#port district
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waidwund · 2 years ago
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port district – düsseldorf, germany // 05-2017 © 2017 waidwund-photo  
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sw5w · 5 days ago
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Don't Worry, We Have R2 with Us
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STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:31:03 - 00:31:08
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toyastales · 3 months ago
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Brickell Neighborhood, Miami, Florida
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cepheusgalaxy · 18 days ago
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challenge: draw your whumpee in a maid outfit
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m1d-45 · 1 year ago
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I don't know when, i don't know how, but SOMEBODY has ruined my day by giving me flashbacks of my most embarrassing moments from years ago.
Tongue frozen on the iron bars, check, had to alert the peeps to get the teach to bring hot water and she kept giggling at me.
The first time i tried proper kissing? Fucken awkward.
Accidentally mixing my coca cola glass with dads wine glass, and spurting it out with ews in a FUCKEN BUFFET?! FULL OF PEOPLE?! WHO TURNED TO LOOK AT ME AS MY FAMILY LAUGHED AT MY MISFORTUNE?!
Getting whacked in the head by a ball during gym class when a classmate threw it? AND they had the AUDACITY TO LAUGH AT ME! (And people wondered why i skipped that class-)
But honestly, i want schadenfreude and a creator x a hot guy (you can choose who, i'll take anyone at this point to ease me) with just these scenarios in mind, if you could.
i have found that even forced exposure can help with younghood embarrassment.
-🥘Stew
tongue tied
a/n: maybe this isnt what you wanted. maybe it is. idk i have writers block like you wouldn't believe man.
word count: ~6.5k
→ warnings: none? mention of alcohol and injuries but nothing awful or severe. just nice :]
→ g/n reader (you/yours)
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me
< masterlist >
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diluc is a man with many skills.
he’s led the dawn winery for many years and have taken hundreds of shifts at the angel’s share, every item on the menu practically muscle memory by now. he knew the regulars and their typical orders, he knew the quickest way to strip mint stalks of their leaves, how to stack wine barrels most efficiently and how hot he could make his flames without getting burned, practically every skill he could reasonably need mastered when he was young.
…practically was the operative word, of course.
in business, it was practical to learn how to perfectly sign his signature. it was practical to know how to be diplomatic, practical to know how to properly tie a tie or check if a suit was fitted properly, practical to learn all of the skills he’d need to be the head of the dawn winery when he was young, so that by the time it was him sweeping a heavy coat over his shoulders for a meeting, he’d have every ability necessary to tackle whatever faced him.
but of course, his “training” didn’t cover more… personal things. he was too busy learning dining etiquette to know how to make small talk—that didn’t revolve around one party trying to get something from the other, that is. he knew how to set tables and properly pour wine, but his greetings were industry-approved stiff, responses a standard dialogue that he had nearly memorized. everything he said was mapped out in his head far before he’d say it, neatly laid out in his mind as he guided the conversation where he wanted it to go. efficient for formal meetings, but it left him… he didn’t like the word ‘lost,’ but it was the only one he could reasonably apply.
diluc set down the glass he was cleaning, picking up another to keep his hands busy. yes, there was a formal dishwasher hired, but he didn’t like being idle. he didn’t quite know what to do or where to put his hands, feeling a bit exposed without his coat. the bar provided a wide berth between him and any customers, but he couldn’t quite get a handle on the easy banter charles had with the patrons during his shift. it was like he was locked in an odd limbo between work and rest hours; without his gloves, vest, or other protective layers, all shed to prevent them from being stained in the case that something went awry, but still needing to keep face in front of others. he didn’t have his gloves to pull down, no comforting weight of his coat, his vision on a clip on his belt instead of the knot it usually hung from. everything wasn’t quite where it should be, and he was reminded of that every time he reached or twisted in the right way and the small spikes on top of his vision pressed through his shirt and into his side.
he felt… exposed. lost. and he didn’t know what to do about it.
he looked up as the tavern door opened, whatever expression he had before falling away as he was brought out of his thoughts. relax, he tried to tell himself, but it’s hard to believe that when one of the worst reasons for his confusion just walked in.
you.
archons, diluc was awful when it came to interacting with you. his heart beat too quickly and a shockingly large part of his brain thought that this meant he was in some sort of stressful meeting, all of his words coming out flat. while in its intended environment that would keep him from losing his temper or showing any weakness, in here it just made him feel more weak.
your head dipped. “master diluc, captain kaeya.”
and his brother certainly didn’t help the situation.
kaeya had turned when you entered, and greeting you with a sweeping arm and a cheery call of your name. “i didn’t think i’d see you so late; how kind of the heavens to bless me with your presence once again.”
diluc’s jaw tensed, and he traded glasses again. the pile of dirty cups was quickly dwindling, in no small part due to his own thoughts. he tended to be a bit quicker at the rhythmic movements of washing when he was caught up in his own lackluster abilities.
you laughed, taking the seat next to kaeya at the bar. all at once diluc was hyper aware of every action he made, from the change of towels to wipe off the water lingering on the cup to the smallest twitches in his expression or shifts in his weight.
“got caught up in some last-minute stuff, a coworker needed my help. i do hope you weren’t waiting too long?”
kaeya’s eye flashed, and he downed the rest of his drink before launching into a clearly fake story, talking about how actually, in the half hour or so delay in your appearance, the angel’s share was stormed by hundreds of fatui.
as if either of them would let that happen.
you played along, though, asking questions in the right spots and getting him to spin the story further. diluc exchanged his glasses again, doing a double take at the empty rack once he did.
that was far from ideal.
“-right, diluc?”
he looked up in an instant, eyes flicking about as he assessed the situation. clearly, he’d missed some part of the conversation, but what?
you, blessed you, had noticed his confusion, a smile on your face as you rested your hand on your chin, leaning on the bar. “i don’t know, would you really waste a bottle of dandelion wine like that? surely your claymore would do just fine.”
with a sharp swallow and a quick prayer—not that that would do much, knowing the archon he was praying to—diluc took a chance.
“of course i would. one bottle is worth it to defend mondstat, and it’s quite unwieldy to use a claymore in such a confined space.”
he fought a grimace the second the words left his mouth. his tone was too flat, his words uninteresting, certainly less entertaining than whatever fantastical tale kaeya had spun.
you nodded, and he could thankfully see amusement in your eyes. “how noble, master diluc.”
kaeya cut in, picking up his empty cup. “if you can spare a bottle for the fatui, then you can spare a glass for the cavalry captain, can’t you?”
he took the cup, but added it to the dirty rack alongside the one in his hand, taking a new one and wiping it to remove any water despite the fact that he knew there was none. archons, when had he gotten so…
he pushed away that train of thought, pulling out a bottle as he set the fresh glass down. “certainly not. wine is to be drank and paid for, that bottle was… an unfortunate accident.”
“my my, you’re no fun.” diluc poured his glass quickly—”not too much, not too little, okay? a little more, a bit… there, that’s good. well done, son.”—and moved it in front of him, pushing the cork back into the bottle with the heel of his palm. he set it back in its place, and noticed kaeya’s eyes on him as he took a sip.
no, not him, on-
“not worth a bottle, but worth a new glass? perhaps i am a hero after all…”
why was he unsurprised he noticed?
“i don’t want it to stain,” he lied, knowing damn well that stained glasses was something he was more than capable of handling. kaeya hummed, swirling his cup once before you prodded him about his day and he was back to his usual self, talking with significantly less grandeur than his tale from before.
diluc tried to pace himself, being extra meticulous in his cleaning, but there was only so many times he could twist a glass before he had to accept that he was done with it. an odd sort of dread settled over him as he reached for the last cup. today was a slower day, and he normally didn’t run out of cups until everybody was too drunk to notice how awkwardly he stood behind the bar. but kaeya was too smart to get properly drunk, you’d just arrived, and the night was far younger than he’d like.
he was cleaning too quickly again. normally, getting everything he needed to done with fast was a good thing, but now it just left him uneasy. charles didn’t have this problem, and he didn’t even clean glasses during the downtime. no, he struck up conversation with every single person that sat at the bar, no matter how downtrodden or celebratory. he was naturally friendly, always knowing exactly what to say despite the fact that diluc would bet serious mora on the fact that he didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d say until the other person was done. if he thought about it… even kaeya had a script of sorts, a certain way to twist the situation back in his favor, but he managed to talk to people just fine. no, that wasn’t the problem.
the clatter of the cup in his hands on the drying rack pulled him from his mind. he shouldn’t be zoning out so much on the job, but what took his attention first was the fact that he was now seriously out of tasks to complete.
…beautiful.
“diluc? is everything alright?”
it’s your voice, surprisingly, that asks for him, and he fixes his expression in the split second it takes to look at you instead of the glasses. his mind reaches, grabbing the familiar sentence that must have left his lips a thousand times.
“everything is as it should be. why do you ask?”
a defense of his position, dismissing any ideas of weakness, and a prompt as to why that line of thinking was in discussion at all. part of him recoiled at the idea of treating you with the same recited lines he did a business partner, but he genuinely didn’t know what else to say. he was distracted, to come up with another acceptable response would make him hesitate, which would set off yours or kaeya’s alarms- or both, if he was particularly clumsy with his speech.
“did the glasses offend you, or something? you’re glaring.”
and yet, despite his prerecorded reliability, he is at a loss once more. genuine inquiries about his well-being were rare in the spaces he typically interacted in, and it didn’t help that he was still stuck in work mode.
“…they have not,” he decides, picking his language carefully. “i am simply thinking about something else.”
horribly vague, and would almost certainly warrant a follow-up question. before you even opened your mouth, he knew what you’d say.
“what are you thinking about? do you need help?”
the second part was a shock, but he blessedly had an answer for the first. “nothing important. it will be handled in due time.”
kaeya raised a brow, and diluc pointedly ignored his questioning look. it wasn’t often that he resorted to diplomatic language in the presence of civilians, but you… he could never quite think right when you were around. he could only hope you never misinterpreted his odd words as mistrust.
you hummed, changing the subject shortly after with a question about the vineyards, something about a particularly bad season for crops you’d heard from sara. he paused for a moment—an acceptable pause, he told himself, as most people did think before speaking—before settling on giving you an update on the winery as a whole. anybody that listened in would only find what they could learn by asking his workers, and no trade secrets were to be found in the fact that his grapevines were regularly checked.
with the slightest twitch of his hand, he realized he was speaking to you like a businessman again.
kaeya’s cup had emptied at some point, and diluc reached for the bottle of dandelion wine without stopping his sentence, a small nod from kaeya the only confirmation he needed to pull off the cork.
“the staff have been doing well, though this is shaping up to be a rather warm summer.” not that you asked, he notes, internally chiding himself as he pulls over kaeya’s glass. he considers swapping it for a new one to give himself something to do, but decides against it. he rattles off a few details about some dahlias that adelinde is trying to grow, how they keep seeming to wilt. he doesn’t stop talking to pour kaeya’s wine, eyes focused on his task as he continues talking nonsense about flowers. flowers. since when did he talk about the hobbies of his staff when asked about the vineyards?
he twisted the bottle as he pulled away—“this way any wine that drips will land on the back label. you don’t want the front to look messy.”—corking the bottle and forcing himself to finish this childish line of speech.
it wasn’t childish, not if you seemed genuinely interested, but any more and kaeya would have too much to leverage against him later. granted, he likely knew more about diluc than he’d like given how irritatingly good he was at reading people, but that was a problem for another day. for now, he let kaeya grab his cup on his own, wiping his hands of nothing as he waited for your response to what had certainly come off as nervous ramble.
your head tilted. “has she asked flora?”
“assumedly, or she had another worker do so for her. it’s not like her to let something rot like that.”
“that’s good to hear. and you?”
“pardon?” his hands had frozen, towel still in his hands, and he turned your words over in his mind. his reply had been instinctual, mostly to buy him time to think.
“how are you doing? don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear the winery is well, but you seem nervous.”
kaeya chuckled into his wine, and diluc’s jaw ticked.
“i am well, my apologies if i have worried you.”
“oh, alright… it can be hard to tell sometimes with you, i wanted to be safe.”
he knows. he’d meant his apology, but any sincerity was likely lost in whatever filter was placed between his mind and his mouth.
the air was awkward, and he didn’t know how to fill it. kaeya was looking at him, clearly expecting him to continue whatever tentative conversation was lingering, but he greatly overestimated diluc’s ability to do so.
he hung the towel back in its place, finally meeting his brother’s eyes. “behave.” they flicked to you, and his words were slower coming out. “make sure he doesn’t steal anything.”
you smiled, swearing on it even as the three of you knew kaeya wouldn’t do such a thing. diluc stepped out from behind the bar, grabbing a large serving tray and walking from table to table, collecting empty glasses.
maybe he was a coward for avoiding conversation- scratch that, he definitely was, but what was he to do about it? talk? that was already established to be off the table, and one could not typically make conversation without talking.
diluc shook off the topic, climbing the stairs to the second floor of the bar. all he could do was hope you didn’t hold it against him, or archons forbid think it were somehow your fault. hopefully you wouldn’t hate him by the time he managed to get his words in line with his thoughts.
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diluc stared at the empty page in front of him, twisting the pen in his hand.
another skill he didn’t have. informal letter writing.
letters to merchants, fine, letters to buyers, he had a standard template for. letters to and from employees, informing him of upcoming leave or similar work related matters, all of this he was prepared for.
but this…
he sighed, watching as ink dripped onto the page, setting down his pen.
what did he say? what did he want to say? what was appropriate to say? you were rather close to his heart but how did he come across? would an inquiry about your well being be too forward? was a letter at all too forward? friends- no, you didn’t consider him a friend, right? or did you? how did people act around their friends? how did you act around your friends?
he tugged at his gloves, fiddling with the hem nervously. he’d finished most of his paperwork and had intended to take a break by writing you a letter, but… was it even a good idea? he- oh archons, he didn’t even know your address-
diluc crumpled up the paper in one hand, throwing it in the trash with the beginnings of an embarrassed blush on his face. writing a letter and not even knowing where you lived- he could count the amount of proper conversations he’d had with you that had progressed past basic small talk on one hand, and he wanted to write you a letter?
he covered his face with his hands, resting his elbows on his desk. papers shifted beneath him but he didn’t pay attention, his thoughts in circles.
he wasn’t an idiot. he knew exactly why his heart picked up when you were around, why he had to default to more familiar speech to not make an utter fool of himself. the entire reason he’d tried to write you a letter was because he wanted to clarify his behavior towards you, to hopefully build a prior relationship with you instead of learning about you by proxy from your conversations with kaeya. yet, in his hurry to fix what probably wasn’t even broken to begin with—he knew of his reputation, in reality you probably weren’t at all surprised at his inability to make small talk—he’d forgotten the most important detail.
on one hand, he probably could ask kaeya, or poke around in other ways, but that felt disingenuous. if he was going to try and… for now he’d call it making a friendship with you, then he wanted to do it right. of course, he didn’t know exactly what ‘doing it right’ entailed, but… he supposed he’d just have to guess.
diluc had learned a considerable amount in his childhood, yet none of his lessons taught him how to pursue a partner.
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diluc swept his cloak around his shoulders, fastening the clasp with one hand and reaching for his vision with the other. with practiced movements, he undid the knot tying it in place, attaching it to the back of his other hand. he hooked his mask onto his belt and closed the door of his room behind him, walking down the stairs quickly.
“be safe, master diluc.”
“master kaeya has kindly informed us that the knights have a patrol for the whispering woods, so it would be wise not to stray too far.”
diluc paused at the door, mentally rearranging his patrol route with a nod. “thank you adelinde, elzer. pass on my gratitude, please.”
he pulled open the door to the manor, walking up the familiar trails and into wolvendom. his vision lit his path as his eyes adjusted, free hand affixing his mask to his face as he walked. since he couldn’t head as far north as he’d like, he’d settle for a loop around windrise and then one in wolvendom. not ideal, but it would have to do.
windrise was lighter than expected. a budding camp of hilichurls here, an abyss mage to the east (thankfully hydro, he’d been on a bad streak with pyro mages for a few days now) and a few slimes that got a bit too close to the merchant trails for his liking.
speaking of the trails, those were clean too. he snuck around springvale, keeping the hand with his vision on it tucked into his cloak to mask its light. hilichurls didn’t hang around this part of wolvendom, so unless he wanted to go shoving through wolf hook bushes for the chance to knock out a camp or two…
he looked between the two paths back to the winery. he could go through the gorge, or the typical way taken by his suppliers. the former was mostly guaranteed to have at least one or two monsters picking about, but it would be better if he cleared his trade routes…
it didn’t matter, in the end. he stepped out from the shadow of a tree, boot barely making contact with the dirt before he picked up the sound of another’s footsteps. heavy, quick, rapidly coming his way-
he summoned his claymore, turning north toward the sound, seeing a figure stumble from the bushes of wolvendom. they were wrapped in a too-thin jacket considering the weather, arm pressed to their chest. details were lost in the darkness, but he could see their head twist, how it snapped to him.
the figure waved with a shout to get his attention, and his heart dropped.
you. what were you doing up so late?
you jogged up to him, clearly out of breath, and he could see that you were holding an armful of unripe wolfhooks. “do.. do you know the way to springvale?”
by the archons, abyss, and celestia above-
“what business do you have there? it’s late,” he said, keeping his voice low. his hands trembled slightly in his gloves, eyes searching your figure for any injury. you had a nick or two on your arm, thankfully not bleeding, but everything else was obscured by shadows. you had clearly been running for quite a while, judging by how harshly you breathed, were you running from something? had you ran into trouble?
“i gotta get back to the city,” you explained breathlessly. “i kinda got lost in the forest.”
“lost?” his hand tensed around his claymore, the action reminding him it was still there. he dismissed it, crossing his arms to try and stabilize himself.
“long story, not worth telling.” you waved your hand, and he could see how it shook a bit. whether from adrenaline or exhaustion (both?) he knew he couldn’t point you toward mondstat in good faith. what if something happened to you? what if he’d missed a camp and you were attacked? you were weakened, tired, and his mind raced with all the potential injuries you could sustain just trying to go home-
“uh, stranger?” your hand waved again, this time to get his attention. “you with me?”
“the city’s too far. you’re better off seeking shelter at the dawn winery just up the road.” what was he saying? “besides, you could be injured, and not be feeling the pain due to adrenaline. let me walk you there.”
his heart hammered against his ribs, every single way you could reject him and then some swirling in his head. he was a stranger to you, you were clearly scared by something, and he directed you elsewhere out of what, selfishness? he knew that springvale was likely closer, that someone would be up and willing to help, and yet he was asking to walk you to the winery?
“are you sure? you don’t have to.”
“i’d rather not send you off when i’m not certain of your safety.” your eyes widened slightly, surprised at the care in his voice, and he forced his tone to flatten before you recognized him. “besides, the staff are friendly and willing to help. they’ll understand.”
you hesitated for a moment, then nodded, holding your wolfhooks closer. absently, he wondered if he had any at the winery. probably not, but he could likely ask-…
in barbatos’ name, how was he going to explain this to the staff?
“alright. lead the way.”
he turned before his expression could change, keeping his steps a bit slower than usual so you could keep pace easier. he wanted you inside as quickly as possible, obviously, but you had clearly strained yourself earlier. going quicker would only hurt you more, and it wasn’t as if there was any immediate threat. even if there was, he was confident in his ability to keep you safe. the trees lining the path were large, wide enough to protect you if trouble came up and he needed to use his vision.
he set aside that line of thinking, sparing a glance at you. you’d switched which arms held the wolfhooks, and in the more open light, he could see the small pricks on your skin where the points dug in. you winced when the fruit resettled, moving one away from your inner elbow, and he stopped walking.
“give me those. you’re hurting yourself.”
“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. we’re nearly there, right?”
“wolfhooks aren’t clean, you could get an infection. you’re supposed to harvest them with a basket and gloves, not carrying them bare armed.”
“you don’t have the thickest clothes either, what’s to say you won’t get hurt?”
diluc searched the small area of the path you were on, trying to find a compromise. his first instinct was to use his cloak, but his hair was tucked into the hood, and that with his silhouette would certainly give him away. his eyes caught on a tear in your jacket, just below the shoulder, and he held out his arms.
“use your jacket as a sling. it’s already torn from the forest, so it’s not the worst loss.”
firm solution, reasonable and immediate justification. he was doing it again, no matter how well it disguised itself as casual speech.
you gave in, thankfully, and he didn’t let the minor pain from the wolfhook’s points show on his face as you removed your jacket. it was as thin as it looked, and he found himself frowning as he helped you stow the berries inside.
still, it wasn’t his business. maybe if he were your friend he could suggest that you purchase a heavier coat, but… you were getting a new one anyway since this one was ruined, so that seemed like a null point to bring up.
he settled your stuffed jacket into your waiting arms, hands lingering for a moment to ensure your grip was stable. “better?” you nodded, and he began walking again. “good. and don’t forget to mention your wounds to the staff, the last thing you want is an infection from… why did you need wolfhooks?”
“bennett asked me to get some for him and his friend… i think razor is his name? but with bennett’s luck, he didn’t want to risk going in himself, so he asked me to help.”
diluc frowned. “why does he need wolfhooks?”
you shrugged. “he offered some mora in return, but i mostly accepted because i felt bad. his luck seems to ruin everything for him, the least i could to was try.”
“even at the risk of your own health?”
“the things you do for friends, you know how it is.” his hands twitched at his sides, curling into loose fists. did he? “but what about you? why are you out here?”
he thought over his answer carefully, mixing various bits of his typical sentences to craft a half-truth. it was getting easier, he noticed, but put that thought aside just as quickly as it came. “wandering, doing my part to keep the area safe.”
“that’s noble of you.”
it wasn’t. would you believe the same if you knew how selfish he was in his desires? he kept mondstat safe for himself, so that he could rest knowing he’d done what he could—he patrolled not out of some moral righteousness, but because it made him proud to know that he’d chipped in to the city’s safety, that he was handling threats the knights didn’t, that he could keep his staff, his brother, his life, keep you-
“have you considered joining the knights? i’m certain there’s some night patrols, and it would surely be nice to have backup.”
he almost responded, almost said that he was in the knights, at one point, before he remembered where he was. who he was. to tell you that would be too much, too much information and too much for you to identify him with.
when did he become so loose with his words? normally he was so uptight around you… was it the fact that you didn’t know he was him right now? did.. he seriously operate best under anonymity? archons, how weak was that, to only be able to say what he meant when you didn’t know anything? was he that socially inept? so desperate for a proper conversation that he’d nearly slipped a major part of his life to you, just based on an offhand comment? how pathetic was he?
he forcefully shut down that line of thought and grit his teeth, well aware it had been too long since you’d spoken. “i’ve considered it. it’s not for me.”
not an entire lie, at least.
you were silent, and he knew he’d ruined the atmosphere. crystalflies fluttered in the trees, lazily flapping through the air, but he couldn’t appreciate their beauty like he typically could. the walk all the way down to the manor was spent in silence, and aside from a minor stumble you had on a jutting rock, it was as if he was walking back on his own, as he typically would. he even began to reach for the doorknob, then caught himself and used the knocker instead.
it was weird. he knew the door wasn’t locked, yet he waited for footsteps to approach the door, seeing elder’s worried face greet him. “master diluc, are you-?”
elzer’s eyes found yours, a tiny hint of shock crossing his face before he settled it back into the same polite smile he always used when greeting guests.
“ah, my apologies. i wasn’t expecting visitors at such a late hour.”
diluc bowed his head in what he hoped came off as a thankful action. “my apologies for disturbing you.”
he explained the situation as swiftly as possible, elzer urging you towards adelinde to treat your injuries. the medical supplies were just inside, near to the door for the sake of diluc’s own health.
“and what of you, stranger?” elzer asked, a bit louder than necessary. “will you be staying?”
diluc sees you look up, understanding clicking in an instant. “no, i won’t,” he answers, “but i thank you for your hospitality.”
elzer reached for the coatrack, pulling down two, both his and diluc’s, keeping the door propped open and passing him his where you couldn’t see. “then let me walk you to the edge of the vineyards, in exchange for your chivalry.”
“it’s alright, thank you. have a nice night.”
“the same to you, stranger.”
the door closed, and diluc relaxed, clutching his coat close as he turned away from the manor.
that was too close. he shouldn’t have suggested to bring you here in the first place, and thank the gods that elzer was so quick on his feet. he’d completely forgotten that he would have to return to the manor as diluc at one point in his rush to get you here.
he ducked behind a tree at the edge of the winery, exchanging his cloak for his jacket. he folded it neatly, stowing his mask and gloves inside. he didn’t have his usual clothes on, but… he could make do. he’d lied before, he’d lie again… even to you.
his grip around his cloak tightened. especially to you. you had no business in his shady practices, in what he did in the dark. it was impossible to keep you entirely safe and sheltered, nor was that healthy or his place to do, but he could at least keep his darkness from encroaching upon your light.
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by the time diluc returned to the manor, you had already been sent on your way to a guest room. blessedly, neither adelinde nor elzer were in the front room to make a remark to him about it, likely busy with other work or asleep themselves. he locked the door and hung up his coat, heading up to his room after a swift double check of the first of those facts.
he went about his night, changing into sleepwear and setting his boots by his bed, his vision on his nightstand. it was admittedly a little more difficult falling asleep than usual—were you comfortable? did you like the guest room?—but he managed, waking up with the sun. his routine was the same, but when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he paused, looking up at the guest rooms. it… was strange, to know you were here. he felt like he should be doing something, whether saying goodbye or good morning or-
he looked away and shook his head. or nothing. he wasn’t as close to you as you were to him, how did he keep forgetting that?
“is there a problem, master diluc?”
he turned, seeing adelinde setting down his breakfast on the table. “nothing at all, and thank you for the food. did you sleep well?”
“i was a bit late in going to bed, a strange guest brought us some worry.”
he smiled at the pointedness to her tone, “really? how odd, to have a visitor so late.”
her mouth opens, but another speaks before she does.
“sorry if i caused any trouble.”
he paused. blinked. took a moment to register the fact that he just heard your voice in his home.
then he turned, attempting a smile. “it’s alright. your being here is unexpected, yes, but not unwelcome.”
you had clearly just gotten up, clothes rumpled and pillow creases along your hands. you nod, stepping closer, and he grasps for any viable threads of conversation.
“is the manor to your liking?”
“it’s beautiful.”
pride bloomed in his chest. “i’m happy to hear it. come sit, have some breakfast.” adelinde excused herself with a bow and he moved to pull out a chair for you, praying the action looked as natural as it felt. you accepted with a smile, and he pushes you in with relief in his when he sits. “she should return shortly with your food, apologies for the delay.”
“it’s fine,” you said, looking around the main room. he tries to find something else to talk about, already feeling the awkward silence set in, but fumbles. the last time he had someone at his table was with the traveller for the weinlesefest, and they and paimon mostly carried the conversation along. he only ever heads business discussions, or staff meetings, or interrogations, and this was certainly none of those.
“are you alright?”
he blinked away his frown, realizing too late he’d been glaring at his cup of grape juice. an instinctual response rose to his tongue, but he hesitated. maybe it was the early morning hour, maybe it was the genuine concern on your face, maybe it was the light of dawn streaming in from the windows that fell across you so delicately, as if it knew how beautiful you were.
he discarded that response, but exchanged it for another. “are you? adelinde told me you were injured.”
a lie. he hadn’t spoken with anybody about your injuries. archons, was this worse?
your smile grows. apparently not? “just a few scrapes,” you say, lifting your arm to show where adelinde bandaged you. “wolfhooks are a lot sharper than they look.”
“wolfhooks?”
you waved a hand. “i needed some for bennett, long story. don’t worry, adelinde gave me a basket for them.”
“that’s good to hear.”
and just like that, the topic was exhausted. did he bring up something else? how much was too much? what was even an appropriate topic? what did the average person talk about? not that you were average, he’d never dare-
he’s talked himself into a corner in his own head. how in teyvat did that happen?
“you’re frowning again.”
“my apologies, i’m lost in thought.” he was quiet for a moment, then continued, “a problem i’ve encountered before is more prevalent now.”
…it wasn’t the most eloquent of phrasing, but it should do.
“do you want to talk about it?”
does he? how would he even put this into words that didn’t make him sound… is pathetic the word?
‘i can’t talk right around you because i’m not used to talking with someone that does so in good faith’? yeah, that’s something a well-adjusted adult says.
“i don’t have the words for it,” he decides. “the words…” he takes a quick glance at you to gauge your reaction but regrets it just as fast, whatever he had to say next vanishing into thin air. it’s unfair, really, how pretty you are, his eyes fixed to yours. “t-they-“
adelinde set your plate down in front of you, blessedly saving him from the situation. “thank you for your patience. please let me know if anything is unsatisfactory.”
diluc grabs his cup as you thank her, turning away to hide behind the grape juice. he can’t even really taste it, focused on how clumsily he had spoken. were he anywhere else he’d surely be laughed out of the room, and he’s certain adelinde’s going to tease him for it later as it is.
“diluc?” he looks over at you again, keeping his gaze quick before he fumbles again.
“what is it?”
too harsh, too cruel, he’s being cold to you again-
“are you busy today?”
he thinks over his schedule. no meetings that he can remember, nor any deadlines. he’d prefer to finish up some forms sooner rather than later, but if you need him for something…
“no, i’ve got time. what do you need?”
“would you like to go to good hunter for dinner later today?”
he can only hope you accept his nod as an answer because between the knowing smile on your face and the bright blush on his, there’s no way he’s getting a word out.
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maivalkov · 5 months ago
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It is said that the districts have two faces, and 31 is no exception. Residents of the Night toil for Day’s delight—their world the side of lust and violence wrapped in the glow of neon-tinted canals.
It feels hopeless, sometimes, for João, who would need the entire district’s hands to count the clients he’s slept with. But just as plants can rise through the smallest cracks in concrete, so too can some good come to those of the Night.
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Day 7 of @hetaberia-week: free day
Also the response to @needcake's delicious ask for gangster ned and his custard tart. ;)
Read on ao3
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mothmiso · 2 months ago
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Batroun, Lebanon (2) (3) (4) by Le monde aux yeux d'une Canadienne
Via Flickr:
(2) Café Younes, specialty coffee roaster since 1935, at Mayouli Bed & Breakfast. A hidden gem. (3) Lots of new homes and guesthouses near the coast in Batroun - this one used to be a butcher's shop. Phoenician wall in the background. (4) Batroun Port.     
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the-shy-artisan · 5 months ago
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Bought myself a new book! I really liked the design on the cover.
I’ve never read this book before, I figured it was time to fix that c:
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postcard-from-the-past · 2 months ago
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Port scene in the Homberg district of Duisburg, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany
German vintage postcard
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travelella · 4 months ago
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Mina District, Old Doha Port, Qatar
Omar Elsharawy
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waidwund · 2 years ago
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port district – düsseldorf, germany // 05-2017 © 2017 waidwund-photo  
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sw5w · 5 days ago
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I Am Too
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STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:31:02
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shirtsbargain · 4 months ago
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Hoodies in Summer: The Unexpected Hero of Your Wardrobe
Picture this: It's a scorching July afternoon. You're sprawled on your couch, fan whirring, desperately scrolling through your closet app for anything to wear to tonight's rooftop shindig. Sundress? Boring. Tank top? Need to be more basic. And then, tucked behind your winter sweaters, you spot it – your trusty hoodie. "No way," you think. But hear me out, fashion rebels. It's time to embrace the unexpected and make hoodies your summer BFF.
The Hoodie: Your Summertime Superhero
Remember when you shivered through a sunset beach walk, secretly envying your friend's cozy sweatshirt? Or when you turned into a lobster at the park because you forgot sunscreen? Your hoodie could've saved the day, my friend. These unassuming garments are the Clark Kents of summer – mild-mannered by day, but ready to swoop in and save you from goosebumps and UV rays at a moment's notice.
But let's talk style. Gone are the days when hoodies were relegated to gym class and hungover grocery runs. Today's hoodies are chameleons, shapeshifting from lazy Sunday companions to edgy streetwear statement pieces. Throw one over a sundress for an instant cool-girl vibe, or pair it with board shorts for that "I woke up like this" beach look. The possibilities are as endless as your summer playlist.
Hoodie Shopping: A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure
Now, I know what you're thinking. "But where do I find these magical summer hoodies?" Fear not, fashion adventurer. Let me introduce you to the world of wholesale blank hoodies – your ticket to affordable style domination.
First stop: Port & Company hoodies wholesale. These bad boys are like the reliable best friends of the hoodie world. They'll stick with you through thick and thin, beach volleyball games and impromptu road trips alike. Plus, they come in more colors than a jumbo box of crayons.
For my fitness fanatics out there, Sport-Tek hoodies wholesale are your new gym buddies. They wick away sweat faster than you can say "one more rep," keeping you cool during hot yoga and summer hikes. Who says you can't look fly while working on that summer body?
And for those who live life on the cutting edge, District hoodies wholesale are your sartorial soulmates. With designs cooler than the other side of the pillow, these hoodies will have you serving looks from brunch to last call.
Hoodie Hacks: Unlocking Summer Style
Now that you're on board the summer hoodie train (choo choo!), here are some pro tips to max out your style points:
Lightweight is the way: Opt for hoodies thinner than your ex's excuses. Cotton blends are your friend here.
Color outside the lines: Ditch the basic black and go for shades that pop like a firework. Neon yellow hoodie with pastel shorts? Yes, please!
Play matchmaker: Pair your hoodie with unexpected bottom pieces: hoodie + silk skirt = fashion magic.
Accessorize like a boss: Throw on chunky sunglasses or layer the necklaces. Your hoodie is a blank canvas – paint it with your personality!
So there you have it, fashion trailblazers. This summer, let's raise a popsicle to the humble hoodie – the unsung hero of warm weather style. Whether you're rocking Port & Company at a bonfire, Sport-Tek at the gym, or District at a rooftop soirée, remember: summer hoodies aren't just a trend, they're a lifestyle. Now go forth and be cozy!
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concertphotos · 8 months ago
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Charleston, South Carolina Aerial View by David Oppenheimer Via Flickr: Charleston, South Carolina aerial view of historic waterfront homes in The Battery - Charleston real estate - © 2024 David Oppenheimer - Performance Impressions aerial real estate photography archives - performanceimpressions.com
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billa-billa007 · 1 year ago
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Stay Galveston Central District
Galveston has a rich history that dates back to its founding in the early 19th century. It was an important port city and one of the largest cotton ports in the U.S. during the 19th century. The city played a significant role in trade, immigration, and the development of Texas.
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opencommunion · 2 months ago
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"Israel wanted to force Lebanon to compel Hezbollah to hand over the Israeli soldiers unconditionally. The working hypothesis was classically colonial in the most banal sense: Hit the Lebanese state and people as hard as possible and they, 'who, like all Arabs, only understand the language of force,' would turn against Hezbollah in order to halt the massacre. This seemed even more likely when, in the words of a radio commentator, 'There is a Christian majority [sic] in Lebanon, which hates Muslims, and Hezbollah in particular.' This mixture of factual ignorance and misunderstanding of human behavior is staggering.
To launch an all-out attack on the whole Lebanese people, destroy a significant part of Lebanon’s infrastructure (Beirut’s port and international airport, hundreds of roads and bridges, a major electric power station, etc.), provoke the exodus of almost 1 million refugees in a matter of days, destroy dozens of villages and the southern districts of the capital, and massacre several hundred civilians, including civilians fleeing combat zones on Israeli army orders—to commit all these crimes in the belief that Lebanese resentment would turn against the Hezbollah militias, and not the Israeli army, is to engage in a particularly bad case of ideological blindness.
When it became clear that achieving the first stated objective—freeing two prisoners of war—was impossible, a new one was announced: the destruction of Hezbollah. But very soon, despite the tons of bombs showered on Lebanon, the Islamic Resistance continued to stand firm and gave no signs of caving in or being crushed. Day by day, the number of rockets hitting the north of Israel grew, including strikes against Haifa, Israel’s third-largest city. Twice, Israeli authorities cried victory before the outcome was certain. They announced the death of Hassan Nasrallah, described as 'buried under the ruins of his bunker,' and then they announced the destruction of the organization’s operational command. In reality, the massive bombings throughout Lebanon’s entire territory failed even to put a dent in Hezbollah’s operational capacities, with the possible exception of its long-range missiles, as a significant number was said to have been destroyed by Israeli aviation on the second week of the conflict. As a result, the official objective was revised for the third time—and on this occasion, narrowed down. Specifically, it became limited to preventing missiles or other rockets from continuing to hit Israeli towns and villages. But Hezbollah was able to continue to pound the north of Israel until the last day of the war. Finally, after failing to achieve the set of objectives described above, the government decided to continue its war with the sole purpose of restoring the Israeli army’s deterrent capacities, shaken by the Hezbollah combatants’ effective resistance to the offensive. Starting then, Israel launched a no-holds-barred onslaught, launching hundreds of tons of bombs, including phosphorous bombs and cluster bombs, and destroying entire villages, to show the world that Israel remained a formidable military power. In this respect above all others, the Israeli war concluded as a fiasco."
Gilbert Achcar and Michel Warschawski, The 33-Day War: Israel’s War on Hezbollah in Lebanon and Its Consequences (2007)
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