t think he’d be very good for you,” Alfred responded staring directly into her eyes. The eye contact made Sarabi’s insides churn with desire. This desire directly manifested itself in her eyes for Alfred, and only Alfred, to see.

“And how do you know which boys are good for me?” Sarabi held the bait over his head hoping he would jump and take it. It was fun to tease Alfred and she wanted to see him crack.

“I know a lot of things, Miss Nichols, I am incredibly experienced,” Alfred whispered down into her ear, his breath trailing goosebumps down her neck.

“Is that so? Well, what was wrong with that handsome Edward Nygma boy?” Sarabi interrogated, hoping that Alfred would whisk her away to her bedroom and ruin her. The thought of Alfred defiling her as he did in her dreams made her core pulse with need. She was trying to regain control but was slowly being pulled towards Alfred’s magnetic force field.

“He used to work for Gotham P.D. as a forensic scientist before he got fired for hiding evidence. He served a small sentence and now is some sort of scientist. He’s suspicious and untrustworthy,” Alfred elucidated as he whisked her around the dance floor. 

“Well I thought he was quite charming,” Sarabi lied through her teeth. Edward was nice but not that charming, she just wanted to push Alfred’s buttons.

“Well you seemed a bit distracted and it wasn’t by his charm, was it?” Alfred spun Sarabi out and back into his chest. Sarabi nearly whimpered at the control Alfred was exerting over her but she kept it under wraps. His manhandling was exciting her more than she expected.

Just as she thought her body couldn’t heat up anymore, the music changed to a Latin beat.

“The tango, my favourite kind of dance,” Sarabi added with a hint of sultry before wrapping her leg around his and bending her back. She swung around until she came back up to meet his eyes, fired up with passion.

“I quite like tango as well, Miss Nichols, do you know how to do it properly?” Alfred squeezed her hip tighter as he moved them faster around the dance floor.

“I have taken some classes, though I heard it’s pretty hard, I didn’t do too badly,” Sarabi answered while Alfred spun her around with the expertise of a professional dancer.

“Have you done this before, Alfred?” Sarabi inquired curiously. She never took Alfred as the dancing type but by the way he moved, he must have some sort of background.

“Oh many times, Miss Nichols but I do have to admit I’m a bit rusty,” Alfred confessed while dancing so well that the other dancers started taking notice.

Alfred and Sarabi continued the sensual dancing they were doing. Their bodies moved with the perfect fluidity like they had done it many times before. Their bodies moulded together on the dance floor like they were made for each other. The dance was making Sarabi feel elated beyond compare. She was finally having a passionate moment with Alfred, even if they were just dancing. 

The music came to a stop, disappointing both Sarabi and Alfred. They both wanted this moment to last forever, having never shared something so hedonistic and lascivious. Alfred, being the gentleman he was, grabbed her hand and led her away from the crowd of men waiting to ask her to dance.

“Not too hard is it?” Alfred teased as he handed a champagne glass to Sarabi with a sly smirk. She took a sip and slowly and seductively wiped her lips clean. She watched as Alfred’s eyes flickered to her lips and a surge of yearning filled them. Sarabi knew what her next play was so she looked down to his crotch and slowly back to his eyes, making sure he saw her look. She moved closer and placed her lips next to his ear.

“Semi-hard I’d say,” Sarabi teased back with a lecherous wink before walking away, adding an extra sway to her hips. Which left Alfred in a puddle of confusion, frustration and lust.

<<CHAPTER 6<<  ~ ~ ~  >>CHAPTER 8>>

[dalish-spectre]

Trust the abyss - a Baldur's Gate 3 backstory. Ch. 4 Haunting riffs of a vazhan-do pierced the air accompanied by the sharp vocals of a deathsinger – drow bards whose vocals could command the undead if they so chose.

Tonight, however, this vocalist was entertaining rowdy crowds of guards from the various noble houses of Menzoberranzan at a tavern located on the fringes of the bazaar.

It was called the Jewel Box and Dinin had never been anywhere like it before.

He had never been this drunk before either.

Kelzt and Masryn had insisted on dragging him out of House Darketh’s perimeters and into the noisy crowded streets of the heart of the spider city.

Before House Do’Urden fell, the former elder-boy had only visited the bazaar on rare occasions when his Matron Mother had required him to. He had never been permitted to drink. Even after joining Bregan D’aerthe, he had only ever indulged in a few drinks with the band’s leader Jarlaxle. He preferred to keep his mind sharp and sober but going undercover as a guard within Darketh, his first mission as a houseless rogue, he was expected to play the part.

It would be suspicious if he refused to drink with the two guards that had decided to befriend him.

He didn’t know how much algae ale they’d be able to polish back.

So here he was, five ales deep, being dragged into a brothel by two drow he hardly knew.

“Don’t scowl so much, Dinyrr, you’ll scare the whores away,” laughed Kelzt as they’d stepped through the door. “I’d say a brush with death is a perfect reason to wet one’s blade somewhere other than the belly of a hook horror.”

Masryn chortled from beside him. “Maybe that’s what he wants – have you ever been to a whorehouse before? I’ve heard Gracklestugh has several.”

“I’ve no need of whorehouses,” Dinin replied coolly as they took a seat at a stalagmite table, the alcohol softened the usual edge of his voice.

Kelzt’s own laugh reverberated through the cavern as he motioned a serving slave over.

“We’ll take a bottle of sul-paga here,” he said to an older dwarven woman who had been around long enough to not bother flashing her eyes in an alluring manner. She simply nodded and wandered back towards the bar.

The Jewel Box was filled with tables made of stalagmites, twisting upwards with slate tops. Stone benches on either side accommodated guests who wanted to sit.

It was lit by faerie fire, candles and glowing blue fungi wound its way around various stalactites that protruded down from the ceiling giving the place a very ethereal feel.

Kelzt rubbed his hands together as he looked around the room.

“We got here just in time,” he said. “Narbondel has only just died and that means the artists will be coming down soon.”

Dinin cocked an eyebrow.

“Artists?” He tried not to roll his eyes. “Why are they called artists?”

Masryn snorted.

“Why do you think? They are trained in the arts of sexual pleasure,” the young drow emphasized the first part of the word for effect, waggling his white brows up and down.

Dinin ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair anxiously. He needed another drink.

His hopes were soon answered as the dwarven woman returned with three glasses and a large bottle of sul-paga.

The crisp, distilled scent of the alcohol pricked the hairs up on the back of his neck as he watched Kelzt pour the clear liquid into his cup.

Masryn drank his own glass deeply, scrunching his face up. Dinin had only drank wine when he lived in House Do’Urden and he tried desperately not to make a face as the sul-paga burned his throat on the way down.

Sputtering, he wiped a gloved hand across his lips.

Kelzt watched the two younger drow, mirth shining in his dark red eyes as he casually sipped his own drink.

“Ah, youth rushes into everything – sul paga is to sip lads, it is made of the finest sul roots this side of the Underdark.”

The music took a frantic toll as the singer began the first verses of the beginning of Tornan’s Guts – a common song in Menzoberrazan though Dinin was not familiar with the words.

Chants and hymns to Lloth were all he knew of music. He found his foot tapping to the rhythm of the vahzan-do while a table next to them burst out singing loudly and offkey.

O’ Tornan was a great warrior indeed

The greatest warrior did Menzoberranzan ever see

A bell rang out above the singing, Dinin followed Masryn and Kelzt’s gaze at it shifted towards a staircase at the back of the room.

He took another swig of sul-paga as he watched silk-clad figures make their way down the stairs and mingle with the tables.

Much to Dinin’s dismay, his scowl did not in fact keep the whores away.

A surface elf slave with long red hair twined her way over to their table and sat down beside Masryn.

The last time he had been this close to a surface elf, he had inadvertently witnessed his family’s doom as his brother failed to please Lloth by killing one.

She spoke Undercommon quite well, he supposed, but he could not bring himself to find her attractive.

Masryn however had fallen under the enchantment of her tinkling laughter. She clutched a glass of dark liquor in one hand and used the other to brush away a strand of hair from the younger drow’s face.

“I personally don’t understand the appeal,” said Kelzt, watching the surface elf lead Masryn from the table. “Our young friend however appears to have a liking for pale flesh albeit a sadistic pleasure – here, anything goes as long as you don’t mark their faces.

It’s a pleasure house yes but it’s also a place where men are freely allowed to take out any emotion on a female.”

Dinin scoffed, “Surface females don’t matter.”

“Aye but it’s not just surface females here – there are drow ones as well, low-cast but drow,” Kelzt replied. “Master Dro pays a pretty penny to the council to keep the place in operation.”

The older drow explained how he thought the Matron Mother’s figured if there was a place the common guards could blow off steam it would make them more pliable.

“I’ve heard from our weapons master himself that Matron of Darketh pays the tab here for us idiots to keep us in line,” he continued. “If keeping me in line means all the paga and ale I can drink and a warm place to lay my cock then I’m all for it.”

“I could think of worse things I suppose,” Dinin swirled the clear liquid in his glass pensively. He watched a human female take off her top across the room with mild interest. Peals of laughter rang out from behind their table as a slender male drow clothed in a silk robe poured wine down a guard’s throat.

“It appears they cater to all tastes here,” He shifted in his seat to face Kelzt again. The alcohol was making his face warm or was it the atmosphere which was becoming slowly more debaucherous.

Kelzt nodded his head and took another drink.

He stole a priestess’s virginity

The scandalous line of Tornan’s Guts rang out above the din. Some of the crowd cheered and Dinin glanced over his shoulder, fearing the sting of a snake-headed whip.

Feeling none, the tension in his shoulders released. Old habits died hard.

For this Lloth could not forget

Tornan would have to pay his debt

She put a toll upon his soul

Kelzt had begun to sing along, periodically punching the air with the hand holding his glass, grinning.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dinin’s lip as he watched the merrymaking a scene quite unfamiliar to him.

“Don’t you find it kind of funny that we’re singing a song about a man who was killed for defiling a woman at a place where men come to defile women?” Dinin asked, raising his voice over the chaos.

Kelzt laughed.

“The irony is not lost on me, young one.”

Suddenly a young male slid in between the two of them.

“Why Kelzt, I thought you had forgotten me,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth. His head was shaved on either side leaving a disheveled white strip of hair – black orbs for eyes that glittered in the candlelight of the table.

Dinin begrudgingly shifted to make room for Kelzt’s friend. The boy had a pleasing enough face and a cocky air about him.

“Ah, Naxir, how could I forget about you, you bring an old warrior so much joy,” Kelzt slid his arm around the younger drow.

“Such sweet words,” Naxir laughed and turned to fix Dinin in his stare. “Hello, who is this treat? Will he be joining us this evening?”

Kelzt laughed and shook his head while Dinin felt his cheeks burn. It had been sometime since he had indulged in the carnal pleasures of flesh and while Naxir was attractive, the thought of seeing the older soldier rutting didn’t interest him at all.

“I think I’ll pass this time,” he poured himself another drink and let his gaze wander as he halfheartedly listened to the old warrior flirt with the handsome young drow.

Tornan’s Guts had ended, and the bard seemed to be taking the crowd in the direction of a sensual macabre tune.

A familiar laugh rang out and Dinin noticed Taztar, the patrol leader of his squad, sitting two tables to the side of them with some other guards from House Darketh.

A slender figure in a short, flowing red dress was gyrating before them, unbound hair illuminated by faerie fire.

“Come closer, girl,” he heard Taztar growl and watched as the girl obeyed. Her skin was not as dark as Dinin’s and as she moved closer to the candlelit table, he could tell her hair was a dark silvery colour.

Suddenly one of the guards’ arms shot out and poured a mug of ale over her head. “Get out of here half-breed, you can tell Dro that I want the real drow tonight.”

Laughter exploded from the table as Taztar said, “We all want a real drow tonight lads.”

Dinin watched intently as the girl’s hand clenched at her side, the shocked look on her face quickly replaced by anger and she swung her fist, a soft thud as it connected with the guard’s face. Just as quickly as it happened, Taztar reached out and grabbed the girls arm and pulled her in roughly.

He couldn’t make out what the patrol leader said before shoving the girl backwards.

Impressed, he watched as she strode toward his table, delicate brows furrowed as she fought to keep a smile on her face.

As she passed, he found himself drawn to her – her delicate features belaying the scowl she was trying not to show.

He watched her enter a door near the back and come back out again with a white-haired female drow. They parted and for a moment he watched the new girl saunter over to Taztar’s table.

It was then he realized that Kelzt and his friend had left him alone. At least they had left him the bottle, but he cursed as he went to pour himself a drink.

What in the hells was he going to do now, wait for them to finish rutting?

Sipping his drink, he glanced about for the girl with the dark hair again when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He was mortified to see it was her.

“You’re staring at me.” Her voice was terse. “Do you see something that you like?”

Her arms were crossed causing the curves of her breast to peek up from the low cut of her dress.

“Yes – I mean, no, I’m not here to …” His words caught on his tongue as she glared at him.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what they all say at first.”

“Well, I can guarantee you that I’m not like they,” he said. “And I’m not here looking for sex.”

“Let me guess, you probably have no problem picking up women – or men, whichever you prefer,” the girl sat down beside him and propped her cheek up with her hand.

Her eyes swept him up and down, assessing him. He leaned back in his seat fixing her with his own cool stare.

“Whichever I prefer depends on many things – why did you punch that guard, surely you’re lucky to not be injured,” he asked, truly curious.

To his surprise, she laughed, a strange melodic chuckle that made him want to laugh with her though he knew not why – probably the blasted sul-paga Kelzt had fed him.

Still he poured himself and the girl a glass.

“Hrazzra is an idiot, he comes here every tenday, my master hates him, but he likes Taztar’s money,” the girl paused, accepting the glass of liquor. “Besides, Taztar will make me pay for it later but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.

“The trick is to make yourself numb and you don’t feel anything anymore.”

She emptied the glass with one smooth gulp without making a face. Dinin followed suit but was unable to keep the look of disgust off his face over the taste of the alcohol.

The girl laughed again.

“I prefer the taste of mushroom wine if I’m being perfectly honest,” he chuckled. “This stuff tastes like how the cleaners smell.”

“Mushroom wine – you have rich tastes for a common soldier.”

The alcohol had loosened his guard and he cursed himself inwardly.

“I have only been so fortunate that my former master would allow me wine after a victory in the slave pits of Graklestugh,” he attempted damage control, and briefly explained his backstory to the girl who watched his eyes intently as he told of how he was fortunate to be sold to House Darketh of Menzoberranzan.

“Well, former melee master of Gracklestugh, I bet I can find us some mushroom wine, stay where you are.”

The music remained at a mournful pace as she picked her way through the crowd towards the bar where the older dwarven lady polished the too-smooth slate.

It had been hours since Narbondel died and the number of patrons in the bar seemed to be getting less and less.

Dinin looked over to see that another surface elf had joined the white-haired drow girl at the patrol leader’s table. Only Taztar and two other soldiers remained and were tossing coins at the girls as they writhed on one another atop the stalagmite table.

“Noril and Alunira are very beautiful aren’t they,” Dinin almost jumped as the girl whispered in his ear, sitting back down beside him.

He turned to look at her and noticed she was grinning holding two large bottles of mushroom wine.

“I don’t have any fancy glasses, ussta zhennu sargitlan, but this is not a fancy place, we could drink it right from the bottle if we wished.” To emphasize her point, she uncorked a bottle and drank deeply, a little drip of liquid glowed green as it spilled from the corner of her lips.

He tried to hide the grin as she playfully called him my great warrior in high drow. For a slave, she was brazen and he found he liked talking to her.

“High drow, that’s an awfully rich language for a common slave,” he said, taking a swig of the wine, feeling almost sacrilegious drinking it straight from the bottle.

Her laugh was infectious as she snagged the bottle back from him, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

She brought the tip of the bottle playfully to her lips before drinking then leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Maybe we both have … secrets,” her lips grazed his earlobe as she pulled away and offered him the wine coyly.

Flustered but intrigued, he changed the topic to mushroom wine and how it wasn’t as noble a drink as one might think as it was fermented from the most common fungi but as he was trying to cover up that the wine was made from mushrooms that had never seen any form of light, it was a highly arduous process, and she was nodding as if she believed him even though her eyes told him she didn’t, Taztar stumbled over to their table.

His breath reeked of ale.

“Ah, Dinyrr, I never expected to see you here – I didn’t know the house paid for slave soldiers to drink and fuck,” he slurred as he stood over them. “I see you’ve met my girl – Tavari – she may be a half-bred but she’s quite beautiful to look at.”

He gruffly grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look up at him. Her gaze steeled over.

“Yes patrol leader, she’s quite nice,” Dinin forced himself to play his part, as this common man’s lesser when he could easily slice out Taztar’s tongue and present it to Jarlaxle.

“Indeed she is and I think she’s quite done talking with you – it’s time for her to repay her folly in punching Hrazzra, don’t you think?

"We’ll take that extra bottle of mushroom wine as well, Tavari will need the extra help tonight.”

He made a show of knocking over the almost empty bottle they had been sharing. Dinin ground his teeth.

“Come girl,” he wrenched her up from her seat. Her face paled in the candlelight, she looked disheartened.

Suddenly, Dinin rose from his seat and grabbed Taztar by the shoulder.

“The girl stays with me,” he said, the alcohol he consumed wouldn’t allow the slight of this mere man – this third patrol leader of the 35th house of Menzoberranzan taking away his enjoyment.

The bard, whose interest had been piqued by the exchange began to play a new tune he had been commissioned to write. A song that would surely get the males blood up as it told the tale of the destruction of a noble house.

The fall of House Do’Urden.

Taztar laughed and shrugged off Dinin’s hand.

“I’ll have you killed,” he sneered, not letting go of the girl’s wrist.

As the singer began to sing of Lloth forsaking a once ancient and noble house, Dinin noticed the words of the song, speaking of Zin-Carla, Malice’s folly and a wayward son.

“The girl is with me tonight,” he growled., stepping in front of of the solider.

“Are you stupid? Did you hear what I said – I’ll have you killed and if not, the weapons master will have you sacrificed to Lloth for breaking the chain of command,” Taztar replied, dropping the girl’s hand and clenching his own into a fist.

Their faces were inches from each other, Dinin breathed heavily, egged on by the song.

“You’re nothing – you worthless,” Taztar’s slew of insults were cut short by the crack of Dinin’s fist against his jaw.

The thicker drow swung back catching Dinin in the lip, splitting it open. He tried to grab Dinin but the former master of melee magthere’s reflexes were quick as he swept to the side. He wasn’t a fist fighter as some were but his swift blows fueled by alcohol and rage were enough to fell the shorter drow to the ground.

The bard remained impassive and kept singing. Those left sitting around the tables cheered and promptly resumed drinking.  Dinin’s heart was pounding. How dare there be a song about the fall of Do’Urden. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. He had potentially blown his cover for his mission. What would Jarlaxle do to him? He opened his eyes to see the girl, whose name was Tavari, stand up from kneeling over the prone form of Taztar. Her fingertips looked for a second as if they had glowed.

“Come with me,” she said, picking up the bottle of wine from the ground.

She grabbed his hand, he jolted back to reality at the physical touch.

“Taztar won’t remember anything,” she assured him as she led him up the stairs. “But, let’s get out of here before Master Dro sees him on the floor.”

“You really knocked him out,” the girl giggled as she led him past rooms filled with moans. He followed her down a dark windowless hallway, lit sporadically by candles.

She opened the door to the last room on the left, lit a candle – did she use a match? Dinin wasn’t sure. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and the alcohol was beginning to make him feel a little nauseous.

“Thank you for what you did back there, by the way, Taztar is awful, I hate him,” she crossed her legs as she sat down on the bed.

“I can assure you from working with him that I hate him as well. He allowed half of our latest patrol to be slaughtered by hook horrors,” Dinin replied, sitting beside the girl on the thin mattress. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves, my name is Din-in-yrrr.” He almost stumbled out his real name. “Dinyrr, it’s Dinyrr. My apologies, I don’t usually drink this much.” He was embarrassed to note that he was almost slurring his own words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Din-nin-yrr, my name is Tavari and I am always drunk,” the girl chuckled but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes.

“Just Dinyrr is fine, and you shouldn’t drink so much, it’s not good for the mind. A mind like yours is only diminished by liquor,” he sloppily scolded her.

“That’s very sweet,” she replied. “Now, you have me up here – you said I’m yours tonight, what would you wish of me?”

She began to slide off the thin red fabric that barely covered her lithe form, but Dinin stopped her muttering shhh.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. “Let’s just finish this troublesome bottle of wine.”

He helped pull the dress back over her head. The girl, Tavari looked shocked then laughed, deep from her soul, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He couldn’t help but join her – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.

“What do you want to just talk?” She asked playfully. “I’ve never had a man nor woman ever buy me just to talk. It’s not normal.”

“I’m not normal,” he replied slurrishly, with a grin passing her back the bottle of wine.

She nodded her agreement.

“What do you want to talk about?”  She shifted closer to him, propping her cheek on her hand as she had earlier that night.

“Memories,” he replied, looking out the window, the streets of the bazaar were quiet this deep into Narbondel’s death.

“Good or bad,” she asked.

“Are there such things as good memories?” He countered, turning to look back at her again with a wry smile.

“Not really,” she shrugged.

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth, each sharing their own cryptic stories, edging towards truths they could never share with one another.

The last thing Dinin’s half-blurred vision noted as the two laid facing each other on the threadbare mattress was the colour of her eyes as Narbondel’s first light filtered through the small window.

Orange, like the flame of a candle. https://archiveofourown.org/works/33301066/chapters/84017953

[xtruss]

Cornelia Bohn stands among oak barrels in her whiskey distillery in the German village of Schönermark. The trained pharmaceutical engineer has been producing her Preußischer Whisky single malt since 2009. Photograph By Patrick Pleul, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

— By Mike MaCeacheran | February 2, 2021

The whole scene along this whiskey road trip is strangely familiar: historic castles and deer-filled forests, then rows of ploughed soil, golden barley fields, and the sweet scent of cereal grains.

But this isn’t somewhere in Scotland. Nor is it in Ireland or the United States. This is Brandenburg, a sparsely populated region in Germany surrounding Berlin. It the most compact part of a seductive new whiskey country that has upwards of 250 producers—almost twice as many as Scotland, yet with just a fraction of the visitors. Factor in an increasing emphasis on grain-to-glass provenance, and it’s evident that interest in German whiskey is rocketing.

With five compelling distilleries all within a 60-mile radius of the new Berlin-Brandenburg Airport (which opened in October 2020), Brandenburg is a fruitful place to taste whiskey. A circumnavigation of the German capital region promises new-found tradition and adventure in equal measure, with warehouses, whiskey cellars, and sampling rooms.

“Distilling has been part of Brandenburg’s fabric for centuries,” says Cornelia Bohn, producer of Preußischer Whisky. “But this knowledge was lost during the Communist era when liquor production was controlled and limited to state-produced vodka. It’s amazing to think that whiskey was an outlaw spirit, only available on the black market. So we’re catching up now.”

Spirited Revival

No manufacturer is doing more to put German whiskey on the map than Bohn. Growing up behind the Berlin Wall in Soviet-occupied Uckermark in the former German Democratic Republic, she fell in love with the romance of whiskey advertisements broadcast from uncensored West German TV channels. She took note of the smoky bars, the clinking glasses, the talk of exotic overseas adventures, and revered the banned liquor without ever having tasted it. For her, it represented the West, escape from behind the Iron Curtain, and freedom.

When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, and Bohn crossed the unified German capital for the first time, one small shop caught her eye. “Everyone was gifted 100 Deutsche marks welcome money on arrival and my first instinct was to buy a bottle of whiskey,” says Bohn, who was 24 at the time. “It was a Johnnie Walker, and it was the most amazing moment of my life.”

A barley field in the Uckermark region, known as the granary of Brandenburg, glows golden at sunset. Photograph By Preussischer Whisky

Now 31 years later, Bohn is one of Germany’s most respected whiskey makers and one of the first women to open her own distillery. As Rumpelstiltskin spun gold from straw, she has turned a modest family inheritance into a label born from a teenage dream, producing Germany’s only organic single malt.

Here in the Uckermark region, grasslands tip into beech woods and pastures filled with black horses that, tradition dictates, are still used to pull carriages for village weddings and funerals. The Friesians are central to the local Slavic culture and, fittingly, Bohn’s stills are housed in red-brick stables. The Preußischer mascot, too, is a sleek colt sporting a pickelhaube, a spiked soldier’s helmet. (Preußischer translates to “Prussian.”)

The woman-owned Preußischer Whisky is one of the hundreds of German distillers gaining global recognition. Photograph BY Patrick Pleul, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

Tales like this are everywhere in Brandenburg, hidden behind distillery doors and in the barley and rye fields. At Grumsiner Brennerei, the attitude towards whiskey is to dig deeper into the past. Distillery owner Thomas Blätterlein is reviving ancient strains of forgotten grains.

One cereal is East Prussian eppweizen, an overlooked wheat used for his fruity, single-grain malt Mammoth. On the nose, the hay-gold spirit hints at caramel; the taste is floral and lightly spiced.

Grain Expectations

Less than 40 miles southeast of Berlin, former bartender Bastian Heuser founded Stork Club/Spreewald, Germany’s first rye whiskey distillery, in the village of Schlepzig. Flour mills, witch’s-hat spires, and ramshackle farmsteads point to the town’s centuries-old heritage.

The distillery’s origins began with a road trip. In 2015, Heuser and co-owners Steffen Lohr and Sebastian Brack were looking for a particular cask to take back to Berlin. It turned out that the incumbent owner of one distillery they visited had no family and was looking for a successor.

Left: Spreewald Distillery, located in Schlepzig, produces Stork Club, Germany’s first rye whiskey. Photograph By Markus Schreiber, AP Images Right: Bastian Heuser stands next to a 600-liter (158-gallon) still. The former Berlin barkeeper co-founded Stork Club/Spreewald Distillery. Photograph By Bernd Settnik, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

“Serendipity,” recalls Heuser. “The absurdity is we went from wanting to buy just the one barrel to taking over an entire distillery.”

Behind its brick walls, the venue retains the cobbled courtyard, whiskey barn, and garden built a century ago, but the brand’s hipster vibe is clearly here-and-now.

Ostensibly, what Stork Club offers the visitor is stunning whiskey. But the distillery is cleverly engineered on the Spreewald canal network. An added thrill is discovering more than 200 intertwined waterways vibrant with wildlife, including 250 pairs of white storks that return each year to nest. A punting trip into the marshy meadows, where the crank of the mash tun fades to silence, comes highly recommended. At times, it is too easy to miss that the wilderness is in the thick of the largest rye-growing greenbelt in Europe.

Visitors to Spreewald Distillery can make a day of it with a boat ride along the region’s canal network. Photograph By Hans-Joachim Aubert, Alamy Stock Photo

“Most German distilleries look towards Scotland for inspiration,” Heuser says. “But we’re more drawn to whiskies made in the United States. It’s funny, really, because rye is part of Brandenburg’s history, but we’ve never wholly embraced it. Until now.”

Transatlantic Ties

Pull this thread and a whole other backstory unravels. Where Brandenburg rye really prevails is across the Atlantic in the stills of some of the largest distillers in the United States, including Kentucky’s Wild Turkey and Four Roses, both of which stockpile the region’s crop. It would be difficult, in fact, to overstate the impact of Germany’s distilling heritage on the U.S., with the roots of many distilleries on the American Whiskey Trail and Kentucky Bourbon Trail first sown by immigrants.

“It’s no great surprise Germans kickstarted the pre-Prohibition rye whiskey industry in the 1800s because of what they learned back home,” says Dave Broom, author of the World Atlas of Whisky and a whiskey writer for 30 years.

Bastian Heuser inspects whiskey at the Spreewald Distillery. Photograph By Tobias Schwarz, AFP/Getty Images

Pennsylvania’s Old Overholt, said to be America’s oldest continuously operating whiskey brand, was founded by German Mennonite farmer Henry Oberholzer in 1810. Johannes Jakob Böhm moved to Kentucky to sell bourbon under the name Old Jake Beam (now better known as Jim Beam).

There are many other immigrant tales, too, including those of George Dickel, from Grünberg, Hesse, who came to Nashville in 1844; and the founders of the Stitzel-Weller distillery, maker of cult favorite Pappy Van Winkle. Predictably, after 13 years of Prohibition (1920–1933), many German distillers were forgotten, and today it is hard for whiskey historians to tease out personal stories from romanticized brand mythologies.

The Future of Brandenburg

The blurring of distinctions is common when appraising whiskey, and this paradox is all too familiar to Tim Eggenstein of Old Sandhill Whisky, in the town of Bad Belzig, 55 miles southwest of Berlin. The distiller ages his single malt in virgin German, American, and French oak barrels, as well as scented sherry casks and barrique barrels from Bordeaux, accepting that everyone puts their own spin on a whiskey’s story.

At Glina Distillery, 10 miles outside state capital Potsdam, distiller Michael Schultz is driven to create a rare rye-barley hybrid, using oak casks made by Brandenburg’s last remaining master cooper. This is whiskey rendered in muted, earthy tones.

As a journey around Brandenburg makes clear, whiskey is now part of life in Germany—at once looking backwards to a forgotten past and forwards to a more enterprising and fertile future.

— The National Geographic

[juliantaylor]

ᴊᴜʟɪᴀɴ ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ; ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

is that regé-jean page on campus? oh no, that’s julian taylor. from seattle, washington & new york, new york, the 24 year old has come to study law (juris doctorate graduate program). rumor has it he is charming and alluring, but manipulative and destructive, which is why he is known as the casanova. he resides in yorks and can’t wait to graduate.

although not explained in absolute depth, please note the following triggers: mentions of child abuse & neglect, mentions of eating disorders, illicit substance abuse

wanted connections | relationships | full navigation

statistics !

full name: julian taylor

birthday: november 5th, 1996 (24 years old)

sign: scorpio

height: 5’11”

ethnicity: english and zimbabwean

nationality: british

place of birth: london, england

places lived: moved to seattle, washington when he was 13; moved to new york, new york when he was 18.

accents: british 

sexual orientation: heterosexual

undergraduate degree: pre-law & political science from NYU

graduate degree (currently majoring in): law (juris doctorate program)

occupation: self-defense and boxing instructor at soulstice gym

positive traits: charming, ambitious, protective, likable, candid, spontaneous, outgoing, honest

negative traits: resentful, destructive, manipulative, possessive, guarded, blunt

pre-existing connections: arden (ex-girlfriend from high school), amber-jade (her former client from new york city)

backstory !

born in london, england to a well known lawyer and plastic surgeon…and being the old child, one would think julian had it all — but he didn’t. while a normal household was filled with love and joy, his was filled with success and wealth. and that’s all that mattered. there was no room for joy, as recognitions, honors, and awards came in for both parents like wildfire. julian was often left with a nanny, the closest thing he has to a true, loving mother. and when his nanny wasn’t around, he was alone.

he had spent most of his time watching karate kid over and over again, and mimicking the moves that were made throughout the movie…while breaking almost every piece of glass in his home during the process. because of this, and due to the recommendation of his nanny, his parents put him into his first of two sports. starting from the age of five, he found love in taekwondo — and taekwondo found love in him. he was a natural, but being in the sport that he loved cost him a price. his well being and confidence.

starting from the age of 8, his master thought it was time to start competing, and his father couldn’t have agreed more. but with this, julian quickly met the overly competitive, always on top and always winning father. and things quickly went downhill. for years, julian was pushed to his absolute limit by his father, training session after training session, practice after practice — all to be the best. because there was no room for love and joy in the taylor household, only room for wealth and success. julian was only allowed to bring home gold medals from competitions — that was what he had to do to get the love of his father, who actually would take time out of his busy schedule to come “support” him during competitions and practice. his mom was always too busy with her patients and practice to pay him any mind. and when he didn’t bring home the gold, even if it was silver, his life would be hell until the next competition. we’re talking about, hours upon hours at a time of training and conditioning, pushing julian until he was crouched over a toilet, throwing up from how overwhelmed his body was. extreme dieting, being given only sources of protein and vegetables, with the occasional whole grain and complex carbs. his father knew how to win, and he knew how to get julian there — and it was by pushing him to his absolute limit. because of this, julian doesn’t take losing well, and he will beat himself up hard just because that’s what he’s been conditioned to do.

this continued to go on for years and years, until his father and mother decided it was best to move to the states. his father’s firm and pro-bono services for those who aren’t privileged had gone international, and his mother was one of the best plastic surgeons in the world (all the ladies and men wanted her, and her only). so they brought their services to seattle, washington. julian was only 13 years old, and he was ripped away from the only mother figure he had.

julian had continued to do taekwondo up until his move to american, which is when he transitioned into boxing. and as per usual, he was a natural. and as per usual, there was no room for failure. his fathers obsession with his family being at the top always persisted, and so the unhealthy habits continued, forcefully.

you’ll thank me one day, son. when you’re out there traveling the world, receiving all those gold medals and being with the best of the best, you’ll thank me. you can make great britain and even america so proud, but only if you win.

julian quickly rose to the top, winning state, national, and even international competitions/fights. he was a force to be reckoned with. he was scouted by an olympic trainer, and began training for the 2016 olympics at the age of 16. he was making his father proud, so he thought.

he stood in seattle until his high school graduation, which is when he then moved to new york city in 2015. he was 18 years old. he mainly moved to new york to train with some of the best of the best. and after years of hard work, he found his way to the 2016 summer olympics in rio, in which he represented team usa. he was 19 years old. and he did what his father sent him to do — he won, and he won a lot. bringing home a gold medal in the heavyweight competition amongst other events, julian taylor became one of the best boxers in the world. there is no room for love and joy in the taylor household, only room for wealth and success.

as new york city was his home training spot, julian decided to go back there after the olympics was all said and done. and considering he was on top of the world, rolling in both the wealth that came from him and his father, he was able to distance himself from his parents. they still talk, but julian doesn’t allow them to control him anymore. instead, he controls and abuses himself now.

academic life !

like in his sports, julian always excelled in school. he didn’t really care much for school, but he was naturally damn good at it. because he couldn’t be anything less than great in everything. he always got perfect grades, and graduated as one of the top in his class in both high school and college.

considering that he took a million advanced placement and college courses in high school, he was ahead of the game. but still, he took about a year off from university in order to train for the olympics. he took two years off in order to enjoy his life and run wild, while also training, and didn’t decide to go back to school until he was 21. he started college in the fall of 2018. he graduated in 2020 with his undergraduate degree in pre-law and political science from NYU in just two short years, at the age of 23. during uni, he was able to balance training with school. he didn’t work a job, but instead two — school and training were his jobs. and he did them full time.

after taking yet another break, julian has decided to begin his juris doctorate, which is a three year graduate program. luckily enough for him (and arden (;), monarch has one of the best law programs in the country. however, this is only because he got into a car accident in late 2020, which resulted in him needing to get surgery on his shoulder in march of 2021. he was supposed to go to the 2020 summer olympics in tokyo this summer, but was forced to step down as he didn’t pass physical therapy and didn’t heal in time.

familial life !

while he’s obviously not close with either of his parents, he’s extremely close with his old nanny. she is basically his mother figure, and has took him in as her own family numerous times (despite her having her own children and life, she made sure that he got to feel some of the love her kids felt). after moving to the united states, he often would spend a month of his summer in england with her, and would go there for christmas every year. he still makes it a point to fly out and visit her as much as he possibly can, even during school and training.

personal life !

he’s a huge partier, and a huge ladies man. when he’s not training, he’s partying. but he doesn’t do the trashy bar/house parties, but instead he really love to spend his fathers money. you’ll catch him at some of the most beautiful, fancy, yet wild clubs around. the clubs that are typically for the rich, and nothing less. you’ll find him doing lines of coke on the bodies of strippers that he would soon take in the bathroom, car, or private room for a quick and easy fuck. you’ll find him drinking the finest of drinks, the most expensive of drinks.

he’s only ever had a total of two girlfriends, arden and another girl he met in new york that he just broke things off with. he doesn’t really take relationships seriously, and often times comes off as emotionless. there’s no room for love and joy, only wealth, success, and anger. he’ll take care of you physically and sexually, but don’t expect him to take care of you emotionally. he lives for the thrill and chase, though.

personality !

did someone say toxic men?!!!!! did someone say bad boy?!!!!!!

he’s fun, wild, spontaneous, and lord knows he knows how to have the best time…but he’s also dangerous.

he’s the one to break your best friends heart, in which you tell them to not go back and they agree with you because they know it’s wrong….just for them to go back days later.

he’s the one to get into fights with guys that even dare to look at his girl, but then be the one to steal someone else’s girl…even if he has one of his own.

he’s the one to literally curse you out if you even try to come at him sideways. a spitfire with absolutely no filter.

but!!!!! he’s very charming and knows how to talk his way around.

disclaimer: he can also be a good friend and a bit of a softie once you break down those vicious walls.

mental health !

as you probably have noticed by now, the man is extremely fucked up. he has developed the unhealthy habits his father forced upon him from a very young age, so he does suffer from some form of an eating disorder…but he has no recognized this. he’s a huge health bean (except for the liquor and drugs). catch him at the gym every day and not even bothering to look at a donut.

illicit substance use !

the man drinks, and he drinks a lot. he also smokes a lot, and does coke occasionally (and by this, we’re talking about every weekend). he has always passed his drug tests due to buying other people’s urine (major yikes). he’s used to getting away with everything now.