Bella and Emmett have a contest going on for who can be the most dramatic at their family members fake funerals.
It started when Emmett actually put eye drops in his eyes to fake some loud and gross sobbing into an embroidered handkerchief at Bella's first fake death in Forks and it has only escalated since then
May I humbly request the chaos twins bullying each other in the way siblings do
Like Sun and Moon definitely get into it on the regular but they love each other bunches and I’m in a soft mood ok ;_;
[image description: a digital drawing of Cirrus (she/her), an air genasi woman, playing the flute on stage. Cirrus is slender with pale grayish-white skin and shoulder-length white hair that resembles a cloud. She’s wearing a voluminous short babydoll-style dress with short puffy sleeves, pastel rainbow in color. Her eyes are closed and she looks peaceful. There are gauzy champagne-colored curtains behind her and little orbs of floating light. End ID.]
a million years ago, brontide had a dream about his sister and i’ve wanted to draw it ever since.
Encantober - Head Pats
If Bruno had his wits about him, he might have seen his fate as he entered the kitchen.
If his head wasn't pounding with a sharp, unrelenting ache and the mid-morning sun wasn't so aggressively bright, he might have seen Mirabel's small fist held in suspension over the coffee cup, might have seen her pudgy fingers splay wide as they released a mountain of salt into the already opaque grey liquid. If his mind hadn't been clouded with anxious thoughts of the future and its impending collision with the present, he might have heard Camilo bickering loudly with his prima-partner-in-crime about whether their concoction required precisely one or two pinches of cayenne seeds. Indeed, if he'd gotten even a smidge more than a mere hour's rest, he might have registered the faint bite of vinegar still lingering in the air, rising from damp puddles where the clumsy dexterity of the children had occasionally overshot the cup as they prepared their very own magic potion—a potent poison to ward off the evil spirit they'd heard the townspeople say prowled among them in their Casita.
As it was, he was neither clear headed nor alert nor rested, and so he wandered into the clutches of his cruel fate without even an inkling.
"Morning," Bruno murmured, his words blurring at the edges.
Mirabel and Camilo's heads shot up from where they bent together over the cup, backs ramrod straight and hands behind their backs.
"Buenas, Tío Bruno," they said in unison, a sweet chorus of innocence.
Bruno rubbed one eye roughly and cracked the other open enough to see the cup, now abandoned in the center of the kitchen island.
"Ah look at that, you kids saved a cuppa coffee for your old Tío?"
They looked up at him with wide eyes. Camilo nodded his head ever so slightly and Mirabel bit her lip. Bruno didn't think much of it. He probably looked a ragged mess, frightening to anyone, really.
"You're good kids," he rasped, patting them both on the head as he swept past, scooping up the cup as he went. He heaved a deep sigh as dragged himself out the kitchen doorway, back toward his tower.
"Milo," Mirabel hissed loudly, leaning toward her cousin, eyes huge behind her glasses. "But that's is supposed to be for the monster!"
Camilo hushed her and looked around quickly. It even hears your dreams, the townspeople had said.
Mirabel leaned even closer. "But Milooo, is it going to give Tío poisonous in his body and make him died?!"
"No, dummy, that's ony papaya seeds," he shot back, but he gave one last uncertain glance toward the courtyard.
"Phew," she sighed, slumping back onto her stool with relief. "Good thing we didn't added those yet."
Just then, a great cloud of sputtering and cursing erupted from the top of the courtyard stairs, echoing with bouncing resonance around the previously quiet walls. Camilo and Mirabel bolted from their seats, giggling behind muffling hands as they followed a path of clanking, quivering tiles that Casita furnished along their escape route.