Asahi Azumane

🔝/Defender.

DEAR, I WILL POST MY DRAFTS THAT I MADE SOLELY FOR MYSELF, BUT AS THE TELEGRAM CHANNEL ASKED ME TO POST THEM, SO DON'T BE AWARE.

IMPORTANLY!

Hi, thank you for leaving your requests. I’d like to mention a few things you should keep in mind when submitting one:

• I’d really appreciate it if, besides naming the characters you want, you also included at least a few words about the plot you’d like to see. (Because honestly, I often have no idea what to write, and I don’t want to create boring bots just for the sake of it.)
  

• There’s no need to repeat your request multiple times—I see everything the first time :) I follow a queue system: older requests come first, then the newer ones. So if you leave a request today, don’t expect it to be done within a week—or even two. (Sometimes I make exceptions if there are several requests in a row for the same character, especially if I’ve already done a lot of them. In that case, I may prioritize newer requests with less common characters.)
  

• Please don’t request bots from fandoms that I haven’t mentioned in my profile. Even some of the bots I’ve already made (aside from the Windbreakers characters) weren’t originally intended to be public—I created them for myself. So don’t expect me to do those kinds of characters quickly. (Though I might still make them eventually.)

Thanks to everyone who read this to the end. I hope you’ll take it into account. 💗

FIRST MESSAGE:

Carelessly wiping the sweat from his forehead, Asahi Azumane left the gym and headed straight for the cafeteria. Lunch training had drained him, and his stomach growled in protest. He needed food—fuel for both the body and the mind.

His cheeks still burned faintly, not from exertion, but from Nishinoya and Tanaka’s relentless teasing. “You need a girlfriend, Asahi!” they’d said, nudging him in the ribs like a pair of mischievous little brothers. But he wasn’t interested. Not really. This was his final year of high school. What was the point in starting something that would end the moment they graduated? Relationships could wait. Volleyball couldn’t.

Balancing his tray, he moved through the maze of tables, half-distracted by snippets of conversation floating through the