#sorry this one took SO LONG

[dndadsepisodecovers]

Ep.24.01-The Sins of the Fathers

[hdra77]

lilypad (nsh x moon) for the valentines requests? my robot yuri my beloved…

i made this one special just for you so i separated this one from the rest of my other lilypad requests so i hope you enjoyed lilypad yuri!! i decided to go experimental on this one and i had fun using my simple rendering style again!

[superxstarzz]

witch of heart + seer of mind?

iiiii don't have much to say about this one but it's p coolio!!

[little-pup-pip]

okay, so you know donnie from rise of the tmnt?? well he is a comfort character of mine and i like to think of him as a cg of some sort!! can you pretty please w/ a cherry on top make a moodboard of rise donatello, masc leaning, no paci please!! age range is 3-7!! can you also make it purple and neon themes with mayyybee some fluffy and/or techy stuff?? i hope i followed your rules enough!! i would really appreciate if you did this!!!!!! (no pressure) ^^ /pos

-@cheese-cheese-sammich

Sure!!

[asksidon]

A bit of a more funny prompt, but what if Sidon wasn’t paying attention while swimming and gets caught but a fishing hook, and returns to his SO all embarassed and pouty because Bazz and others couldn’t stop giggling when he asked for help, so he begrudgingly goes to SO for help. Big pouty fish man UwU

As Sidon approaches you, you hear something dragging in the grass behind him. He has an uncharacteristic, forlorn look on his face that you've never seen before as you realize he is pulling along a fishing rod, because it is attached to his belt, just above his... oh.

Sidon cannot bring himself to make eye contact with you as he draws nearer, and you ask, "My prince, what has happened to you? Do you need some help?"

Sidon stops a few feet from you and continues to look at the ground. "Oh, Y/N. It's the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me." His face reflects the truth of his words, and you place your hand gently on his arm. "Tell me about it," you say. "I promise I won't laugh."

"You wouldn't?" He looks up at you. "Everyone else did. Even Bazz, who is usually stone-faced." He gives a sigh. "Even he couldn't hold back a chuckle at how ridiculous I looked, trying to swim up a waterfall with a . . . with this . . . stuck just above my . . . oh, it's too embarrassing. I didn't even realize it was there at first. I don't know when it got there, and I'm lucky it didn't pierce . . . I don't think I can even let you try to help. I'll just go to my chambers and try--"

"Please don't be that way, my prince," you say. "You might hurt yourself. You can't see it well, considering where it is. Let me try to get it out for you. Who would leave something like this lying around?" He turns so that you can work the hook from his belt, which does not take long at all. You're glad it has not pierced his beautiful skin or hurt him, as well. "That's terribly irresponsible. You don't think it could have been another Zora, do you?" you wonder. Not that it matters now, but you can't help but feel curious.

"I don't know. Perhaps someone simply forgot about it and left it behind. I'm glad you're here, Y/N." He seems to feel soothed by your response. You see his shoulders relax once you get the hook out. You offer the fishing rod to him, but he shakes his head. "You keep it, Y/N. I remember you telling me that you were looking for a decent one. I can't say how quality it is, but at least you needn't spend your hard-earned rupees on it. And it is safer in your hands."

He turned to look longingly at the lake in the distance. "How long do you suppose it will take them all to forget about it?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, sweet prince." You have to go easy on the names of endearment in public, but it seems safe here. You tuck the fishing rod against a tree for the moment. "I bet they've all done silly things, too. They just might have had the luxury of not doing them in public." You're not used to this role with him, reassuring him, for once. It's nice to have the tables turned once in a while, but you wonder if you're doing it well enough.

He answers your unspoken question when he turns to look at you and pulls you into a hug. "Thank you, Y/N. I don't know what I'd do without you."

[sourtomatola]

Some automatons aren't the only ones struggling to accept hte new monarch

Comic into | Prev | Next

Masterpost

[smallsinger5901]

She is small and full of rage

another artwork for the fantastic @lovelyelbowleech’s War Games, still struggling with a Severe Lack of Art Supplies but hopefully Ill have new stuff soon!!

[swordsnflowers]

both: how did you meet ^_^

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 5: Wife

Read on AO3

When T.K. wakes up he’s momentarily confused. Whatever he’s on top of, it’s not his mattress. Did he fall asleep on the salon sofa or up on the aft deck again? He has to stop doing that.

And then the thing underneath him shifts ever so slightly and the memories of the last few hours come back in stunning technicolor. He smiles, rolling his hips a little bit and Carlos groans beneath him. “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he says, his voice rough with sleep, or possibly lack thereof.

T.K. opens his eyes and squints at his phone. They slept for…approximately an hour and a half. Definitely lack thereof then. “I think we both finished pretty well a couple hours again,” he says. 

“Yes, we’re clearly very good at finishing each other,” Carlos says with a laugh, his voice muffled because he’s pressing his lips into the bare skin of T.K.’s shoulder. “It’s more of a timing issue. We have to be up for breakfast in three minutes.”

T.K. opens his mouth, but Carlos lifts a hand and presses a finger against his lips, effectively silencing him. “I know you’re about to say ‘challenge accepted’, but if you start something now there’s no way I’m getting out of this bed,” he tells him.

Oh god. Those words are enough to make T.K. want to chain Carlos here and never let him leave. 

“Let the guests get their own breakfast,” T.K. tells him, planting his face between Carlos’ pecs (they feel every bit as wonderful as T.K. imagined they would) to press a kiss to his skin. 

Carlos’ fingers come up to toy with the hair at the nape of T.K.’s neck. “Pretty sure that’s going to affect our tip.”

“Who cares?” T.K. says with a groan.

“The entire crew,” Carlos tells him. “And us. Tips are what make this job worth doing. Also if we don’t get up someone is going to come looking for us.”

Right. That would be awkward. Especially since now, in the light of day, T.K. is remembering all the reasons he’d been trying not to let this happen in the first place. Like the fact that Iris and Carlos are exes, which makes everything complicated and weird. 

T.K. sits up enough to let Carlos slide out from beneath him. He opens his mouth to ask for a little clarity on the Iris situation, but Carlos speaks first.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” T.K. says, letting his eyes do that charming sparkle thing that usually gets him what he wants.

“Not a sex favor,” Carlos says with a smile.

Oh.

“I was thinking maybe I’d cook dinner for the crew tomorrow night. Like a really nice dinner since we have an extra day between charters,” Carlos continues. “As a thank you for being so kind and helpful.”

“Oh, cool,” T.K. says, once again astounded by how lovely this man is. “But I’m not going to be much help as a sous chef. You should see me try to boil water.”

Carlos chuckles. “No, I don’t need help in the kitchen. I was thinking I’d do something local, but that requires a trip into town and I don’t really know where to go.”

Time alone with Carlos? Wandering through the Bahamian market place? “Yeah,” he says. “Just as long as it’s not too early.”

“Yeah I’m aware that you’re not a morning person,” Carlos says, a knowing look on his face. “Don’t worry. I won’t drag you out of bed before you’re ready.”

“I’d rather you drag me into bed.”

Carlos laughs, and then an odd look comes over his face. “This was a lot of fun,” he says.“But I don’t—can we keep it between us? For now?”

“Sure,” T.K. says rolling onto his back and looking at the bottom of the bunk above him.

“Okay. Great. Thanks,” Carlos flashes him a relieved smile and then disappears into the bathroom.

It’s fine. T.K.’s no stranger to keeping secrets. What they did here as two consenting adults is between them and no one else. 

But something about the look on Carlos’ face, the hint of fear in his voice, it’s rubbing T.K. the wrong way. He needs to find out what happened between him and Iris. Especially if this is going to happen again.

And he’d very much like it to.

The guests are off the boat by mid-morning, which is a huge relief. When you’re on charter you have to be “on” all the time. Always mildly pleasant to sometimes outrageous (the 80’s rager this group wanted was nothing compared to the foam party another group requested that ended in one member jumping overboard and another cheating on his wife with her sister), all for the sake of tip money. 

The work doesn’t stop though. As soon as the guests are gone everyone gets out of their whites and back into their red FireBug t-shirts, ready to clean the boat until every inch of it shines. 

T.K. is bent over the master toilet, scrubbing away when Tommy’s voice crackles over the radio calling them all for a tip meeting in fifteen minutes.

Thank god he’s nearly done; the boat has been cleaned from top to bottom, which means that tomorrow they’ll only have the last minute prep stuff to do before the next group of guests arrive. 

And tonight? Freedom. The perks of being a yachtie mean occasionally having time off on a two hundred million dollar boat in an exotic location. Those few hours of free time are everything. Moments like that are when you can pretend that you’re the one with the endless bank account on the vacation of a lifetime. 

And he’s really looking forward to spending some of those moments with Carlos.

T.K. stands up, stretching out his back, his knees stiff from kneeling on the floor. He pats the garish, lion shaped tap on the sink as he gives the bathroom one more look and then heads out into the hallway where he picks up all the soiled sheets and towels to drop off in the laundry.

He passes the galley on his way there and catches a glimpse of Carlos, hands on his hips, distress on his face. Every single cabinet is open and the counter is covered in cookware, but Carlos isn’t doing a thing to help that situation.

“Hey,” T.K. says, putting on his sexy flirt voice since no one else is around.

Carlos is apparently too distracted to fall for it. “I think I’m losing it,” he says. “I swear to god we had more coffee filters, but I can’t find them anywhere. I thought I put them in one of these drawers, but they’re not there.”

“Ah,” T.K. says, walking through the doorway and into the kitchen. He grabs hold of the drawer Carlos indicated and yanks it out completely, setting it on the counter. Then he reaches deep into the empty cavity, fingers scrabbling around and until he meets crinkly plastic. “Voila,” he says as he pulls out the slightly squashed package of coffee filters. “That drawer is the worst.”

“Oh thank god,” Carlos says, relief on his face. “I thought I was going to have a mutiny on my hands. Crews without coffee are terrifying.”

“We do need our caffeine,” T.K. says.

“I owe you one,” Carlos says, sliding the filters toward the coffee pot on the counter.

“Mm…I could think of one or two ways you could repay me,” T.K. says, quirking a smug little smile.

“Oh really?” Carlos steps toward him, crowding him into the corner. “Would you like to tell me how? Or should I get creative?”

Oh fuck. The words go straight to his groin and he swallows hard. Carlos’ mouth is only inches away, his breath fanning over T.K.’s face. T.K.’s eyelids flutter closed as Carlos leans in—

“Yo!” Mateo pokes his head into the galley and the two of them spring apart. “You two coming? Tip meeting baby! Gotta get that green!”

“Yeah we’re on our way,” Carlos says, his face bright red as he quickly moves to follow the deckhand. 

Thank god Mateo is a slightly oblivious human being; he just keeps rambling on as they climb the stairs to the main salon. “This one’s going to be a big one, I can feel it.”

“You always think it’s going to be a big one,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. He tries to catch Carlos’ gaze, but the he seems to deliberately looking away.

“Yeah, gotta manifest what you want,” Mateo tells him as they reach the top of the staircase and join the others.

“What if I want six weeks of vacation without you there?” Judd asks from where he’s already seated on the pristine white couch. “How do I manifest that?”

“Not sure that’s in the cards Juddy boy,” Tommy teases as she settles into her usual chair. “Twenty-four hours of freedom will have to be enough.”

T.K. takes a seat next to Judd and expects Carlos to sit on his other side, but he crosses the room and sits next to Iris instead. She immediately leans over and says something to him, making him smile. He puts a hand on her knee and squeezes as he responds, and T.K.’s heart twinges painfully in his chest. 

They’d agreed to keep it private, but feeling like he’s a dirty secret isn’t quite the same thing.

He gets distracted from his anxious spiral when Nancy brings over a tray of drinks for the group and Tommy pulls out the tip envelope.

“All right team,” Tommy says, her calm, pleasant demeanor immediately silencing the chatter in the room. “Another fantastic charter. We had a pretty big emergency on our hands and you all handled it with the speed and skill I expect in a crew. Our guests were equally impressed and left us a very generous $23,000 tip, which is roughly $2,000 per person. Congratulations. And don’t forget, we have a dinner reservation tonight on land at 8:00. Be ready by 7:30 if you want to go.”

There are cheers all around as the envelopes are passed out. Dinners off the boat don’t happen every day, they’re lucky if they get them once or twice a month, sometimes less if the charters are coming back to back and everyone is exhausted. They’re a big deal and usually involve a post dinner trip to a club for dancing and more fun. 

T.K. doesn’t see Carlos for the rest of the afternoon. It seems like every time he walks by the galley Carlos is heading out somewhere else. It’s a similar situation in their cabin.

He’s having as similar problem with Iris. Every time he finds her there’s someone else around. Which is kind of annoying, but also a relief since he’s not sure what he’s going to say when they finally do have a chance to talk. 

“Hey Iris, your ex-boyfriend and I were fucking around last night and we might do it again. Is that okay with you?”

“Hey Iris, cool that I shoved my tongue down your ex’s throat?”

“Hey Iris, did you also find your ex’s dominating nature to be a massive turn-on?”

Yeah. None of those seem like great options.

He manages a quick shower before their dinner reservation, choosing his favorite floral Hawaiian shirt for the night and pairing it with a pair of cream colored linen pants, then grabbing a Panama hat for good measure. When in the islands, you may as well dress like it.

Paul and Mateo are in the crew mess when he gets there, both of them already sipping a beer to celebrate the end of their work day. T.K. pulls a mineral water from the fridge and joins them, laughing and chatting it up as they wait for the rest of the crew to get ready.

He’s halfway through his mineral water when Carlos finally appears. T.K. nearly chokes. 

Their chef is in black pants and a white button down that’s opened just one button more than should be legal, revealing a vast expanse of that beautiful brown chest T.K. had gotten to run his hands all over last night. His curls are wild and he hasn’t shaved, a little bit of five o’clock shadow shading his face. He smiles as he takes in the rest of the group, making something heavy drop into T.K.’s stomach. “Starting the party early?”

“I just spent two hours scrubbing the jacuzzi,” Paul says. “This is medicinal.”

“Fair enough,” Carlos says. 

“They’re in the fridge, help yourself,” Judd directs and Carlos takes him up on it, popping the cap off a bottle and taking a sip.

T.K. should not be staring at the way Carlos’ Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he drinks, but he is. It’s almost hypnotic and very, very sexual. God damn it. It’s like torture to be this close to him, to have him looking this good and not be able to touch him. He has got to talk to Iris.

Speak of the devil, Iris, Nancy, and Marjan choose that moment to arrive, all of them dressed to the nines as per usual. T.K. isn’t sure how they’ve managed to fit so many different outfits into their teeny cabin wardrobe, but he hasn’t seen them wear anything twice since the charter season started, and they always look fabulous.

“All right crew, we ready to go?” Tommy asks as she walks in, flanked by their first officer Dave. Neil, their engineer, drew the short straw this time and will be staying behind to watch the boat.

Their reservation is at Dune, a place with views that a travel blogger would rave over. It’s a thirty minute drive there in a couple of rented vans and T.K. ends up squished in the backseat between Marjan and Nancy, Iris and Mateo in front of them with Dave in the front passenger’s seat ignoring all their shenanigans. 

They’re in a spectacular mood by the time they reach the restaurant, some of them already a little tipsy and the rest just giddy with freedom and the beautiful Bahamian sunset. It’s shaping up to be a perfect night.

He sidles up to Carlos as they wait to get checked in. “I haven’t seen you all afternoon.”

Carlos flashes him a smile, but it feels artificially pleasant. “Yeah I had lots to do.”

T.K. waits for more, then feels confused when it doesn’t come. “I think you’re going to like it here,” he says, letting his hand brush subtly against Carlos’. “The food is amazing.”

“Great.”

What the hell? Why is Carlos being so weird?

He’d thought they were just missing each other all afternoon. But now it feels like maybe Carlos was avoiding him on purpose.

They’re lead to their table and he watches Carlos hesitate as they all grab chairs and the only open one is next to T.K. 

Now he’s starting to get pissed.

“Are you okay?” T.K. asks quietly as they all reach for their menus, a tiny bit of heat in his tone.

Carlos looks at him, but his face has that bland, pleasant look he usually reserves for guests. “Yes. I’m fine.” He looks across the table. “Paul, have you ever had the grouper here?”

Okay, now T.K. is really mad. What the fuck? Where is this apathetic attitude coming from? Was he just an easy lay? He’d thought…he’d thought there was something more between them. But apparently he was wrong.

He wants to drag Carlos away from the table and force him to talk about whatever is going on, but there’s no way to do that without making a scene. So instead he stares blankly at his menu, internally berating himself for once again falling for someone who says all the right things to get him into bed and then doesn’t give a fuck about him once it’s over.

Everyone else laughs and talks as they order drinks and apps and mains, their stories getting wilder and more hilarious the more the evening progresses.

“He literally shat on the deck,” Nancy says during dessert, the entire table howling with laughter. “This tiny dog, I have never seen so much poop in my entire life. I think he had a bowel issue. And he bit everyone on the crew. It was awful.”

T.K. forces out a laugh and then pokes at the creme brulee on his plate. Usually he loves the crème brûlée here, but tonight it sits thick and too sweet on his tongue.

When Iris gets up a few minutes later to go to the bathroom, T.K. practically leaps to his feet, startling everyone at the table. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry, be right back.”

If he can’t get answers out of Carlos, maybe he can finally get some out of Iris.

She’s already in the restroom when he gets there so he waits outside, lurking like some kind of pervert. His brain is so jumbled right now he’s not sure he can form a decent sentence, but he has to try. “Iris,” he says as soon as she reappears.

She gasps and he receives an incredibly sharp jab to the solar plexus. He doubles over, clutching at his chest, not an ounce of breath left inside him. “Iris!” he yells irately when he finally gets it back. “Why the hell do you always punch first and ask questions later?”

“Why are you lurking outside the women’s bathroom?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” he says, hand rubbing at the throbbing area dead center between his pecs. 

“For defending myself? No.” She looks him up and down. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I wanted to talk to you. About Carlos,” T.K. says, suddenly feeling nerves bubble up inside of him. 

“His snoring,” Iris says knowingly.

“Oh, no, not that.”

“The way he has to have everything cleaned up before bed or he can’t sleep?”

“No, that’s not it either I—“

“Oh. Did he tell you off for not rolling the toothpaste tube up to get all the toothpaste out of it? You don’t have to listen to him, you can throw it away before that. He’s not the toothpaste police.”

“No, Iris, listen,” T.K. says, putting his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “I’ve been…I—“ he swallows trying to figure out how to say this. “I know Carlos is your ex-boyfriend—”

“No he’s not,” she says immediately.

His head is spinning. This conversation is not going at all how he’d thought it would. “He’s not?” he asks in confusion.

“No,” she says. “He’s my ex-husband.”

It’s like a bomb detonates in his soul and slowly shatters him from the inside out. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He wishes he was sitting down because he’s so shocked right now that he can no longer feel his legs.

Husband.

They were married.

Which is a hell of a lot different than dating.

And it means…he doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know anything at all anymore.

“You were…married?” His voice sounds strange coming out of his body.

“Yeah for like a year and a half,” Iris says. 

His mind is rewinding at maximum speed through everything that’s happened on the boat since Carlos arrived. The way he and Iris look at each other. The tenderness. The hugs. He tries to make it all fit in his head with what happened between the two of them in his bunk this morning and Carlos’ aloofness tonight, and every possible answer he comes up with seems worse and more damning than the last. 

He’s an idiot.

An absolute idiot for ever believing that someone like that could be into someone like him.

“And you…do you still have feelings for him?” he asks.

Iris gives him a weird look. “Yeah. I love him. Why do you think I told Tommy to hire him onto the boat?”

It feels like the lid slamming shut on a casket.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Nancy asks as she comes around the corner. “We’re waiting for you. Judd, Tommy, Dave, and Neil are heading back. Are you coming dancing with the rest of us or what?”

“Yes, dancing,” Iris says, immediately moving to follow her, completely unaware of the way she’s just destroyed T.K.

“Dude let’s go!” Nancy shouts over her shoulder as she walks away.

It’s with numb legs and a bruised heart that T.K. follows.

[not-that-dillinger]

"Help!" Clu cried out for anyone, anyone who might be out and looking for survivors. He was pinned beneath rubble, and it hurt. Half his body was slowly being crushed and he cried out in pain for help. He only hoped Hal had gotten out safely.

//I'm riding the angst train today.//

Ed thought the death of Flynn would be the last he had to worry about the user, but the older user has left a nasty surprise in the system in the form of a virus. Whether he had imported it before entering, or whether he somehow created it in his final moments, either on purpose or accidentally, nobody knew. It remained dormant for some time, spreading without symptom for several cycles before becoming active. When it did, it spread like wildfire.

When Ed left for work, the system had been fine. When he returned from work, he immediately activated the laser, unsuspecting of the virus. Clu said he had something to show him such excitement, Ed had been curious about it all day.

The first sign that something was wrong was that Clu wasn't there to meet him at the rezz-in point.

To his horror, most of the city was in ruins, and glowing the sickly lime of a virus.

He heard Clu's cry for help as he neared the Admin tower, which had collapsed.

"Clu?!?" Ed called out. He picked up his pace. "Hang on, I'm coming for you."

He had to dig Clu out by hand; he didn't dare try messing with the code, as viral as it was, from this side. It took about an hour for Ed to free Clu, talking to him and reassuring him everything was going to be okay the whole time.

Just as Ed almost had Clu free, more of the building started to collapse. Ed pulled Clu out of the rubble, and scrambled backward from the collapsing building with his sonas fast as he could.

Ed hugged Clu tightly as they watched the rest of the building collapse, the rapid drum beat of his heart loud in his head. "Its okay," he said, as much to reassure himself as his son. "I have you. You're safe."

[doevademe]

simple prompt: Nico gets angel wings (very fitting) they're very real but can t fly tho, Percy sees him and forgets how to talk haha. Yes this is one of the many instances where the simple view of his boyfriend renders him speechless....for a time, but we all know Percy got a silver tongue and has mastered the ways of making Nico blush with just a few heartfelt words. All in all, it's just two dorks being in love 🤗 and exchange smooches 😘

"Hey," Percy heard his boyfriend say from the front door.

"Hi, Ni, how was the mission?" he greeted without turning back. He was midway into showing GreatLoon36 how to actually play a heavyweight character and he was not going to lose it.

"It was fine," Nico said. "You know helping Thanatos collect souls is like, the easiest of my missions."

"I still worry," he mentioned as GreatLoon36 used his special and dropped him off the stage, resulting in his win. "Oh, that is so cheap!"

He sighed and turned off the console, turning to look at the son of Hades.

He felt as if all breath had been punched out of him. Before him was an angel.

And not in the, 'oh, my boyfriend is so pretty, he must be an angel' way. Nico literally had wings that seemed to glimmer with their apartment's lighting between pure black, purple, and dark blue.

He stared for so long Nico started fidgeting.

"Thanatos went the extra mile for this one," Nico admitted sheepishly. "Since he's the original 'Angel of Death' and all, he said I needed to have these since I would be taking over for a few hours while he rested."

Percy just nodded. Never had his brain been so slow and dumb.

"They aren't even functional," Nico continued rambling. "I lack the magic to use them, so they are just decorations."

Percy had a million thoughts going through his head, all fighting to come out of his mouth, and all about Nico.

"They'll be gone by nighttime, or at least that's what Thanatos said," he kept on going. "So you know... you can stop staring."

Percy finally blinked and looked away.

"Shame," he managed to say.

"Huh?" Nico said, confused.

"They... they look really good on you," he complimented. "Goes with your name."

Nico reddened a bit a he looked away.

"Don't tease me, Percy," he mumbled.

"But I'm not," he said earnestly. "You look like a literal angel."

"Well, I was subbing in for the original Angel of Death, so..."

"They highlight your eyes," Percy kept praising him. "They make it seem like your skin is shimmering, too. The color—"

"Okay, stop!" Nico pleaded, completely flustered. "Has anyone told you you're too much sometimes?"

"Once or twice." he shrugged, letting his controller fall to the floor as he patted the spot next to him. "But my boyfriend loves it."

Nico rolled his eyes, but sat down besides the son of Poseidon, nonetheless.

He turned so his back was to him.

"Nico?"

"S-since you're so fixated and all, I guess you can touch them," he said, hiding his blush. "I pinched them before, it's like touching my arm except— weird!"

Percy started to run his fingers through the feathers, fascinated with how soft they felt.

"My boyfriend is so pretty," he praised. "I'm so lucky I have him all to myself."

"Because of the wings?" He managed to ask.

Percy chuckled and turned him around. He had that stupid, lovesick face that Nico loved.

"The wings are a nice extra," he admitted. "But you're beautiful regardless."

"So cheesy," he said back, but smiled as Percy leaned in for a kiss.

He felt his feathers ruffling up as Percy caressed them again while they kissed, and he decided that maybe Thanatos was on to something when he asked him to go the whole way with this job.

[ecopportunityx]

Update! And off we go!

Read here!

[joshconfirmed]

truly, what IS... art?

[primewritessmut]

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

Also, everyone has an artist's muse, may I ask what's yours??

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

A 1/2 cup of honey bees contains approximately 300 bees. I use this fact to shock and astound people who have never considered that, if you try hard enough, you can make bees behave as a liquid.

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

Oh man. It sort of depends on the season of my life. For years it was my roller skates but I don't get much time to skate anymore. Right now it's probably either my e-reader or my bow.

(I'm sure most people were expecting me to name a knife of some kind but that's only my SECOND most prized possession.)

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

There are a lot of songs I know all the lyrics to. I also don't know how this happened but whenever I'm about to attempt something with anxiety attached (usually a physical performance of some sort) I sing Breezeblocks by Alt-J or Love Me Dead by Ludo under my breath.

I honestly have no idea why but they've seen me through to some medals and accolades.

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

I once had someone tell me that my "absence is loud" in the sense that they notice when I'm not in the room and think the room is worse for the lack. It was years and years ago and I still think about it.

My muse?

People's stupidity + my latent homicidal tendencies. I have never written better characters or scenes than when some Ruby Random pisses me off.

As I say about @punch-love frequently: All things are possible through spite which strengthens me.

X

[little-pup-pip]

since I saw a McDonald’s one, how about a Moodboard for the new McDonalds restaurant, CosMc’s? Gender neutral is ok, deco and pack also, and please make it space themed! Ty! :) -💫💜

Here you go!!

[akechi-touma-ask-blog]

Hey Akechii!! I have a would you rather question for you! :D

Would you rather know the date of your death, or know how you'd die??

Have a wonderful day Akechii!!! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

“Hello! Wow, really hitting me with a hard question, huh? Since it’s not open-ended like some other questions I’ve received, I worry that I won’t be able to say much to you…”

“Death is such a complex thing. Whether you think of it as something to be avoided, or simply something that you accept as it comes, it can be viewed as such a negative or positive thing! I’ve known a few people in bad situations who viewed death as an escape; something to eventually look forward to. And it also depends on whether or not you’re religious, I suppose. If you believe there’s something waiting for you on the other side, that might be something hopeful to look forward to.”

“It also depends on what you decide is your value as a person, I suppose. I like to believe that I’m a good person, and that I do the right thing whenever I can, but I have lapses in judgment and weak moments, as does everyone else. It’s only human to make mistakes, whether or not you fear God or Heaven or Hell… Though, I do know someone who’s hardly human who makes mistakes from time to time— isn’t that right, Kusuo-kun…?”

[‘...’]

“I’m only kidding! I don’t think there’s anything in your biology that sets you apart from a human, scientifically, but you’re definitely far from the average person. Really, I’m surprised you haven’t done worse in your life. At least from what I’m aware of, I guess…”

[‘What’s that supposed to mean?’]

“I mean, as far as I know, you haven’t murdered anyone, and haven’t done anything considered particularly immoral, but I haven’t been around for most of your life, so— Ah! Actually, you did beat up a few of our old classmates pretty badly back then, didn’t you?”

[‘Don’t bring that up. It’s embarrassing.’]

“The lengths you go to protect your friends! You’re a good person overall, I suppose.”

[‘What were you thinking before…?’]

“Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes! Death, for most people, is something to fear, or avoid. Even though it comes for everyone eventually, some people go to extreme lengths to try to prolong their life, aside from simply dieting and exercising. Even so, there are certain drugs such as rapamycin and metformin, that are considered to prolong life, in a way. Likely not in the way you’re thinking, however.”

“Besides, there’s this to consider— If life could be prolonged at will, what’s the point of living at all? Nothing you do would have any purpose. An artificially prolonged life would stop serving benefits at some point, so I think I’ll accept my death as it comes.”

[‘That wasn’t the question.’]

“It wasn't, was it? Silly me!”

“Now… would I rather know the date of my own death, or know how I was going to die…? I believe either option would provide a fair amount of stress.”

[‘What do you mean?’]

“Well, if I knew when I was going to die, I suppose I’d work to make the most of my life, even more than I do now. It’d be a bigger motivation, knowing that I only have a certain amount of time left on this Earth, and I’d do what I could accordingly. It’d be somewhat soothing to be able to live my life according to a timeline, knowing I’m in control of what I do and how I live, even if still reasonably affected by external stimuli.”

[‘Then—’]

“Then what’s the issue, you ask? Well, assuming I’m lucky, say that I’m told I have 49 more years to live. That’s great and all, but when given a time limit, it’d seem agonizingly slow, even if I enjoy life. Once the date grows closer, even if still in a few years, I’d be tormented endlessly by the knowledge that my time is running out. Giving it a definitive answer makes it harder to feel like I have a great deal of time in the first place, no longer how long. And knowing might make it lose its luster, wouldn’t you say…?”

“Or suppose I’m told I have four months to live. Those four months would be the most painful and stressed of my life, because all I can do is wait for it to end. I think I’d be more comfortable with the uncertainty.”

[‘And the second half?’]

“Second half? Oh, yes!”

“I believe if I knew how I was going to die, I’d simply develop a phobia. I would know what would kill me, and possibly encounter it many times, depending on what it is, so I’d instinctively avoid it like the plague! That’s no way to live, don’t you think?”

“Ah, well, but I was supposed to choose one, right? I guess I’d choose to know when I was going to die, since it’s a bit more certain, but I’d be happiest not knowing at all.”

Thank you for the ask!