#her days are numbered

[thecosmicsleep]

gortash telling durge "we agreed not to meddle in each other's business" when they ask why he didn't stop orin has me laughing bc for one

well i hope you're happy bc now you're stuck with her

and two

if durge has decided to fight their nature, it's like

not only did you lose your partner, but now they're going to bring the whole thing to its knees without remembering a single iota of the plan. and the worst part is? you could've prevented it.

[oberon-king-of-the-cherries]

Chloes having her first uti/cystitis flare up since the fourth of July, which is weirdly making me happy that she lasted so long between bladder problems. On a bad note however, she’s lost even more weight and is now down to 6.4 lbs.

[pathetic-gamer]

(this is basically the gist of his voicelines, right?)

[frenchublog]

🏹💘...!

[zombie-bait]

happiest girl in the whole entire world

thinking about my favourite kind-hearted eldritch horror trapped in the body of my favourite traumatized goth girl

(+ purple variant)

[mohntilyet]

illario as the grandchild that is most like caterina is something i'm loving to chew on. the grandson that took her lessons to heart the most. kill anyone who sees your face and knows your name, "we are not revolutionaries", the first out of the two to prioritise the contract. power at any cost, and the only one to lean into the unnecessary abuse that their grandmother told them was tradition. why is anyone surprised he allied with the venatori? and then there's illario's considerable skill in infiltration and manipulating any mark, he has always had the charisma that lucanis lacked. illario isn't attached, he has/can/will use someone and immediately drop them; "that does free me from promises i don't intend to keep". he can lie about how much he cares so well that he fools a magister into believing he loves her. he kills zara without hesitation to cover his own tracks, meanwhile lucanis blindly promises a young girl in the middle of a siege that he will help her find her father. even the lessons about family stick with him, and in this entire messy power struggle, he never actually orders anyone to directly kill caterina or lucanis, not until he's backed into a corner.

and even after all that. despite even lucanis believing illario should be first talon, lucanis is still the better killer. illario is not strong enough to be the brutal assassin caterina needs him to be. so when lucanis seems to fill the role his mother left, grief and love for her dead heir apparent remains, and any of the other qualities caterina needs in her next talon doesn't matter. whatever his mother was, lucanis has to be. what illario does doesn't matter, because he will always be second best to caterina's memory of her favored daughter.

[trappedinafantasy37]

Larian statistics got us like:

[the-last-butter]

HC they first met a year or two after Yelan got her vision; post fighting the in abyss but when Kaeya was still navigating his identity from Kaeya, Brother and Right hand of Diluc Ragnvindr to Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain and Quarter master of the Knights of Favonius.

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[choccy-milky]

HAPPY LATE BDAY TO @the-ozzie's MILLIE 🎉 crackhead collage of her and clora bc theyre besties💖👯

[hells-okayest-dad]

Worlds Beyond Number is so funny because we'll open up with Suvie who will be having the worst day of her life for the eighth time in a row. Aabria the player will be openly weeping. And then. Then we will make the hardest cut to Ame and Eursulon who are having the most wholesome and whimsical forest witch spirit adventures. Different days indeed. Truly the masters of tonal balance and emotional whiplash. Bravo.

[starflungwaddledee]

did you remember to leave space for all your phantom limbs?

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ kirbytober 2024 #03 ★⋆ miracle // phantom // magic

[chai-berries]

all my friends support palestine and know neil druckmann is a zionist

Pumpkin Patch Aftermath (#25)

If you told Abby that one day she’d be chasing her three children around a pumpkin patch while the love of her life cackles behind her camera lens, she wouldn’t believe you.

But here she is, in the middle of October, trying to wrangle her kids to take a family photo. The youngest, your only daughter, has given up the chase and instead giggles into Abby’s warm neck as Abby boosts her up on her hip. The other two are running in overlapping circles through the pumpkins. It isn’t until Abby lets out a sharp whistle that they stop giggling and turn towards their mom.

“Get over here, now! Or no hot chocolate for either of you. Gen and I will drink it in front of you,” behind Abby’s stern mom-face is a woman who has never denied her kids a delicious cup of hot chocolate when they asked, so the boys knew this was serious. Like two puppies, they run past Abby and Genevieve and towards where you’re standing. Over their heads, you look at Abby. Her stern mom-face is gone, replaced by her loving mom-face as she watches the boys run ahead. She boosts Genevieve higher up on her hip, making the girl’s laugh reach your ears. She then meets your eyes, the adoring look turning into her mom-smile that says “I am so tired but it’s worth it” so well that you let out a laugh, to which she smiles her special smile she gives you when you are happy. You easily recognize the look and feel your cheeks warm. Elijah and Isaac are now standing next to you, looking like two well-behaved boys. When Abby finally reaches you, you’re quick to position everyone back into the previous poses they were in before the impromptu game of tag commenced.

Once everyone is posed, you go ahead and press the timer on the camera, which sits on a tripod you brought for this exact moment. You only get 10 seconds to get back to your family before it takes the photo. For once everyone is smiling with their eyes open and hands at their sides. Abby is still holding Genevieve on her hip, but she adjusted the girl’s clothes and her tiny baby beanie on her tiny baby head. Elijah stands beside Abby, holding Isaac’s hand with a cheesy grin on his face. Isaac’s smile is wobbly but cheerful, his missing front teeth adding a charm to his grin. You stand behind Isaac, who reaches for your outside hand a second or two before the camera snaps the photo. Once done, Isaac, very reluctantly, lets go of your hand so you can grab the camera, tripod, and your bag. Abby takes Elijah’s other hand, aiming to keep all the kids tethered to her in some way as you gather your stuff. When you walk back to them, Gen starts reaching out to you, your parent name falling from her lips as she lets out a long yawn. You grab her and adjust her on your hip, turning to thank Abby when she takes your bag from you to carry. She leans in and pecks your lips quickly. You are startled but grin at her. She winks at you, then turns to the boys.

“Do you want your hot chocolate now? Okay, I want you to stay with us and keep holding hands, please. Okay, let’s go,” she nudges the boys forward to walk in front of you. Staying back in step with you, she wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you closer to her. The two of you, plus sleepy Gen, walk in sync towards the food shed that the farm had set up. Abby gives you another kiss when you stop at the end of the line.

“Do you want something?” She runs her hand up and down your back.

You hum, looking down at the sandwich board. “Can I get a chai latte, small?”

“Of course.” She smiles at you and Gen. “Do you want to go find a seat for us? I’ll stay with the boys.”

You look around and see a few large picnic tables under a tent. The farm had a whole area set up where kids could play while families relaxed under the tents if it rained.

Thankfully, the sky had very few clouds and no chance of rain until tomorrow morning. Abby specifically planned the pumpkin patch outing on this day because of the weather. No way was she dealing with fresh mud caked on the kids’ shoes all over the car and house.

“Yeah, okay,” you lean in to peck her lips again. Tiny moments of PDA were all you allowed yourselves while out with the entire family. If you guys got too lovey-dovey, Elijah took it as a challenge to see what he could get up to before you guys remembered you have children to focus on. One time, before Gen was born, you, Abby, and the boys went mini golfing and while Abby gave you a celebration kiss for getting a hole in one, Elijah managed to run ahead and overlapped two families golfing ahead of you guys. Once you guys realized where he went, he was three holes ahead of you. Thus, the quick pecks are all you get while out and about.

You leave Abby to oversee the two hyper boys who begin excitedly jumping in place as the line moves.

“C’mon, mi amor, let’s go find a seat,” you whisper to Genevieve, pressing a kiss to her head. There’s a brightly painted picnic table next to the pumpkin photo op. You take a seat and slowly adjust Genevieve’s legs around you. She is still awake, her eyes looking around even though her head stays tucked in your neck. You continue to bounce her in your lap, pressing kisses to her face when she whimpers for them.

You must have been spacing out because you startle when Abby’s hand and your chai latte show up in front of your face.

“Thank you, baby,” you say, using your free hand to take a drink from the cup.

“Anytime, sweetness,” Abby responds. She takes the spot next to you, and the boys climb onto the other side to sit across from you. You can tell they’re enjoying their not-so-hot chocolates. Elijah has a whip cream mustache that he acknowledges but doesn’t wipe off, much to the enjoyment of Isaac who has his own mustache made of cream and milk chocolate.

Abby hands him a napkin but doesn’t tell him to wipe the mustache off because she knows it’ll just happen again. Instead she simply nurses her own coffee, a smile on her face as she watches her family enjoy the pleasures of fall.

When the boys finish their hot chocolates and have their faces and hands wiped clean by Abby, you all make your way back to the car. You and Abby trade mom duties. She takes Genevieve from you. The girl’s tuckered out, staying quiet as Abby buckles her into her car seat. You had the job of lining the boys up on the side of the car and helping them get the majority of the mud off their shoes before carefully boosting them into the SUV and into their car seats. Elijah was in a basic booster seat and was now allowed the whole third row of the car to himself. Isaac was still in a more protective booster seat, one with a chest clasp and a neck pillow attached.

You’re about to climb into the passenger seat when Isaac asks for his tiny pumpkin you stuck in your bag. Then Elijah asks for his too.

Abby is still in the doorway of Genevieve’s side of the car, taking her time to adjust the straps on Gen’s car seat like the worried mother she is.

“Abby, can you hand this to Eli?” You pass her Elijah’s pumpkin. Abby takes it without looking and places it in Elijah’s hands. You climb into the car and pass Isaac his pumpkin. Abby finally shuts the back door and walks around the front of the car, patting the hood gently.

You watch her climb into the car. She makes a grunt when she settles. Probably sore from having to chase the kids all over for two hours. Abby starts the car and goes to place her hand on your head seat when she finally makes eye contact with you. The grin and blush that grows on her cheeks match how you feel inside when you look at her, so you lean forward to kiss her. More than a peck, but not ostentatious. When you pull away, you see Abby has her eyes closed. She slowly opens them and beams at you. Snapping back to reality, she continues to back up the car with her hand still clutching your headrest. You indulge yourself unabashedly as you continue to watch her back up, put the car into drive, and smoothly steer with the palm of her left hand. By the time Abby pulls out of the parking lot, her hand has made its way down to your lap to hold your hand. You squeeze it between both of yours and press a kiss to the back of her hand without thinking. You turn to stare out the window at the colorful red and yellow leaves that decorate the trees.

“You okay?” Abby asks you when you stay quiet.

You look at her. She notices your slow blink. “Tired?” She asks.

You hold your index and thumb up, closing the air between them until there’s a sliver left. “A bit.”

Abby laughs at your joke, then hums to herself. You feel her thumb begin to softly run back and forth across your skin.

“How about I put on a Halloween film for the boys and I while you and Genevieve take a nap?” She spares looks to you, to try and watch your face and the road simultaneously.

You nod. “Yeah, that sounds good. You sure you don’t want to take a nap?”

Abby shakes her head. “Nah. I promised to help the boys paint their pumpkins when we get home anyway. It’s okay,” she promises.

“Okay,” you mumble back to her, a nap does sound so appealing. You keep a tight grip on Abby’s hand as you already feel yourself start to drift off.

Abby lets you have her hand until she needs it to pull into the driveway. A gentle nudge on your shoulder wakes you up.

“C’mon baby. Let’s get these kids inside and then you can nap.”

You pout at her, but follow her as she helps Isaac and then Elijah out of the car.

You unclasp Genevieve’s buckles and pick her up to cradle her in your arms. Abby makes sure to take your bag before you think to grab it yourself.

The boys’ shoes are carefully put away and you can already hear them talking excitedly about what they were going to paint on their pumpkins. You go past the living room and into your bedroom with Gen still in your arms. She slowly blinks her eyes at you when you lay her on your bed and start helping her take off her outdoor clothes.

“Hey, baby,” you keep your voice low. “Wanna take a nap with mama?” You place her clothes on the chair next to your bed. Without saying anything, Genevieve climbs over to Abby’s side of the bed and tugs your crocheted blanket up to her chin. You cough out a laugh. She really is your daughter. You change out of your outdoor clothes and into comfy, nap-appropriate clothes that consist of cotton shorts and one of Abby’s old high school shirts. You fill a glass of water in the en-suite and make your way back to the bed, Genevieve already letting out soft snores. Just as you climb under your own blanket, Abby tiptoes into the room.

“Hey,” she greets you, coming up to kiss your head. “I’m just gonna change and then I’ll leave you to your nap.” She brushes her hand over your head, combing your hair back. She presses another kiss to your head. “I love you,” she whispers. She gives you one more kiss then walks to the dresser.

“I love you too,” you tell her when she walks back by on her way to the bathroom.

“I love you more,” she whispers as loud as she can before shutting the door, stopping you from trying to top her declaration.

You are fast asleep by the time she exits the bathroom. She’s wearing one of your tie dye shirts and her favorite Halloween themed pajamas pants. She takes a second to look at you and Genevieve as you sleep. Both of you are laying on your backs, but your heads are turned to face each other. One of Genevive’s hands is wrapped around a few of your fingers. Abby could die right now because of how much her heart burns as she looks at the scene in front of her. And what a way to go that would be.

Abby tiptoes to the door and makes sure to quietly shut it before heading back into the living room where Elijah and Isaac are dealing out what paint they want to use from their paint bucket.

“Is mama and Genny going to join us?” Isaac asks Abby. He grabs a blue tube of paint, then a green one. He then looks up at Abby, his eyes bright.

“No, baby. They’re super sleepy and going to rest for a bit. So we gotta be quiet, okay?” Abby tells him. He nods his head and continues to look at the paint. After a second he turns back to Abby.

“Can we watch Halloweentown now?”

Abby smiles at him and runs her fingers through his hair. “Of course, baby.”

He gives her a big enough grin that she sees where his missing teeth used to be. He starts to hum the theme song before the movie even begins, Elijah joining in when the song actually starts to play.

Abby leans back on the couch. She looks down at the boys kindly sharing paint brushes and tubes of acrylic paint. She thinks of you and Genevieve taking a nap together upstairs.

If you told Abby that one day she’d be sharing a life with you and your three beautiful children, she wouldn’t believe you. But she sure would wish for it.

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[juha-art]

if I keep relistening to matsuri they will stay happy forever

[shotmrmiller]

“Oh Bonnie! Guess who’s back~!”

“I just changed the locks, how tf are you in my house?!”

The perfect marriage tbh :)

gets to a point where she's just tired of fighting it because all she's doing is what soap always says which is "make 'erself mad."

doesn't fight that he's coming through the windows even though you've called the locksmith three times in one week. doesn't flinch when his arms suddenly cage her in when she's making herself them lunch. stopped wiping the wet spot he leaves behind when he kisses her in the morning as he leaves for work. simply tells him to not take too long when he tugs at her sleeping shorts.

"aye, ah'll take care o'it. jus' go back t'sleep."