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the tension in the fontaine aq between them got me

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i wont stand for alhaitham slander hes a good boyfriend kavehs just dramatic and likes to be bullied (just like me frfr)

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Well how strong is he? Stronger than you?

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crumpled sopping wet paper kaveh for u

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Orders

Caretaker’s hand tightens around Whumpee’s wrist until they drop the knife.

“What do you think you’re doing?” they demand.

“I broke a plate, so I have to be punished,” says Whumpee tearfully.

Caretaker looks at the cuts across Whumpee’s other arm. They didn’t want to play this card, but this had to stop now. “Did I tell you to hurt yourself?” they shout.

“N-No.”

“If I’d wanted you to do that, wouldn’t I have told you to?”

“Y-Yes.”

“If I don’t tell you to hurt yourself, don’t do it. Clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

The word cuts Caretaker’s heart the way the knife would have done, but it’s better than the alternative. They let go of Whumpee. “Let’s get those cuts cleaned up.”

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Traveler: Aren't you ashamed? What would God think of you right now?

Scaramouche: I don't know. I consider myself God's failed creation.

Traveler: That actually explains so much.

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Blueberry kisses 🫐

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i thought you were a lesbian??

I AM TALKING ABOUT THE FAST FOOD CHAIN

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god i want five guys

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SO OKAY CANONICALLY ayato tries to dine at home as much as possible so he can dine with thoma, just the two of them, and ayaka is the one who ocasionally join. not the siblings dine together but ayato and his retainer. that is??? they are so married???

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[Comic] Scaramouche fails to scare the Traveler, it’s too late for him. He will be home soon 🙏 

I know I’m not the only one who thought of this during this scene lmao

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mihoyo STOP putting yae miko in shit. i want her dead. deceased. out of my way forever.

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Scara, it's 4pm! Time for your villain rehabilitation training!

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[ REACH ] SCARAMOUCHE.

scaramouche is awkward the first time he lays beside you, rigid and hardly relaxed when his body slides under the covers—you’d almost think he doesn’t want to be near you if you didn’t know him any better. you keep a small distance between you both when you see the way he seems to stiffen the closer you get, whispering a soft goodnight before closing your eyes.

what you don’t seem to see, however, is the way his eyes wander to your figure every few seconds, lingering over your face and raking over your features. you don’t see the way his eyes soften when you curl into the sheets for warmth. you don’t see the way his hand reaches out as you sleep, a little shaky at first—hesitant. he brushes a finger against your cheek as if testing the waters—and then he retreats almost immediately.

because you look delicate like this, soft and fragile, too easy to disappear suddenly, like you were never there to begin with. he doesn’t think he should be here beside you—but then you crinkle your nose in your slumber, and despite his better judgement, he smiles a little at the sight. his fingers run over the swell of your cheeks and brush over the bridge of your nose, delicately tracing the skin as he maps your features.

it’s not until you nibble on his fingertip as he traces your bottom lip does he realize you’re now awake.

“what are you—”

“how romantic,” you tease, grinning cheekily as your eyes flutter open, “and here i almost thought you didn’t like me for a bit.”

“that’s because i don’t like you,” he grunts, pushing you away (though gently) as you scoot closer and wriggle your brows.

“if you wanted to cuddle, you could just ask,” you giggle, and he glares.

you’ve always been bold, far bolder than he should let you get away with—but you throw him the bright grin you always do, and somehow he finds himself softening the harsh edges, like the glass is rounded so he doesn’t cut you as you reach your hand out.

“i don’t,” he huffs, “now go to sleep.”

there’s a slight pout on his face—though, you don’t think he realizes as much, and pointing it out would only sour his mood more. so you smile to yourself, taking in the way his hand falls limply onto the mattress beside him.

if he craves to reach for you again, to feel the warmth of your skin press against the tips of his fingers one more time, he makes no indication of it. scaramouche never reaches first—he simply tolerates your back hugs and linked arms, let’s you follow him around and maybe even hold his hand if he’s in a good mood. there’s always a disgruntled protest, however weak it might be, but just like always, he never pulls away.

and something tells you he doesn’t want to—something about the way his expression breaks for a swift moment before it’s hardened again tells you that maybe he needs your touch more than you need his.

so you flick his forehead, make his brows furrow and his chest ache with that smile you shoot him, the same one that soothes over the cracks the world has left in him over the years and fills them until he’s whole. “i would be asleep, if someone didn’t wake me.”

he hates that you’re right—but more than anything, he hates how easily you trust him. he hates how easy it is for his harsh glares to go ignored, how easy it is not to care about his bitter words and cold resolve, how easy it is to give and give when you get nothing in return. and because you never seem to care just how hard it is to love someone like scaramouche, you wrap yourself around his arm, making him stiffen with a scowl.

“hey, get off,” he says—but even as he pokes your shoulder to make a point, he makes no moves to pull away. it tells you enough, you think, it tells you everything you need to know.

please don’t ever let go.

“are you sure you want that, kuni?” you hum, reaching to poke his cheek, “you sure seem to like touching me—”

“i’ve had enough,” he grunts, “you can go sleep in another bed.”

“this is my bed,” you snort.

you’re right again, which only makes him ten times more irritated, but maybe…maybe he’s also ten times more in love. he wonders for a moment—thinks whether or not someday he can really bring himself to admit it.

so for now, he doesn’t pull away—and he hopes that’s enough to make you keep reaching out.

“whatever,” he mutters, and almost too swiftly, as if he wills himself to do it before he can change his mind, his arm tugs you closer against his side, letting your head fall to his chest. “i’d say it’s ours now,” he says quietly.

you grin, reaching a hand out to grab his, squeezing gently as your fingers lace with his.

and when you whisper, “goodnight, kuni,” with a kiss to his chest, he doesn’t pull away.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

i’m posting this and running away bc i hate it lmao bye