#chat ily

[arpstail]

THABKY YOU FIR SAVING ME

MY DUDES ARE BACK FROM WAR

I was so thirsty…I LOVE THEMEMEEM

[aliciedraws]

Chaton 🩵

[m1d-45]

hourglass

summary: he's running very late for a very important date !

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: none :3

-> gn reader (you/yours) ++ takes place pre-fontaine !

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

lyney’s schedule was not one with wide margins. every minute was accounted for, dedicated to an explicit purpose. his shows (preparing, checking the stage, checking props, checking the stage again—sorry, lynette) took a large portion of his time, but there was also his family (checking on freminet, checking on lynette, checking on the rest of the House, checking on freminet again—are you sure you’re alright?) and missions from father (steal this, leave that, don’t be heard, don’t be seen).

honestly, he barely had time to breathe most days. and that was fine! he rarely knew what to do without some problem to fix or task to complete. it was an unfamiliar feeling, and so he often took on extra work whenever he could. as such, he’d developed a bit of a knack for all the odd jobs you could think of: flower arrangements, finding lost things, getting stains out of clothes, cooking, any and everything.

he’d never had a problem with this. his life was crowded, but straightforward. he knew the answer to every problem, and if he didn’t, he knew who did.

this was, of course, before you entered the picture. now, the tasks he sought out felt too heavy to carry. yes, he wanted to help his family, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was only so many times he could show up late before you’d stop trying to invite him places, and that was the last thing he wanted.

you weren’t fatui, but you didn’t mind that he was and father had given him clearance so long as he was “responsible with his loyalties,” which was entirely achievable! what showman couldn’t juggle?

…him, apparently. because between helping lynette find her tea (someone had moved it) and keeping the local wildlife safe from foltz, he’d lost track of time. he still wasn’t used to a block of free time in his schedule, automatically trying to fill it before he could remember that there was a reason for it. and now, he was rushing through the streets of fontaine, fixing his cape as he all but ran.

you were sat outside the cafe in the same chair as usual, and he slows to a regular pace as he approaches to gather what remained of his appearance. you were reading a book, and he felt both proud that you hadn’t forced yourself to sit there plainly and also ashamed of the fact that it was his fault. regardless, he cleared his throat and called your name, sitting across from you and meeting your smile with his own.

your book was a mystery novel, one he easily enough got you talking about with a bit of prompting. judging by the place your bookmark held, you were a good ways through it, likely just before the reveal. just from your summary, he could easily guess the culprit, but what was the point in ruining your fun?

“so, who do you think it is?”

there were few things lyney liked more than seeing the people he cared for happy and in their element. you got to share your theories and he could listen to your voice out of all the bustle in the city, ordering ile flottante to have an excuse to keep quiet. your own tea was growing cold, but he could always get you another. would picking up the tab make up for his tardiness? it probably shouldn’t.

around halfway through your defense of the butler—cleared by his alibi, but still deemed suspicious by the bartender—you stopped, looking somewhere over his shoulder. he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary..

your hand rose to tap at your face, just at the corner of your lip. “you’ve got icing on you, by the way.”

ah. well, wasn’t that the perfect topping to his evening?

he grabbed a napkin and quickly wiped across the offending cheek, but you shook your head. “no, the other one.”

at least you were smiling? that made his mistake worth it. he was usually a tidy eater—but he also usually didn’t order flottante, since it was usually too sweet for his liking. today, he’d decided to give it a try, and look where that had gotten him…

he told you as such, and you laughed. he liked hearing you laugh. laughter meant happiness, and happiness meant a job well done. maybe he should get it more often?

“are you doing this intentionally?”

he folded the napkin twice, eyes on you. “doing what intentionally?”

“you missed it twice.” oh, archons- “here, just sit still.”

he didn’t have much time to protest before you were taking your napkin in hand, carefully swiping it an inch or so to the side from where he’d guessed. like him, you folded the mess inside, but unlike him you actually had something on yours, a pale gold in the afternoon light. the whole interaction had lasted maybe a second or two, but it stuck in his head for far longer.

you put a lot of trust into him, more than he knew what to do with. people were not typically fond of the fatui, and even less fond of the magician who could snatch their wallets before they could blink (nevermind that he’d had to learn that skill to survive). it was strange that he could make the same mistake over and over and your faith that he would show never wavered.

not that he ever wanted to give you a reason to. he always kept his promises to those he loved.

[bugsandboos]

reading everyone’s thoughts on the london special and marinette’s actions have given me a serious case of deja vu in relation to the s5 finale, here’s why

a very very VERY common reaction from the fandom i saw to the finale was “why are the writers letting gabriel get away with being a hero why isn’t he being held accountable horrible finale horrible writing i hate this show etc etc etc”

before i share my thoughts on this for like the thousandth time i just wanna mention i DID cry during the finale, partly because i was in shock and also because i HATED it. but now i genuinely believe it was one of if not the smartest thing the ml writers have ever conjured up and i just. fucking love it. (point is: i understand disliking it. that was me at some point, until i began to consider the implications of the “ending”)

similarly, a reaction i’ve seen to the london special (mainly from ml salters) is “why would the writers let marinette lie to the world when it’s so clearly morally wrong she’s such a horrible person she needs to be held accountable blah blah blah”

something both the s5 finale and the london special share is that THE ACTIONS THAT TAKE PLACE IN BOTH. ARE NOT MEANT. TO SIT WELL WITH THE AUDIENCE

NO writer on ml is trying to convince a fan that “gabriel was actually a hero because he made one selfless decision (that wasn’t even that selfless?????)”. NO writer on ml is trying to convince a fan that “marinette is completely right for hiding the truth about gabriel from not only adrien but also the whole world!!!!!! no one should ever find out!!!”

the entire point of the finale and special is to make the viewer uncomfortable, as we watch marinette sit with her questionable choices, watch adrien refer to his father as a hero and watch their class throw a party. none of this is supposed to make us feel at peace with the way this arc has concluded.

what people seem to be missing is that even if the s1-s5 arc has ended, the s6 arc is just beginning, CENTERED AROUND THE CHOICES THAT HAVE MADE US AS THE AUDIENCE FEEL SO UNCOMFORTABLE!! you’re completely ignoring the way the plot is set up if you think the writers are going to neglect gabriel’s storyline, because it is far from over.

i think it’s also important to mention that neither marinette nor adrien are at peace with what’s happened (even if that was implied during the s5 finale—the london special has provided us with this new information on their emotional statuses). marinette is clearly being eaten alive by guilt, seeking confirmation throughout the entire special that protecting adrien from the truth was the morally correct decision. adrien was obviously affected by his father’s death (contrasting the idea that he just “threw a party” without any emotional backlash), and will undoubtedly learn to grapple with his conflicting feelings on gabriel’s character throughout s6 (he sacrificed himself??? but he abused me??? but he saved ladybug and nathalie????? but he apparently assisted monarch?????)

POINT IS

no one is meant to be satisfied with the way things are in the miraculous universe at the moment. you aren’t supposed to want the truth about what really went down during recreation to stay hidden. if you feel uncomfortable with the current situation our main characters are in, GOOD! please stop the discrediting the writers, because your discomfort means they have done their job well.

[starii-lins]

calypso's "ody, get away from the ledge" , "ill stay inside your heart" and "stay in my open arms" paralleling eurylochus, ody's mom and polites respectively

then it starts playing REPRISES OF THEIR MAIN SONGS.

jay when i get you jay jay when i get you when i GET YOU JAY WHEN I GET YOU JAY WHEN

[plutonicbees]

why does nobody in the yj98 team have brown eyes. can they vote on who gets the colored contacts each week bc 5 people on the team with blue eyes is too many i fear.

[tumble-witch]

I miss Gabriel

[generalsdiary]

listen I might sound crazy but you know how Aventurine would spend all of his money on his family were they alive? like they grew up poor- worse than poor, and he is always gambling yes- but he is also insanely rich. you just know he'd shower them in money and buy everything for them and that credits today have little to no meaning to him because he has gotten them too late. it wasn't "fast enough" to save them, to ease their lives. and you just know he regrets it, but still hoards more credits, gambling, earning, wasting, etc.

now allow me to draw a parallel to a character in gi most of the fandom doesn't like. dori. LET ME SPEAK- dori's sister died (in her arms) from an illness because her family didn't have enough money to buy the herbs prescribed for her sister's treatment and that is why Dori ends up cherishing every mora/money, turns in a mora hungry capitalist powerhouse and makes everything about her; just money. because she couldn't help her sibling when it mattered. also the "limitless mora" for her comes from receiving a bunch of items from Alice (Klee's mom) - they made a business deal, etc, just a detail.

and it is interesting how most of the fandom dislikes dori so much (meta wise I get it, and also some other povs), when the parallel to aventurine is a straight line and he is loved and liked by so many (granted, I love riney). no amount of mora/credits can bring their family member(s) back or fix what happened, yet they stay in it, hoarding more, be it due to our boy's luck, or Dori's deal and persistence. I know many ppl draw his line to Kaveh, but from this pov it is screaming Dori.

and yh his story is more tragic- but we are talking money rn ppl- stay focused;

here is where their characters differ in the money area. with how little regard he has towards the money, Aventurine, our Kakavasha is so kind, so so kind. he gives out freely, he doesn't give two shits while sending money to the TB (it is worth mentioning that he thinks he also HAS to do it, and that gifts and things of high material value are most appreciated, ex. the gifts the TB receives after become the captain of the ship in penacony. he sadly has a view of it that everyone needs to be given something in return, truly struggling with forming real friendships/relationships except with the TB and Ratio- which I'd love to go more into on another analysis), he openly shares his money to whomever- and in his contrast, dori would probably rather jump off a cliff than give a single gold mora coin to... well, anyone.

both have been through such tragedy and turned rich later on through various means- when it technically no longer matters to them as much as it could've mattered before- and to see one be indifferent towards it/see it as a means to an end & what ppl respond well to vs. the other be stingy to the point she is hurting people while doing it and purposefully putting them in debt (I hate you for what you did to Kaveh TWICE, dori.), makes a really interesting parallel made by hoyo ngl. thoughts?

[luna-the-bard]

This is what trying to talk to my friend for the past several weeks has been like.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

idk the consensus on the last stand but old man charles and erik rolling up to lil ol young jean gray's home and sitting down with her like two old men about to adopt their daughter .. it makes my brain happy at the very least

[arpstail]

Me when my chat isnt active 24/7

Me waiting for my chat to get online

Me waiting for my chat to post

Me smiling and giggling when my chat posts

Me sad when my chat has a life

Me when my chat isnt chronically online

[shellxrls]

Ward x reader but ur almost worse than him. throwing a crying fit whenever he tries to break things off because you know he’ll feel so bad he won’t bring it up again for another week. preying on his paternal instincts. need him bad..

(also I fear it’s time to come forth, I sent in that og ask about ‘juggling them both’ and the one about ward x sarahsfriend!reader like a month ago and a few more and I’d like to humbly ask for my own anon.. 🎧 anon perchance or even just Ward anon..)

whining “u can’t leave me” and pouting with glossy eyes and ward looks at you like his brain is about to explode out of his ears for a second, looks at you pathetic and irritated like you’re rafe — until you pull the “ur just like my dad :(((“ and it’s like a switch clicks inside his head and his shoulders lose just enough tension for you to needle yourself between lax arms and cup him through his pants.

cause you’re not rafe, you were abandoned as a child, left without the privilege rafe treated so arrogantly — ward owed it to you to care, to be there for you in ways rafe always took for granted and sarah was too judgmental to appreciate. out of all of his children you were the only one to reciprocate and how could he throw all that away :((

[thesinglesock]

ngl I was a little surprised when I first saw people describing Falin as a "masculine" woman. like this is just what the average Northern European woman looks like on a regular day:

and this is literally what me and my roomates look like when we "dress up" to go out and eat:

(image source) Maybe add like a neck cerchief and some bright nail polish. if you go any more "girly" than that and the waiter might ask whose birthday it is.

[m1d-45]

Can I offer you the thought of gifting Kazuha a music box to keep during his travels?

songbird

notes: yes. ignore that it took me [checks notes] like several months to get to this request. and that it was meant to come out on his birthday. shush.

word count : 3k

-> warnings : none ! minor spoilers for inazuma AQ but nothin serious

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist : @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

there was little you could give a wanderer. he only carried what he needed, and what was needed was already kept close and well-maintained. there was little room for extra trinkets or unnecessary weight, either sacrificed in a moment of exhaustion or left behind when fleeing from those who wished him ill.

your kazuha was no different. even after joining the cruz fleet, he travelled light, with barely the clothes on his back to keep him company. he kept his pen in one pocket and paper in another, rarely carrying so much as a coin purse. this was fine and good, except his birthday was coming up and you had not a single clue what to get him.

you couldn’t ask beidou or the crew, as he’d certainly be lingering by and his hearing was far sharper than his blade. you couldn’t ask him—you’d tried, actually, but he’d just smiled and promised that he didn’t have want or need for anything. he spoke of his birthday very casually, as if it was any other day and not the reason he was by your side at all.

but kazuha was nothing if not thoughtful. for your last birthday, he’d gotten you a book of pressed inazuman flora, each carefully labelled, and had spent the entire afternoon telling you exactly where he’d picked each and why he’d chosen it. a lavender melon flower for resilience, a sakura bloom for change, a maple leaf for love. it was a painfully sweet show of affection, especially considering that the sakoku decree was not yet lifted.

“kazuha- are you sure you want me to have this? it could be years before you could collect these again.”

“please, my muse, the decree will not last forever. i have faith. and even if it doesn’t…”

he slips his hand into yours, looking out across the harbor. he’d taken you to a ridge just outside the city, letting you appreciate the sights without being unable to focus on his book. he looks away for a while, out to the sea, out to what lies beyond, the world seeming to slow to a crawl around you. the very air held its breath, allowing a wayward samurai’s sigh to linger, his mind far, far away.

“…inazuma is my home, but it is not my only place of rest. even if i never again got to experience a wondrous autumn, i’d still have this book.” he dragged his eyes from far-off shores, the same color as the maples sewn into his clothes.

“i’d still have you, wouldn’t i?”

and oh, archons, just the memory of that was enough to make your cheeks warm from more than just the liyuen sun. it’s early morning and the crowds are just starting to pick up, the shops of the lower harbor slowly selling off their wares. you’ve been looking for the better part of an hour now, and nothing seems to quite stick.

he already has pens, and is rather fond of the kind he already has. while you have the name and seller of said pens—he’d lent you one a while ago and never took it back—he already kept several spares tucked into his pockets. no matter how often he writes, how many papers he folds and gives away, his pad never seems to thin. the thread he uses to repair his clothes never fades or grows sparse, and he’s never so much as lost the tie in his hair. the week is growing shorter, and you have nothing.

and sure, kazuha isn’t materialistic to begin with, but you can’t think of anything else. it’s not like he dislikes liyuen food, but you’ve caught him frying his own fish enough times to know that he far prefers simpler tastes. he’s the one more familiar with liyue’s plains and hills out of the two of you, and you’re not eager to hurt yourself looking for somewhere new only to find out he’s already been.

he never asks for anything, never shows a hint of wanting. if he likes something, he gets it, leaving little for you to grasp at. it’s hard not to feel helpless, when he knocks at your door with your favorite flower in hand and you can hardly think of a single thing to do for his birthday. you can’t very well buy the sight of gardens of maple, nor somehow import those odd jelly-fungi he’s mentioned eating while in inazuma. based on the way he describes them, you’re not even sure if they’re meant to be edible…

his sword is kept in pristine condition. his shoes don’t seem to wear. you’re not familiar enough with medicine to try at getting him something for his aches, but it doesn’t matter, because every dawn means a fresh set of bandages, the faint herbal scent of whatever medicine underneath staying strong. he doesn’t need anything, and what he does he already has, and what he wants is quickly paid for through months of saved wages. he catches his own food, embroiders his own clothes, and you’re certain he’d filter and drink seawater if beidou didn’t stop him.

what can you get someone so minimalistic?

you prepare to loop around a final time, pricking your ears for the slightest call of something interesting. an array of local fruits, the freshest on the market. silk textiles, horsetail baskets, handmade chopsticks. you push through the crowds, eyes flicking over each stall. food, clothes, more food, building supplies? the harbor is crowded, overlapping shouting and negotiating and the barest sound of music through it all, quickly becoming overbearing.

…music? you stop and turn and seek out the delicate sound, surprised enough that your purpose for browsing has been lost. it’s rare to see street performers this far from the city center, not to mention the sound is so thin… normally there’s at least a set of drums to cut through the chatter. you’ve looked over everything twice anyway, it wouldn’t really hurt to look.

you don’t find a performer. instead, the sound leads you a few stalls over, to one full of various odds and ends, each carved from a dark wood. a lone chair, a set of cups—one has a weird chip in the lip—on an uneven plate, a good dozen set of chopsticks, somewhat clumsily painted. it’s tended by a young man who’s very nervously watching the customer in front of him fiddle with a wooden box, turning it over and inspecting every angle. there’s a key sticking out the back, and when they open it again, a single thin note floats out, quickly dashed away by the crowds. it’s beautiful, clear and crisp, even with the noise around you.

“maybe another day,” the other customer shrugs, and though the vendor’s face falls, yours lights up.

it’s perfect. sure, yeah, as the would-be buyer steps away and you look closer, the lines of engraving are uneven and hesitant, but the music was what made it worth it. kazuha always talks of the song within whispering wind, and you’ve seen how his pace slows when passing an opera, lingering just so. you never bought tickets because you didn’t know which he’d seen before, but this… this would do just fine.

“sorry about the wait,” the vendor apologizes, a slight sigh to his voice. “feel free to take a look around, just please be careful when handling the pieces. i don’t need another scolding from master lu…”

you pick up the box before he’s even done speaking, flipping open the lid. inside is some sort of flower on a plain pedestal, the same color as the rest of the box and largely unremarkable. you turn it, twisting the key in the back a few times, letting the song play again. it’s a slow, dancing tune, clear through the bustle. the little flower spins slowly, and you’ve made up your mind.

“what song is this?”

the vendor perks up, picking through his pockets until he finds a folded note. “’moon in one’s cup,’” he announces, “composed by yu-peng from up in yujing terrace.”

you dedicate the name to memory, closing the box and latching it shut. already, your heart is beating a bit fast, excitement and relief filling your chest.

“how much?”

you were hiding something from kazuha. he didn’t know what, he didn’t know why, but he knew it.

well, that was a bit of a lie. if he had to guess, it was whatever you’d gotten for his birthday. he’d done his best to assure you that you needn’t do or buy anything for him, but you’d gone and found something anyway. he couldn’t mind too much, not when the wind around you seemed to curl and skip along, ruffling your hair with self-inflicted pride. you were happy, and that was a fine enough present in itself. it was better than the poorly-hidden worry that always colored your features before, and it was a relief to know that it was a shallow issue you had been hiding. birthday or not, he’d hoped you’d tell him if something was wrong…

but it was nothing, thankfully. you asked him to find you after dinner on the day of, and that was that. the rest of the week slipped away like clouds from the sky, leaving him with a clear mind and a faint smile as he slept.

beidou was, surprisingly, not the first to wish him a happy birthday. it was furong that first saw him enter the breakfast hall, raising a glass with a shout that quickly spread across the crew.

“happy birthday!”

“here, c’mon, let’s get you a drink.”

“a toast!”

“to another year of smooth sailing!”

“to our stormwatcher!”

beidou was, however, sat closest to the door, and so she was the first to throw her arms tight around him, not minding the way his armor certainly dug into her skin.

“happy birthday, kazuha. don’t mind the noise, yeah?”

it would be impossible for a day such as today to turn south. the crew settled down and food was pressed into his hands, the shouting cooling off as they refocused on whatever they had been doing prior to then.

aside from the commotion at breakfast, his day was relatively normal. monitor the supplies coming in to ensure nobody tampered with them, then unpack them below decks. there was less to do, but that was simply because the date of their departure was approaching. within a few more days, he’d be off across open waters once more, keeping eye on the horizon.

that was for later, however. after lunch, he left port and took a stroll north, sitting for a while in an open field. the sky was cloudy, but not enough to worry about rain, so he lay on a flat-enough stone and let inspiration ebb and flow. a haiku here, a scratched out line there, though he was admittedly less focused than usual. the joy from that morning hadn’t really left him, sticking to his clothes and filling his thoughts. he wasn’t blind to the fact that he was welcome aboard the alcor, but it would be foolish to deny the appreciation of such a loud gesture, in meaning and volume.

his birthday didn’t mean much to him. sure, there was another year’s worth of memories to look back upon, a year’s worth of friendship and connections, but that could be declared any other day just as easily. when on the run from the shogunate, there was little time for such things as celebrations…

perhaps that was why he was still smiling. not just because of his friends, but because he had the energy to appreciate them. the ability to take off work and sit in the sun, soaking in nature. the energy to look forward to later obligations, instead of being permanently stuck in the moment.

dinner was far calmer than breakfast. he returned to the fleet late in the evening, ducking below deck to help cook. very few crew members liked (or were even good at) cooking, which meant it often fell to him. today, though, he was ushered out quickly, a few more people than usual seeming determined to block him from entering. it was strange, but not unexpected. the crew was close-knit, with every milestone met with raucous celebration.

he didn’t mind, though, returning above and busying himself with odd tasks. ferrying messages from furong, sorting papers with huixing, any and everything to keep himself occupied until the bell rung and dinner was served. the smell of alcohol quickly stained the air around the crowded dinner table, joining the heady mix of relaxation, joy, and a bit of anticipation.

another surprise awaited him, it seemed. he stuck around after he’d finished his food, noticing when little yue slipped out but not mentioning it. he also looked the other way when he snuck back in with a plate with a somewhat dented cover, letting someone else take his empty plate as the new one was pushed into its place. the conversation fell and he ignored the smell of sugar in the air, lifting the lid.

inside was a cake with shaky, cramped writing, struggling to fit his name in such a small space. it had obviously been made in-house, and was likely whatever secret the chefs had been determined to keep.

the cake itself was okay. a bit too sweet, dense, and with an odd sourness that he couldn’t tell was intentional or not. but the crew was happy and laughing and he didn’t need wine to get dizzy off their high, sitting at a well-worn table in a familiar seat surrounded by those he loved.

there was only one thing left…

he packed one of the last slices and kept it close to his chest as the halls grew quieter, the night air far cooler above deck. anemo softened his fall onto the pier, the wind leading him through the city and into familiar streets. the sight of your house had long since engrained itself into his mind, but he still felt his smile grow, tucking his cake behind his back as he knocked.

you were as beautiful as ever. he was certain you could pick yourself up from a pile of mud and still be sstunning, but tonight you had put in effort. still dressed for the weather, but with a bit more care into the set of your hair, standing straight.

“my muse,” he breathed, taking the small box from behind his back. “i have brought you a gift.”

and of course, you made a fuss about it, about how it was his birthday and that he didn’t have to do anything for you. but was that not the same logic that he had given you? did it matter, really, when the air was sweet with more than sugar and even your mock anger couldn’t hide your excitement?

at your behest, he took your hand in his and led you out of the city. his ‘favorite place’ was rather vauge instruction, but his mind had been made up from the moment he’d seen you. not too far, as he’d hate to stay out too late, but still somewhere nice. past bubu pharmacy, up the stone path, and on the low ridge beside it. few people would be passing by this late at night, but it was still close enough to the city that there were no real threats. a blanket was laid out and you both sat, exchanging gifts. his was in a plain bag, carefully wrapped in layers of protective paper, a small wooden box that looked as if it was meant to have legs but the designer had changed their mind halfway through. it was fine work, if a bit clumsy, but he knew it wasn’t yours. your sudden shift in attitude earlier could only be explained by a storefront. further inspection found a latch on the front and a key embedded in the back, and he understood. inside the music box was (what he could only guess to be) a carved silk flower, though again, one of the stems seemed to have been snapped and hastily covered. he reached for the back and turned the key twice, letting the song begin to play.

it was beautiful. careful notes plucked a carefree song, sounding very much alike to the lighter bands along feiyun slope. the music rose and fell, cheerful but quiet, like a soft satisfaction instead of a bright outburst. it was a lovely song in its own right, but his mind was far elsewhere. you were waiting for his reaction intently, face held in suspense like you thought he might hate it. he’d think it foolish, but that would imply that he disliked it, and that was far from the truth. to know you cared so heavily about his reaction to a simple music box, that your worry was for him, that you had been so excited for him, that you were hoping for his approval as if you didn’t already hold all that he was in your palms. the box could be stolen on his way back to the city, knocked out of his hands and dashed under a heavy cart, and his day would still be all the brighter simply by virtue of you being in it.

it was his birthday, after all, and you were one of the best gifts he could ask for.

[xhanisai]

stereotypical british quirks i think Félix would have

He kisses his teeth every time he is annoyed

He exaggerates things to make himself look cooler

Ends every sentence with "man"

He'd either be a Liverpool or Man United fan

He does try to act like a roadman but he got his ass beat by real ones a few years younger than him and was robbed

He has at least 10 of the same black puffer jackets and wears them every chance he can get

If he finds even one crease or speck of dirt on his fresh new white nikeys he's immediately getting another pair

He must have baked beans in at least one meal per day

He once called Marinette "peng ting" and got his ass beat by Adrien for ogling her

He did try to start an underground rap career. It flopped

He's always insulting other people's mothers but when it's the other way around he gets aggressive

he still asks for "safe"s but only his mother fistbumps him

he has already been arrested five times just for being a public nuisance

unemployed. always asking mama for money. bitch.

[merakiui]

How long would the Octavinelle boys (+ Riddle) wait after you break up with your boyfriend to slide into your DMs like "So I heard you're single :)"

I'd give the Tweels about a minute but I think I'm being too generous...

Better yet if the break up was completely private in an isolated place and then your phone pings and you're like wtf how do you know???

LOL omg they're the worst (except Riddle; we love Riddle and his penchant for mannerly tact).

Not even a minute after, you get a text from Floyd regarding the status of your relationship. Your eyes are likely blotchy and tear-filled, and how he found this out is beyond you. But you're too sad to think too deeply about it. Floyd ends up becoming your rebound and he's fine with that because it was his intention in the beginning, but weeks into the relationship he realizes he wants to be more than just your rebound. >_<

Jade waits a good five minutes (though he could wait longer, but now isn't the time to play a patience game) before sending you a message. And you know right away he's smiling behind the screen, amused with the tragedy that is your now ended relationship. It makes sense he'd know about your break-up because he just seems to know so much. But then this is typical behavior for Octavinelle students and Jade just loves drama and gossip, especially when such things apply to you.

Azul spent the first hour writing and deleting what he wanted to say to you. He thought over a dozen smooth lines and finally, after what's felt like ages, decides on a promising intro. He texts you, offering his benevolence yet again, and you know you should be careful about accepting anything from him because there will always be strings attached. But you're sad and lonely and heartbroken, and Azul makes such a tempting offer. You show up at his door, and he welcomes you with open arms.

Great Seven, you must be so devastated. Riddle feels immensely bad for you even though he himself has never dated. Despite that, he understands you probably aren't feeling the best and so he messages you his condolences (which he absolutely asked Cater and Trey for advice on how to word it without sounding too forward). Riddle doesn't intend to ease into a relationship with you, but you spend so much time with him. Caring for the hedgehogs and taking strolls in the gardens is free therapy and with Riddle it's made even better. Without realizing it, the two of you are closing the gap and a complicated rebound romance blooms.

For the fun of it, I made fake text messages to depict the exchange!