Oct 25, 2017
((Idk... Fate just came into my head like this and I had to doodle it.
Do not ask why, my weird brain does not hold any answers.))
seen from Hungary
seen from T1
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from Thailand
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seen from China
seen from United States
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seen from Denmark
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Uzbekistan
((Idk... Fate just came into my head like this and I had to doodle it.
Do not ask why, my weird brain does not hold any answers.))
Fart noise at.
A simple hello would have sufficed.
"Question, keep my hands ta myself no matter the answer but; do you like yer ears rubbed?"
“It is a pleasant, yet intimate contact. So yes, I suppose I do.”
Bridal scoops up from behind. "Mornin', sugar." After leaning in and grinning at the other, he soon realizes something. "-wrong Talon." Don't stab the gambler, please. ((Also, HI. I stole your prompt, only fair I send you something.))
Pick up my muse. (No Longer Accepting)
Not only had the assassin not expected to be picked up like this, they weren’t expecting to see the face that greeted them. They return his look with a glare and a blade to his throat.“You better start explaining what the hell you think you’re doing.”
"I'm gonna let you bake, but I gotta tell you: Talon makes the best pies ever."
“Is...what kind of metaphor is that? Is it about eating ass?”
stackingthedeck replied to your post: “Vastayan… fruit pie?” “That sounds absolutely...
“Bet it’s wild berry flavor.”
“Maybe I should ask Xayah to teach me! Although... I probably do not have the right things to make it.”
"SO are we goin' ta the manor this year for snowdown?" And living there for like three months as per the norm because Talon's General, aka PAPA, wont let his children go after.
Once again Talon stood in the kitchen. Out of the oven came a nice, spicy but yet sweet smell. Little orange bums were sitting in small muffin like forms. The assassin was sitting on the floor he had cleaned just this morning and watched the snack as if it was some kind of show.
“I’d love to”, he admitted in his response, and the way his voice went a little higher from his usual low pitch it held hints of his honesty. But that didn’t last for long. Signs of concern formed his features. “I... I just...”
Ports in, dusting off his pants. "That's ta last damn time I go off that fucker's lead. Shit head sent me to SHURIMA." He sighed, "Why does it smell like hot vomit in 'ere?"
Three in the living room, two in the kitchen - one of them only half empty - 3 more in the bed room; Bottles of gin were everywhere. Empty.
As empty as the assassin’s stomach by now. Talon was leaning over the edge of the bathtub, arms resting on the cold surface, eyes staring down at the spot his vomit had been just a few minutes ago before he had decided to grab the shower head and flush it all away.
The man was so exhausted, he couldn’t even move, nor did he want to make a noise at his husband, who had finally returned. Though he was overly glad and almost felt like crying in joy that Fate was well and alive - at least enough to voice frustration - Talon had no way of expressing anything at the second.