tomaviolli



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    “This time… I am dealing with fertilized eggs.” The accusing gaze he shot Gallagher was supposed to make him feel bad, but the Hound just found it cute. Sunday was scary in a lot of scenarios – just not in this one.

    “Lemme guess: My fault,” Gallagher responded with the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage. This time, Sunday openly hissed at him, and that was an answer in itself already.

    “Yes,” Sunday gasped, before he let his head rest against Gallagher’s shoulder, breathing his scent. “These eggs… are way bigger. I can’t get them out.”

    “Y’know, next time you should warn me when I’m about to father like what? Seven little birdies?”

    The Charmony Festival approaches, the fates of multiple people are about to clash with each other, and conflicts reminiscent of Penacony's bloody history are about to break out-
    And it is of course in this time of conflict that Sunday had to get knocked up by his Head of Security.
    Sunday makes sure that Gallagher takes full responsibility - and Gallagher delights in every opportunity to make yet another distasteful bird pun.

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    27 Jul 2025