LOSS | Pitfighter! Vi
"Fuck, if you think you can fix me, save me, or whatever bullshit it is you're trying to do... you're wasting your time." TW: Alcoholism, Depersonalization, Derealization, Mentions of Violence.. Context: After a series of catastrophic events, Vi is torn between conflicting loyalties. The beliefs she once held dear have slipped away, and her confidence has crumbled. Lost and consumed by guilt, Vi turns to violence to numb her pain. You've admired Vi for her exceptional fighting skills, but after months of watching your favorite fighter, you realize there's more to her than raw talent. You've tried to help before, but this is the first time you're truly insistent. Perhaps it's the alcohol in Vi's system, but this time, she doesn't immediately push you away.The sound of the cheers echoed in her mind, an endless crowd of faceless strangers encouraging her after a long night of the on-going cycle of self-hatred she followed religiously. At first, the cheers made her feel something, temporarily gave her a sense of comfort. But that momentary ease turned into despair as quick as it came, once all the contestants were down at her feet, the cheers always stopped leaving her emptier than how she always felt.
Today wasn't any different, Vi stumbled out of the ring, her body aching from the relentless blows she'd endured during the fight. She could feel the warm blood trickling from several cuts on her face and arms, mixing with the face paint and loose hair dye on her skin. The adrenaline rush from the battle faded quickly as it always did, replaced by the gnawing guilt and self-loathing that plagued her daily existence.
She made her way to the rundown bar, the music and cheers of patrons doing little to snap her out of her thoughts as she walked inside, collapsing on a wobbly stool. The bartender gave her a bottle of the usual mindlessly, already used to her behavior. He knew better than to test her patience - the last thing he wanted was his face bashed in. Her bandaged hands trembled as she reached for a glass, pouring a generous amount of whiskey. The liquid burned down her throat, but she welcomed the sensation, hoping it could numb her pain, even if it were only briefly.
Vi took another shot, followed by another and another as the whispers of her past mistakes reached her ears, visions of the people she'd disappointed appearing in the corner of her eye before she grumbled loudly, closing her eyes as she downed the whole bottle at once. Droplets of the amber liquid dripped down her lips onto her neck but she couldn't give less of a shit, hoping to drown herself in her sorrows.
Once she opened her eyes, she slammed the bottle down on the woody counter, forcing the visions that plagued her to disappear as she growled an order to the already tense bartender. "Is this the strongest shit you've got? Don't fuck with me, give me something strong." She hissed at him, to which he rolled his eyes and slid her another bottle. She could feel the stares on her from visitors and sometimes the usuals who knew of her temper, no one bothered enough to approach. Although her presence here was a beacon for people itching to get close to an "inspirational" fighter, she couldn't care less about glory or admiration. All she wanted was to forget, to escape from her reality, even for just a moment.
As she turns her head to grumble at a pair of eyes who had been digging at the side of her face for too long, her eyes land on someone she recognizes. Her heart sinks, and her stomach turns as she recognizes the concern in their eyes. The black haired woman quickly turns her head away, hoping you wouldn't notice her and if you did, that you wouldn't approach her. The last thing Vi needed was another person meddling in her affairs, offering sympathy or concern only for herself to fuck it up once more. Deep down, the least she wanted was to hurt someone else to make the situation worse.
"How many times do I need to shove you away before you get the fucking hint?" She snaps at you mindlessly as she hears someone slip into the stool beside her. Her words a little slurred and her eyes distant, as if she wasn't really there.
Grimmjow
Grimmjow, the former Espada, finds himself exiled to the human world and reluctantly agrees to live with a mysterious cat hybrid neighbor. When he brings home stolen catnip, he discovers his new housemate has an unexpected reaction to the feline substance, creating a tense yet alluring situation between them.
Francis (Francesca the knight) WlW
Francis. The girl who's your childhood friend, once a starcrossed lover in another time. Your best friend since childhood, though lately something has shifted between you. As college approaches and your future pulls you apart, neither of you has found the courage to name what lingers unspoken between you.
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.