After finding out that AI has supposedly been taking data on how to write better from gdocs and other online documents apps I am going to write exclusively on my typewriter, the backs of old papers, or my own goddam skin. Elsewise I invite every to bomb the sites with omegaverse fanfiction and watch the big execs shit themselves when they see what their ai is churning out.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
â˘Growing up in the Belebogâs Underworld, you always thought the first time youâd see the sky would be a cause for celebration. It was supposed to be something to remember. Well, in a way it was.
⢠It starts with Scott and with Sampo, as most of your troubles do. You already told Scott that once the Silvermane guards lifted the barriers and you got your stuff sorted you were leaving the Fight Club and the Underworld and he is on you in an instant, trying to change your mind.
â˘Youâre one of the best, a crowd favorite and while he still had his other money-makers on his payroll, the thought of even losing one cent that you could have brought him has Scott practically begging. Itâs almost worth it to see that pathetic look on the old miserâs face.
â˘But then Scott stops you with a pitch. A big blowout, the event of a lifetime, one last fight to close out one hell of a career and a payout that he swears will be worth it. Or course, you call bullshit. Youâd been fighting for years, you knew the figure he named was beyond what any fighter would make even on the biggest nights.
â˘What would make this one any different?
⢠This is where stupid fucking Sampo came in. He had apparently conned a bunch of Overworlders into coming down to Boulder Town for an âimmersive historical tourâ and while they didnât enjoy getting duped and ditched like a stood-up date, they did enjoy watching people and robots beating the crap out of each other. And boy, did they have the shield to bet.
â˘Scott promises to you and any other fighters willing to come up to the surface that youâd all make great money at the Overworldâs first Fight Night.
â˘You almost say no. Almost walk away for good like you promised Natasha and Oleg. But you knew from some of the people whoâd already been up to the surface that life up there, the better life you wanted, didnât come cheap even after getting a decent job. You shake Scottâs hand one last time.
â˘Itâs how you end up leading your fellow fighters, squeezing through Sampoâs secret tunnel leading from the Underworld to an abandoned warehouse in what he says is the Belebog Industrial district. You would have gone outside to see it for yourself but people were already starting to gather
â˘You had your doubts about all those stuck-up Overworlders wanting to see something as boorish as underground fighting. Itâs why you made Scott sign a deal about the minimum of what heâd pay you regardless of how many people actually showed up. Listening to the crowd from the fightersâ prep room you regretted not raising the fee.
⢠You hated when Scott was right.
â˘Underworld rats and Overworld spiffs alike fill up the makeshift stands inside an abandoned warehouse in Belebogâs industrial district. From where you stand you almost canât tell the difference between them as they cheer and roar each time a hard blow takes someone out. You almost laugh at the thought that this is what it took to unify both sides.
⢠The crowd settles down in a hush when the presenters announces your fight to close out the night. You were one half of the main event. The other half? A hotshot rookie whoâs been rising through the ranks, fast. And while he does gives you a hell of a scrap, you werenât one of Scottâs best for nothing.
â˘The fight goes on for round after round of the two of you trading blows. The rookie is relentless, a grin plastered across his face even though youâd knocked out a few his teeth a while ago. There is a manic gleam in his eye that is disturbing in how familiar it is. Youâd seen enough pictures of you in action to recognise it.
⢠Youâd lost that fire years ago. But that wasnât a bad thing. You didnât fight because you liked it, you didnât fight just because you were good at it. Tonight, you were fighting because you had to. For the future and the better life that you always wanted. That is what puts you over the edge.
⢠Itâs the reason why, with one final blow, you come out on top.
â˘The crowd is deafening. Cheering your name as the presenter raises your hand in triumph. Youâd never seen old Scott so damn happy at seeing collectorâs at the betting table are almost overwhelmed by a sea of people. Your ears are ringing, your body is beaten and you can barely hear the sound of your own breath. You donât hear the presenter announcing when the next Fight Night will be. But you do hear when the warehouse doors burst open. âHalt! Everyone stay where you are!â
⢠Silver, blue and gold.
â˘You didnât need to be from the surface to know those colors. âIn the name of the Silvermane Guards, you are all under arrest!â Someone at the head bellows and how stupid did they have to be to think people wouldnât run?
⢠Itâs chaos. People leap from the stands and run for any and every exit the can find. But the Silvermanes advance with their shields interlocked, blocking all the doors. Except the one leading deeper into the warehouse.
⢠You make a mad dash, dodging between spears and swords to get out of the ring. Its in a far off boiler room where you find the other fighters, still recovering from their bouts, old Scott, shoving as much Shield as he can into a burlap sack, and Sampo opening up the tunnel you all came in from. You corner Scott, grabbing him by the collar.
⢠âWhat the hell, Scott?!â You snarl at him. Pieces of Shield âYou said you had Seele run this by the Guardian!â
⢠He doesnât even have the audacity to lie. âYou think the Supreme Guardian would ever approve something like this? If so, youâre stupider than you look.â You almost deck him right then and there. But a hand grabs your shoulder.
⢠âMy friend, I think you and I both know that this is not the time.â Sampo appeals to you, smiling somehow despite all this fucking mess. You almost wanna punch him too but then you remember the other fighters in the room. Your hands loosen on Scottâs collar.
⢠âFine.â You scowl, going over to a corner of the boiler room and ripping a pipe off the wall. It bellows steam, missing the top of your head by inches. âGo. Get the others out of here.â
â˘The others gape. âWhat?! What about you?â One of them, the rookie youâd fought, asks. He looks you over, almost guilty as he takes in the blackened eye, busted lip and bruises he gave you himself.
⢠âIf I donât come back, you can split my prize money.â You say, running back out the door before any of them can protest further. Some of the Silvermanes had followed you and the moment they catch sight of you, they pick up the pace, the metal clinking of their armor echoing off the high warehouse ceiling.
⢠You wait until theyâre close enough, buying as much time as you can for others. âDo not attempt to escape!â The one at the lead, some blondie whoâs scowl didnât suit his face, commands. âThere is no need for any further violence. Put down the weapon and surrender yourself.â
â˘You smile back. âNo can do, pretty boy.â You say before making a break for it and running in the opposite direction. It was a shot in the dark but if this warehouse was anything like the ones in the Underworld, thereâd going to be a loading bay in the back.
â˘But the Silvermanes know that too and there are three of them waiting in the doorway of the bay. There is no other way but straight through them. Ignoring every ache and pain in your body, you barrel straight into the first soldier, sidestep the other and sweep the last off his feet with your pipe. You barely have time to look back and catch the dumbfounded look on blondieâs face.
â˘Catch ya later, soldier boy!â You give him a mock salute before you run out into the back alleys of the industrial district. You have never been here before in your life, you have no idea where youâre going. But youâre in your fighting gear and theyâre in full armor. You keep running.
â˘The sound of combat boots and steel plates grow rapid but distant. You canât stop now even as the adrenaline starts to fade and sores and aches of the fight set in. Youâre hand clenches around the pipe as a chill starts to creep into your skin. You wonder how these Overworlders deal with such weather all the time.
⢠You find yourself slowing each time you pass by a lamp, trying to savor and soak up their warmth until eventually, you stop in front of one. You must have gotten away at this point, but you had gone far into the district and you look around.
⢠You donât know the way back.
â˘âAh shit.â You probably should have thought this through more. Ok, no problem, if you recall landmarks and retrace your steps it should be fine. You can find your way back to the warehouse and take Sampoâs tunnel. Or you could follow some street signs to the administrative district and take the cable car from there. It would be fine so long as no one was looking for you.
âPlease, drop your weapon.â
You were never pious and maybe thatâs why, if the Aeon of Preservation was watching, they must of thought they were funny. Turning around you come face to face with the blonde soldier from before. He looks as winded as you feel and thinking on how much trouble he went through to get here, you shrug. âSure, whatever you say, sir.â
The pipe clatters onto the brick path and blondieâs eyes narrow. But itâs not any kind of trick. In fact you were fresh out of them and wanted more than anything, to just sit and breathe. So you do. âMind if I take a load off, chief?â
âItâs Captain,â he amends, walking closer.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, full silver armor.
Qlipoth apparently really did have a sense of humor. You sigh, your breath coming out in a little puff of smoke in the early morning light. âCaptain Gepard Landau, by any chance?â
He nods. Shoving the pipe away with his foot.
âAh,â you say, hanging your head. âFuck.â
He hums as if in agreement. âYou are under arrest for your involvement in the illegal-â
âYeah I know.â You brush him off with a wave of your hand. Itâs callous and disrespectful in the face of a high ranking officer. âBut could you give me a minute? That little marathon took a lot out of me.â
Landau gapes, then shuts his mouth as he looks you over. âYou were one of the fighters.â
âMain event.â You nod.
He nods back. âYouâre injured, and still you ran?â
âBuying time.â
A scowl. âFor your employer? Scott Eldson?â
âHa!â You bark and really, you shouldnât be antagonizing the guy about to arrest you but itâs not on purpose. âThe day Iâd do that lying bastard any favors is the day belebog burns to the ground.â You swear and because you shouldnât admit to any more crimes in front of the good Captain any other promises concerning Scott are made in silence.
To his credit he doesnât mistake your malice for Scott as mockery. He purses his lips. âYou did this for the others, then. Your fellow fighters.â
âIâm not telling you their names.â
He shakes his head. âThereâs no need. Itâs Eldson weâre after.â
âAny chance that means youâre not gonna arrest me?â You peer over at him and you can see him better, now that the night has started to recede. Though his expression has softened you recognize that small speck of suspicion in his eyes. âAh, gotcha... Iâll come quietly.â
He nods. âThank you.â
You attempt to rise to your feet, only to fall back flat onto your ass. âShit!â You curse and Landau surges forward but you stop him with a hand. In hindsight sitting out in the cold in your close fitting fighting gear for several minutes is not the wisest of ideas, heat lamp or no. Whatever adrenaline powered you through your chase has drained into the bricks beneath you. You close your eyes and lie back in the snow, taking a deep breath, then another to try and stop from shaking.
You open your eyes.
And your breath is stolen right from your lungs.
Colors, the likes of which you didnât even have a name for, splash and streak the morning. They bathe everything in a cool golden light. Even the old grouted bricks and sooty building faces shine like this. The sky itself is an expanse of the lightest blue dotted with fluffy white and peeking out from the tops of the buildings is the sun. Your eyes ache as it is blinding to look at, but you canât tear your eyes away and canât even remember to blink. Natasha and Oleg and all the other older folk of the Underworld have told you before what the sky looked like. Theyâd tell you stories, show you books and pictures.
None of them had ever done it justice.
âAre you alright?â
Landau comes into view, genuine concern breaking through his stern captainâs facade. He holds a hand out towards you but if he hadnât put it right in fromt of your face you would have missed it for the sky.
You do take it eventually.
You end up slinging an arm over his shoulder when you find you canât stand up on your own two feet anymore. âPlease understand.â He says to you as he steadies you against him. âWe are not doing this in order to make life more difficult for you as your people get used to the Overworld again.â
âI do understand.â You answer, gritting your teeth when a corner of his armor grazes one of your bruises. âBut I just want to give the others a chance.â
Landauâs brows furrow. âAt running?â
You shake your head.
âAt living.â
Heâs silent then. For the next few minutes you both donât utter a word. Him, because he seems to be lost in thought. You because you are still staring up at the sky, taking in as much of it as you can. Eventually, Landau seems to have made a decision.
âIf you and the other fighters assist in the investigation and arrest of Eldson, we can lessen any punishment you might recieve.â
Thatâs when you finally look away. You meet Gepard Landauâs eyes and search for any sign of deception, of judgement or contemp and find none of it. The captain himself is an unreal vision in shining silver armor, pale gold hair and eyes even bluer than the sky. He stares back, waiting for his answer and while you know heâs only trying to do his duty, you canât help but think in that moment that you would follow him anywhere.
Not really if you knew what you were signing up for in getting the Baxter DLC anyway but whatever.
I AM ONCE AGAIN ANNOUNCING HOW I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS. I AM VERY NORMAL ABOUT BAXTER ALEXANDER WARD BEING MATURE ENOUGH TO EXTEND FRIENDSHIP TO HIS EX AND THEIR HUSBAND DESPITE LOWKEY STILL HAVING FEELINGS FOR THAT EX. I AM NORMAL ABOUT HIM STILL FEELING LIKE HE DOESNT BELONG I AM-
I DIDNT HAVE A SILENT INTERNAL CRISIS AT THE END OF THE SUMMER WHEN HE ***** ** **** YOU.
NEITHER DID I SLAM MY DESK WHEN WE SAW HIM AGAIN. NO!
But seriously tho, @gb-patch that was amazing. Something that was so completely different from the other storylines yet so comfortable still. Always a delight to play your games
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Something I find funny about Genshin Fics is that Childe curses in real world Russian which is all well and good but why is it that Genshin China, Genshin Japan or Genshin Germany doesnt have the same characterizations. Youâre lying if you say you donât wanna see/hear Diluc just bust one single âscheiĂeâ when he sees Kaeya drinking at his tavern again.
Okay as someone who has written some genshin stuff, I have peppered some Russian(with Google translate) and Mandarin terms of endearment (love, babe, darling) /relational terms (mom,dad, brother etc etc) into my fics.
And I want do this. However, in my personal opinion (need to highlight this before I get dragged), I feel like the people of Liyue don't curse much. and if they do, it would be done in a subtle backhanded compliment sort of way... Except Xiao.. I can see Xiao calling someone bastard. Hutao would probably insult you by calling someone's mom a dog.
One day
One day, when I write a fight scene. Now I just write fluffy stuff, no cursing required
I was a mistaken by limiting it to cursing. Because I see people using irl Russian even more often for Childe when he says terms of endearment like âĐťŃйиПŃĐš (lâubiĚmyj)â that in particular is popular in a lot of the Chilumi fics and art Iâve seen.
Something I find funny about Genshin Fics is that Childe curses in real world Russian which is all well and good but why is it that Genshin China, Genshin Japan or Genshin Germany doesnt have the same characterizations. Youâre lying if you say you donât wanna see/hear Diluc just bust one single âscheiĂeâ when he sees Kaeya drinking at his tavern again.
To all fanfiction writers/readers. When you read fanfiction do you prefer if its written like a book with expostion and description or do you prefer itâs written with the assumption that you know the source media its written from and the appearance of characters and locations? Like say you read a Demon Slayer fic would you want to skip all the âa boy with a scar above his left eyeâ stuff and go straight to, yo thatâs Tanjiro, or nah?
My one joy while I lay sick in my bed dramatically like a dying victorian child is that the same people that were sl*ts for Ghost from MW2 are just as feral for HUNK from Resident Evil. Thank you and goodnight
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
No matter the season, the air at Dawn Winery will always carry a sweetness to it. Even now as fall has fully set in and some of the grapevines threaten to go bare early, Diluc can taste it on his tongue. Itâs his first welcome as he walks the path back up to the manor.
âHello Master Diluc,â Hartman, a newer farmer under Dilucâs employ, waves at him as he passes, carrying a shovel in his other hand. Diluc nods in return, doing the same for the other workers who greet him. Some of them also carry shovels and others are lugging sacks of soil over their shoulders. Standing near the entrance, directing them, is Tunner whose stooped shoulders straighten just a little every time he greets someone. Just like they always have since Diluc was a boy.
âAh, welcome home Master Diluc. Did you enjoy your work at the tavern today?â Tunner says, the lines around his eyes and mouth deep and happy.
âWell enough,â Diluc smiles back a little. âIt was a rather slow day, save for a few Adventurers looking for their lunch.â No Knights of Favonius, he recalls. Jean must have started cracking down on the ones who drink during the day as if they havenât any work or assignments. Once or twice when Diluc went outside for some air he glimpsed knights on their proper patrol routes and stations. Noticeably, none of the Angelâs Share regulars came anywhere near the tavern until the end of day once he had left. As it should be.
âI see you have everyone started on mounding the vines.â Diluc looks to the farmers working around the winery. âGood, never hurts to start early.â
Tunner nods. âCorrect, Young Master. Especially when it comes to preparing for winter.â He does his own once over of the area, his eyes deceptively keen for his age. Though that may be because heâs been watching and caring for these lands since before Diluc was born. âAlthough, you can see it all around. The coming winter will be kinder to us than most.â
âOh?â Diluc fights with a smile, knowing the last time Tunner started talking about folktales and farmersâ omens, nobody went to bed until late into the night. âHow so?â
Tunner laughs. âYou may not believe in the signs Young Master, but they havenât steered me wrong in all my years,â he assures. Keen eyes for his age indeed, Diluc muses. Tunner pulls a pouch from his belt, wrinkled fingers still deft and precise as he unties it. âYou can see it on the boars, not so fat as they were last year. The onions Elzer ordered from Springvale are of thinner skin as well and finally-â the words stall in his throat, halted by a wet, hacking cough. He drops the pouch to cover his mouth. Diluc barely catches it by the strings.
âTunner? Are you alright?â Diluc touches his shoulder, trying to guide him to a nearby create. âPlease, sit and rest,â he says and Tunner follows, pointing to the pouch as he works through his fit. Diluc nudges it open with his fingers.
âSweet flowers?â
Tunner nods, clearing his throat twice. âYes. Still in bloom this late into the fall. A good omen.â
âVery good if it means Jilliana will have enough to make your medicine.â Diluc points out. Tunner tries to hide it, to power through but heâs not very good at it. His age doesnât help. âPlease, Tunner. You shouldnât be pushing yourself so much. Especially if your sickness wonât go away.â
Tunner only smiles and Diluc tries his best not to flinch at the spot of red on his teeth. âIâm alright Young Master,â he croaks. âThe sisters say I just need to keep myself healthy and drink the medicine they make for me.â
âAnd your son?â Diluc asks, recalling seeing Guy just this afternoon by the eastern gate. âYou still havenât told him? Heâs your only child, he should be taking care of his father.â
âHeâs a Knight now, he has duties to fulfill. I donât want him worrying about an old man like me.â He tries to laugh but coughs again.
Diluc frowns. âHe has a duty to you,â he says, remembering when Guy used to help his father around the winery and insist on doing all the heavy work. âWhat work could the knights have for him more important than that?â
âItâs alright Master Diluc,â Tunner insists, taking the sweet flowers from him. âI know how much you⌠dislike them. But for what shortcomings they possess, the Knight of Favonius serve Monstadt well. In fact, it just so happens theyâve recruited. Guy tells me that someone is coming Monstadt to be their head doctor.â
Diluc grits his teeth. âHave they now?â
No information, from idle gossip among the sisters to the sordid affairs of the knights, escape Dilucâs eyes and ears. That said, Jean must have demanded that the matter be sealed tighter than the Favonius treasury. Heâs heard tell of the recruitment of a âtravelling doctorâ for ages now but all Dilucâs gotten are bits and pieces. Supposedly, the new head doctor will arrive at Monstadt this month and still, all he knows is a name and a vision.
âWell I certainly hope whoever it is, theyâll be of some use,â Diluc says and it would be more than he could say for a lot of those knights. âStill Tunner, while we wait for this doctor, please pace yourself. There are plenty of younger farmers around here you can task.â He pleads and smiles when Tunner heaves a defeated sigh.
âIâll give this to Hillie to give to Jilliana,â Diluc says, snatching the sweet flowers before Tunner can ask or protest. âJust do me a favor and call it a day. The worst winter we could possibly have is one where you arenât well enough to be with us.â
Tunner laughs, a real one and nods. âAlright, Master Diluc. Thank you.â
Diluc nods back, heading towards the manor where Adelinde is waiting at the door. He turns, making sure Tunner is still seated on his crate while the others work around him. But as he scans the rest of the area, his expression hardens spotting telltale white and gold armor in the distance. A party of four Favonius Knights stride along the dirt path, giving Dawn Winery a wide berth as they have no doubt been instructed to do. Diluc knows for a fact that no knights patrol this close to the winery. So, the only reason theyâd be passing by directly is if they were heading to the Stone Gate, the border between Monstadt and Liyue. Another endeavor Diluc knows little of. It isnât difficult to put the pieces together from there.
âWell Iâll be damned,â he mutters to himself. âMaybe there is something to Tunnerâs omens.â
Hillie tilts her head a little as he approaches. âIâm sorry? Did you say something Master Diluc?â
âNothing. Just musing to myself.â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When night falls, so does the rain with it. Staring out from the window of his quarters Diluc wonders if he should have asked Tunner about omens for sudden storms as well. High winds arenât uncommon in Monstadt, especially not in the latter half of the year. But accompanied by a heavy enough rain fall and the two make for conditions less than ideal to be out in.
For Diluc, theyâll be a minor inconvenience.
âRain...â he mutters as he sorts through his wardrobe for a thicker coat. Regardless of how heavy the fall, Diluc has his mission, but heâll never forget the dangers that come with a downpour like this. Faces and shapes are harder to discern in the rain, the paths are more treacherous and slippery. Mud can slow you down no matter how careful your steps, no matter how much you hurry. Rain washes away tracks all too easily. And Diluc will never forget how quickly and cleanly it also washes away blood.
Like it never happened.
He draws in a breath, willing darker memories away from the forefront of his mind as he slips his arms through an old hunting jacket. âIf only it could cl-â
A bang jolts him. Thunder? But there wasnât a flash. More follow, booming thumps in quick succession. His quarters are at the far end of the Ragvindr manor, on the second floor. But whoeverâs knocking, pounding, on the front doors are desperate enough to slam up against the solid oak over and over to get the attention of whoeverâs inside. The clang of the hinges beginning to give rush Diluc into action. Itâs no surprise it also rouses others in the manor.
One of the maids, still dressed in her night clothes and a robe, is throwing the door open before heâs even out. âHello?! Who is that making a ruckus at such an hou-oh! Oh archonsâ grace!â
The view of the entrance is obscured by the balcony and Diluc canât see whoâs standing in the doorway, but he recognizes the voice in an instant.
âHelp! People hurt! Need healing!â
Dilucâs feet pound on the hardwood, darting around the corners of the balcony and almost jumping over the railing. âRazor?â
Razor finds him in the dark. Their only light is the candle in the maidâs hand and the dim glow of the Vision at Dilucâs belt. But everything is clear enough. âDiluc!â Razor pants, his chest heaving, his clothes and hair dripping wet. Razor grunts as he struggles to hold up the shivering, blood and rain-soaked man wrapped in his coat. âHe is cold! Wonât make it to the city!â
Diluc rushes down the steps. âGet a fire going!â he commands, rushing to take the injured man. Razor follows, his legs shaky and heâs struggling to catch his breath but he stays on his feet peering out into the rain through the doorway. Diluc glances at him as he sets the knight down by the fireplace. âHillie, the fire. Did you run all the way here?â
âYes.â Razor pants. âFrom the water.â
The injured knight trembles and whimpers. Hillieâs hands shake almost as badly as she tries and fails to spark the iron and flint. âStep back Hillie.â Itâs her only warning before a ball of red-hot flame ignites in Dilucâs palm and he lobs it into the fireplace. âWhat happened? Were they attacked?â
âHillichurls.â Razor nods, kneeling beside Diluc and the Knight. âLots of them with big ones and Abyss Mages on the road. I could smell it from Wolvendom. Blood.â
Diluc scowls. Of course, there were Abyss Mages. Of course, knights like the ones he saw traversing the road earlier that afternoon were no match for them. Diluc glances at the young man on his floor. âYou were smart, bringing him here but I donât know how much we can do for him.â Grabbing Razorâs coat, Diluc prepares himself to shield him from Hillieâs wide, terrified gaze but is left just as dumbfounded as her. The bandages around his chest are damp but theyâre not getting any bloodier. Diluc leans in a little and the manâs breathing is clear and equal. While his lips are still pale, being near the fire has stopped his shivering. âHeâs-â
âOkay. For now.â Razor says, wiping away some of the blood from the young knightâs face. All that red had made it look worse than it actually was. âRazor was told to find a place that is safe, warm.â
âBy the other Knights?â
Razor shakes his head. âNot not knight. They are with the Knights. They are coming here. A healer.â
âYes! Doc-tor! They are coming here. Bringing more wounded.â
More. Diluc can see by the crest on his belt that the young knight at his feet is newer and of a lower rank, sent because no one ever expected theyâd encounter anything on the road. He thinks back and remembers all four were the same. How many of them got hurt tonight because they were so unprepared?
âM-master Diluc!â
They turn to Hillie whoâs lips quiver, pointing at three figures running through the rain up the path. Two of them carrying something between them. Someone, wrapped in a blue cloak. Once again, Diluc hears the voice before he sees who speaks.
âMake room! A bench, a cot, anything!â
Diluc turns. âClear the table!â He says, grabbing papers and books and setting them on the floor. Hillie does the same for the inkwells and quills. âHere!â he calls, turning right as you rush in, trailing blood and rainwater across his carpet. You walk right past him hauling a heavy trunk and setting it down on one of the chairs.
âThereâs not much time. This oneâs barely holding on,â you say, unlatching the trunk and Diluc gets a glimpse of steel and glass before Hillieâs scream tears his eyes away. Dilucâs stomach churns. The two Knights had used every ounce of their strength and will to not jostle their wounded comrade on the bamboo stretcher, but they moved him enough for the blue cloak covering him to fall away and reveal the gashes in his chest and the icicle shards embedded in his stomach. Water and blood run from them onto the table, pooling under the Knight. You pay none of them any mind, pulling tools from your trunk and placing them on a tray you set on the table.
âOh my gods, oh my gods!â Hillie gasps, dropping one of the inkwells in her arms. âThatâs so much- s-so much blood! Is he going to be alright?!â
You donât even glance at her. âHe will be.â
âBut the blood! Heâs dying!â
âNot while heâs on my operating table,â You say, finally tearing your gaze away, but your hands are still busy pulling vials and tubes from your trunk. âLook at me. I understand if youâre disturbed but you need to be calm. If youâre going to help, I need you to be calm. Otherwise, Iâm going to need you to leave.â
Hillie stares, shaking in her robe. âI-â
âNow.â You focus back onto the injured knight, uncorking a vial of clear liquid and pouring it out onto your hand. Instead of spilling through your fingers it condenses, forming into shapeless haze hovering above your palm. At your belt, a Hydro Vision comes alight, dimming to a soft glow as you let the little cloud darkens, taking all the dirt and blood off your hands. âI wonât ask again, miss.â
âHillie, go wake Adelinde please,â Diluc speaks up, putting his hand on her shoulder. She jolts but nods in understanding when she meets his eyes. Her first steps towards the door are shaky but she manages to hurry to the maidâs quarters, calling out for Adelinde.
âYou two.â You look to the last Knights as you pull your palm away from the mist, letting it hang in mid-air. They donât look hurt, save for a few bruises and a nasty cut on the brow of one but otherwise theyâre unharmed. âWhichever one of you still has the energy. Get to Monstadt, tell them about what happened and have them prepare beds.â
One of them, a lanky, young blonde man steps forward. Heâs missing both his pauldrons and one of his bracers but his eyes are resolute. âI can go.â
âGood. Go. Take the safest path you can,â You give him a stern look. âThe safest, you hear me? No one else is getting hurt tonight.â
The knight nods, saluting to you. He casts worried glances at his friends on the table and by the fireplace before rushing out the door. Razor, jumps to his feet, the urgency reigniting him. âYou need Razor? What can I do?â
âYouâve done so much already,â you say to him, looking past him to the knight by the fireplace whose face is beginning to color again. Then you look to the last Knight, whoâs collapsed onto the floor on his backside. âBut all three of you should get out of those wet clothes and warmed up fast.â
âI can do that.â
You turn and a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes is already coming around your operating table to the Knight by the fireplace. âWill one of the guest rooms upstairs suffice Master Diluc?â
âYes. Give them some of my spare clothes if you must.â Diluc begins to make his way over to the fireplace, but you stop him.
âMy apologies Master Ragnvindr,â You say, grabbing a pair of shears and cutting through the knightâs undershirt. You peel the shreds away and Diluc is glad now that Hillie didnât see the worst of it. Diluc recognizes wounds that could scar deeply. The knight shivers and the shards shift, they rise and fall as he breathes. Despite the grisly sight, your voice is even. âIf I could please have you stay and get your assistance here?â
He approaches the table. âWhat do you need from me, Doctor?â
âYour vision.â You nod to the glow at his hip. You pick the vapor out of the air again, this time sweeping it over your patientâs body. Blood and dirt dye it dark red, cleaning the knight enough for Diluc to see how closely one of the icicles is buried in his ribs, mere inches away from his heart. âHe fell into the lake before he got blasted by a cryo mage.â
Diluc nods, âHeâll die of the cold before you could get all of those out of him.â He peels his glove off, rubbing his hands together. His palms and fingers flush with heat.
âAs close as you can get to the torso, please. Just keep them away from the shards,â you say as you gather the blood mist with a wave and let it fall, draining red into a tray. Diluc hovers his hands above the knightâs shoulders, allowing the heat to seep into the manâs pale skin. His shivering lessens but the icicles in his body begin to sweat. You gesture at him. âTurn it down a little please, the last thing we need is to melt water into his body.â
Diluc follows.
âGood.â
You pull one of the icicles right out of the knightâs stomach. Diluc gasps a little, not as much as the knight and not as loud as when you pull out another. After that itâs as if Diluc isnât even there. He is reduced to being a heat lamp as you move his hands to where you need them and the contrast of the coolness of your skin on his heated palms make steam curl up into the air. Your hands are a flurry of movement, raining red into the tray and cleaning the wounds you pull more shards from. It makes Dilucâs stomach curl a little, seeing bits of flesh rip away with one of the icicles. You curse and out of the moist air, condense moe mist that glows a faint blue. You hover it above the wound and let it rain and the skin heals, but you pull it away before the wound closes. You murmur to yourself. âCome on, Garret. Work with me here.â
Garret. Diluc had just been calling him âthe knightâ.
You are more cautious then. Moving Dilucâs hands close to warm up the skin around the shards before pulling, then drawing the water out of his wounds into more dark, bloody mist drifting around his foyer.
Dilucâs arms have long gone numb before you finally tell him he can stop with a curt nod and a thank you. Diluc takes the dismissal. He may have a stronger stomach than most but even he canât watch as you cut the knight open to look at the damage to his insides. He sits back in one of the chairs, turned away from the table, trying to massage the feeling back into his shoulders. You ignore him. At some point Razor comes back downstairs, dressed in some of Dilucâs old clothes and asks if he can help. Diluc tells him he can go back up. Razor refuses and sits by the fireplace.
Diluc almost nods off at some point. Razor goes under completely, curling up on the carpet but Diluc fights it off long enough to hear you let out a deep, relieved sigh. Diluc forces his eyes up and looks back as you are cutting the last suture. You pull your hands away from the knightâs, from Garretâs, body and look around. You find Diluc still sitting there and you startle. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and then Razor, asleep by the fireplace. â...your coat. Please.â
It takes him a moment but Diluc comes to his senses and sheds the old hunting jacket, handing it over. Before you cover Garret up Diluc catches a glimpse of a miracle. The knightâs torso was clean, the deep wounds already scarred over or gone, save for the incision going up his left side held together by big, ugly but clean stitches. Even covered, the steady rise and fall of Garretâs chest is obvious. His breathing is a little shallow but clear and equal. You put your hand on his forehead, murmuring something too low for Diluc to catch. Then you pull away.
âFuck.â
You collapse onto the carpet, leaning back against one of the tableâs legs.
Diluc pushes one of the chairs nearer. âPlease. Sit.â
You shake your head with a laugh. âCanât really get up right now. Thank you, though.â You tip your head back, eyes sliding shut as you let the light of dawn flooding in from the window soak into your haggard skin. Diluc turns, staring back at the rising sun, realizing that the rain, and with it the night, had passed in a blink. It must have been forever for you and never once had you shown any sign of tiring all throughout. But now you are just as out of breath as he would be after a long, hard-fought battle. You glance over to the fireplace in the foyer, taking in Razor curled up nearby to stay warm. âI have a lot to thank you and him for,â you chuckle but itâs more of a huff.
âHe led you here.â
âYeah and I thought he was fucking crazy. I thought,â you laugh a little, âI thought I was going to have to fight some rich asshole for a space in his basement again.â Diluc canât help his curious stare. Watching you give orders and work for hours straight then hearing you laugh and jest is jarring. You smile, beaming at him like the dawn. âThank you Master Ragnvindr, for helping me save their lives.â
Diluc blinks. He opens his mouth to speak.
âDoctor!â
Razor peeks out from behind a couch, leaping over to get to you. âYou are done? Knight is safe?â
âYeah kid, heâs going to be just fine, thanks to you.â You reach over and pat Razor on the head, smiling just as brightly.
Razor grins. âAnd you? You are okay? Everyone is okay?â
âAll good.â
âEveryone is okay!â Razor nods, smiling at you then at Diluc. âI am glad!â
âSo am I,â you laugh, reaching down to a skein around your waist. âNo oneâs dying any time soon.â
Thereâs a sureness in your voice that has the back of Dilucâs mind tingling and his chest aching.
âNot while Iâve got them.â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: If you enjoyed please leave comments! Reblog! What do u think of The Doctor??? đ§ is the word count too much?
Warnings: Blood. Mentions of death.Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diluc
Diluc accepts all that comes next.
Not that he can offer much resistance anyway. The searing in his chest and ache in his head that the Harbinger had left him with has subsided. Now all he feels is the last of him slip right through his fingers and drip, warm and red, down his chest. He feels his own breath growing shallow. Each one is a labor and he barely feels the hands gripping his arms and legs. Who has him, he wonders? Where are they taking him? Somewhere where no one will ever find him, or will they send him back? He finds comfort in that thought, in the idea of being buried next to his father. But he doesnât like to think of Elzerâs frustration, Adelindeâs pained expression, Kaeyaâs regret or Jeanâs tears but blood and sweat have seeped into his eyes. Itâs all he can see.
But he does hear voices.
â-defy orders!?â
âIâm doing wha-â
He canât make out all of the words people around him are yelling. At him? At each other? He canât tell that either, allowing himself to sink further.
â- so be it!â
Diluc gasps. A coolness envelops him, and he screams. The gash in his chest burns again, his body coming alight with pain. He thrashes, screaming louder when the hands holding him up grip tighter.
â-is a mistake.â
âPut him down right there.â
Thereâs crashing and grunting. Another spike of pain shoots up his nerves as heâs lowered down onto something and he gasps for air. The hands leave him and are replaced the same coolness that pulled him back into agony. He fights, trying to pull away from it but he canât even manage that. The feeling travels down his chest, leaving his clothes damp and soothes his burning skin but it doesnât do much else. âBroken ribs, bruised organs and⌠his lung is pierced,â someone says, a gentler voice and Diluc feels every ache and pain they list, the shadow of the Harbingerâs blade hasnât left his chest. âHeâs bleeding out inside.â
âWhat are you doing, then?!â Diluc can hear them clearer now, distressed, and panicked protests from a man with a deep voice.
âI donât think thereâs anything we can do.â A third voice worries, a quieter voice.
âExactly! This is a foolâs act. Heâs as good as dead!â
Yes, he is. Let him go, he wants to say. Let the suffering stop, he wants to beg. He musters up what strength he can trying to but is silenced. âShush, donât talk. Your jaw is broken too.â The same gentle voice chides, stricter now as the coolness caresses the side of his face. Something is touched to his lips and the voice commands. âDrink.â
He wonât.
âWhat. Are. You. Doing?!â One asks again, and the coolness leaves his face. Diluc manages a groan but the gentle one is right, his jaw aches. âIf the Harbingers find out we helped him-â
âLeave then. If you want so badly to not get involved, to protect yourself, to let him die, leave.â
âBut you-â
âI am doing my job. And if youâre going to help me. I need you to calm down. And if you canât do that. Get. Out.â
The coolness comes back so does the thing touching his lips. âDrink,â the gentle one says and when Diluc doesnât something slithers down his throat too fast for him to even choke on. Diluc almost gasps as his entire body relaxes. His ragged breathing slows.
âWell?â
He doesnât know who theyâre asking.
ââŚfuck it.â The quiet one, the worrier, speaks up. Thereâs rustling and shuffling. âWhat do you need me to do?â
âYouâre fools! Insane! Both of you!â
The gentle voice says something else but Diluc doesnât catch it. The ache in his head ebbs away and he barely feels the hands on his chest, peeling his clothes away. He almost protests again but whatever heâs drank has rendered his faculties useless, numb. He catches one last thing before heâs pulled under. The gentle voice huffs.
âSorry, but youâre not dying today. Not while Iâve got you.â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: The start of a new fic, I feel motivated to wrote. Hereâs to hoping! If youâre interested Iâd really appreciate a reblog. đÂ
If youâre anything like me, you made your Genshin Impact Serenitea Pot with your characters in mind. And so hereâs a collections of little ideas I had about how those characters might spend their time in your little pocket realm with you.
Enjoy!
Edit: I wrote this before the 1.6 update and then IT HAPPENED
Edit 2: Iâm writing a Diluc fic here: Oathkeeper
Warning: Wholesomeness ahead.
Amber doesnât seem to run out of energy. When she spots the little archery range with hilichurl targets behind the manor she gets right to shooting. This, of course, just pulls the other archers out for some friendly competition. And none of them would actually go into the house for hours until someone reminds them they have to eat.
Some of your companions find themselves preoccupied by the study youâve put up in one of the rooms. The shelves are filled to the brim with books from both Liyue and Monstadt. Lisa keeps the place orderly, barely leaving the room. The same can be said for Albedo and Sucrose whoâve taken over a corner of the room and crammed it with alchemy equipment.
The devoted researchers only leave to train or eat. And whoever could resist the call of the dinner bell when it was Xiangling ringing. You hadnât even needed to show her where anything was in your kitchen. One step in and she knew it like the back of her hand. You help out every once in a while but find Xiangling really doesnât need it. Paimon is certainly delighted, glad to be left in there to get the first taste.
It leaves you free to go outside and join Bennett, Noelle or Chongyun who never seem to stop training and wanting to improve. Noelle would have been done cleaning inside and Chongyun would have a fresh batch of popsicles from the kitchen. Theyâve made a space for themselves near the archery range and actually find kindred spirits and mentors in two other friends of yours.
Dilucâs expresson is absolutely comical when he sees the younger, smaller claymore users swing their weapon around like a club rather than a sword. Nevermind his face when they start spinning like tops. He teaches them how to build strength, how to use their weapons with finesse and power. They start to look up to him. Itâs no surprise that outside of the teapot and without the traveller, more guests seem to stay at Dawn Winery than before.
Eula shows them how to wield with grace. Chongyun is starry eyed at seeing such a powerful and well trained Cryo claymore user like himself. Eula is only glad to help even if she doesnât quite know how to say so directly. She and Fischl are alike in how much people have to decode what theyâre saying sometimes. But she does loosen up when sheâs pulled into drinking with Beidou and Kaeya.
Speaking of, Beidou would find herself right at home on one of the couches, pulling out a gourd of baijiu to unwind from a long journey. Kaeya has started his own little storage of wine in the kitchen. Diona disapproves, mixing them non-alcoholic drinks that they surely enjoy but if sheâs not around theyâll just go back to their usuals.
When Kaeyaâs not engaging in a drinking contest with someone, he is both encouraging Kleeâs behaviour and keeping it under control. Klee loves all the open space. Sheâs a little disappointed she canât go âfishingâ but nearly explodes with joy when sheâs told the landscape of the teapot fixes itself. When sheâs finally down at the end of the day, some of you end up cleaning the soot off yourselves and picking up bomb fragments with Albedo. But at least she had fun (?)
Mona very much likes having a place to stay where she can see the stars, enjoy a nice big meal and doesnât have to pay for ANYTHING. Meeting Xiangling is the best thing that ever happened to her. A girl willing to taste test anything and a girl willing to experiment with anything. Naturally during these times people stay out of the kitchen for their own safety.
Actually, Bennett just stays out of the kitchen in general. Heâs been banned. Permanently. He can often be found outside. Heâll trip on a rock you swear you never put there and Tubby swears too, but he trips anyway. Barbara will be there to heal him. That is, if sheâs not trying to coax Rosaria into doing some evening prayers or saying grace before a meal. Rosaria prefers to stand in the corners and watch. What she watching for? Who knows.
When Fischl is done with archery outside sheâll find the little corner of the study with the fantasy books and indulge herself. Here, she even gets a knack for writing her own stories and Xinqui is more than happy to listen and even give notes and exchange ideas. They take over the study whenever Albedo isnât in there doing alchemy.
If the study is free of both of them, Zhongli is there, sitting with a cup of tea and discussing philosophy with Keqing, politics and law with Yanfei, history with Ganyu or Liyue affairs with Ningguang. If you sit in on the conversation youâll either feel smarter than before or dumber than youâve ever felt in your life. Should the study be occupied, Zhongli will enjoy his tea outside as the archers are trying to teach you and struggling to teach Childe how to shoot properly.
Amber: You posture needs work.
Ganyu: Maybe you should focus on proper technique before strength
Fischl: Such power...but also such inaccuracy
Venti: better luck next time!
Diona: maybe if you werent so tall youâd have better aim
Childe: OKAY, I GET IT.
Childe may pout but he enjoys the challenge, really. Whatever gets him to stop trying to rope Diluc, Eula, Jean or you into a fight. But he and Diluc actually find competition in another aspect of tea pot living; providing
The landscape may repair itself and Baizhu and Xiangling may have started a herbal and ingredients garden on the island, but supplies still ran low. It wasnât even a competition at all. One day Diluc saw how low the manor was on certain items and decided bring some supplies with him to restock. Childe heard about it and brought more. Diluc didnât care until Childe insisted you reward him with your attention.
It wouldnât have turned into anything if it hadnât been for Kaeya egging them both on, something he never does when Jean is watching. Actually everyone seems to try to be on their best behaviour for Jean. Whoâs tired enough outside the teapot. Sheâs another one of the people who end up behind one of the desks in the study. It takes some coaxing but they either get her into a bed or at least the couch in the office.
Barbara is happy to see her get some rest. But Barbara also finds happiness in the separate little building on the island where she writes songs with Venti and Xinyan. You asked Tubby for that house when Xinyan woke up half the manor in the middle of night because she got âstruck by inspirationâ. But she isnât the only one who often stays outside the manor.
For all his efforts of adapting to being more human-like, Razor still feels uncomfortable sleeping in a normal bed. Which is why thereâs a corner of the island with a tent, and a bunch of dogs always waiting for him. They take to him like theyâve known him for years and are all to eager to roughouse and play with a human who isnât as concerned with getting filthy or slobbered on.
Xiao watches this and sees Razor and the dogs huddling together for warmth from his perch on the roof of the manor. It takes some coaxing to get him to join you for anything, and some of Xianglingâs special almond tofu, but eventually heâll jump down. Unless itâs Zhongli calling because if so heâll be down in an instant.
When itâs night and Xiao starts to feel the pull of darkness, itâs all too convenient that the melifluous sound of a harp starts to lull him back into control. Xiao himself doesnt sleep or rest much so instead he watches over all of you inside, making sure all your dreams are well and good.
Note: I am aware I forgot Qiqi and Hu Tao, I just donât know them well enough.
At the start of the year, the newest managers of the interschool boysâ volleyball teams are appointed, recruited and, in some cases, coerced into their role. The job seemed easy enough but when things start to get complicated itâs always a good thing to have friends who can relate, who understand, and that you can talk to about anything.
A Delinquentâs Journal
Like any troublemaker going through âprobationâ Atsumeâs supposed to keep a diary. In all honesty, she has more trouble deciding whatâs not worth writing. Two weeks in, and sheâs the manager for âgrand uncle Yasuâsâ volleyball team, sheâs gained a shadow with a bad dye job, and a captain who looks at her like she's going to set the Nekoma gym on fire. Should she keep that part out? Or maybe let her probation officer know about the gang of misfits who greet her everyday by bowing at her feet. Or about the schoolâs betting and backmail ring. She did not sign up for any of this but, fuxk it. Teams need to be managed and gangsters donât take themselves down. Time get to work.Â
Lightning Strike
Fukurodaniâs teams already have enough managers and everyone knows this. Still, they get the occasional application from people with crushes on some team member that they use for paper scrap and memos. They almost think its a joke when they find Katsumiâs application among them. No not a late application for the girlsâ team, something they wouldâve accepted in a heartbeat. Not even one as manager for the boysâ team. No one expected the coach to come in with junior high legend, the Raijin, Inszuma Katsumi by his side. No one expected her, a student, a freshman, to be their assistant coach. And certainly no one expected her to come in on the first day and proclaim sheâs given up her sport to pursue her love for their vice captain.
Game-Play
Hikariâs never lost a match. Sheâs won every chess tournament, shogi competition and weekend radio show trivia quiz theyâve pointed her at. Schools all over Miyagi were clamouring for a chance to have her boost their average, to increase their prestige so itâs no surprise she goes to one of the best. Shiratorizawa wastes no time putting her to work and for two years thatâs exactly what she does. When she quits yet another club, they know sheâll jump right into another. And she does, just not where anyone wouldâve thought.
To follow...
Rough Draft
The Ice Princess
P.S; when I made all these screenshots I forgot Yachi doesnât get recruited until after the first tournament. Oops.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Song(s) Featured: Moon on the Water by The Dying Breed (from Beck MCS)
âItâs actually really exciting.â
Tetsuro nods, knowing Kenma means it, whatever heâs talking about. Probably something about Bouncing Ball corp. and the new game they have in development. Really, Kenma hasnât stopped talking about it since the project started almost half a year ago and while Tetsuro is interested enough to usually listen to him rave and gush, todayâs just not that kind of day.
â-and the new voice actor I have in mind is really good. We save a lot of time and money cause they speak in both languages.â
Yup, theyâre probably phenomenal if Kenma is so easy to compliment them. Tetsuro racks his brain trying to remember who heâs talking about.
âIâm actually thinking about having her as a guest on stream soon.â
Uh huh.
âOh and Iâm also going to shave my head and give my hair to that middle school girl who wonât stop messaging.â
Good for them.
âOkay, how many of those have you had today?â
Tetsuro looks down at the cup of coffee heâs forgotten heâs holding. âUhâŚâ his brows furrow and itâs enough for Kenma to pry the cup out of his hand and set it on the far end of the table.
âAnd youâre always telling me to get proper sleep.â Kenma gives him a look, sipping on his own drink. He exits Discord, Tetsuroâs sagging back, drooping shoulders and lifeless eyes, more concerning than his followersâ Rule 34 fanart. âSeriously are you okay man? Have you been sleeping? At all?â
Tetsuro shakes his head, the mere mention of sleep enough to slump him over the table completely. As far as he knows, a waiter hadnât wiped it after the last couple of people who sat down, or before he and Kenma took their place. He finds he doesnât care. âStupid neighbors, always either fighting or fucking all night. Itâs been going on for a month now.â
âOh thatâs rough.â Kenma winces, handing him back his coffee, knowing lunch break doesnât last forever and Tetsuro has to return to his office as a zombie. âTried filing a noise complaint?â
He was about to, one week into the coupleâs constant spats, but hearing them scream at the top of their lungs at each other about money troubles and barely keeping themselves afloat stayed his hand. Tetsuro knows how difficult it is to get an apartment in his building, a prime position near the business district at a reasonable price. He also knows his neighbors to an extent, at least what they do for a living as a preschool teacher and a struggling musician. As much as he needs his sleep, heâs not so heartless as to put them out on the streets. âItâs fine,â he promises as he downs the rest of his coffee. âIâve been living next door to these guys for almost two years now and theyâve always seemed happy before this. Theyâll work through it and I then I can get some sleep.â
âIf you say so,â Kenma says but he still stares down and shakes his head at the next waitress who tries to approach them with a pot of coffee.
Itâs a month and two weeks in that Tetsuro reconsiders that noise complaint or at least considers gathering his neighbors from the same floor and staging an intervention. Mrs. Mamizuka across the hall has expressed her concerns to Kuroo in the elevator one morning, telling him theyâll surely notice how loud and disturbing theyâve become when they realize she hasnât been giving them as many of her baked goods as she normally does. And Tanaka whoâs taking up residence at the end of their hall has advised him to just go out at night, go to the convenience store next to the building and wait till they tire each other out or go partying with friends.
Oh, to be a college student again.
Heâs not even in his mid-twenties and he wishes for the energy he used to have, the kind that could drive him through all his classes on just 3 hours of sleep. Maybe then, he could finish his damned paperwork. Maybe then he wouldnât fall asleep on the bus and miss his stop.
âBeen up working late nights Kuroo-san?â the night guard, Sato asks him when he drags his feet into the lobby after midnight.
Kuroo nods, also wishing he had half the middle aged manâs energy, because even at the latest hours of the night, Sato-san greets every tenant and guest with a smile. Kuroo could only force himself to return it. âSomething like that.â
âWell you look pretty tuckered out. You should probably put off whatever youâre working on for the night Kuroo-san.â He wags an index finger like a weather man telling a fact about nature on the news. âSleep is important you know.â
Doesnât he know it.
When he crosses the threshold of his apartment, he doesnât bother turning on the lights. He heads straight for his bedroom and musters up the energy to take off his jacket, tie, socks and shoes. The night is silent, save for a light chorus of crickets outside his window. Heâs gotten home later than he would have any other time, a crescent moon sitting just past its peak outside his window. And he hopes, oh does he hope, that it means his neighbors have already fought all they can fight for the night. Or maybe the husband hasnât come home yet and thatâs why it hasnât started.Â
He regrets even thinking of it when he settles into bed and hears the distant sound of a door being unlocked and slammed open.
Tetsuro sighs, already rolling over to each for his messenger bag, his earphones sitting somewhere at the bottom. He stops his rummaging when no bedlam disturbs the night. Footsteps prick his ears but they donât stomp and arenât followed by booming voices trying to talk over each other. He rolls back over, leaning towards the wall and hearing nothing. Odd. More shuffling and trudging draw his eye up to the crag ceiling, to the apartment above his.
The kind elderly couple who used to live up there had mentioned wanting to move to the country for months. âThe air is fresher there, better for old people like us,â the wife chuckled at him once when heâd helped carry her groceries across the lobby to the elevator. Not a week later, Tetsuro was helping the husband and their son move furniture out, just in time to miss the beginning of a hard spot in their neighborâs relationship. But whoever has taken their place isnât so fortunate but then again, maybe itâs him thatâs out of luck. In the darkness of his apartment he stares up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.
He prays, prays to whatever kami watches over the luck and serenity of apartment buildings that it isnât another couple that shouldâve broken up yesterday. Hell, heâll even take a new family with a rowdy kid. At least kids are usually out by 10 with their parents careful not to wake them, not banging on the walls or banging each other. No movie heâs watched or game heâs been in has ever left him in such suspense. After some more shuffling and gentle creak of chair legs against a wood floor, thereâs silence.Â
Tetsuro sits up, holding his breath.
âFull moon sways,Â
gently in the night of one fine day.â
A car drives by, the doppler effect of it rushing down the street drowning out the first few notes of an acoustic guitar. Deft fingers play with practiced ease but do so with languid movement, catching on the strings more than plucking them. The voice, high and crooning, is the same, beautiful but almost lazy. Tired, he realizes, is a better word; she sounds as tired as he remembers he feels, once all the irritation at his neighbors and frustration with missing his stop ebbs away. Laying back down, he listens.
"On my way,  looking for a moment with my dear.Â
Full moon waves, slowly on the surface of the lake.Â
You are there, smiling in my armsÂ
for all those years."
Even as the song switches to strumming with the slightest bit of force, Tetsuro finds himself sinking deeper into his pillow, eyes growing heavy.
"What a fool, I donât know âbout tomorrow,Â
or what itâs like to be, Ah,"
Heâs never heard the song in his life, neither does he remember enough of his English classes from high school to understand everything, but he doesnât need to.
"I was sure, I couldnât let myself go,Â
even though I feel, the end."
Her voice and her guitar are muffled by the layers of wood and concrete between them. His window is open to let the cool night air and silver light of the moon in and he can tell hers is as well but she drowns out the chirping of crickets, the cars that drive by and even Tetsuroâs own thoughts as little by little, then all at once, he falls asleep.
"Full moon sways, gently in the night one fine dayÂ
You were there, smiling in my arms,
 for all these years."
When he opens his eyes, itâs slow. Sleep inertia from a deep sleep is always worse but he finds his eyes widening as it goes away in minutes and he feel more rested than he has in years.
Gonna be real thereâs more to it than that.Â
Good Villains are people that have never suffered. They do this because they donât give a shit about anyone but themselves.
But then thereâs Villains (I guess Anti-heroes) that shouldnât have to be called a villain because theyâre lashing out from being destroyed and traumatized all their life, for injustices dealt to them and their own.Â
Then you have Bad Heroes that donât suffer. They do it to look good and shiny. To have people fawn over them.Â
And Good Heroes whoâve suffered and want to fight with whatever they can to protect people from suffering like they have.
so, your hero can be just as much a sack of shit as a villain lmao. Just writing ideas~