Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life is good.

I’ve got my bag of heart stopping chips and diabetes inducing coke right by my side.

My computer all hot and booted up in front of me.

A message from my friend notifying me his goon sesh is over.

Oh yeah,

It’s League of Legends time.

I lean forward and get ready to dominate Bronze 4 as the only acceptable character,

KASSADIN BABYYY

Gotta make sure to bind my certified N word key™ while I’m at it.

So while I wait for my friend to hop on League instead of hopping on his dad’s dick, I decide to go to the second most cancerous place on my computer.

Twitter.

Or whatever dumbass name it has now, I can’t keep up man.

For a short moment I scroll mindlessly(not that I usually have a mind, let alone use it) through all of the shitty political takes, obvious scams and straight up porn.

But then, like lightning striking the president of Tajikistan for his sins(being Tajik), something stops me right in my tracks.

Life is good .

Guess who hbomberguy’s newest video is about?

THAT’S RIGHT

LUMINE’S FAVOURITE YOUTUBER

My pants grow about ten times tighter in an instant.

I ALWAYS KNEW HE WAS AN ASSHAT

NEVER KNEW ABOUT THAT KID DIDDLING STUFF BUT WHO CARES

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As I hit ctrl+c, the edges of my vision seem to darken since my ‘little Jimmy’ keeps on rising more and more at the thought of finally having one up over my bitch sister.

How’ll she feel having defended him so many times from me now, huh?

Oh my goodness I really can only get so erect.

Alt tab to discord, click on her dumb little anime profile picture.

Come on…

I just need to press ctrl+v…

While I try desperately to put the nail in the metaphorical coffin like how I nailed your mother last night, my vision shrinks further and my fingers can’t seem to respond.

My body breaks down slowly like an old machine as all the blood in my body rushes into my biblical ‘Tower of Babel’. 

While it suffocates, all my brain can think about is screwing over my sister one last time.

Once I finally press down ‘v’ my body immediately gives out.

And so, I utter my last words to this dumbass world.

“My………S-search history………”

And it’s all black from there.

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A wave giving me a spontaneous waterboarding yanks me back into consciousness.

I cough and spit all the salt water out while sitting up.

Did I almost overdose on fentanyl again?

Let’s see…

No heroin needles being washed up, no crackheads shambling about, no mountains or really any other side to the ‘lake’ so far as I can see.

This place actually seems nice, which can only mean one thing…

This isn’t Karakol!

Where am I?

What was I doing last again?

Oh yeah.

I always knew my boner was special, though I never knew it could do that!

Either that or I’m tripping balls somehow.

Lumine must’ve laced my Monster Energy with a jar of horse laxatives or something.

Or horse tranquilliser, that works too.

Knowing her, it’s probably the laxatives though.

Might as well enjoy the trip before I start shitting mountains.

I saunter down the beach up into a nearby forest about as casually as a man who lost his liver to an Albanian organ harvesting gang and who, despite that, chugged an entire bottle of vodka.

Quite the explosive combination, if I say so myself, but it’s a better outcome than what Đorđe Martinović got out of the Albanians.

Back on topic, or on rock more specifically, rock lock not good down frown big bawn.

Translation for all of those who don’t speak the ancient, neolithic, primitive language of Uzbek, ‘I can barely climb up this tiny cliff and fell on my ass a good five times’.

Finally I manage to throw myself over the edge and surmount this great height, feeling quite like Edmund Hillary summiting your mother.

Now I just shamble my way over to the edge of an outcrop or whatever it’s called and resist the voices in my head egging me to throw myself off.

So, like Christofer Coulombus getting ready to rape and massacre an entire continent, I stand over these newly found lands(to me at least), only to discover that there are people already living here, once again mirroring Christy Columbius.

Good thing that I am also just like Kristopher in how I am not above systematically abusing entire populations just because I superficially place them below me.

And what’s even better for me is that those windmills in that city look quite Dutch, and I’m sure we all know they place in the lowest of lows.

Like literally.

Physically.

They’re called the Low Countries for a reason.

I must obtain these old Yakubian ape’s cranial measurements, as it is my duty to study them for science.

Having scaled down the cliff through its oddly smooth path downwards, I pass by a pond with a statue I can only assume depicts whatever outlandish thing the Dutch worship.

Femboys.

Though, while passing, I’m apparently also simultaneously in the streets of Compton since I’m getting jumped.

By a uh…

An overinflated oscillating water balloon.

Ah, it all makes sense now, this is the Netherlands isn’t it?

These ridiculous, fake people wage war on the sea every day, so of course it’d choose to fight back one day.

Someone must’ve dropped an overused cumsock into the ocean spawning this horrid abomination of English channel ‘water’ and human sperm.

But fear not, for I shall send this affront to god right back to him, even if he already has abandoned the Netherlands.

Time to hit 'em with my special full course meal of knuckle sandwiches!

After winding up for the appetiser I place it right between the creature’s two goofy eyes.

Unfortunately it just results in my hand hurting a fuck ton.

Despite looking like jello, its body is as hard as diamond.

I assume that’s because I’m still high out of my mind and I just punched a lamp post or something.

Before I can dish out the main course, the thing flings itself at me giving me the full experience of an American kindergartener attempting to cross the street.

And like said kindergartener being hit by the full stopping power of a Ford F-150, all wheel drive, with 14000 lbs towing power and 3325 lbs of payload, I get flung a solid five metres and roll another two.

For people with FREEDOM , that’s like twenty three feet in total or one hundred big macs.

I assume I got hit by an actual car in the real world, but it must’ve been a Volkswagen Golf because I’m not dead and manage to stand back up, though significantly battered.

Even if this is all one really weird trip, I shall not let myself fall to something even the Dutch could conquer, even if for a small sliver of time.

Readying myself, I bolster my resilience.

“Nah, 

I’d win.”

Doing my best Gojo impression, I’m sure anybody watching from the outside must think I’ve either escaped the local psych ward, went on the internet and started having delusions halfway through a lobotomy Kaisen edit or I’ve taken god’s strongest adderall to reach heights incomprehensible to the middle class Caucasian mind.

Honestly, I don’t even know which is the truth.

And like the Sigma male that I am I completely ignore the pain in my knuckles as I sink punch after punch into the diet jello.

And Gojo’s spirit really must’ve possessed me, I’m actually kicking ass!

The gelatinous freak of nature lay almost flat on the ground like a deflated inflatable mattress and I stand over it with the smuggest, most punchable face I’ve ever managed to form in my entire life.

But right as I start to wind up and finish off this uncomfortably wet blob, well…

Uh.

Yeah.

It hit me right in the balls.

Low blow.

Real low blow.

In an instant I’ve already lost all my momentum and am right back to getting my shit kicked in.

Fun.

Displaying the peak of masculinity and stoicism, I snivel and cry as the slime continues to rock my shit, kinda like how I rocked your mother’s world last night.

Haha.

We’re getting a divorce.

Suddenly, the beating that is probably actually just the police being forced to brutally abuse me because they were bored stops.

Maybe the police realised I’m white or something.

Sitting up, I open my eyes and wipe away the tears and snot.

Only to be basically flashbanged with the sight of a big ass dragon flying overhead.

Seeing the cum wad running away, I bolster my resolve to resort to the only strategy I could probably pull off with some semblance of success.

I pick my fat ass straight off the ground and run the fuck away.

If it worked for Joe Jokester or whatever his name is, it’ll work for me.

Now I just haul ass into the nearby forest, but like a hawk(tuah) the dragon follows me until it disappears over the canopy.

Having lost that absolute wholesome 100 chonker of a reptile, I take a small breather against a tree.

And that’s how I ended up doing the most cardio I’ve ever done in my entire life.

So now that my legs burn like all hell and that everything around me is trying to make sure I can never walk nor have children ever again, for once I make a reasonable decision.

I keep moving and try to hobble over to the city.

Look, I know this may sound contradicting to what I said before, but hear me out.

A place infested with things that are all out to kill, beat and rob you?

Just like Birmingham.

And a Dutch city?

Well, yeah.

I don’t really need to explain that one.

So between Birmingham and Amsterdam, no matter how much I hate to admit it, Amsterdam is probably better.

Oh

Ohhhhh

Uh oh.

So while my brain was making those genius comparisons, I seem to have wandered into a clearing.

With the dragon standing right in the middle of it.

And some vomit coloured fellow trying to do some kind of mating ritual with said dragon.

Having realised I’ve stumbled into the two’s very intimate moment, the dragon does the mythical creature equivalent of screeching at the top of its lungs and flying off.

And I swear I must physically be in an airport right now because that felt like a helicopter taking off.

Not that I’ve ever felt that.

I’m sure poor blokes like me would slobber all over a helicopter if we ever got our hands on one.

Anyways, we’re off topic, the manlet is gone now and apparently the dragon shit its non-existent pants leaving some kind of droplet shaped thingamabob. 

So I pocket it.

Not because I’m into that, ew, but because who knows how much it’ll sell for?

I might be on death’s doorstep right now but despite that the sigma grindset stops for nothing.

Or Romanian grindset, depends on who you ask.

…

Man.

This is one weird, weird trip.

Is Lumine a god?

Has she cursed me for sharing that hbomberguy video with her?

You know what.

I’m not going to be the soyjak today!

I shall simply embody Zeno of Citium and become the stoic of all time.

Putting on my mogging face, I march and mew onwards out into this strange, exotic and potentially non-existent world.

It might just be the Netherlands but with a dragon for some reason, or maybe I just invented a weird mediaeval fantasy Dutchcore world in my head for my stoned ass to explore before I tear my own rectum.

Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

I shall stop for nothing.

And right as I step outside the forest my stoic expression is shattered.

Once again shitting bricks into my poor pants I jump what feels like six feet in the air as someone calls out to me.

“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

Chapter Text

After performing a leap more athletic than anything I could ever conjure up in my wettest of dreams, and I’m talking like London on a good day wet, the girl stops right in front of me.

“May the Anemo god protect you, stranger!”

I never knew drugs gave you hallucinations like these.

“I am Amber, Outrider for the Knights of Favonius.”

What of the what for the what?

“You don’t look like a citizen of Mondstat. Explain yourself!”

Huh?

“Uh, you talking to me?”

“Of course I’m talking to you! It’s not like there’s anyone else around!”

Wha?

“So? Got anything to say or should I take you down to the dungeon?”

DUNGEON?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Nevermind, this isn’t Dutchcore, this is 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 core! 

“Whoa whoa whoa! Look, I’m not looking for any trouble!”

“That’s what all the troublemakers say.”

This might be the hardest challenge I’ve ever had to face.

Talking to a woman.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Uh, it’s Aether Akmatov.”

“...Doesn’t sound like a local name to me.”

Look man. 

What do you want my name to be? 

Jan de Jong? 

Or whatever else Dutch people are named?

Get out of my hair WOMAN!

I GET PAID MORE THAN YOU AND I’M UNEMPLOYED!!!

“So, you’re a traveller, right?”

“Yeah? Kinda?”

She gives me a weird look.

“Well look, there’s been a large dragon sighted around Mondstadt recently. Best you get inside the city as soon as possible. It’s not far from here, I’ll escort you there.”

“Really? Thanks!”

Man what kind of trip is this?

Where did Lumine get this shit?

Call her Walter White because these are some ARTISAN hallucinations. 

Also because she’s balding.

Don’t tell her I said that, but it’s the truth.

She got hair implants and everything, it’s crazy how she has to do allat just to not look like the ogre she is.

“Alright, strange yet respectable traveler, make sure you stick close to me, alright?”

Considering I got my ass beat by literal WATER, yeah, I think I’ll do that. 

“So, suspicious traveler, what are you doing in Mondstadt?”

SUSPICIOUS?????

SUS?????

The brainrot’s getting to me. 

“Honestly, I don’t really know, I think I got a little lost.”

“Lost? Well don’t worry, once we take you back to the city, we’ll help you get back home in no time!”

How, exactly, did I end up in the Netherlands all the way from my glorious motherland of Kyrgyzstan?

Look man,

I have no clue.

This probably isn’t real anyways and I’ll wake up in a puddle of my own feces and vomit any second now.

Any second now…

“Holy moly cheese and ravioli! What are those?!”

Amber gives me a nice rattle in the noggin with her bow.

“Shush! Those are hilichurls! How have you never seen one before? Look, have no fear, fair traveler, stay here and outrider Amber will take care of this!” 

Shoving my head into a bush, she vaults over some rocks before straight up shooting the thing with a bow.

I didn’t know the Dutch were this hard core.

Or maybe that thing IS the Dutch citizen here!

That makes more sense.

Shivering, quivering and queefing, I can but watch as the Dutch(?) woman jumps between the other Dutch while letting fly arrow after arrow, all while I sit upon my throne(hotel cuck chair(bush)).

After far too many explosions to be reasonable, she returns looking slightly singed.

“There we go! All done. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Only if you consider soreness being hurt.”

She chuckles.

“Alright! You don’t need to worry about those monsters anymore, come with me! A responsible knight must make sure to see you to the city safely.”

“Thanks…”

I didn’t know women could be knights.

This is all because of woke DEI pronoun indie-games isn’t it?

I always knew the Netherlands were puppets to the Democrats.

Did you know? 

Joe Biden isn’t his real name, It’s actually Jan Biemans, and he’s a Dutch plant in the US, and he was actually the one behind Almazbek Atambayev being freed from prison in 2022 because Atambayev actually helped Barack Obama and the Democrats find Osama bin Laden by putting microplastics and fluorine into his кымыз which he obviously demands daily because it’s кымыз(obviously) and then once located through the microplastics Manas himself felled Osama’s head in one swoop with his great blade that has killed every single Oirat and Uzbek and Tajik and all of glorious Kyrgyzstan’s enemies АЛГАЛАЙ БЕР, КЫРГЫЗ ЭЛ, АЗАТТЫКТЫН ЖОЛУНДА. ӨРКҮНДӨЙ БЕР, ӨСӨ БЕР, ӨЗ ТАГДЫРЫҢ КОЛУҢДА!!!!!!!!!!

As I tweak out of my mind, Amber suddenly stops me by clearing her throat after we pass under a stone arch. 

“Let me officially introduce the city of wind, dandelions and freedom, travelers under the protection of the Knights of Favonius, welcome to Mondstadt!”

I swear Stadt actually just like straight up means city in German or Dutch(Swamp German).

“Nice city?”

“Why thank you! Mondstadt is a really nice city, though you should see it when people aren’t looking so… Down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, everyone’s been put out of place by Stormterror recently, that being the dragon I mentioned earlier.”

Wow.

They named the dragon.

And it’s even a lame ass name.

“But don’t worry, everything will turn out fine as long as Jean’s with us!”

Jean?

The pants?

“Who?”

“Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius - Jean, Defender of Mondstadt.”

I ain’t reading allat.

“With Jean on our side, surely even the vicious Stormterror will be no match for us.”

And surely if we give Hitler Czechoslovakia, we’ll have peace in our time…

Fucking MORONS!!!

THERE IS NO HOPE!!!

THE WEST HAS FALLEN!!!

BILLIONS MUST DIE!!!!!

“Have no fear, though, because you’ll be out of here in no time!”

“I’m pretty far from home, but you know what? I can only hope so.”

“You underestimate the Knights of Favonius. And me especially! There’s nowhere too far for outrider Amber, you know?”

Yeah, that's cause you’re Europeans.

You walk for two seconds and you’re already in a new city.

You aren’t built for the steppes and mountains of the Tian Shan you yakubian freak of nature.

“I look forward to seeing you prove me wrong.”

Through the surprisingly open cobbled streets of the city I trail behind Amber like a child in a COSTCO shortly before being kidnapped and sold to a human trafficking ring of American pedophilic billionaires. 

“This used to be a bustling street… but with so many Stormterror attacks recently, the usual crowds are nowhere to be seen.”

“Really?”

“Well, that is, except for the local tavern near the city wall over there. They haven’t been affected. If anything, their business is better than ever.”

“You know what? Thanks for the recommendation. I could use a drink with all this.”

“Stressful trip, huh? Don’t worry, all your woes will wash away in a glass of our signature dandelion wine!”

“I look forward to it.”

I don’t actually.

I hate wine.

Lager my GOAT.

Wait, isn't this place Dutch???

They should have plenty of beer.

Heineken, to be more specific.

Too bad Heineken is mid.

“You said your home is far from here, right? Where exactly do you come from?”

“Take a guess.”

“Hm… Blond hair, a faraway homeland and an eccentric way of dressing… It’s got to be Fontaine!”

“Never heard of it.”

“Really? Um… Could you repeat your name again?”

“Aether Akmatov.”

“Akmatov! Sounds Snezhnayan!”

“Is that even a real place?”

“What?! Alright, I give up, just tell me already.”

I clear my throat and well up all the patriotism that is already leaking from my seams.

“I, Aether Akmatov, am a proud citizen of the glorious, ever serene, divinely blessed, sun kissed, mountains studded Great Republic of Kyrgyzstan, land of snowy mountains, steppes and valleys, inhabited only by the sons and daughters of Manas himself, locked arm in arm together all marching forwards to keep prospering, for it is only in our hands destiny lie!”

“That's great! But, uh, am I… Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

Ah…

I shed a single tear for all those folks out there who don’t know about my glorious nation.

Which is a lot, actually, because for some reason people don’t seem to care about a random mountainous country in central Asia, surrounded by other countries people don’t know about.

But it’s okay.

2030 NEW WORLD SUPERPOWER JUST YOU WAIT JUST FIVE MORE YEARS AND KYRGYZSTAN WILL SURPASS CHINA AND RUSSIA AND THE US AS THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD!!!

“O-oh! I’m sorry! Was that rude?!”

“No… Don’t worry about it. I get that a lot.”

“Sorry… But really, with how proud of it you are, it sounds like a great country!”

“No it isn’t. It’s dogshit. I hate it.”

“Oh. 

Well, um… Welcome to the Knights of Favonius’ headquarters! Come in, come in. We just need to get some paperwork sorted, and you’ll be on your way back home in no time!”

She leads me into the medieval-esque castle looking thing and I’m really not surprised these typhoid ridden bottom feeders still live in castles.

Mongoloids, I tell you.

After wandering about for a bit, Amber knocks on one of the many IDENTICAL doors with a little bit of hesitation.

“This is Hertha’s office, right?”

A muffled ‘Yes!’ is the reply.

She swings open the door and walks in, with all the concern Westerners afford to literally anybody poorer than them.

Or who are a single shade darker than them.

But in glorious Kyrgyzstan, we don’t have racism!

Only systemic corruption.

And widespread poverty.

ANOTHER COMMON W FOR KYRGYZSTAN WOOOOOO GIVE IT UP FOR THE 34TH MOST CORRUPT COUNTRY LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WE’RE ONLY THE 146TH MOST CORRUPT COUNTRY OUT OF 180!!!!!

KYRGYZSTAN NUMBER 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What is it, Amber? If you need more mission report copies, they’re on the table.”

“It’s not that, the mission went off without a hitch! Well, except for the fact I found this interesting fellow wandering around the Whispering Woods. Oh yeah! Aether, this is Hetha, Captain of the 6th Company! And Hertha, this is Aether, a lost traveler hailing from… where was it again?”

“Kyrgyzstan.”

“Cargistan!”

She stops scrawling on the paper in front of her for a moment while raising her eyebrows.

“...Where?”

“Kyrgyzstan, you know? Central Asia, south of Russia and Kazakhstan, west of China…”

“Real places please!”

“What do you mean ‘real places’? Do you not know what Russia is?! The cold place, with the strong alcohol and poor people! And China’s the one where all your plastic garbage is made!”

“Traveler, I assure you, I h-”

And then she’s cut off by a loud crash.

Amber immediately scrambles to look out the window as a commotion immediately develops in the hall outside.

“The sky…!”

A very familiar ground shaking shriek tears my ear drum like a younger sibling after I hit them after they distract me and make me throw my RANKED game of LEAGUE!!!

IT’S YOUR FAULT I’M IRON 4 NOW SO YOU DESERVE IT!!!!!

Peeking over Amber’s shoulder, literal tornadoes swirl around outside.

“Holy smokes!”

I didn’t know we were in Mississippi!

All we’re missing now is a group of KKK members strolling about.

“Traveler, stay here! The Knights will take care of this!”

As the two, and presumably, everyone else scrambles outside, I, like the manly man I am, hide under a table.

It’s gonna be a long day.