flyingwargle

[flyingwargle]

freminet never thought of himself as a valuable hostage, but here he is, ankles and wrists tied behind his back, covered in dust from being manhandled by treasure hoarders.

he sits at the edge of their campsite, guarded by two holding crossbows. a fire illuminates the half dozen shadows responsible for his capture, drunk from stolen alcohol and singing shanties off-key and off-rhythm. their crooked voices and indiscernible words echo through the air.

energy swirls around him, but without his vision, he can only observe them, can barely coalesce the cryo threads into anything tangible. they’d taken his claymore too, right after he was ambushed. only his mechanical penguin was left at the scene, so hopefully, someone would pick it up and bring attention to it.

hopefully, that someone would be one of his siblings. it seems unlikely, however, because they have a show tonight, and it's routine for freminet to wait for them at home. based on the moon’s angle, it should’ve passed the midpoint by now.

"what'll we do with him, boss?" an inquiry aimed in his direction snaps him out of his thoughts. the shadows face him. he keeps his head low, eyes hidden behind his bangs.

"a scrawny kid like him isn't gonna fetch a lot of money," another comments.

"don't let looks deceive ya. this kid is part of the royal court. they'll pay a pretty penny for him." their leader takes a swig from his silver flask and belches. the scent of alcohol surrounds them. "so don't rough him up that badly. if you bruise him, who's to say they won't toss him out?"

laughter rises after him. freminet closes his eyes to lessen the sting, but there's truth in such words. the royal court is often compared to a painting – it depicts a snapshot of bourgeoisie dressed in petticoats and silk hats, but the layers underneath are rough and muddled. only a trained eye can identify a replica from the original.

he only tolerates it because of it’s the only avenue that utilizes his oceanographic skills. without the court, he has nowhere else to go.

the men return to their drunken rambles. freminet closes his eyes, becomes enveloped by the energy around him. anemo threads weave a patchwork through the sky, and geo pulses beneath him. electro crystals spark further along the trail, wreathed by dendro. hydro runs as a smooth curtain just out of earshot, and aside from the treasure hoarders' fire, there is no other trace of pyro.

...but what is that spark of flame blazing through the trees?

"what's that?"

freminet's eyes snap open. cards are falling from the sky. he recognizes the card backs anywhere, all with his brother's cat motif.

a few of the treasure hoarders catch them to inspect. their brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed. "what are these supposed to be?"

"your demise."

such a voice sends a shiver down freminet's spine, low with malice. the cards explode into smoke and the campfire flares. a powerful gust of wind sends smog across the clearing. a shadow approaches him as the guards dash into the fray.

"big sis?"

lynette materializes with a finger to her lips. with a snap of her wrist, she produces a pocketknife to slice through his ropes. "are you hurt?"

he shakes his head. the barest smile touches her lips. "good. do you know where they put your vision?"

"no."

"okay. i'll find it. keep still."

ahead of them, chaos has broken out. flame-tipped arrows fly in all directions, embedding into the ground and nearby trees. the treasure hoarders retaliate, from elemental bombs, shovels, and crossbows. there are shouts, grunts, cries. his brother is relentless.

the ropes fall slack. freminet rubs his chaffed wrists and takes lynette's hand to pull himself up. she manifests her sword and raises a hand to dispel the smoke. the fire is snuffed out, but lyney remains illuminated by his pyro.

it isn't common for freminet to see him fight. he knows his brother is adept with a bow, but it's frightening to see the extent of it.

cards fly in the air, snatching the treasure hoarders’ attention. a split second is all lyney needs to kick down his enemies and disarm them. he knocks them unconscious with a blow to the head, avoids all attacks that come his way. his top hat never wavers, just like the fire in his eyes. the moon serves as his spotlight.

lynette takes the rope and starts binding the unconscious treasure hoarders together. as the last one crumples to the ground, lyney dusts his hands off. "the curtain has fallen over another failure. enjoy your time in the cell block."

"they can't hear you," lynette comments mildly.

"it's stage commentary, my dear." lyney dismisses his bow and turns to freminet, scrutinizing him under a watchful eye. "you're not hurt?"

"no."

"bruises? cuts? elemental exhaustion?"

he shakes his head. lynette calls out, "one of the hoarders took his vision."

"you mean this?" lyney snaps his fingers and produces a cryo vision in his palm. "your claymore is over there. best to take that back before the police does.”

freminet fumbles to catch his vision. he fastens it back to his pant leg, stiffening when a hand rests on his shoulder, followed by a low murmur. “i’m sorry this happened in the first place.”

“oh…it just happened. it couldn’t have been predicted.” freminet shakes him off, raising his arm to clutch the opposite elbow. “i thought…i thought you wouldn’t come since you had a show…”

"we canceled it. how could we perform knowing our little brother is in danger? no matter where you are, if you're in trouble, we'll come." lyney smiles at him. "promise."

once the criminals are bound together, the siblings depart, already sensing the police's arrival. freminet walks between his older siblings, flanked by either side. no matter what awaits them, he knows that they'll always have one another.

[flyingwargle]

whumptober day 21: "don't move." / heikazu

it isn’t uncommon for a maple leaf to drift through the streets of inazuma city like a spark of hope in flurry of sakura petals. crimson like the setting sun, the maple leaf guides the innocent and falsely accused from corner to corner, alleyway to alleyway, until they reach freedom.

kazuha is not a city dweller. he was born in a small village, sheltered in his family’s estate, and followed lesser known trails after his prestige expired. were it not for the current situation, he would remain an occasional visitor, privy to izakaya restaurants for sake and poetry, rather than a shadow that lurked in the hidden depths, in defiance of the vision hunt decree.

“this way.” he knows every twist and turn, how each store organizes their garbage for disposal, which lamps are broken to create blind spots. behind him, a defected doushin and escaped pyro vision user falls into place, the doushin clutching his side. their escape ended in a fight – not ideal, but not impossible, either.

anemo is at their beck and call. he sweeps fallen petals to redirect any passerby’s attention, uses it to muffle their footsteps, creates illusions and other red herrings. the doushin, alerted of their jail break, fall for every misdirection. they move closer and closer to their goal.

“we’ll take the ramp.” the stairs are too conspicuous. with the ramp, he can extinguish the lanterns; it’ll prove they came here, but by the time the doushin notice, the escapees will be rowing to safety, and he’ll be resting at the rendezvous point.

crouched low, they dart from one stack of supply crates to the next. their path cloaked in darkness, but he gauges their distance from the edge with his vision. as it glows with power, he grips it in his hand, comforted by its soft hue, yet terrified that it’ll be their downfall.

he looks over his shoulder, aware of his company’s heavy breaths. “do we need to stop and rest?”

the wind shifts at their insistent shaking heads. “we can rest once we’re safe,” the doushin says. “we can’t risk you, as well, kazuha-dono.”

“no need for honorifics. i’m all but kazuha, now.” he pulls forward.

they reach hanamizaka. kazuha lets out a soft breath. with the clouded moon and breeze by their side, it’s a straightforward route to the shore, where a flipped rowboat, disguised as a shipwreck, awaits. he prepares it while the escapees catch their breath. they’ll need the strength to row to safety.

“when you arrive at watatsumi island, tell them the passcode. they’ll care for you there.” the shrine has close contact with a mercenary ship from liyue, who has graciously offered to ferry refugees through the thunderstorm to safety. some decide not to flee and fight with the resistance; some put their families first and flee, biding their time until they can return home.

kazuha pushes the boat into the water. he gives a small wave and smile as they thank him, say farewell, and wish him luck. he reciprocates, and prays to the wind. may the gods protect you, as they will protect me.

not a minute after the boat leaves, he feels something blunt and metallic touch his head. “don’t move.”

he keeps his arms by his side, watches the waves ripple as the oars row the boat forward. the silence stretches between them. when he speaks, his words are faint with breathlessness. “do all doushin enjoy late night strolls by the water?”

“you’re one to talk. here to find your muse?”

“yes. in fact, the water has inspired a haiku. would you care to hear it?”

“feel free.”

“’moonlight sauntering / waves dance with the gentle breeze / would you dance with me?” kazuha turns around, steps away from the stretched jitte, and smiles. “shikanoin?”

the detective lowers his weapon and slides it back in his holster. he shakes his head with a sigh. “you were careless, kaedehara. your cover was good, but sloppy. i had to redirect some of the others a few times.”

“i knew that i could rely on you.”

“i’m immune to flattery when it’s dark. try again.”

kazuha steps forward to whisper in his ear. “thank you.” he feels the doushin stiffen at the close contact, straight as a tree branch stuck in the sand. they haven’t initiated contact in a while, can’t be too close while they’re on opposing sides. heizou, technically, is working with the resistance, but because he’s still a doushin, he represents the tenryou commission first, his lover second.

“you should go,” heizou says at last. “i told them to find me at the beach. don’t squander this chance.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it. there are more innocent people to break out from jail, after all.” their hands are idle, so close yet so far. kazuha tightens his into fists and dips his head. the wind cloaks his retreat.

heizou stands there, letting the breeze caress his face. if he’s delusional enough, he might consider it a kiss from his beloved.

“shikanoin.”

if only his name was said with quiet affection, syllables broken into a delicate cadence. instead, it’s harsh, authoritative. he turns around. “madame kujou.”

she’s surrounded by doushin. one carries a lantern with the tenryou commission’s symbol. even though it doesn’t illuminate her entire face, her ire makes every one of her words strike like lightning. “you’re coming with me.”

he complies. his eyes flit toward the sky, hopes the wind will send his words to his beloved.

i’m sorry.

[flyingwargle]

flufftober day 31: dreams do come true / xiaobedo

albedo asked to trust him. so trust him he does.

xiao is blindfolded. albedo pulls him from behind, hand in hand, quiet as they walk. he can feel the heat of the sun against his covered eyes, the gentle breeze that nudged them forward, the steady grip of his partner’s hand that guided him around bushes and foliage with the slightest twist of his wrist.

the ground slopes upward. xiao listens around him for hints of their location – grass rustles as wild boars graze; rhythmic thumps echo as hilichurls drag their clubs against the ground; and elemental energy spike the air from slimes that mill about. albedo steers them away from such enemies. neither are in any position to fight, anyway.

“where are you taking me?” xiao ventures.

“you’ll see,” is the demure reply. it’s all he can coax out of him, ever since they met up this morning outside of mondstadt city.

the elevation escalates, bit by bit. it reminds him of jueyun karst, and the wayward paths that reach the summit of the clouded peaks. the wind picks up, similar to the howling blizzards that surround dragonspine. where else would have characteristics that intersect both their usual haunts? “are we climbing stormbearer mountains?”

“your geography has improved.” there’s a smile in albedo’s response. “you’re incorrect, unfortunately. it won’t be long until we arrive, so be patient for a while longer.”

xiao obliges, lets his partner continue to lead. he anticipates the moment when the incline becomes flat again, but it doesn’t come. instead, he’s caught by surprise when he’s pulled into the tall grass before they stop. albedo turns and holds his other hand. “wait.”

silence falls over them. the sun is behind xiao, wind whipping grass across his ankles. they’re close enough for him to hear albedo’s heartbeat, his quiet breaths, head moving to look around them. “are you ready?”

“yes.”

the blindfold comes off. his vision is blurred with an onslaught of light, and he blinks rapidly. the sky falls into place; the grass straightens around them. cecilia sway in the distance, recognizable by their delicate shape and scent. however, there’s another flower dancing beside them, small but unmistakable. he steps toward it, eyes wide. “are those…?”

qingxin. they’re surrounded by both flowers, one that transcended borders to be planted on the highest point in mondstadt. both thrive beneath harsh winds and isolation, but it appears that both can coexist together, much like the alchemist and yaksha have.

“i’ve always wondered if it was possible to grow them together.” albedo looks at him, teal eyes radiant with adoration. “i wanted to grow cecilia in jueyun karst instead, but all my attempts ended in failure because of soil incompatibility. qingxin, on the other hand, were able to thrive here, so long the wind remained consistent.”

he gestures to a few qingxin further away, planted by their lonesome. they’re much smaller than their counterparts grown closer to cecilia. “i tried a few different controls, and found that the qingxin grew better when in closer proximity to another flower. they often grow in bunches, but here, only one grew for every cecilia.” their eyes meet, and his voice dips into a teasing note. “perhaps this is a sign that we can only grow together?”

it's ridiculous to compare themselves to their favorite flowers, yet it’s difficult to dismiss the similarities that they share – isolated, fond of high places, can only thrive under harsh conditions. xiao squeezes his hand. “i have already grown much with you by my side.”

they stand and observe. the flowers barely rest, always swaying with the wind. albedo leans closer against him. his arm moves to wrap around xiao’s waist. “there’s another reason why i conducted this performance. do you remember when you told me about your dream?”

he tries not to blush. “yes.” i want to spend my life with you. it’s a reciprocal dream. unless… “wait. do you mean…?”

albedo nods. he steps away, rests an arm behind his back, stretches his other arm. “xiao, will you take me as your dance partner?” with only the heavens as their witness, they stand beneath the center spotlight onstage, adorned with flowers, partner awaiting.

xiao meets his gaze, sees nothing but love rippling in the depths. xiao releases his breath, takes his hand and places the other on his partner’s waist. they dance.

nature guides them, movements dictated by the wind’s whistle and flow. they navigate around the flowers that dance with them, accompaniments to the spotlight. they spin, they move back and forth, they keep their hands steady. they never let go.

i dream of the day i could put down my spear and dance. never did he dream that this would happen, that he would dance with the love of his life. by the dance’s end, they’re in each other’s arms, wrapped in a tight embrace. xiao is breathless, eyes closed. he envisions his yaksha brethren, all of whom cheering and applauding, encouraging him for more. when he opens his eyes, albedo is waiting for him, and they do it all again.

dreams do come true.

[flyingwargle]

akaashi doesn't usually indulge in extra practice, except for today.

he arrives forty-five minutes early, sliding the gym door shut behind him. they didn't put the volleyball net away last night, so all he does is roll the bin of volleyballs out from the storage and goes through his stretches. after he's warmed up, he brings the bin to one side of the court and grabs a ball.

what motivated him to practice his jump serve was the recent summer training camp. he hadn't thought to try it himself since it's better to perfect his current serve than add another to his repertoire. however, all the third-years could do it - with varying levels of success - and onaga is an exception as a first-year. so, as vice captain, it makes sense for him to be able to perform it too, especially as a starting member at a powerhouse school.

he tosses the ball, makes his approach, and jumps, watching the ball, arm pulled back, ready to swing. as the ball falls, he swings, sends it across the court. it falls into the net and lands with a harmless bounce. he frowns, reaching for another. i need to toss it higher.

again, this time higher – a bit too high, he thinks. he adjusts his run-up, jumps, and misses. too forward.  he picks it up, goes back to the end line, and tries again.

it goes over, but from where he's standing, it looks like it's out of bounds. he clicks his tongue, picks up another, and tries once more.

that's a good serve toss. he watches it, makes his run-up, and jumps. arm ready, he's about to swing-

"morning, akaashi!"

the voice startles him, and he completely misses, the ball bouncing off his head. he stumbles his landing, collapses in a heap. he hears a flutter of footsteps, followed by an exclamation. "akaashi?!"

"bokuto-san," he grunts in greeting. "good morning."

"sorry! are you hurt?" bokuto rushes over, extending a hand. akaashi grips it, staggers on his way up to his feet.

"i'm okay, thank you. why are you here?"

"coach said we need to power up our serves and it takes me a while to get in the groove, so i came a bit early to warm up! did you have the same idea?"

akaashi nods. bokuto grins. "awesome! we can help make sure each other's serves are in!"

"i have trouble ensuring the ball goes over the net, but yes," akaashi says, "we can indeed help one another."

he takes a break while bokuto gets his kneepads on and warms up. akaashi finds their collection of plastic bottles for bokuto to use as targets, knowing his area of focus is accuracy, and rolls the bin between them. they stand on the end line, volleyball net looming.

"bokuto-san, what do you think about when you're hitting a serve?" akaashi asks.

the wing spiker bounces the ball a few times, tosses it in the air twice, presses his hands against it. "how to not get hit in the face."

his kouhai gives him a blank look. bokuto pouts. "it's happened before! you don't believe me?"

"no, i..." has he ever gotten hit by his own serve toss? akaashi can't remember. "not even how high to toss the ball, or where to hit it?"

"well, yeah, that stuff is important, but you gotta be safe before you can do any of that, right?"

safety. you'd think, with all of bokuto's unconventional plays, that he'd prioritize strength over anything else, but, as akaashi has gradually discovered, that isn't the case.

"my dad always mentioned how if you aren't safe, then you can't play at all. and in order to have fun, you have to be safe."

"and to do that," akaashi continues for him, "you have to ensure your serve toss doesn't hit you in the face."

"yeah, exactly!"

that doesn't help him at all, but akaashi smiles regardless. "could you show me your serve?"

"of course!" bokuto's grin is wide. he moves backwards, tosses his ball. his approach is six steps, and when he jumps, the ball is perfectly aligned with the heel of his hand. it hurtles across the court, just shy of the water bottle in the corner. "gah, so close!"

akaashi picks up a ball and faces the net. don't get hit in the face.  that means the serve toss has to be high, his jump just behind it. he throws it, watches it. his approach is four steps before he jumps, slamming his hand into the ball. it flies across the net, landing in-bounds.

"you did it, akaashi!" bokuto cheers.

he straightens and reaches for another. can he land two in a row? he throws the ball, makes his approach, and hits it. although it goes long, it just lands before the line. i can't believe his advice worked.  "thank you, bokuto-san, you- bokuto-san?"

his captain has his arms around him, lifting him in the air. "i knew you could do it! you're good at everything, akaashi!"

a blush warms his cheeks, mumbling his thanks as bokuto sets him down. akaashi takes one look at his grin and turns away, afraid that his heart will combust. "it was a fluke. my serves will never be as strong as yours."

"that's okay! so long you tried." bokuto picks up another volleyball. "come on, let's go at it again!"

they continue until the rest of the team arrives. from then on, any time when akaashi prepares himself for a serve, he just thinks of bokuto's advice and grin to cheer him on.

and he nails every single one.

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!! #akaashi keiji #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #fukurodani #haikyuu drabble #based on one panel during the nekoma match where akaashi did a jump serve #and we never saw him do it again

[flyingwargle]

“coach! i brought my sister with me today!”

natsu squeaks and hides behind her brother as his teammates approach. she feels small against such professional players, but relaxes when bokuto catches her eye with a grin and raises his fists in the air. “hey, hey, hey, natsu-chan! long time no see!”

she gives a timid nod. miya leans forward, a finger wrapped around his chin. “followin’ in yer brother’s footsteps, eh? i bet ya also have an impressive spring in yer step.”

hinata grins. “of course, but her jump isn’t as high as mine!”

“given that she’s almost the same height as you despite being younger,” sakusa comments, “i wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.”

“omi-san, you don’t have to be so blunt!”

coach joins them, his voice is warm. “it’s nice to meet you, natsu. we always welcome friends and family to our court.” when his eyes cut to meian and barnes, they turn away, whistling innocently. “your brother mentioned that you also play volleyball?”

“yes! i’m a wing spiker at niiyama girls’ high school.”

“natsu-chan,” miya pipes up, “lemme toss to ya later!”

meian claps his hands together. “let’s get back to work. natsu, feel free to watch from the sidelines. if you have questions, i’m sure our coaches can help.”

she nods and bows. “thank you for letting me watch!”

the players return to their warm-ups, and hinata leads her to the bench. foster calls for a huddle, and hinata pats her shoulder on his way over. “watch what your brother is made of!”

she barely has time to relax before a manager slides next to her, eyes shining. “we’ve seen a few family members come by, but you’re the first that also plays volleyball. are you here to get the inside scoop?”

“oh…i just wanted to visit and…” natsu trails off. “i guess i do want to see what it’s like, and if it’s something that i want to do.” despite being in her second year, the future remains at the forefront of her mind. she enjoys volleyball, the thrill of competition, the results of hard work, but she can’t help but wonder: what if her future lies beyond the court?

her brother knew that volleyball would remain central to his life when he was her age. natsu, though, doesn’t feel the same, although her coaches said she has a future as a pro. she likes studying too, and has briefly looked at universities with a good volleyball team. she knows some of hinata’s teammates went to university first, like sakusa and bokuto. some entered the v. league straightaway, like miya and kageyama. either way, they’ve gathered here at the top, wholeheartedly dedicated to the sport.

the players practice their serves. miya works on his jump floater-spike serve combo, and hinata also works on his jump floaters, along with meian. barnes, bokuto, sakusa, and adriah stick with jump serves, the ball traveling across the court with frightening speed. it’s impressive that inunaki can pick them up at all.

afterwards, they move to spikes. natsu has always been enraptured by spikers seemingly able to float in mid-air. when it’s her brother’s turn, he makes his approach and jumps, easily reaching the top of the net. his ball lands just before the end line.

practice ends all too soon, and as some players shuffle toward the locker room, her brother bounces toward her, ball in hand. “natsu! let’s play together! that’s okay, right, coach?”

he nods, warning not to overdo it. hinata grins at her, and she smiles back, taking her jacket off, reaching into her bag for kneepads and a hair tie. she joins him, along with miya, sakusa, and bokuto.

“natsu-chan!” miya calls out. “lemme toss to ya! if yer better than shoyo, i’m gonna ask coach to replace him with ya.”

“atsumu-san!” hinata yells indignantly. natsu laughs, squeezes the ball tighter in her hands. she stands away from him, already positioned at the net. does one of the best setters in japan really want to set for her?

“go for it, natsu-chan!” bokuto cheers.

she lets out her breath and focuses. tossing the ball in the air, she makes her approach. miya raises his hands, watches her out of the corner of his eye. then, he sets it. she jumps.

it’s not too high, nor too low. not too far from the net, not too close. it’s just…perfect. her arm swings down, the ball slamming to the floor. she lands with thundering applause from behind. “yep, both ya and yer brother are monsters,” miya comments, shaking his head.

“natsu! nice kill!” hinata has his hands up for a high-five. she slams her palms against his. “let’s play some 2-on-2! team hinata is here to beat all of you!”

“i’d like to see you try.” sakusa slinks under the net, along with bokuto. “miya, you can sit out first.”

“fine, but don’t cry ta me when ya get smoked by the sibs,” miya scoffs, moving off the court. natsu glances at her brother, who only gives her a reassuring thumbs-up.

for the rest of the afternoon, she feels like she’s in a daze. her brother sets to her, and although they aren’t like miya’s, it’s enough to get the ball from one side of the court to the other. her receives aren’t great, so sakusa often targets her, and hinata berates him for it. she manages to receive one of miya’s jump floaters though, but his spike serves go untouched, except when hinata receives them.

by the end of the session, they’re all drenched in sweat, heaving for air. natsu braces her hands on her knees, feels an arm slide around her. “how was it?” hinata asks.

“it was fun.” natsu straightens, watching miya stop bokuto from taking his shirt off, sakusa already halfway toward the locker room. “i could tell they were all holding back.”

“just a bit! atsumu-san never holds back with his serves though, and omi-san is always serious about his spikes. bokuto-san, though…you’re too young to receive his spikes at full power. your arms might fall off,” hinata says, half-serious. natsu still remembers the story of an unfortunate opponent that got hit in the face with one of his spikes. it dislocated his nose. “natsu, it’s okay if you don’t continue with volleyball.”

she jumps, caught by surprise by his words. her brother’s eyes are soft, hunched over slightly so they’re eye level with each other. “mom told me that you weren’t sure what to do after high school. you don’t have to go pro; there’re lots of teams you can join and play for fun! you could do what omi-san or bokuto-san did and go to university first and play there. or you could be like me and go halfway across the world. i’ll support you!”

“thanks, nii-chan.” natsu lifts her head, eyes scanning the stands that line the gym. if she retires her court shoes, would she miss the roar of applause, the sweet thrill of victory? if she surrenders her books, would she regret not having gone to university, not having something to fall back on? “i guess i’ll need to think about it more. but…”

her eyes drift to miya and bokuto, closer to the locker room entrance now. miya turns and shouts at them, telling them to hurry so they can get dinner. “i’m happy that you picked the jackals. everyone is so nice.”

“right? i’m sure wherever you go, you’ll also have people that’ll support you.” he points a thumb to himself. “that includes me, too!”

she laughs, turning to give him a hug. no matter what path she picks, she knows that volleyball will always connect them.

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!! #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #bokuto koutarou #sakusa kiyoomi #msby black jackal #hinata natsu #haikyuu drabble #i might expand this into a full fic #because i really like the idea of exploring this with natsu #we need more natsu content!!

[flyingwargle]

#cynonariweek2022 day 7: free!

tighnari is seated at his desk when he hears the drenched footfalls of a familiar tread across the vine trail. his door opens without invitation, and cyno slips inside the hut, a puddle already formed beneath him. “nari,” he complains. “why does it have to rain so much?”

“we live in a rainforest, general. didn’t you know that?” tighnari throws a towel at him without looking up, engrossed in his text. his concentration doesn’t waver as cyno tugs his cloak off to hang up and then dries himself.

“what are you reading?” cyno looks over his shoulder. his breath is caught in his throat, light tease in his voice. “again?”

“is there a problem?”

“no. it seems to be a yearly occurrence.”

tighnari looks at him. “it is.” every winter, he fantasizes about what a real winter is like - snow-covered trees, blanket of white that envelops the land, frozen water, fires to stave off the chill. sumeru is too mild for snow, let alone four distinctive seasons. the only indication of the cold season is the migration of birds, flocks upon flocks that streak the sunset sky above gandharva ville, in search for a place to rest and wait until spring returns before they return home.

“if you can’t handle extreme heat, do you think you can handle extreme cold?”

“i don’t know. i’d suppose so, since you can simply put on more layers. what about you?”

cyno pulls the blanket closer over his shoulders. “i’ve experienced snow before. it’s surprisingly peaceful, and quiet, similar to the desert. i think you’ll enjoy it.” their eyes meet, a spark of hope in his sunset gaze. “if we could travel to dragonspine, would you want to go?”

“dragonspine?” tighnari’s heard of it - the large mountain sits in between mondstadt and liyue, plagued by a perpetual snowstorm. only the most determined adventurers seek to unravel the mysteries of its numerous caverns and trails. “i’d love to, but…”

he trails off. both of their work is too important to leave behind for a frivolous excursion. even if he found a reason to go, who would watch the other forest rangers and collei? what if another withering zone appears? what-

“nari.”

tighnari snaps out of his thoughts, blinks at his partner. cyno reaches for his hand to hold, cradled gently in his. “you’ve helped many fulfill their dreams. why not fulfill your own?”

“i…” tighnari doesn’t have an answer. “you…”

“i’ll go with you, of course. we can experience it together.”

his heart flutters. from anxiety or excitement, he doesn’t know - all he can do is smile, nod, and say, “i’d love to.” and so, a month later, the guardian of avidya forest departs to see the land of ice and snow for the first time in his life.

[flyingwargle]

based on my headcanon that wanderer can’t read or write. from twitter

nahida often shares stories with wanderer, yet he never seems to have any interest in them. one day, she drops a stack of books in front of him. “you never seem to like my stories. how about you look for one that you like?”

he’s affronted by this. “hah? why would i do that?" 

"so we can learn more about the world and what each of us like! go on, try this one.” she opens a book for him, expectantly waits for him to start reading. instead, he just stares at the page, cheeks growing red.

he hides beneath his hat as he mumbles, “i don’t know how to read.” when did he ever have the chance? aside from a few characters in an outdated inazuman script, he can barely recognize letters, let alone words.

his revelation is met with silence. he steals a glance at nahida, who doesn’t change the gleam in her eye. instead, she pushes the books aside and reaches for a pen and paper. “it’s okay. we all start somewhere. how about i show you how to write your name?”

and so, the first word he learns how to read and spell is “wanderer.”

[flyingwargle]

happy wanderer debut!! may your pulls be blessed, and may he come home to all of you <3

it is said that when you are attuned to one of the principle elements of the world, you view everything in a different light.

perhaps this is true. even after his innate electro capabilities were unlocked, he never felt comfortable with its spark, its destructive voltage, its unpredictability. he recalls nights where he would sit beneath the sky and summon lightning in his hands, yet he would feel nothing, just an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

this is my power. this is my strength.

yet it wasn’t the answer to any of his problems, couldn’t fill the void in his chest, failed to reconcile the ugliness and anger inside him.

he sits cross-legged on his borrowed bed in his borrowed room within the sanctuary of surasthana. he is dressed in new clothes - a black shirt, tunic, pleated shorts. his gloves are pulled up to his elbows. sandals left on the rug, hands positioned on his knees. his head is bowed. he breathes, in and out, to feel the energy of the universe surge through him. the darkness in his mind is painted with elemental threads, yet anemo, a gentle teal hue, reigns over the rest.

his vision thrums against his chest like a heartbeat, attached to a decorative ornament on his cape. a golden feather, the only other possession he calls his own, swings freely.

he opens his eyes, puts on his sandals. a bundle of archaic dendro energy pulses on the other side of the door, which he pulls open to look down at a bright, verdant gaze. her smile is wide. both her hands are folded behind her back. “i want to give you something.”

“i don’t want it.”

she pouts. “you don’t even know what it is! i promise you’ll like it.” he grumbles under his breath. all she’s given him is more questions about his existence and worth than he had for himself in the last several centuries. a final inquiry is not befitting for his departure.

“come closer. lower your head.”

how befitting of him to kneel before her, he muses. a failed god, just another subject. before he can comment, a weight is added to his head, the faint chime of bells ringing in the air. he looks up at her, then beside her at the glass to catch his reflection.

the hat is just as large and circular as the one he previously had, except the top part resembles a lotus. bells hang from a pair of fabric streamers on either side. the underside is lined with a lotus, as well. “a new hat for a new beginning. do you like it?”

his hand easily runs over the brim, a familiar gesture. he pulls it down, able to hide his face as easily as before. he has no words, lest his emotions betray him.

“may i ask you for your name, now?” nahida asks.

he straightens up, holds his hat up with a hand. a familiar smirk descends upon him, stirred by the breeze around them. “i am the wanderer, and i rise with the wind.”

[flyingwargle]

happy 3.4 update! i wish you all the best of luck rolling for our feeble scholar, vigilant yaksha, or adorable herb collector <3 happy lantern rite!

alhaitham shouldn’t have said yes.

in retrospect, you shouldn’t say no to the archon of wisdom, yet viable excuses failed to grace him in his time of need. that is how he finds himself walking a few paces behind nahida while she takes a walk along gandha hill for no other reason than to get “fresh air.”

sumeru has the freshest air in the world, thanks to their abundance of vegetation and environmental systems. what’s the point?

nevertheless, the rat that she shelters seems to have gone off, so she needed someone to accompany her. since the general mahamatra is rarely in the city, the next capable member of authority is him.

she doesn’t engage him in conversation, which suits him. her hums are quiet, fascinated awe and curiosity contained to small gestures. he tries not to watch, occupied with his own thoughts, eyes drifting from her small stature to the path ahead, ready to eliminate any threat that crosses them.

“oh! what’s that?”

he looks up. an unusually shaped rabbit-like creature is further ahead, jumping around in frantic circles. as soon as it spots them, it starts launching…radishes?

alhaitham moves in front of nahida, sword up to deflect them. it squeaks when he lunges forward, sword raised, only to freeze at a shriek. “stop!”

his sword meets air. a small girl with a basket on her back runs toward them, bells chiming with an alarmed pitch. “stop! don’t hurt yuegui!”

“yuegui…?” liyuen. likely an adeptus because of its unusual aura and abilities. the girl picks it up into a tight hug, turning it away from him.

nahida steps forward. “you have a dendro vision!”

the girl blinks at her. “who’re you?”

“i’m nahida! this is alhaitham. what’s your name?”

“yaoyao.” her eyes flicker betwern them, unable to make a connection. “i collect herbs and other plants for my family. they have an apothecary.”

“you’re quite far from liyue,” alhaitham says.

“yep! i went to the chasm for violetgrass. xiao-gege helped me!”

before he can ask, a shadow crosses him. his blade deflects a spear made of jade, a weapon of divinity. alhaitham holds an arm out to protect nahida; likewise, his opponent steps in front of yaoyao.

“xiao-gege, it’s okay! they found yuegui,” she tries to explain. “they weren’t going to hurt us.”

“hmph.” xiao doesn’t dismiss his weapon. “so why is your sword out?”

alhaitham keeps his tone even. “that creature of yours attacked first. i was simply defending my archon.”

“yuegui! how could you?” yaoyao gasps. to nahida, she bows profusely. “i’m so sorry! i didn’t know!”

she shakes her head. “no one was hurt, so let’s all put our weapons away, please.” the men oblige, but their glares remain. “would you like us to show you the way back to liyue? you’re more than welcome to forage for herbs, too.”

xiao bows his head, unexpectedly subdued. “we will return across the border. i apologize on yaoyao’s behalf for her behavior.”

“xiao-gege, it wasn’t my fault! yuegui ran off on its own!”

“please excuse us.” he places a hand on her shoulder to steer away. he throws one last look at alhaitham, tense and guarded. alhaitham watches them go.

as they disappear from view, nahida turns to him. “let’s continue.” he imagines neither of them will forget today in a hurry.

[flyingwargle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Haikyuu!! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi Characters: Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Hinata Shouyou, Bokuto Koutarou, Meian Shuugo, MSBY Black Jackals Volleyball Team Members (Haikyuu!!) Additional Tags: Post-Haikyuu!! Time Skip, MSBY Black Jackals Volleyball Team (Haikyuu!!), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Romance, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Sakusa Kiyoomi Needs a Hug, don't worry he gets a hug, Oneshot, Complete, Light Swearing Summary:

What do you want to show your fans? What do you want them to see you as?

After disappointing a fan with his autograph, Sakusa struggles to create a suitable one that reflects who he is. Thankfully, Atsumu is there when he overthinks it, and reminds him exactly what makes him unique.

#flyingwargle original #fanfic #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfic #msby black jackal #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #hinata shoyo #bokuto koutarou #my debut sakuatsu fic #they deserve so much love #i hope i gave them enough love

[flyingwargle]

iwaizumi stands in front of his mirror, phone in one hand, the other running through his hair. he has his notes open, english words typed across the screen. he knows what each word means, how they're spelled, how they sound. when it comes to speaking, however...

he takes a breath and stares at his reflection with the same intensity as preparing for a jump serve. with a quick glance at his phone, he quirks his lips into a smile and speaks in english. "hi, my name is iwaizumi haji- wait." he frowns. given name first. he tries again. "hi, my name is hajime iwaizumi. it's nice to meet you."

the words feel awkward on his tongue. his vowels are too exaggerated, words slurred together. he clears his throat. "hi." his voice rises in pitch. "my name is hajime. it's nice to meet you." ugh. it's obvious that english isn't his mother tongue, but he sounds like he's barely spoken it, which isn't wrong, but that's not the impression that he wants to give, especially in america.

iwaizumi falls onto his bed with a groan. going to school overseas remained a dream until he decided to make it a reality during his second year of high school. aside from classroom learning, he attended a weekly english class, but stopped to focus on volleyball after losing the inter-high prelims. now that their last chance has come and passed, it's about time that he picked up where he left off.

and damn does it sound like he lost all his progress from before.

his other skills are solid. listening - he's been watching american shows with subtitles since middle school. writing - he's been translating his homework as practice since the start of high school, along with the comics that he started reading. speaking, however, is a different beast because of how few opportunities he has to practice.

he scrolls through his notes, where he's saved other phrases that he'll need for university life. is this the right classroom? do you know where the washroom is? can you please repeat that? he even has volleyball-related terminology, just in case he decides to try out for the team.

but something tells him that he'll be busy enough, especially with the language barrirer.

his phone buzzes with notifications, but he dismisses them and stands back up. facing the mirror, he takes in a breath. "good afternoon." draw out the vowels longer. pronounce the Rs clearer. "nice weather today." he has no idea when he'll use that, but it's good to have, anyway. he scrolls to practice other phrases. "excuse me, do you know where this classroom is?"

his arm falls to his side as he stares at himself. heat rushes to his cheeks, and he grits his teeth, tosses his phone aside. he practically yells at his reflection. "hello! my name is hajime! i'm from japan! it's nice to meet you!"

that's when his bedroom door opens and a sing-song reply in english responds to him. "it's nice to meet you too!"

"jesus christ!" iwaizumi jumps, glaring at oikawa, who shows himself in. "how did you get in here?"

oikawa gives him a look. "i've had a key to your house since kindergarten. did all that english make you forget?"

"no, i...why are you here?"

"mattsun asked if we wanted to join him and makki for ramen. you didn't reply, so i came over to ask."

iwaizumi deflates, falling onto his bed. "no, thanks. my mom is making dinner."

oikawa sits beside him. "okay, i'll let him know we'll come next time."

"...what do you mean 'we'?"

"you clearly need me to help you practice your english! your accent is awful, iwa-chan."

he grits his teeth. while he'd score higher on written and listening tests, oikawa passed the oral exams with flying colors. "aren't you going to argentina? don't you need spanish instead?"

"english is the language of the world. i'll need it eventually." oikawa waves a flippant hand. "besides, how much spanish do you know? exactly." he smirks at iwaizumi's silence. "so, let's stick with english."

"okay." iwaizumi fiddles with the edge of his blanket, suddenly shy. they'd spoken in english to each other before, but there would always be a topic and vocabulary to use. the real world has no such parameters, no limits as to what can be said or how. "what...what should we talk about?"

"anything." oikawa shrugs. "just like how we always talk, but in english." he switches gears, as seamless as his tosses. "what's your mom making for dinner?"

"she's...making curry," iwaizumi answers slowly. he can envision all the words in his mind, knows how to arrange them into sentences, but when he speaks, they become wobbly, hesitant. "her vegetable curry is pretty good."

"i know, right? i love how it's both sweet and spicy. my mom would never put apples in her curry." oikawa falls onto the bed, and iwaizumi joins him, both of them staring at the ceiling. "do you think you'll play volleyball in america?"

"i want to, but don't know if i can."

"why not?"

he gestures at himself. "i'm not tall enough. the other guys will probably be better than me. i'll be busy trying to understand my homework."

"you understand more english than me. i think you'll be fine. you can tell them you were the ace in high school!"

“that isn’t a term americans know, idiot.”

“wow, you know how to swear?”

“you’d be surprised, shittykawa.”

“mean! iwa-chan, that’s mean!”

he chuckles. “i picked it up from all those shows we watched.”

“oh, yeah. i forgot about them.” oikawa has a smile on his face. “you wanted this for a long time, huh?”

“yeah. i guess i did.”

they keep the conversation going, all the way until iwaizumi’s mom returns home and shouts for him to help. “coming!” he calls back, jaw snapping shut when he realizes he said it in english. oikawa gives him a look as he remains still, shocked. “oh.”

“see?” oikawa prods him, switching back to japanese. “you’ll be fine. your accent is still terrible, though.”

“shut up.” iwaizumi shoves him before he rises to his feet. he catches his eye in the mirror, watches his friend grumble and stand behind him. oikawa looks up at his voice. “let’s do it again tomorrow?”

“sure. we can even rope in mattsun and makki.”

“they’re so bad at english.” iwaizumi chuckles, remembering how they complained about the exams last term. he pushes the door open, gestures for oikawa to follow. “thanks. for helping, i mean.”

“any time, iwa-chan.”

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!! #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #iwaoi #haikyuu drabble #i still feel like the language barrier was downplayed a lot in the manga #but maybe iwa is a genius and he had no troubles #who knows #but learning a new language is hard that's for sure #speaking from both experience and as a tutor to language learners

[flyingwargle]

everything is the same as before, but also not. his futon is still on the floor, blanket crumpled as if he had just climbed out of it yesterday. the note left for the others remains on the desk, memory of frantically writing it still fresh in his mind. the books that he was reading before warping to the luofu remain behind his crooked pillow. the tea set is untouched. the machines hum softly in the background.

everything is the same as before, except for him.

dan heng touches the base of his horns with lithe fingers. his ears are more sensitive, and his senses are sharper. he can hear the engine's quiet hum, doors sliding open and shut, muffled voices and footsteps. power swirls within him, ancient and unfamiliar, yet also recognizable by the way his fingers move through the air, coalescing water instead of wind.

now that he has embraced his previous incarnation, he no longer follows the path of the hunt but treads along destruction, similar to caelus when he first awakened the stellaron in his body. he sits on his bed, manifesting cloud piercer on his lap. his old friend will be able to rest, for now, until he wields it, once more.

knocks sound on his closed door. he looks up and calls, "come in." it slides open, and caelus steps inside.

"hey. i'm not bothering you, am i?"

"no."

silence dances between them, similar to when they stood in front of the high elder's statue, their first reunion after being separated, the first time anyone on the express saw his transformation. dan heng lowers his eyes. "do you want some tea?"

he doesn't see the nod, only hears footsteps across the floor and a swish of jacket as caelus sits on the steps. dan heng prepares his tea set, takes out a bag of tea leaves, and plugs in the electric kettle. he works in silence. caelus watches in silence.

dan heng draws in a breath. he has to start the conversation somehow. "speak your mind. i know you have something to say."

nothing. he looks up. caelus stares at the bookshelf, lips pressed together. "words are free," dan heng says. "use them how you'd like to express yourself."

"is that dan heng saying that, or the high elder?"

ah. dan heng lowers his eyes. "i am not my previous incarnation. we share a similar appearance and abilities, but that's all. i am dan heng; dan feng was forcibly molted for his crimes."

"i don't know what kind of dynamic we have now." caelus's tone is quiet, melancholic. "it was easy, before, but now...you're a thousand years old yet you're not. you have cool powers. you have a duty to an ancient race of dragons-"

"my duty to the xianzhou is fulfilled, but my duty to the nameless is not. i'm here now, aren't i?"

"but for how long?"

"until we've traveled the path carved for us in the stars." the kettle whistles. dan heng pours a thin trail of steaming liquid into the pot. "there is...much history that has been lost because of what dan feng did, but that responsibility does not fall to me. i am the astral express's guard and administrator of the data bank. that won't change."

he offers caelus a cup. the trailblazer doesn't move, so he leaves it in the space between them. dan heng releases a breath. "i am sorry i didn't say anything about it. i had no intention of revealing it until i had to. and now..."

"and now...the horns stay?"

"...yes."

"and the tail?"

"that, too."

caelus looks at him through narrowed eyes over his shoulder. "lucky for you that you can hide it whenever you want."

"consider it a perk of being a reincarnation of the high elder." dan heng nudges the tea closer to him. caelus hesitates before taking a sip. he makes a face.

"bitter. it's march who has the sugar cubes with her." his hand falls on his lap. "she hasn't talked to you yet, has she?"

"no."

"i'll get her to come at some point. for now..." their eyes meet. caelus keeps his tone steady. "you'll keep traveling on this path with us?"

"yes."

"no matter what happens?"

"i travel with the nameless as dan heng. there is nothing more or less about it." his fingers drift over the express's emblem on his shirt.

"okay. thanks." caelus is still, hesitant. he offers a hand. dan heng blinks at it. "welcome back, dan heng."

"thanks." his hand fits in his, a familiar shape and warmth over his.

nothing has changed, yet everything has. regardless of what will come next, dan heng remains sure of his own identity.

[flyingwargle]

lynette is crouched at the lakeside, blinking at her reflection across the crystalline surface. her fingers rest on her knees, drawn to her chest, tail-tip twitching in the air. she presses her lips together into a frown, then lets out a small sigh.

life would’ve been simpler if she had said no to lyney. it would’ve been the first time refusing a trick, but after seeing his excited expression and elaborate plan, she didn’t have the heart to turn him down, hence being at the lake to practice.

her reflection ripples as a shadow appears in the water. freminet emerges, droplets dripping from his hair, sunlight glistening off his freckles. he tilts his head at her. "big sis?"

"mm?"

"are you okay?"

her tail lies flat on the ground as she leans forward to dip her fingers in the water. the chill is a welcomed sensation from the warm air. freminet watches. "it's cooler in the lake. you should join me."

she shakes her head. he holds his gaze a moment longer and then leans back until he is floating, a small speck among the waves. soon, she loses track of him.

lynette dislikes water. it's heavier than the wind at her fingertips, less malleable than the flames that her older brother beckons, more unpredictable than the ice that her younger brother uses. it has its uses, but there's something about its unknowability that unnerves her. what lies in the darkness? what mysteries does it hold?

what does her younger brother see whenever he explores the depths?

she shakes herself. tossing the towel draped around her shoulders aside, she tosses dips a hesitant foot into the lake, then throws herself in without second thought. she has to practice. their success depends on her.

freminet stays out of her way. he has no interest in magic, much to lyney's chagrin. lynette is aware of the change in waves from his dives and breaks, though it doesn't affect her. she's focused, occupied with her own practice until an extended silence catches her attention.

it's just her, in the middle of the lake surrounded by trees, by her lonesome. she turns.

"freminet?"

there is no answer. there are no bubbles from where he had submerged, no change in the water. lynette is close to the edge, where she can reach the bottom, but further in the center, it's deeper. he wouldn't have...

he would have. lynette braces herself. then, she dives.

lyney taught her how to swim. it behooves magicians to have a large skillset to diversify their repertoire. however, he learned from watching divers in the distance, mimicking their movements. he taught her an imitation of an imitation.

freminet is the only one who learned the proper techniques, but he never relinquished his secrets.

she breaks for air and dives back down. light dapples the murky lake bed. there are bottom feeders and thin trails of vegetation. then, she sees a body.

he looks exactly how he's asleep in bed – sprawled on his back, eyes closed, chest barely moving. the waves cradle him, similarly to how he surrounds himself with blankets. his hair floats around him, a golden halo.

had she not known any better, she would've thought of him as the sleeping prince of the lake, waiting for someone to wake him. but that's not who he is – he is her brother, and he walks among the light, rather than the darkness.

she moves her arms in front of her, kicks with all her strength. even though the anemo threads are nearly suffocated by hydro, there's still enough to manipulate and pull her forward.

arms out, she grabs hold of her brother and kicks off from the bottom toward the surface, dust blossoming in her wake.

they break the surface. lynette gasps for breath, floating freminet over the water, similar to how her tail floats. she moves to the lakeside, drags him out before following. her body trembles with exhaustion, but she still rests his head on her lap. "fremmy?"

it takes a while. once his body realizes it isn't underwater, his breathing restarts, a thin inhale. his eyes open slowly. lynette watches him.

"sis...?"

"you were gone. you worried me."

he turns slightly, gaze obscured behind his bangs. "i'm used to it. divers can hold their breath for a long time."

"but..." it isn't normal. what about their family is normal, though? she keeps her lips together, chooses her words carefully. "you could've told me."

"sorry. it's a bad habit." freminet pushes himself upright, ignoring her attempts to help. "did you practice?"

"yes. we can go home, now."

"oh. okay." he gazes at the lake, though it only lasts a second. then, he turns to where they left their belongings beneath a tree.

lynette watches. a trail of water follows him, small and thin. for all the prestige he holds in the court, it's barely noticeable outside of it, a façade reserved for fancy suits and beaming faces.

if she understands water better, would she understand him, too? it will be something that she'll strive to do.

[flyingwargle]

#cynonariweek2022 day 4: daily life

tighnari is stirred awake by the songs of birds, light dappled across his ceiling, and footsteps of adventurers, forest rangers, and scholars along the vine trails through gandharva ville. it doesn’t take long for him to go through his routine - changing into his uniform, running a brush through his tail, lacing his boots before throwing his door open to breathe in the crisp air. 

his ears perk at the conversations held between forest rangers, information exchanged along with gossip. his nose catches the fragrant scent of seasoned vegetables and dough from the various stoves. he watches a flock of birds pass through the azure sky overhead, clouds absent.

content, he returns to his desk and flips his notebook open to review the previous day’s report, skimming over his notes. he flips to the next page, pen poised near the top, when his eyes catch a sketch of a sumeru rose over the lines. it takes up most of the page, drawn with a pencil, accompanied by a short message.

it is thanks to your dedication that flowers bloom. may you blossom under the sun until my return to help you flourish.

tighnari smiles. his notebook is littered with these little messages but they never fail to brighten his day when he encounters them. closing it again, he grabs his gloves and heads out, ready to tackle another day.

~

cyno, once again, finds himself waking in his office.

he opens his eyes to a stained-glass ceiling, an ache in his neck, tension in his shoulders. when he rolls to his side, he faces his desk, several feet away, a fortress of papers and books. he rolls the other way to stare at the worn cushion of the couch, an inherited piece of furniture from the previous general mahamatra. its comfort had retired along with his predecessor.

summoning energy from the depths of his soul, he drags his feet to his chair, a new piece of furniture purchased after his appointment to general mahamatra. his quills rest in a row at the top of his writing station, reference manual just out of hand’s reach. he grabs his notebook, buried beneath some papers, to flip through, hopeful that there’s still some long-forgotten errand that he hadn’t attended yet as an excuse to leave the akademiya.

the most recent notes are a list of possible combinations he could try for his new deck. when did he write this? oh - it was during yesterday’s meeting, where he had to pretend to pay attention. he turns the page, blinking at a sketch of a pita pocket, joined by a short message.

make sure you’re eating properly and taking breaks! you won’t be able to work well if you don’t take care of yourself. dinner is waiting for you when you come home.

cyno runs a finger over the elegant loops and swirls. a smile touches his lips. he pockets his notebook and heads for the door. if anyone asks, he’ll just say that he has an appointment with someone special.

[flyingwargle]

happy new year! may all of you have a fulfilling 2023 <3 thank you also for following - i’m usually on twitter, but i enjoy tumblr for sharing writing like this! drabbles are always fun, and i’m happy that you enjoy them <3

the wanderer sits on the roof tiles of the sanctuary of surasthana. scara wrestles with one of the streamers on his hat, bells chiming with every swipe. he stops, interest lost, and turns to sit on the wanderer’s lap, curled against his chest. he’s unamused. “leave me alone.”

all he receives is silence. the wanderer pulls the quilt over his shoulders tighter to wrap around the furball. scara opens an eye to glance at him before settling back down again.

there is a clear sky for the last day of the year. stars are scattered across the space, beacons of light to guide the adventurers on the road, the lost souls who chose to stay and ring in the new year. he’s never paid attention to the days, weeks, months, years - as a puppet, time is irrelevant. every day is the same, until it isn’t, but even then, outliers will eventually fade from memory as his future stretches further.

the most optimistic human will consider the new year to be an opportunity of change. the most pessimistic human will consider the new year to be a step closer to death. the wanderer sees it as neither - just another year passed, another year to pass. he’s already lived for hundred years. what’s another?

scara meows. he glances down, then senses the tendrils of dendro along the wind. “there you are.” nahida sits down beside him. “i thought you might be here.”

he turns away. “shouldn’t you be in the city?” no doubt any archon would want to celebrate the new year with their people, especially if he considers how adored she is.

nahida doesn’t answer. instead, she reaches forward to stroke scara, who purrs in response. “light attracts light. it was your excitement that guided me here.”

“excitement for what?”

“another year to do good. to travel. to be better.”

the wanderer scoffs. “ridiculous.” the only reason he stayed in sumeru for as long as he has is because of the furball. once scara has acclimated to his life as a housecat, he’ll be gone, again.

“perhaps…another year to be useful?”

he dislikes her words, but he cannot deny the truth behind them. his silence serves as affirmation, and she leans forward. “i wish to be a better archon for my people next year. what do you want to do next year, wanderer?”

seconds tick as the precipice between the new and old teeter. he lowers his eyes, gaze caught on his anemo vision. “i…want to know myself better.” his next words are drown in the fireworks. i want to be better. i want to know what to live for.

“it’s never too late.” nahida speaks over the display of lights. he looks at her, and she catches his eye with a smile. “those are noble goals.”

they turn to watch the fireworks, eruptions of light in the sky. “happy new year, wanderer.”

“happy new year.” he pauses for a breath. “buer.”

[flyingwargle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nahida & Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Niwa Hisahide & Scaramouche, Katsuragi & Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Promise-Breaking Child from Scaramouche’s Past & Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Pierro & Scaramouche (Genshin Impact) Characters: Scaramouche (Genshin Impact), Promise-Breaking Child from Scaramouche’s Past (Genshin Impact), Niwa Hisahide, Katsuragi (Genshin Impact), Pierro (Genshin Impact), Nahida (Genshin Impact) Additional Tags: Tatarasuna (Genshin Impact), Fatui Harbingers (Genshin Impact), Sumeru (Genshin Impact), Scaramouche is Called Wanderer (Genshin Impact), Scaramouche is Called Kabukimono (Genshin Impact), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Birthday, Birthday Party, Friendship, Found Family, Oneshot, Complete Summary:

Today is his birthday.

Rather, today is the day he was found amidst the maple leaves of that domain, the day he celebrated the little boy’s birthday, the day the Tsaritsa commemorated his efforts, the day that he discovered he was simply a wanderer in the world. A collection of birthdays as Kabukimono, Balladeer, and Wanderer.

[flyingwargle]

bokuto is hangry and it's entirely his fault.

first, he snoozed his alarm once too many times this morning. second, he forgot to pack his gym bag the night before, so he had to scramble for his clothes and kneepads. third, he ran out of his apartment without the bento box on the dining table and his jacket on the chair.

whenever this happens, he'd run to the convenience store just outside the gym, but there's no time today since the team has a photoshoot for the upcoming season in the afternoon. he can grab a spare team jacket from the closet, but lunch? meian told them repeatedly to be prepared, and all bokuto has are a few protein bars in his locker.

maybe he can sneak a few bites from the others. hinata is always willing to share but the rest guard their food with a ferocity usually reserved for the court, or at the bar. well, maybe if he can distract atsumu then he could sneak a few bites...

just thinking about it makes him hungrier. bokuto slams his hand against the ball, watches his serve drive into the net and falls with a bounce. he groans, hands in his hair. hinata tosses him another. "don't mind, bokuto-san!"

"something on your mind, bokuto?" meian calls out from the sidelines. "that's your third missed serve today." his tone is sharp, and for a moment, he feels like he's back in high school, berated by akaashi, who always seems to keep track of his misses.

"sorry, captain. i forgot to pack lunch, and it's been bothering me." as the words leave him, he feels his stomach grumble. a banana for breakfast is definitely not enough before practice.

meian frowns, a lecture at the tip of his tongue before he swallows it. "well, no point for you to keep practicing if you don't have the energy. go get something to eat at the convenience store."

"i'll be okay!" bokuto insists. "i have some snacks and stuff in my locker-"

"not hearing it. we have a long day and if you're hangry, it'll ruin the mood. don't tell me you forgot your wallet too."

"uh."

hinata bounces to his side. "i made extra food today, bokuto-san! i don't mind sharing."

"hinata," bokuto says with a dramatic pout, "when did you become so reliable?"

"it's just you that isn't," sakusa deadpans from the other side of the court. atsumu barks a laugh.

meian just shakes his head. "either way, you need food. i'll give you fifteen minutes to run out and get something, or else-"

"i can help with that."

the voice is shy yet firm. bokuto raises his head, grin widening at the figure standing at the gym's doorway. "keiji!"

his boyfriend gives a timid wave, other hand holding the familiar bento cloth with an owl pattern. bokuto jogs over to greet him. "i thought you wouldn't be here until tonight!"

"i wanted to surprise you by having dinner ready when you get home,” akaashi explains, “but when i stopped by the apartment, i saw you left your bento and jacket. i thought you might need them.”

that's when bokuto really looks at him, notices his jacket hanging on akaashi's shoulders, sleeves bunched up at his wrists. this isn't the first time he'd worn it, but every time he does, bokuto gets overwhelmed by a flood of affection. "keiji, you're the best!"

"hi, akaashi-san!" hinata and the others gather, accustomed to akaashi's regular appearances. "you really saved bokuto-san!"

"yes, i know he can get irritable when he's hungry, so i packed extra snacks." akaashi holds the bento up to him, then shrugs the jacket off for him. he pivots, about to leave. "i'll see you tonight, kou."

"thanks, babe. love you." bokuto steps forward and leans over to kiss his cheek, grinning at how akaashi blushes. behind him, he hears atsumu pretend to gag.

as he waves at akaashi, he hears meian behind him. “bokuto.” his captain’s normally severe expression is soft, as it always is, whenever one of their significant others come to visit. “you better treat your man to something nice later.”

bokuto unwraps the cloth, sees several small packs of crackers and energy jelly, along with a handwritten note. good luck. i love you. "always, captain," he says with a smile. "always."

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!! #akaashi keiji #bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #msby black jackal #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #meian shugo #haikyuu drabble #man is whipped #do you hear me #both of them are whipped