#gosh ily

[sabtalkshockey]

go barzy!!

[sapphiics]

there are canon gay bridgerton siblings i repeat there are canon gay bridgerton siblings

[sloppy-syrup]

I’m not the anon that was asking to make fanart but I was looking at @tizeline ‘s separated AU and an idea popped up and I couldn’t not draw it so..

Fanart! Also first time drawing April, I hope she looks nice!

In case you can’t read my sloppy (pun intended) handwriting:

April: Hey,made something I want you to see!

Donnie: Me too! Let’s show them at the same time.

3.. 2.. 1!

Donnie/April: I made extra robotic fingers/ three-fingered gloves for my/your hands!

Donnie/April: …

(I tried drawing Donnie’s Plastron the way Tiz does and it was hard dude I think imma stick with how I draw it lolol)((which explains why he looks weird here, I swear I can draw Donnie better than this TwT))

[ariseur]

✧˖° - haven’t posted in little over a month so i decided to show you guys i’m still alive by posting this random nanami thing i wrote even though it’ll only get like 12 likes 😭 i just had an idea and went with it lol

your lashes barely flutter open as you struggle with the journey of trying to stay awake, at least until the midwife had come back from rinsing and checking on your newborn.

swollen eyes dart over to kento, who stays admiring you with a comforting hand resting on your own clammy, sweaty palm. he almost huffs at the situation when he looks at your tired smile; you don’t even know how fast he urged ijichi to drive back here.

he returns the gesture with his own soft quirk of his lips, a genuine gesture that only you were privy to seeing. you observe his face, seeing the soft wrinkles that are slowly starting to settle in despite only being in his early thirties. this job really does age you, you think — and you can tell that he thinks the same thing.

“can you believe it?” your voice comes out raspy, torn from all of the yelling and gritting of your teeth only an hour or so earlier. it feels surreal to believe you’ve born life into this world, forever a permanent mark it’ll make of you.

“hm?” kento hums, hazel eyes trained on your legs which are currently sheathed under the salmon colored sheet that covers the hospital bed, though you’re pretty sure he’s just zoned out.

“you’re a dad,” you add. he doesn’t say anything to that, only giving a small nod at your statement.

his thumb runs along the bones of your own, the metal of his rings warmed from the constant contact you two have maintained. you frown at the red marks on his hand, presumably from all the squeezing you had done to him — although, he did take it like a champ, not even wincing. he’d never tell you he just had to toughen up for you, internally crying at the tightness he had endured from his fingers. he shouldn’t have expected any less from a sorcerer, though.

“you’re a mother,” he finally looks up at you. you can swear you see a slight gloss forming in his eyes.

you grinned. “so, all those jokes gojo used to make in our third year ended up being correct.” even with such low energy, you were never so serious. though, he had always loved that about you.

“i had always known i was going to marry you, gojo had no part in it,” he responds coolly.

lips parting in a small ‘o’ of surprise, you look back at him before your shock wears off and is instead replaced with a brash grin.

“such big talk for someone who didn’t ask me out until we had already left.”

“i, at least, had gathered the courage to talk to you,” kento hums, “unlike a certain someone.”

you huff and lean back against the pillows, your head lolling against the plushness of the one right under your neck whilst you looked up at the florescent lights flickering above you. “i could talk to you,” you mutter a weak rebuttal — letting your eyes rest shut only in anticipation that you’d see nanami’s unenthused ‘really?’ face.

“i don’t recall that ever happening,” he scoffs fondly at you.

“i just gave birth and you’re already teasing me.”

“is it really teasing if you know it’s true?”

your lips purse into a soft pout, sighing through your nose as you look away to the heart monitor as you hear the quiet, steady beeps that come along with your deep breaths.

“you do remember what happened that one time we visited gojo’s dorm, right?” his smile only widened by the moment. you held an arm over your face with a small groan, wincing at the aching feeling that had settled into your lower abdomen. “you mean when he had just gotten done flaunting his new console?”

“yes,” he hums. “with all of the others.”

you frown a bit at the mention of, “the others,” — thinking of the times when it would just be you and your friends and letting your mind drift off into the pool of memories that used to surround you in your highschool years.

-

“c’monn, nanami will be there,” you had heard gojo’s voice ring throughout your ear canal, flinching away when you realized he was behind you.

scoffing, you stuffed your hands in the pockets of your uniform before continuing to walk forward. “what about it?”

a lanky, rich polyester clad leg comes into your view. you let out a small groan when he had stopped you, once again.

“don’t think i don’t see the way you look at our blonde haired friend over there.”

“i don’t look at—“

gojo pressed a finger to your lips with a loud bundle of shushes, closing his eyes behind the cerulean lenses that framed his sharp nose. your eyebrows furrow — opening your mouth to speak again before he beats you to it.

“i got you, i’ll be the best wingman a lady like you could ever ask for,” he grins.

“gojo, i don’t need—“ although, your voice was but a meek mutter to his ears whilst he sauntered away, back to find shoko in hopes of annoying her once more ( it wasn’t the first time, and it would definitely not be the last ).

and between those next few hours, you somehow ended up sitting against the tatami mats of gojo’s dorm, well decorated and lightly colored. it was fitting for him, you think back to it now. your knees tucked to your chest as you listened to utahime complain about how annoying the missions she’s being sent on are.

“why can’t we get another vacation? i hate having to go through all of these assignments all the time,” she muttered; her head leaning against the cushion couch.

“life of a sorcerer,” you chuckle.

“you’re not even an official sorcerer yet.”

“neither are you, ‘hime.”

“touché,” she scoffed.

the small moment is interrupted by suguru’s voice wavering as he leans from side to side, trying to focus on not getting hit with a bombshell in mario kart on the new snes gojo had bought. you look at him, smiling at the way the snow-haired man kept trying to bump into him to make him lose. you could swear you heard shoko yell out a few words to try and mess the both of them up, to which they’d whine when one of them would inevitable fall over the edge ( it was always gojo ).

your eyes would only drift when you heard shuffling beside you, catching an eyeful of blond and a familiar head of a brown bowl-cut, too.

it blurs now, the memory.

and it is soon interrupted by the soft calls that leaves kento’s lips, the reverie soon seeping back into the vault of your brain once you meet honeyed eyes with a pair of your own.

you can feel his pulse in his fingertips as he squeezes against your hand, the warmth seeping in his words as it pumped along his veins — his only fuel after a life like this.

your lips part in thought before you hear a soft knock at the door and a voice excusing their interruption, the both of your heads immediately perking up towards the door. a small gasp leaves you once you see the small bundle that the midwife holds in her arms; sheathed, chubby little arms wriggling around within the blanket.

kento’s breaths come out shaky, although he tries to focus his energy into his fingers, balling up the rough material of his pants in his sweaty palms.

a fresh wave of tears wavers at your lash line, threatening to spill along the warmth of your cheeks. a soft coo’s emitted from the bundle as you finally see the face of your newborn son, painted with serenity as his eyes stay shut.

a small patch of slicked hair lays atop the baby’s smooth head, lightly colored with the hue of your own strands. “congratulations,” you hear the midwife tell you, “did you have a name in mind?”

the sight of her figure remains blurred with your own tears, but you’re sure she’s smiling with the tone of her voice. you reciprocate it, using one hand to wipe at your puffy eyes while the other beckons the woman to lend your baby over.

and once she finally does, it’s like a breath of fresh, new air. seeing the little face that belongs to the being in your arms, feeling his warmth through the blanket, seeing his tiny little fingers aimlessly reaching out in front of him. you choke back the urge to let out a sob.

surprisingly, kento does it for you.

it’s soft, barely audible — you wouldn’t have even noticed it if it wasn’t for the sharp gasp that left him afterwards. your hand finds his again, the way it always did. the way it always will.

his head comes into view as he peers down at the baby, scooting right next to you as he sees you thumb at your son’s cheek.

your brain warps with a golden memory at the front of it, a sweet smile paired with a peculiarly put together uniform — brown hair in your focused view while you heard another familiar voice behind him. the same monotonous inflection he had used, always contrasting with his friend.

you smile fondly, looking up at kento. “i like yuu for him, don’t you?”

hazel eyes flit up to meet yours, hooded and crinkled with the years of work he’s been put through. they sheen in the light ( you fight the urge to ask if he’s crying, you know the answer anyway ), glossed over with dilated pupils.

his cheeks hurt. he grins back at you softly, and then looks up at the expectant nurse.

𐙚 comment to join the taglist; @ch3rryfiles @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz

𐙚 requests are open — october 2, 2024

[tervaneula]

Cold Feet by katterv

Leonardo is enjoying his lazy morning… until a certain human teenager disrupts his peace.

This quick fic is brought to you by a shower thought experienced by the lovely @spacemimz and. Oh man this is so funny. Initially I was like yeah I can write like a double drabble it'll be fun and cute AND THEN A THOUSAND WORDS HAPPENED LMAO

[avadmortain]

m 😭😭😭

[erabu-san]

Summer 🌴

[fatuismooches]

SMOOCHES imagine. Zandik realizes you're giving him so much, all this love and attention he's never received before, and he... doesn't like that. He's hardly given you anything, why do you give so much without asking for anything in return? So he begins trying to match your energy. He wants to see what will happen. Will you get overwhelmed? Will you be accepting? He's curious.

This backfires for him, because you double your efforts in loving him. Every time he tries to match you, you up the ante. When he asks why, he's flabbergasted by the answer.

"I want to make sure you always feel loved, no matter what."

Zandik considers himself a logical man, one of reason and science. He believes the way to truth is through hypothesizing and experimentation. Which is why he finds himself pondering and thinking about your actions far too much. Are you perhaps conducting an experiment on him? Is that why you are being so doting and loving? Is that why you love him so much and try so hard for him despite his lackluster actions? Are you trying to see how long it'll take for him to let his guard down, and then take advantage of him? (He knows he's lying to himself, but he can't help it.) Interesting, very interesting, and quite intelligent of you to be honest. He has to applaud your perseverance, not many would take it this far for someone like him. Alright, then he will do the same thing, You will become his little test subject as well, and then he will see how you like the tables being turned. Sure, it's going to be a bit of a struggle for him to be as affectionate as you, but he will do it, for the sake of the experiment. Yes, the experiment... that's totally what this is for.

Unfortunately, the variables of this experiment were far out of his control. Zandik genuinely didn't think it was possible for you to be even more lovey dovey, but here he was now, practically being smothered by how affectionate you were being. For once, Zandik is completely and utterly... outclassed. He simply can't hope to match you in this area... now he just has to know, for his notes and future reference, why do you go so far? Especially for him? Your answer is laughably simple, and he too would have laughed if he wasn't so shocked. You just wanted to make sure he felt loved at all times. How dumb, Zandik thinks. How dumb... how stupid of you to waste your time and energy on something like that...

But this was the only experiment Zandik has ever been glad that it resulted in a failure.

[claiestve]

𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ꨄ Elias

˜”* ❝𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙞𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ꜰɪɢᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴀʀᴇ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

“Don’t get too stressed, baby. You won’t get it on your first try and that’s okay.” Your– Elias tried to calm you down. You were riled up because of a new game Elias wanted to show you.

It was a familiar scene, you were sitting on Elias’ lap with a determined look at the screen while he had his arms around you. You two always did this whether it was the controller in your hands or his while you’d watch. 

Even though nothing was new this time (besides the game), you felt different. Normally, you thought nothing of this. You were so used to being close with him but this time it felt weird. It felt strange to be so close when there wasn’t a label. 

“Hey, why’d you stop moving?” Elias’s voice brought you back from your thoughts. With a sigh, you gently placed the controller on the desk and peeled his arms from your waist, needing a moment to sort through the sudden mix of emotions swirling inside you.

“Can we talk?” Your voice carried a nervous undertone as you shifted slightly, creating a bit of distance between you and Elias. The intimacy that once felt comforting now seemed to complicate things. You had to address it, even if it meant risking the ease of your current dynamic.

Elias looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes as he nodded. "Yeah, what’s up?"

You glanced down briefly, gathering your thoughts. The weight of your uncertainty pressed on your chest, making it hard to breathe for a moment. Slowly, you met his gaze again, determined yet vulnerable. Taking a deep breath, you tried to find the right words.

“What are we, Elias?”

A question you knew both of you were avoiding. It was so evident that he didn’t want to talk about it and you knew why. He was hurt in the past but you needed to know where your ‘relationship’ was headed. 

You paused, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I love spending time with you, you know that. But lately, I've been... confused. So confused. I don't know where we stand, Elias. We act like a couple but we don’t say that we are."

He sighed through the thick atmosphere, “I knew it was a matter of time before we would have this conversation. I want to be with you, baby, I really do. I think the idea of committing to another relationship– like officially just scared me.”

Your body loosened and you leaned back into him, “Oh thank God.”

His arms found their way back around you, a mixture of comfort and reassurance. The atmosphere cleared itself as he kissed your head. 

“We’re together, baby, okay? I’m your starboy and you’re my barista.”

“Damn right.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

was up rewriting this cuz i kept hating the finished product but we're good now 😭 ughgghugguhguhghgughghughuughg they're so cute

rip elias you would've loved boyfriend by ariana grande ♡

[misslovasstuff]

if he doesn’t set himself on fire for you, is he really the one?

[ps-forgetmenot]

Ily, my dramatic fishie 💖

[somewhereincairparavel]

TFOTA update (major spoilers for book 1): chapter 20

this book just keeps throwing plot twist after plot twist after plot twist on me and I'm falling for every.single.one. gosh. first jude kidnaps the human girl to free her into the mortal world, and she drowns herself? Then Dain yells at Jude for the thing I WASN'T expecting (stabbing Valerian) and then Jude fucking KILLS Valerian not even a few minutes later, then buried the body in HER house, then Balekin gatecrashes and slaughters almost everyone in his fucking blood line in the matter of MINUTES. Madoc kills Dain?? And ghost kills Caelia?? Rhyia kills herself?? Taryn and Locke might secretly have an affair??

Jude feels pleasure in seeing Cardan miss out on the coronation bc he got drunk which is ironically the best thing he did bc he dodged a bullet?? Now Cardan is the only hope elfhame has, which is also super ironic since Jude was marvelling over how glad she was that cardan wasn't ever going to be king in the first few chapters.

I NEED A MOMENT TO TAKE ALL THIS IN

[silverlombaxwitch]

4 years of this amazing show! I’ve known this show since around august 2020 and I’ve loved it ever since and really helped me thru times and gosh I feel old

[16sydd16]

OH MY GOSH, WE DID IT!!😭 We've survived Cadina Week!! Thank you so much to everyone who participated!!

Linked above is my Day 7. Hope you enjoy!

[booasaur]

Perry Mason (2020) - 2x03

[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.