his swagless mental breakdowns this, his homoerotic patterns of grief that. what about HER grief-stricken moments of extremely poor decisionmaking? what about HER incredibly alarming isolation and trauma-driven life choices?!?!?!
It really is so funny to me that Nicole ZZZ is just like that. She's a small business owner, she's a crook, she donates to charity, she's always broke, she's a business genius, she's two months behind on rent, she's married to a clone soldier deserter, she has a black hole gun, she adopted a cat girl that tried to kill her, she has a law degree, she has pink twin tails, she's evading taxes, she's old friends with the most dangerous woman in New Eridu, she's dealing industrial and military grade magic crystals, she doesn't have a driver's license, she's in debt to the local video store, she's flirting with the leader of a biker gang, she's reselling gachapon prizes on the internet. No one does it like her.
Fuck it, to the like 5 other billighter shippers out there here's my shitty contribution, I haven't drawn in months and am desperate for content of these Champions of Dorks
Lighter likes to wrap them both up in his scarf and Billy kisses by just pressing his face against what/whoever he's kissing and verbally says "mwah"
She isnât Barbara, who wears her heart on her sleeve, or Jean, who does not count lying among her many talents. She isnât even Kaeya, whose intricate masks and careful dissembling only hold up as long as the wind doesnât blow too hard.
Rosaria is implacable, unreadable, barely even there. Sheâs spent enough years learning how to let peopleâs eyes slide right off her. It turns out that you can wear fishnets and claw rings and people will still let themselves ignore you if you give them the right excuse.
But she has been drinking, tonight â not quite to the edge of tipsy, but close, right on the line where the lights are warmer and the wine is sweeter and the chatter of the bar patrons tips from grating to almost melodic.
And so maybe she lets her eyes linger, just a little, on the broad back and flaming hair of tonightâs bartender.Â
No one would blame her if they caught the way her gaze flits over to him and away, one stolen glance every couple of minutes. Diluc cuts a dashing figure in his bartenderâs uniform: all straight lines and stark contrasts, his red hair bright against the white of his vest. He carries himself with a quiet composure born of physical power and a bank vault full of cash. Half the people in this tavern have been ogling him all evening; sheâs still not sure if heâs truly oblivious or willfully blind.Â
As she watches, he slides a drink over to the Traveler at the end of the bar, waving away the offer of payment. He wipes down the counter with a practiced hand before tossing the cloth over his shoulder once more. Then he turns back, and Rosaria doesnât look away quite quick enough to stop their gazes from catching and holding.Â
Dilucâs gaze burns like the embers of a campfire, low and controlled, but with the promise of destruction unleashed. For a long second, he watches her watching him.Â
Then he smiles.Â
Itâs a different smile from the confident one he gives her in the middle of the night when theyâre on a manhunt, or the rueful shouldnât-have-let-my-guard-down grin he sports when heâs taken an injury he should have been able to dodge.Â
This smile is small, meant just for her: the corner of his mouth quirks up, boyish and almost shy, and for a moment Rosaria catches a glimpse of the young man whoâd brought Mondstadt to its knees.Â
Heâs so godsdamned pretty it makes her throat tight. Despite her better judgement, Rosaria finds herself smiling back.Â
She suppresses her smile as soon as she registers it â but Kaeya has always been too perceptive for his own good.Â
âPlaying with fire there, Rosaria,â he murmurs once Diluc turns away. He leans an elbow on the bar counter and fixes her with an unreadable smile.Â
âWhat do you mean?â she asks evenly, taking a swig of her wine.
Kaeya looks unimpressed by her attempt at deflection. âFalling in love with him is a bad idea.â
âIâm not in love with him,â Rosaria says. She realizes too late that this too is a confession. She ought to have asked who he meant; sheâs shown her hand too early.
âSure,â Kaeya says, serious for once. âBut youâre getting there.â
âAm not.â
He shakes his head at her. âI wouldnât get too close, if I were you. He burns everything he touches, Rosaria.â
Kaeya was her first real friend in Mondstadt. She knows what Diluc did â in broad strokes, if not in detail. It definitely makes her a bad friend that she likes him anyway.Â
Kaeyaâs lone visible eye tracks Dilucâs movement as he weaves his way through the bar, clearing tables. âThe thing is, he doesnât mean to,â he says, his voice low and almost affectionate. âHe tries so hard, you know? Heâd try, if you asked him to.â
âIâm not asking him shit. Thereâs nothing going on between us.â
âHe just always ends up destroying things anyways,â he continues as if she hadnât spoken, his fingers tracing lines of frost on the condensation of his glass, his eye still fixed on the back of Dilucâs head. âIt tears him apart, but good intentions donât restore whatâs been broken.â
He looks back at her. For a moment she thinks she sees wildfire flames licking at the deep blue of his visible eye, before they resolve into the gentle glow of the lamps that light the Angelâs Share. âI know youâre not going to listen to me,â he says, and smiles mirthlessly. âYou can make your own decisions, of course. But be careful, alright? Iâd hate to see you hurt in the course of protecting Mondstadt.â
Itâs the wrong thing to say. Rosaria knows it as soon as it leaves his lips.Â
Because no matter how bad Diluc is, Rosaria is worse. Kaeya has forgotten that frost burns too.Â
Diluc is a fine, upstanding citizen, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. Rosaria is a scrappy orphan at the mercy of the Church. Diluc has a bent for justice and a mission to take care of the weak. Rosaria only knows revenge.
Kaeya forgets â or ignores, because he is a good friend, and he cares for her in his own way â that Rosaria deserves nothing but destruction and pain. Everything she has received from Mondstadt has been at the cost of its citizens. She owes a debt she can never repay; if she takes some injury in the course of protecting this country, it will simply be what she deserves.Â
She lays a hand on Kaeyaâs arm and watches him jolt. âGetting burned is part of the job.â
âOf protecting Mondstadt?â He sounds skeptical. âThe nation has never asked that of you.â
She raises an eyebrow at him. âSomeoneâs gotta do it. Donât act like you havenât sacrificed for Mondstadt too.â
âOh, I wonât pretend I havenât,â he says lightly. âBut Iâm a hedonist, you know â Iâll always pick pleasure over pain.â
She laughs, opting not to call him on this obvious lie. âI guess that makes me a masochist, because I donât care if I get hurt.âÂ
âI care,â he mutters, then sighs. âLook, youâre a grown-up. If you want to flirt with the sun, I wonât stop you. I just reserve the right to say âI told you soâ when your wax wings go up in smoke.â
âIâll be careful,â Rosaria promises.Â
(Across the tavern, Diluc laughs at something Venti says, low and rolling and resonant. The eyes of half of Mondstadt follow the sound, and Rosaria has never been one to go with the crowd, but in this and this onlyâ)
Kaeya rolls his eyes, shrugging her hand off his arm. âNo, you wonât.â
"Not even the most intransigent of patients can come close to matching his stubbornness. Once he's made his mind up, it's almost impossible to change it. I don't worry about him, though â He has his own way of thinking, and I'm sure he'll manage just fine, no matter what this crazy world throws at him."
â Casually muttered by Ifa as he jotted down a medical report
â Name: Ororon
â Title: Shadow of the Night-Wind
â Shrouded Bat of Mictlan
â Vision: Electro
â Constellation: Vampyrum Spectrum
One scorchingly hot afternoon, a young man closed his front door behind him, then turned to say goodbye to the seedlings in his yard.
"Good afternoon, just heading out for a bit. Hope you guys grow a bit greener by the time I'm back. You've got this!"
He returned with a friend not long after, offering a kindly heads-up as they walked past the large tree by the entrance.
"Big Pinecone's roots have gotten a bit out of hand lately, so be careful not to trip."
Natlan is a weird and wonderful land, and the good doctor Ifa, having grown up here, was no stranger to Ororon's odd way of speaking. He remembered that long ago, an alpaca named Little Pinecone had bumped into that same tree, which might explain why Ororon referred to it as Big Pinecone.
"And it's not even a pine tree," thought Ifa, though he didn't inquire further.
A weird and wonderful land indeed. It is a nation that embraces all living beings, whether their paths in life have been smooth, or not so smooth. All things have their cause, give rise to their effects, and in the end, serve their purpose. The flawed, the sly, the stubborn... all shall burn, flowing together as brilliant, vibrant soulfire.
I've seen many artists do this so ama add my own spin as well. As a white Polish girl I can say that I'm darker than all Genshin characters tbh đ§âđŠŻ
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