#but he's TRYING

[sky-kiss]

prompt: Raphael giving a genuine love confession to tav (that is unintelligible due to him being a devil…a too subtle love confesion?… maybe something that sounds like a threat or an attempt for deal for their soul? i just would like if you could show me this clown being a failure at emotions XD)

Raphael kept his word. 

There’s no ambush waiting for her in the House of Hope. It’s only Raphael, resplendent in a black silk shirt. It’s a far cry from the elegant doublet he favors, simultaneously more expensive and relaxed. Relaxed is what she fixates on; a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. The devil’s smile could nearly pass for genuine. 

He offers his arm, helping Tav into her seat. Raphael has left nothing to chance: the table is set, lavishly. The wine is rich and decadent, the finest vintages in his expansive cellar. The cost must amount to a small fortune, but the devil spares it no more than a passing thought; what Tav has provided is infinitely more valuable. 

The Crown of Karsus. The key to his freedom and his heart's desire. One thousand years of longing brought to a suitably climactic conclusion. The cambion settles into his seat with a small sigh, massaging his forehead. The nightmare will pass. He will establish himself as Archdevil Supreme. He will…

“You’re more subdued than I would have expected,” Tav says, tracing the rim of her glass. A bruise stretches from the curve of her jaw to the bridge of her nose, splotchy and ugly, a blemish on an otherwise lovely face. It must hurt; when she smiles, she winces. “No theatrics? I’d have expected an impromptu poetry recital if nothing else.” 

“Loathe as I am to disappoint you, pet, I have nothing to offer.” 

“I understand.” Tav slumps in her chair. The newly christened hero of Baldur’s Gate looks small, hair wild, bags rimming her eyes from too many sleepless nights. “It’s wonderful to reach the end. But…” The smile and its accompanying wince. “I just find myself feeling tired.” 

He dislikes seeing her like this: small, delicate, and yielding. It isn’t his mouse. His pet is fire and drive, her ambition mated to his own. The cambion hums, tapping his jaw. “And still you’d return to the Gate. You’ll play the hero.” 

Tav chuckles and finally sips the wine. He considers slipping a restorative draught into her next cup if only to deal with the damned bruise. He hates looking at it, hates seeing his toys marked by a hand other than his. “Someone has to restore the city.”

“Shall it be redemption, mouse? Striving to set right sins you barely remember?” She doesn’t respond. He knows he’s struck a nerve. In a perfect world, she’d rage at him, all her delicious fury brought to bear. Raphael cocks his head to the side. He speaks the words carefully, slowly, as if tasting a fresh dish and still determining the flavor. “Let it die, hero. Wretched as your mortality may be, it is full of such delicious potential. If you must tie a millstone around that lovely neck…” he frowns. Tav watches him, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed, as if she’s waiting. As if she expects what he’s about to say. He loathes it; the damned little thing should never have been allowed so close. “Let it be mine. Serve me.” 

“Serve you?” She laughs. “Raphael, I’ve only just reclaimed my life. Why would I put it in your hands?” 

“Why not? Have I not been reasonable? Have I not treated you well?” 

“For a devil.” Conditional approval. Fury roils in his belly. 

“You would have power and wealth. Everything a mortal desired. Under my yoke, you will be kept young and beautiful. We will dine like this every night.” 

Tav licks her lips. The House is too warm, and she is so mortal. Her eyes glitter with something. Not desire, not strictly, but something like pity. “And what? I kill your enemies? I run your errands? Warm your bed?” 

The stab of want threatens to choke him. When he speaks, it’s only just above a growl, the words rumbling through them. “Yes. Eternally.”

“Raphael.” she sighs, scrubbing a hand through her hair. Messy, like all her kin. He wants so badly to impose order. If he could only have her if she would only submit. The hero stands, crossing to him. It’s a strange twist. The mouse touches his cheek. Her skin is warm. An inane voice in his head chants to him: take her, taste her. He wants to taste her. “I should go.” 

He could make her stay, could break her. But it would taste like ash on his tongue. He holds his head high, smirking. “You will receive no better offer.” 

She doesn’t backpedal, just presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re probably right. Give them hell, devil.” 

And as is so often the case, he’s left alone. 

[questionablealibi]

I see you people who like my Out-Of-Bounds Narrator!

Goodnight doodles!

Don't worry those who i've seen really like my gooey out of bounds narrator! I see you and i very much appreciate all your love and attention on this big boy! We all love a big softie 💕

I also want to thank the people in the reblogs and tags who want to put one of or both my sillies in their mouths and are shaking my posts vigorously!! Your tags are very funny and make my whole day, i'm glad i can make your day a little better in return!

Goodnight for now, take care! <3

[constantcrisis19]

Making Progress

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: So I did a thing. I was dragged into the COD fandom kicking and screaming and now I can't get the skull man or the feral Scot out of my head. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,172

You gracelessly slumped into one of the seats that lined the right wall of the helo's hull with a relieved groan that probably wasn't all that appropriate outside of certain bedroom activities if the several wide-eyed stares you suddenly found aimed your way by the soldiers dutifully filing into the bird was any indication, but you were much too tired to care about the mix of shocked and judgmental looks being thrown your way.

You still had your headphones on, the low bass music humming through the speakers keeping your hands from shaking like they wanted to when you weren't holding a weapon. The weariness that seemed intent on weighing down your frame reared its ugly head now that you were coming down from the rush of adrenaline that you got every time you went out into the field. 

You leaned your head back on the metal wall behind your chosen seat and closed your eyes, not even bothering to buckle yourself in as you instead focused on taking deep breaths, the floor under your boots vibrating as the rest of your haggard team moved about to secure the helo for lift off. 

You figured that it wouldn’t be much longer before they closed the bay doors to seal them in if the faint rumbling sound of the engine warming up echoing through the hull as the massive blades atop the helo slowly began to spin was any indication. 

You were distracted from your musings when you heard someone take the open seat next to you. You looked over to see none other than Ghost, the man not bothering to even look up from his task to meet your questioning stare as he meticulously buckled in.

A silent and awkward tension slowly built up between you two, and Ghost still hadn't even offered a word of greeting.

You were about to break the silence with something when the helo began picking up speed, its blades spinning faster and louder and causing you to quickly buckle your own seat belt without even thinking about it, the noise of the engine drowning out the music that you had been listening to.

The helo slowly began to rise into the air as its rotors reached the speed needed for it to lift off, moving up until you could see the city below through the windows getting smaller.

You lifted a hand up to grab your headphones, shifting one of the earpads away from your ear to rest against the side of your head before you decided to break the silence yourself, clearing your throat nervously before speaking.

"Been a hell of a day, huh, sir?" You said while staring at the side of Ghost's head, his intimidating skull mask blocking your view of his face as you tried to break the ice.

The only response you got from Ghost was a slight grunt, his mask not moving from his straight and relaxed staring. His complete lack of emotion made it feel as if he hadn't even heard you, his only other reaction being him shifting his gun to the side, the barrel pointed off behind him. And, after a few more seconds of silence, he finally spoke up again. "Yes. It has."

"What are you gonna do to unwind when we get back? I personally feel that we could all do with a nap." You stated with a longing sigh, you desperately missed your bed but, at the rate that you were going, you'd be willing to lay on a slab of concrete if it meant that you could get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

"Nothing." Ghost stated coldly, his answer blunt and almost unnaturally calm. He didn't seem to be annoyed or anything, just that simple answer of 'nothing'. "You?"

You blinked at him for a moment, caught off guard by Ghost actually actively engaging you in conversation by prompting you to give an answer of your own. "Uh, I was thinking that I'd take a shower and then crawl into bed and stay there until somebody checks up on me to make sure I haven't suddenly up and died." You replied with a shrug before squinting at Ghost curiously. "You really have absolutely no routine to come down from such a shitty mission?"

"No."

Again, his response was short and blunt, no trace of any emotion in his voice as he stared out into nothing. His lack of any kind of routine was almost eerie, it was as if he simply didn't have a need for it, as if he simply had no reaction whatsoever to the exhausting and life-threatening events that you and the rest of the squad constantly got dragged into.

"Come on, Lt, there's gotta be something. Humor me." You prompted with a good-natured smile, and Ghost finally turned his head to level his dull, brown eyes at you.

"I sit in the dark. Sometimes for hours. And I think." Ghost responded simply, the fact that his eyes didn't betray a single hint of emotion even as he described this almost frighteningly dark process he went through after each mission only made that statement even more unsettling.

"Jesus." You breathed in response, not even sure if a paid therapist could successfully unpack all that laid beneath such a simple statement. "You like tea, right?" You asked a little bit desperately. "Why don't you try making a cup for yourself when we get back? I'll even join you if you'd like?"

You weren't even that big a fan of tea, but you'd tolerate the less than desirable taste if it meant that Ghost didn't sit in his room, in the dark, all by himself.

"Tea?" Ghost questioned blankly, still staring at you with that same cold, blank expression on his face, a slight head tilt accompanying his question as if it had simply never occurred to him to take up such an action. He then stayed silent for a few moments as he thought over the idea, before eventually responding in a soft yet simple, non-committal way. "Why not."

"Cool. Do you have a specific flavor of tea that you tend to gravitate towards?" You asked, feeling proud of the progress you've made in engaging Ghost in conversation so far. The man was antisocial, sure, but that didn't mean that he was impossible to talk to, it just meant that it took a little bit of elbow grease to get him to loosen up.

"...earl gray." Ghost stated with that same non-emotional blankness. It almost sounded more as if he was reciting his tea preference, like it was something that he had been programmed to say, rather than an actual personal decision.

"Oh, jeez. Could you be any more British?" You teased with a lighthearted grin.

"What would you like?" Ghost continued, countering your question with a question of his own, and completely ignoring your comment about his tea preferences.

You thought about it for a moment, tipping your head back against the metal hull behind you to squint up at the bright fluorescent lights that lit up the enclosed space before answering. "I'm personally fond of London Fog. Though, I feel inclined to warn you that it's very sweet."

The tea you liked took copious amounts of both milk and sugar to make, but you had one hell of a sweet tooth so you believed that it was very much worth the potential cavities. That being said, you figured that Ghost most likely wouldn’t enjoy London Fog tea since you’ve never even seen him use sugar in his own preferred tea on the rare occasion he had some free time to make some. 

"I see." Ghost said in a slightly more questioning tone than usual, a sign that your comment about the tea being sweet had caught him off guard. Still, he didn't show any signs of dislike about the idea, and instead kept up his same blank stare as he considered this new information.

"Alright." He then said, seemingly approving of your choice.

"Perfect." You stated with a wide grin, feeling pleased as pie that you managed to rope the infamously reclusive Ghost into some social interaction with you.

"Oh! I have a playlist that I usually play to help me wind down and it's become kind of a habit to listen to it after missions. You don't mind if I were to play it aloud while we drink tea, do you?" You asked when the thought came to you, looking at Ghost imploringly and hoping that he wouldn't mind.

"I don't mind."

This time, Ghost replied in a slightly more casual tone, his statement sounding more like him stating an honest personal answer rather than merely a programmed response.

He then gave a simple nod as he added, "You can play it."

Your smile widened, an intense feeling of giddiness rising inside you as you realized that Ghost was warming up to you, the man's slow but steady emergence from his shell making you bold. "Do you listen to any music?"

This question seemed to catch Ghost off guard a little bit, a noticeable flinching of his eyebrows in surprise as a slow and confused nod crept up on his face.

"Rarely." He said hesitantly, seeming deep in thought for a few moments as he was clearly struggling to remember a song. "Classical, usually."

Your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously. Heavy metal, sure you could see him listening to that angry stuff. Alternate, yeah maybe certain starving artists that sang about their like trauma and struggles or something. But classical? Never in a million years would you have guessed that the dark, brooding Ghost listened to classical music and if anybody would have suggested it, you would've laughed in their face.

"No way." You laughed, not unkindly, and lightly nudged his shoulder with your own, barely enough force to even jostle him since the last thing you wanted was for him to see the gesture as some sort of attack. "Who's your favorite composer?"

"...Beethoven." Ghost said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "You?" He then asked after a short pause.

"You know... that actually makes a lot of sense." You mused as you stretched your arms over your head. From what you remembered of Beethoven's compositions, most of them were dark, powerful swells of music that scratched a very specific itch in the back of your hindbrain. "As for my favorite, I'll have to go with Bach."

"...Bach." Ghost echoed blandly, as if he were trying out the name for the first time and figuring how it sounded. After a few seconds, he replied. "What do you like about him?"

Ghost had never shown much curiosity to anything outside the scope of his usual tasks or duties, so seeing him so interested in such a mundane topic was... intriguing, to say the least.

"I guess I just like powerful music that tells a story and makes you feel something, ya know?" You said as you slouched back in your seat as much as the straps would let you.

"Powerful." Ghost echoed the word in a slow, monotonous drawl, and seemed to mull over the word for a few seconds before speaking again. "Define 'powerful' in this context."

He seemed oddly fixated on this particular word.

"The slow crescendo into a thunderous roar as the climax of the composition hits... until that intense mix of harmonies are all that's ringing in your ears... I suppose a word that I could've used instead of powerful could be 'all-consuming'." You gesticulated as you spoke. You were very passionate about music, as evidenced by how animated you became while rambling.

Ghost nodded slowly, seeming to consider your words as his unblinking, unmoving stare pierced through the helo's hull.

"And Bach's music makes you feel that way?"

There was that same note of mild surprise in his voice as he spoke, as if he couldn't quite believe you were able to describe the sensation so clearly.

"Yeah, I can add a few of my favorites to my playlist, just for you if you're interested." You said with a smile, only half teasing. There was no doubt in your mind that if Ghost did end up saying yes, you would absolutely add some classical tracks to your wind down playlist, if not to further encourage future get-togethers with you and maybe broaden his music tastes in the process.

Ghost stayed silent for another few moments, his face turning into a slight and rare grin as he found something genuinely amusing about what you had said.

"Sure." Ghost said simply, once again with that simple, neutral tone of voice. "...Thanks."

It was his first instance of genuine kindness throughout this entire short conversation, a small thank you that he added on in a soft, genuinely appreciative tone. He even flashed you a faint yet real smile, and while it was brief, it was more than most people had seen from him.

It was progress.

[allgremlinart]

well that answers that question,,

alt text: Regret window damage! Be assured you will receive payment in tomorrow’s mail! [signed] The Batman

[aquagirl1978]

[randomlyfallen]

Some classic character brain storming for spotlight au

[thedarkladyofthenight]

Bad said he rewatched the video back and looked up Korean pronunciation and has been practicing YD's name... common Badboyhalo W

[phantom-of-the-501st]

I love Echo but that man has defo picked up the 501st nature of being a terrible liar

[dirtytransmasc]

HC time:

Aegon bear hugs Daeron, damn near crushing him, every time he comes to visit from Oldtown, and announces very loudly (and typically very drunkly) to his siblings (who are right next to him and can very plainly see that there brother is standing right there and might have already said their greetings) that their brother is home and quickly calls for wine so they can celebrate.

they share hugs and stories before sitting somewhere they won't be bothered until they run out of wine. it almost always ends with Aegon lovingly draped across his siblings and either Aemond or later Daeron (once he's big enough for it) dragging him to his chambers where he will vice grip around their waist and they end up giving in to an afternoon in his bed (the other two will shortly follow with books and other entertainment and Helaena will bring the babes).

aegon missed his littlest brother and wants a day to be a soft and squishy mess. none of them, not even Aemond, will complain about cuddles.

[avamedera]

Hobie Brown: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Miguel: Bees? Hobie Brown: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Miguel: Wait- *Pavitr Prabhakar approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly*

[jttwlmkaddiction]

Theory: Macaque is partly the reason Wukong sucks at communicating with MK

Don't get me wrong, the Monkey King just straight up sucks at talking things out, but I don't think Macaque helped.

We don't know how long they knew each other before the Brotherhood but we can assume it was long before that point. He almost seems to be a relationship that mimics not just friendship but an informal mentee-mentor one as well.

Wukong is a natural leader, loud and charismatic where Macaque clearly is confident but prefers to be his 'shadow'.

He's more like a right hand monkey to Wukong, but their relationship isn't necessarily defined in that way, or at all. The two have no trouble speaking their minds or messing around so there is definitely a mutual respect. Wukong doesn't necessarily listen to Macaque, though this doesn't seem to really upset him, nor does it seem to bother him that Wukong treats him as something like a younger brother (or whatever) where he expects him to just always be there and to go along with his wild plan of the day.

If you look at it as a Mentor/Mentee situation, their fight might look a little different relating to modern day.

Macaque finally breaks and now that Wukong HAS to listen, he tells him exactly how he screwed up, not with the Jade Emp fight but with him, specifically. Wukong is angry too, but once Macaque leaves, his anger doesn't seem to linger.

I think he listened, and we can tell in modern day. And not necessarily in a good way. Wukong withholds a lot from MK. He doesn't treat MK as an equal until the end of S4. He holds him at bay, and focuses on their mentor/mentee and friendship relationship. Macaque had made him realize that he'd ignored his best friend's 'military' guidance because he'd taken his friendship for granted rather than seeing him as his right hand man. Wukong doesn't want to hear that from MK, wants him to remain MKs hero rather than equal that he would have to listen to, because he failed so badly with Macaque and can't really open himself up to that kind of potential to fail so badly again. He was afraid MK might turn on him or fail him like Macaque did, and he might get MK hurt by not letting him help.

However - when MK and Macaque retrieve Wukong from the scroll, the two have their little non-verbal exchange and after that point Wukong changes his angle on teamwork. His guilty conscious probably got a kick start from the Samadhi fire thing and failed LBD fight, and after spending so much time in the scroll alone reliving his mistakes and subsequently getting Macaques forgiveness or approval or whatever that was, he was finally ready to swallow that fear of screwing up his relationship with MK and to work with everyone else.

[everchased]

Ever I just wanna let you know that I love your half orc Tav so much. He is everything to me. He's a disaster but he also has the strength to bust down a door so he can be a disaster wherever he wants but he's also Soft on some levels. Excellent Tav A++++++ I'll be here until the end of time to look at him

i'm so glad he's entertaining because i also find him extremely entertaining. he's trying so hard not to be a disaster and he's actually doinggggggg fairly well!

he knows what people expect of him as a paladin of vengeance, and particularly as a half-orc, and he's content to play into that expectation to get done what needs to or if he just REALLY doesn't like you. after all, don't do what you love, do what you're good at.

that being said, he IS soft! intimidation is not his first choice outside of battle, it's just the one he knows will work! he crumples like paper for anyone he feels has been treated unfairly and he really doesn't like scaring commoners. it's part of why he goes by his last name. 'sir finch' is a much gentler visual to him.

[icypantherwrites]

New Fic: Twist and Turn

Summary: Keith is absolutely not watching his teammates play a game without him and he most definitely isn’t wishing he could join them. Not at all. Besides, even if he did want to play, he knows he’ll just ruin it as he and fun don’t really mix.  No. It’s safer to just stay here, out of the way. 

Story snippet:

And before Keith could second guess himself he was on his feet and headed towards the game — faintly hearing Shiro’s surprised call of his name and clearly not expecting Keith to abruptly head over to the group — where it looked like Lance had just claimed his fourth victory based on his crowing.

Lance’s eyes snapped right over to Keith, his lips pulling up into a large, cocky grin that sent every alarm bell ringing and telling Keith he’d just made a huge mistake coming over here.

Damn him and his recklessness. 

“Come to play, mullet?” Lance’s hands gravitated to his hips, challenge clear in the pose. “You think you can beat the amazing Lancey-Lance?”

Keith’s brain blanked.

If he said yes then it was a challenge and it would escalate.

If he said no then Lance would tease and taunt and it would escalate.

And this, Keith realized, was why he always fucked things up.

He literally didn’t know what to say and now he was standing here like an absolute idiot and he needed to say something, anything, what the fuck did he—

Read it here

[apinchofm]

A Taste of One's Own Medicine

T, 4.3k, post season 2

Francesca is named Diamond and Anthony meets a young man who feels rather familiar.

Thanking the lovely @waterlilyrose for being my sounding board on this!! Check out their fics if you haven't already - they have stunning works.

[anerol152]

Me during all of S2:

[fanfictasia]

@badthingshappenbingo

Here's our fill for "Black Eye". :)

It's only been weeks since he became a Jedi, and Anakin is still struggling with the new environment and getting to know Obi-Wan. On the Coruscanti New Year, Anakin sees a fireworks display which sends him spiraling into a panic attack. It leads to a misunderstanding between him and Obi-Wan, but at least this once they have someone to help them communicate.