written-in-the-clouds - Tumblr blog

[written-in-the-clouds]

i promise i will have a fic out soon. also unrelated send me fantasy high (season one) requests 🙏 🙏 🙏

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the bad kids are so cool, i wish friend groups were real

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hi guys i promise im alive....i have two requests & ill get to writing soon :)

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if i added mha to the list of fandoms i write for…

[written-in-the-clouds]

To put it lightly, Kaveh is incensed.

Sat at the dining room table, seething with a tick to his square jaw, all of his thoughts scrambling for some semblance of purchase.

Just who do you think you are? How did you find out about his debt, and more importantly, why did you pay it off in its entirety for no good reason? Most importantly, who are you? Taking the moral high ground by wiping all of his financial troubles clean anonymously is...

...is a wonderful thing. He's so grateful that there are tears in his eyes as he fights the urge to stand up from his mandated breather to hunt you down himself. If you know about his issues, who's to say that you don't know about his living situation too? He'd been so careful - well, save for the time he'd gotten a little tipsy and blabbed to the whole tavern - but that's neither here nor there!

But what is he supposed to do, really? His hands are idle, and no work is getting done because for once he doesn't have to crunch any commissions. There's nothing to pay off, nothing glaring to make up for because that's all he's been doing for years and years. Running in circles, dragging his own feet - so much so that he truly thought he was fated to be miserable. He can breathe a bit easier, and he actually tastes the humidity seeping into the house.

You are horribly audacious, but Kaveh can't even express it because you are philanthropic to boot. It's humiliating, thinking of himself as a charity case, even if it's true; he lives rent-free in his sort-of-friend's home, hanging off of Alhaitham's back like a leech, struggling to find work that he actually likes. But now? Now there is one less monumental burden obscuring his creative vision for the future.

Archons. He's crying, wiping away the beading tears with his coarse palms. Kaveh can't even thank you or give you anything in return. He knows it's petty to be bitter about a miracle such as this - so many have it worse and hope for this everyday - but it stings. It stings like a scorpion, venom spreading slowly to every limb before lulling him into a delirious fever dream. It stings because he couldn't pull himself out of the mess that he made.

He rises from his chair with a vengeance before realizing how silly he looks with his hackles raised. He has to do something... try to track you down, maybe. He could try to get some more information out of Dori, narrow down the list of suspects. Yes, that's what he'll do next.

The logistics of this plan contribute to Kaveh's (oddly painless) headache that he's nursing. It's too late in the day to interrogate anyone right now, though it doesn't stop him from imagining doing so as he goes about doing pointless chores to keep himself occupied. The dishes are surely going to get scuffed with the force of his scrubbing... sometimes he forgets he slings a claymore around.

What will he say when he finds you? He could try and convince you to ask for a refund, if that's even possible. Surely your sizable wealth could be put to use somewhere better - an actual noble cause, perhaps. If that doesn't work, he could always do some work for you off the books. That's what got him into this mess, after all - passion and his craft and whatever else other scholars would turn their noses up at.

Would you even accept his service? It's the least he could do. Kaveh's mind can't help but conjure up all sorts of ideas of what you might be like, images of foreign dignitaries on vacation to juggernauts of old money flashing before him. No matter, he'll pay you back no matter what.

Before he truly he goes to bed that night, Kaveh is struck by the epiphany that debt truly controls his life. If he is not in Dori's, he is in Alhaitham's. If he is not in Alhaitham's, he's in yours - whoever you may be. No kindness offered to him will ever belay the guilty bite of his lip, but only worsen how deep he drives his teeth in. As always, he pushes that thought deep down into the recesses of his mind.

Instead of acknowledging that he is cruel to himself, he will paint you as the cruel one.

It's what he does best, artist that he is.

[written-in-the-clouds]

hello!

i’m starry and a bazillion other names. system but if you bring syscourse here i legally get to kill you. check out our collective names and pronouns here ! i write x reader stuff at @written-in-the-clouds aaand our main blog is @starry-voidss

for the most part we have platonic/familial/queerplatonic selfships but there’s the occasional romantic one! currently hyperfixated on genshin impact.

list of current f/os under the cut! bolded are main focus rn

- Kaeya - Genshin Impact (familial/found family)

- Raphael - Genshin OC (queerplatonic)

- Wolfgang - Genshin OC (queerplatonic)

- Amber - Genshin Impact (platonic)

- Yun Jin - Genshin Impact (platonic)

- Xinyan - Genshin Impact (platonic)

- Layla - Genshin Impact (platonic)

[written-in-the-clouds]

being best friends with Xingqiu and working on an essay together...

can you guys tell what i'm procrastinating... sorry if xingqiu is a bit ooc i tried my best <//3

“Hear me out,” you said, sitting upside down on the bed, “what if I didn’t write my essay?”

Xingqiu dropped a bag of chocolates next to you, and you scrambled upright and grabbed the bag, only for Xingqiu to snatch it back. “These are for rewards, not to snack,” Xingqiu scolded, and you groaned.

“But it’s chocolate…”

“Precisely why it is the perfect reward,” Xingqiu said, sliding your computer towards you. “Time to get started. I have the same essay to write, you know. Let us work on it together, beginning with the outline.”

You muttered a few complaints, adjusting your position with your laptop on your lap, as Xingqiu opened his own laptop at his desk. You talked over the prompt for the essay, and began typing out an outline.

After a bit of silence, Xingqiu said, “Let us take a break.” He lowered his laptop screen and tapped on his phone. As he stood, music began to play: a playlist both of you had created, with both of your favorite songs. He looked over to you, still squinting at your computer, and poked your shoulder. “How much have you completed?”

“…Half of the outline,” you muttered, irritated with yourself. You were struggling to focus, even with the promise of chocolate once you finished.

Something hit your arm, and you glanced down to see one of the promised chocolates. “But I haven’t completed anything,” you protested.

“You’ve made progress, and deserve it.” Xingqiu said, opening his own chocolate and popping it in his mouth. “Take a break.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, pushing your laptop to the side and standing. The chocolate was slightly melted from the heat of summer, but still delicious. The playlist switched to one of your songs, and you mumbled the lyrics under your breath, stretching out your limbs. Xingqiu smiled at you.

When the song ended, Xingqiu turned off the music. “Another twenty minutes of writing,” he said, “and then we’ll take another break.”

Working together with Xingqiu, the essay feels much more manageable. And when you’ve finished everything, he tosses you two chocolates with a grin.

[written-in-the-clouds]

stardew valley elliott with a writer!teen!reader. who knows where their parents are? they literally just follow him around and now that's just... his kid, unofficially adopted. like yeah he just found this random teenager???? but he gets along well with them so he guesses he's a father figure now????? Post Now.

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i’ve got a long car ride tomorrow ~ considering writing something for stardew valley…

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! please reblog !

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! please reblog !

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! please reblog !

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! please reblog !

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hey all!! i've been working on the genshin choose your own adventure a ton so i haven't had a chance to write oneshots :( have some snippets and quotes!

“We might be able to sneak out.”

Both of their heads snapped to you. “Are you encouraging this?” Wolfgang said, exasperated.

“What’s the plan?” Raph added.

Wolfgang gave them an annoyed look. “We are not sneaking out.”

You swiped away the quest. “We’re sneaking out.”

-

"Being suspicious is a hobby of yours?"

-

"Can you wait here?" [nods] [waits for a second] [leaves]

-

“Do you have all of the towns of Mondstadt memorized?”

-

You’ve hesitated for too long. Kaeya’s small smile remained fixed. “Really? You haven’t noticed?”

“Of course I have,” you said, too quickly. 

“So this is a new development?”

You didn’t know what to say. Admit he was right, and whatever came after that; or continue to lie and hope he stopped pressing. 

Your silence was enough of an answer by itself.

-

Kaeya was quiet, at that. Then he nodded, took a sip of his drink, and said, “If you ever change your mind, I’m here.” Then he turned and walked inside, leaving you alone with the cool summer breeze.

[written-in-the-clouds]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ SUBSTITUTE BIG BROTHER. platonic pm!dazai & reader !

synopsis. dazai is reduced to his lowest form: babysitter for chuuya's sibling. contents. PLATONIC. chuuya's younger sibling!reader. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. fluff. 1.9k words. notes. dazai gets some fluff, as a treat. and as an apology for the amount of pain i am putting him through with the next thing in my drafts. ALSO this is an old, completed draft and was my first time writing dazai so apologies for any mischaracterization.

“You’re kidding me.” Dazai said dryly, staring at the kid before him. They met his gaze with a fiery glare, daring him to continue.

“Do you have something to say?” they snapped. Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Go on, spit it out.”

“I’m only wondering how that yappy little dog’s precious sibling managed to escape their kennel,” Dazai hummed, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards as they began to protest. They sounded just as furious as their brother; the resemblance amused him immensely. “Aren’t you supposed to be… anywhere but here?”

The question was out of courtesy more than anything; Dazai knew the answer very well. Chuuya was tight-lipped about almost every aspect of his life that wasn’t intertwined with the Port Mafia, but his sibling was one detail that Dazai had managed to squeeze out. It wasn’t voluntary, mind you. It was more that Chuuya was explaining his life before the Mafia to Kouyou during one of their evenings drinking tea together, and Dazai had started eavesdropping at the right moment.

When he casually dropped their name during a conversation a week later, Chuuya has gone still for only a moment, before shoving him against the nearest wall and holding a knife to his throat.

“How the fuck do you know about them?” Chuuya had hissed.

Dazai wheezed, for once caught off guard. He’d been expecting Chuuya to react emotionally, but the idea that he would resort to murder within seconds had somehow slipped his mind. “Perhaps Chuuya shouldn’t leave the door open if he doesn’t want his conversations being overheard. I’m sure Ane-san would agree, it was her conversation too.”

Chuuya turned white. His grip loosened, and Dazai slipped away from his grasp. “Shit.”

“Mhm!” Dazai said in a singsong voice, readjusting his collar. “So, tell me about them. How old are they?”

“I’m not talking to you about them, you bastard.” Chuuya tucked his knife away, shoving past Dazai with far more force than was necessary.

“Oh, come on,” Dazai whined childishly, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. “Would you prefer to talk to Boss about them?”

Chuuya’s face turned the prettiest shade of red. “You wouldn’t dare—”

“Of course, Chuuya wouldn’t keep such a key detail of his life hidden away for no reason.” Dazai interrupted. “And maybe I could find it in myself to omit said detail when the Boss questions me about where he’s been disappearing to, for a price, of course—”

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Chuuya scoffed. “Fine. I’ll owe you a favour, and in exchange you do not breathe a word of their existence to anyone. They don’t exist to you, got it?”

Even when trying to appear confident, there was still a note of anxiety in his tone. The mere mention of his sibling was enough to rattle him, it seemed. Dazai paused for a moment, letting Chuuya stew in his restlessness.

“Well? Do we have a deal, asshole?”

He agreed. He wouldn’t tell a soul about [Name], and Chuuya would postpone smothering him in his sleep until he had reasonable cause. Their little secret, Dazai called it—as if anything could stay secret from the Boss for long.

One of the prerequisites for making sure the Port Mafia never knew of their existence, was ensuring that they took careful steps to prevent contact with members of said Port Mafia. An easy way for that to be guaranteed was to avoid any and all places associated with the Mafia, to minimise the chances of bumping into any unsavoury types that might consider their relation to Chuuya to be a weakness to exploit.

All this to say: the last place they should be was right in the middle of Port Mafia territory.

Dazai sighed. “Chuuya will be mad that you’re here, you know.”

“Who even are you?” they asked, in lieu of an answer.

“I’m hurt!” he gasped, grasping at the front of his shirt like a Victorian woman clutching her pearls. “Is Chuuya so cruel that he never mentions his own partner?”

“Are you Dazai?” they asked, wrinkling their nose at him. “Chuuya won’t shut up about you. He thinks you’re really annoying.”

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” He laughed. “What else does he say about me? Does he tell you about how I can shoot a gun better than he ever will? How one touch from me renders his ability useless? How I’ve beat him in every round of arcade games we have ever played together?”

“He actually said you were big-headed, but I think I could have gathered that myself.” They said dryly.

“Tch. Such a mean dog, spreading lies about me.” Dazai complained, but his mind was elsewhere. He eyed the rumpled state of their clothes and dark circles around their eyes. If they were desperate enough to ignore their brother’s warning to keep away while he was working, the matter must be urgent, and Dazai knew Chuuya would bite his head off if he left them alone in such a dangerous place.

“Why don’t we wait for your brother somewhere nicer than here?” Dazai suggested. “I know a place that isn’t too far, that we both frequent.”

“Am I being kidnapped?” They asked warily.

“Why would I want to kidnap someone as unpleasant as you?” Dazai scrunched his nose up at the thought. “Besides, I’m supposed to be helping keep your existence on the downlow. That becomes difficult if everyone in the Port Mafia catches wind of a strange young person asking for Chuuya.”

“They won’t,” they said, but their voice was doubtful.

Dazai turned, tucking his hands in his pockets and walking back the way he’d come. “Come on. It’s not a long walk.”

The lights and sounds of the arcade were a dull comfort on Dazai’s senses. A chime of the bell above the door greeted them both when they entered, the cashier looked up and gave them a nod.

“Have you been here before?” Dazai asked, and they shook their head. “Excellent! As your benevolent guide, I will be happy to show you around.”

“I thought we were waiting for my brother?” They squint at him suspiciously.

“Of course, but we might as well have fun while we're at it.” Dazai steered them over to the corner to the best machine in the arcade, the game that him and Chuuya had a running bet on who could beat.

It was a basic side-scrolling hack-and-slash game, with only four controls and very simple graphics. What made it stand out was not the game itself, but how infamously hard it was. The first few levels were easy, but once the game deemed the player had an adequate understanding of the controls and how the game worked, it would increase in difficulty until the player was left in an aggravatingly high-speed bullet hell that took an inhuman amount of dexterity to defeat.

There were 100 levels in total. Dazai—who had his initials permanently at the top of the high score board—had only manged to get past level 96.

“This is the best test of skill that this arcade offers.” Dazai slid a token into the machine and he was met with a title screen he had seen many times before. The tinny music came out of the speakers, cheerfully announcing the name of the game. The player character appeared—a little red and black silhouette of a person—as well as the first enemy.

“It's deceptively simple—”

Jump. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

It was a pattern, muscle memory that had settled into his fingers. His movements were precise and measured and not a second off the mark.

“—But it gets difficult.”

Jump. Dodge. Punch. Slide.

He was close. So close.

“If you just—”

Dodge. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

Level 97 appeared across the screen—the highest he’d ever gotten before.

“—Keep going...”

Dodge. Dodge. Slide. Punch—

Game over.

“...Ugh.”

Dazai slumped in his seat, miserably entering his initials into the high score again. Chuuya would be cursing his name if he knew that he had managed to once again overtake him, but he could hardly savour the thought when he wasn't there to witness it.

With a sigh, Dazai glanced over to [Name] beside him. They were watching the screen, but their foot was tapping against the ground in an uneven rhythm, and they were picking at the edges of their nails without even seeming to realize it.

The anxiousness had set in again, it seemed. Dazai cleared his throat. “Do you want to try?”

“...Alright.”

Somewhere between the first and twelfth round of games, he’d sent a short message to the contact in his phone labelled ‘Slug’.

come to the arcade. i have a surprise :P

And when that message was left on read, Dazai decided to clarify further with a second.

the surprise is [name] by the way.

By the time their thirteenth round finished and [Name] left to use the restroom, the doors were slamming open and a familiar person with red hair and wild eyes burst in. He scanned the room, locating Dazai’s bandaged self easily heading straight for him.

“Where are they?” he hissed, turning back and forth like they would appear beside him when he wasn’t looking.

“Who? I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about?” Dazai asked innocently, as if he had done anything innocent in a long time.

“Don’t mess around! Where the fuck is—”

“Chuuya.” A voice dripping with relief cut right through Chuuya’s rising yell. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“[Name]!” Chuuya spun around, the tension melting from his stance as he saw them. “Where were you? I got home and you weren’t there.”

“I was looking for you.” They glanced over to Dazai, and lowered their voice. The rest of their exchange was muffled under the sounds of beeping and chimes from the arcade machine. Throughout it, Dazai stood frozen watching the pair.t

“We’re leaving,” Chuuya said, after what felt like hours of whispering. “…Thank you for looking out for them today.”

“You thank me like I did it out of the goodness of my heart,” Dazai said with a laugh. “That’s one more favour Chuuya owes me now.”

“Bastard. See if I ever thank you for anything again.” Chuuya growled, turning on his heel and pulling his sibling along with him.

Dazai watched the pair leave, his eyes lingering on their retreating forms. It was unsettling how easily they molded to fit the other’s company; the way Chuuya unconsciously matched his steps to theirs, the way the tension melted from their shoulders the moment they laid eyes on him. Even the tone of Chuuya’s voice softened when he addressed them, which was a sight that Dazai didn’t think he was capable of.

Was this family? Did Dazai act this way long ago when he had a relatives of his own? He could hardly fathom reaching such a closeness with anyone, let alone a family. Was he even capable of such a thing, being the broken, shell of a being he was?

Dazai shook his head, ridding himself of the trivial thoughts clouding his mind. When he left, he left alone.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[written-in-the-clouds]

FAMILY LINE. — In which Venti aids a lost little one.

— trigger & content warnings. draff is a shitty parent, child neglect, alcohol and referenced alcoholism, parentified reader, etc.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. venti & child!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is diona's biological older sibling and therefore has cat-like features. 2.5k words.

— author's thoughts. (about draff) oh BROTHER this guy STINKS!!!!!!!!!!! i fucking hate draff, this is a draff hater household <3

       Sharply cold droplets of rain battered their skin as they stumbled blindly through the woods.

       It was normally quite the easy feat for them to see clearly at night, but the water clinging to their lashes made it significantly more challenging; they had to squint to even have a chance of seeing at all, and they were constantly blinking away the wetness. It was no easier for them to hear or smell—the sound of the rain and rolling thunder overwhelmed their sensitive ears (that were now pinned firmly against their head in some feeble attempt at muffling the sounds) and the earthy scent of dirt and grass drowned out any potential indicators of where they were. Despite having such heightened senses, they were so easily rendered helpless. It didn't help that they were sure it was already late into the night—yes, the rain contributed to the darkness, but it was irregularly so. It had to be the middle of the night, or close to it.

       Cold, wet, tired, and lost in the woods behind Springvale with all of their senses hopelessly stifled...

       Dread crept into their chest. A whimper threatened to slip through their lips, but they swallowed it down and pushed onward. As gratifying as it would probably be to do so, caving in on themselves and crying like the lost child that they were would be completely and truly useless; weeping would not help them get home. It would not make the rain stop, and it would not make their senses grow strong enough to help them navigate through the rain. They had no choice other than to continue moving forward.

       The wind howled violently, whipping cruelly at whatever flesh was exposed and even at that which was not, since the rain had dampened their clothes so severely that the fabric clung impossibly tightly to their skin, therefore offering little to no protection against the brutality of the wind. They squeezed their eyes shut as they pushed against it.

       "Ah—!"

       A frightened gasp was snatched from their chest as their foot was caught by an exposed root, causing them to tumble forwards and downwards.

       They didn't scream, though perhaps that could be attributed to their utterly paralyzing terror, or perhaps they recognized that the sound would only be completely and utterly swallowed by the raging storm. Trembling arms shot outwards in a panicked attempt to brace their fall down the hill, and...

       And they were fine—save for a few scrapes on their palms—caught in a stranger's arms (or what they assumed had been a stranger's arms) before they could hit the foot of the hill and potentially break something.

       "My, little one"—his nimble hands moved to help them stand up straight, and their eyes flicked to his face, panicked and disoriented expression shifting into one of reassured recognition—"playing in a storm this fierce? I admire your courage!"

       Venti, the passionate and enthusiastic bard that they sometimes encountered in Mondstadt City while running menial household errands that their father neglected to. If he wasn't busy performing, harassing Diluc, or doing who knew what, he was trailing after them, which they couldn't honestly say they minded. It was nice to have someone actively looking after them while they were in the city.

       (Though, they really could not help but wonder what he was doing out in such a storm, at such a late hour, but then again... he was an enigma—most of Mondstadt's population knew that, and so did they. Therefore, they did not ask.)

       Precise eyes shifted from his swirling green and blue gaze, riddled with something they couldn't quite discern, to the city gates. Oh. So that was where they ended up, then—a short distance from the bridge that crossed the lake, leading to the city's gates. Now that they knew where they were, they couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of embarrassment.

       "I wasn't playing, Venti," they murmured. The winds were calmer in his presence, no longer howling and whipping against their shivering body but instead swirling around them gently. "I was hunting, but it started raining, so..."

       "So you couldn't find your way home?"

       "Yeah."

       "I see," he mused, but sniffled before he could continue. They were quick to attempt to take a step back, squeaking out a sudden 'Sorry,' as if his allergy had only just occurred to them. There was no doubt in their mind that the rain was probably only making it worse, spreading whatever it was in their fur that Venti was allergic to even further than the air on its own normally would.

       They did not manage to get far, however. With a swiftness that could perhaps be attributed to his Anemo vision, he swept his cape off of his shoulders and draped it over their head. Over the scent of the rain, they could now catch a vague hint of fruit and flowers. Apples and cecilias, if they had to make a guess, since their senses were still muddled and largely overwhelmed by the scent of dirt.

       He turned away, sneezing into his arm.

       "But my fur will get all over it..." Their protest was weak at best as their little fingers clasped around the edges of the fabric, pulling it closer to their body. A chill had sunken into their bones quite a while ago, perpetuated by the wind blowing against the continuous rain pelting their skin, so the warmth that being wrapped in his cape provided was more than welcomed.

       "Worry not," the bard said with a smile. "A little fur won't hurt me... too bad, that is. Shall I walk you home, then?"

       They could get home on their own. Since they had emerged from the forest near one of the commonly-traversed paths to Springvale, they knew that they could easily find their way home without getting lost a second time.

       "Okay."

       ...But Venti's presence was warmly comforting, and they did not want to be alone again with only the rumbling thunder and distant flashes of lightning for company. He probably would have walked them back, anyway, regardless of if they insisted on being able to do it themselves.

       He held out a hand for them. It was more of an offer than a requirement, but they were nonetheless happy to place their hand in his while the other maintained its hold on his cape.

       It was then that the walk back to the little village a short ways away from the city began.

       His fingertips were thoroughly calloused; they supposed that was the impact of years of archery and lyre playing. It wasn't something they were bothered by, nor was it something they were unfamiliar with—being born into a bloodline of renowned hunters made it so that their hands were not exactly soft, either. Somehow, though, the rougher nature of his hands was comforting. Fleetingly, they mused to themselves that it was quite similar to how their father's hands felt.

       The walk was largely silent, save for the rain and thunder that had faded into the background and the gentle hum that originated from their companion. It made their ears stand upwards attentively. They did not recognize that particular song, and they had attended many—but not all—of his performances. It was completely possible that they had simply missed the time that he sang it. Either that, or...

       "Have you performed that song before?"

       "Nope!" the bard chimed, suddenly raising their conjoined hands and twirling them; they squeaked in surprise at first, but then giggled and joyously obliged him. Whatever unease that managed to nudge its way into their soul and settle there had almost entirely dissipated by then. "Do you like it?"

       "Uh-huh. It sounds pretty."

       "Well, in that case, I'll have to be sure to perform it the next time you're in Mondstadt City!" He paused, then added on, "Free of charge for my littlest fan, of course."

       They pouted, absentmindedly swinging his hand in theirs back and forth. "I'm not little. I can take care of myself, y'know... and I'll bring you an apple, anyway, even if I don't have to."

       Amusement danced in his eyes at their annoyance. "Oh? I'll think of it as a gift from you, then, little one."

       "I'm not little!"

       "Sure~"

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It took less than half an hour to reach their hometown. With Venti at their side, the time felt exceptionally short.

       (A vague sense of sadness invaded their mind at the thought of having to part from him and return to their household. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what would await them, and they were not looking forward to have to care for a blackout drunk grown man again.)

       "We're here," the bard announced, freeing their hand from his hold. He watched as they hesitantly approached their front door. Something knowing brewed in the light tones of his voice as he said, "Take care of yourself, little one."

       "I will— oh!" they gasped, realizing that they had not given his cape back. As they gingerly unwrapped themselves from it, they turned back. "Wait, Venti—"

       ...He was already gone. It was like he had vanished into the wind, gone just as fast and suddenly as he seemed to arrive earlier. 

       "Oh."

       Well, they supposed they would give it to him the next time they had to run into the city for household supplies. At least his spontaneous disappearance gave them time to clean it up; it was the polite thing to do, they thought, as they turned back to their front door.

       A soft breath was sucked in through their nose as they turned the handle, entering quietly.

       Unlocked. Of course it was. Their father had probably forgotten to lock it—they would not, however. After closing the door behind themselves, they quickly turned the locks, before facing the living space. Their ears twitched, picking up the sound of snoring.

       Ah. Their father was sprawled on the couch, his own ears twitching absently in his sleep.

       They'd check on him in a moment—their first concern was where their little sister was.

       With swift and silent steps, they padded across the room, down a hallway, and up a set of stairs. A breath that they were not aware they were holding was released; talking to their father when he had been drinking was... largely unpleasant, if for no other reason than his drawling, slurred tone that grated their nerves. He wasn't particularly mean or nasty, but something about talking to him when he was so incapacitated lit their nerves on fire with poorly-contained anger.

       A soft creak resonated through the hall as they opened their sister's door.

       A sleepy mumble caught their attention. "[Name]..?"

       They smiled.

       Gingerly treading over to the small bed pushed into a corner, they whispered, "Shh. Hi, Diona~"

       She blearily blinked up at them, yawning a wide yawn that exposed her little fangs. Her hands, balled into tiny fists, tried to rub away at the sleep in her eyes to little avail.

       "Did you eat?" they asked quietly, stroking her pink hair soothingly, as if to lull her back to sleep. A quiet, barely audible purr rose from her throat.

       "Mm-hm. Fruit."

       "Just fruit?"

       "Yeah. The ones you picked earlier," she mumbled. "They were really good."

       "Are you still hungry?" She shook her head, and they hummed. "Okay. I'll make you fish in the morning, then... go back to sleep for now. I'm home now, so if you need anything, come get me."

       She nodded, stretching briefly before curling back up. They took that as their sign to go back downstairs, leaving her door cracked open the smallest bit as they did. They tip-toed their way to the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets until they found what they were looking for, face lighting up triumphantly when they did—a bottle of painkillers, courtesy of Albedo, who was reluctant to give them to such a young child at first, but ultimately handed them over when they explained that the medicine was not for them.

       After filling a cup with water and placing a few pieces of bread on a plate, they made their way back to the living room, where their father was resting. 

       (Bread was good for... something, wasn't it? They weren't entirely sure. Even if it wasn't, they really didn't feel like making anything more elaborate; they were still wet, cold, and tired. It wasn't even their job to take care of him, so if it wasn't sufficient, then /he/ would have to do something about it. That was never meant to be their job.)

       As quietly as they could manage, they set the items down on the coffee table.

       Thankfully, he did not so much as stir.

       They hurried back upstairs to run a warm bath for themselves.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       It was a few days later that Venti caught wind of their return to Mondstadt City.

       After exchanging pleasantries with Blanche, they bought a few things that were far more difficult to produce at home, things that had longer and more painstaking processes behind their production—salt, pepper, cheese... all of their items were tucked neatly in a little basket they'd taken from home, alongside an apple they had picked on their way to the city. Venti's cape was draped over their arm.

       ...They were a little worried that a few strands of their fur would still cling to it, despite how many times they hand-washed it with care and attention.

       He said it was okay, so they truly hoped it was.

       With a polite wave to Blanche, they turned on their heel and walked past Sara's shop towards the stairs leading to the city's second level.

       The slow churning of windmills overhead, the chatter of other citizens, and the joyful laughs of children younger than them running around and causing innocent-intentioned mischief...

       Mondstadt City indeed felt freer than their home. If they could spend every day here, away from home, they're certain that they would. The air did not threaten to suffocate them here, and their nerves did not light up in flames at every annoyance that crossed their path so long as they did not run into any of Mondstadt's notorious drunkards. 

       Treading up so many stairs to reach the Barbatos statue in front of the Cathedral did not feel like such a dreadful task when the wind was so lively and soft against their skin, much unlike the way it was on that stormy night a few days prior.

       A tune they faintly recognized only encouraged them even further, and their swift, tiny body flew up what remained of the stairs just to reach the source in time. They scurried over to the base of the statue to join the crowd that had formed around a familiar bard, missing his cape. His eyes seemed to brighten when he spotted them, and they grinned.

       Listening to the performance he had promised them, cape draped over their one arm and basket full of various items in the other, they felt content.

       Yes, they would later have to return to their household, burdened by their father's poor habits...

       ...But for now, they were happy and free, if only for a short time.

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[written-in-the-clouds]

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