#g. tasks

[muppenthings]

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Arion is having The Worst Day™. But for Taniel it's just a day's work.

Last panel is the face of Cetus' brain catching up again and realizing who he just snarled at. :)

[otiksimr]

I whant Monster Hunter game where you can process the monster (skinning, deboning, that kind of stuff). Would there be a fun game? Probably not. Bit it’d be fun to ME therefore Capcom should spend all their time and resources making one-

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X Female!Reader

Warnings: fluff, tears will be shed

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy, this is based off of “Would you fall in love with me again” from Epic the Musical. 10/10 would recommend

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The house stood still in the quiet of the night, its porch light casting faint halos on the frost-dusted steps. Simon Riley hesitated at the door, his gloved hand hovering over the knob. The key in his pocket felt heavier than his entire pack. This house wasn’t just walls and a roof—it was everything he’d left behind, everything he feared he’d never see again.

With a deep, unsteady breath, he pushed the door open. The familiar creak echoed in his ears, a sound he hadn’t realized he missed. The hallway smelled faintly of lavender, the same scent you always favored. It hit him with a wave of nostalgia so strong his knees nearly buckled.

The soft glow of a lamp in the living room cast warm shadows over the space. Simon’s eyes swept over every detail, drinking it in as though the house itself might vanish. The beige couch, the neatly folded blanket, the wedding photo on the mantle—it was all there, unchanged. Yet, it felt distant, like a life that belonged to someone else.

He stepped further inside, the creak of the floorboards beneath his boots startling in the silence. His bag dropped from his shoulder to the floor with a dull thud, his hands curling into fists at his sides. This was home, but he wasn’t sure if he still belonged here.

“Simon?”

Your voice broke the silence like a sudden, bright light in a dark room. Simon’s entire body froze, his breath catching in his throat. Slowly, he turned toward the sound, his heart pounding in his ears.

You stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped in an oversized cardigan that swallowed your frame. Your eyes were wide, your lips slightly parted as you stared at him. The light from the kitchen framed you like a portrait, and for a moment, Simon thought he might be dreaming.

“Simon,” you said again, this time softer, your voice trembling.

He couldn’t speak. His throat felt tight, the words trapped somewhere between his heart and his lips. You didn’t wait for him to answer.

In an instant, you crossed the room, your slippers barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close with a force that took him by surprise. Simon stumbled back a step, but his arms found their place around your waist, holding you tightly.

“I’m here,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’m home.”

You clung to him like he might vanish if you let go, your tears soaking into the fabric of his jacket. Simon felt your body trembling against his, and it broke something deep inside him.

Your knees buckled, and he followed you to the floor, his arms never leaving you. He knelt there, cradling you as you both gave in to the emotions that had been held back for far too long.

“I thought—” Your voice cracked as you tried to speak through your sobs. “I thought you were dead, Simon. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He swallowed hard, his throat burning. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I didn’t mean to—God, I didn’t want to leave you like that.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at his face. His mask was pushed up to his forehead, revealing a face that was both familiar and different. There were new scars, lines etched deeper than before, and a haunted look in his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time you saw him.

“You came back,” you said, your hands cupping his face. “That’s all that matters.”

Simon’s gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of your words was too much to bear. “I don’t know if I deserve this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I deserve you.”

Your brow furrowed, and you tightened your hold on him. “Don’t say that,” you said softly but firmly. “You’re my husband, Simon. You don’t have to ‘deserve’ anything. You’re here, and that’s enough.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Two years, love. I’ve been gone for two bloody years. You’ve waited for me while I—” He broke off, his voice faltering. “I’m not the man I was. I don’t even know if I can be him again.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, at the way he seemed so much smaller despite his imposing frame. You leaned closer, your forehead pressing against his. “You don’t have to be,” you murmured.

Simon’s eyes lifted to meet yours, a flicker of hope mingling with his uncertainty. “Do you mean that?”

“I mean it,” you whispered. “Simon Riley, I would fall in love with you a thousand times over. Every version of you. Every scar, every flaw.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time in years, his tears spilled over.

Simon pulled you against him again, his hands gripping you like a lifeline. His lips found your temple, pressing a soft, lingering kiss there as his tears mingled with yours. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped.”

You nodded against him, your fingers threading through his hair. “I know,” you said. “I love you too.”

The two of you stayed like that on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the past two years finally beginning to lift. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. In this moment, in this house, you were home.

Simon shifted slightly, leaning back just enough to look at you. “I’m going to make this right,” he promised, his voice steady now. “For you. For us.”

You smiled through your tears, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You already have, Simon.”

And for the first time in years, Simon Riley felt whole.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[who-u-calling-pinhead]

HELLO???

[hunterbunter3000]

OMG SWEETHEART GETTING THE GUYS WORKED UP😍 GET IT GIRLFRIEND

imagine she wears on the those dresses that have HIGH ass slits on both sides showing off her thighs and a sliver of her ass. just a peak yk..a little tease for later

WHHOOOOO

I mean it looks so beautiful on her. Hair in thick, long braids, pearls interwoven in the hair by delicate hands, with gold sparkly jewelry adorning on her skin. She looks like ethereal royalty, sultry makeup and hair. Lips glossy and plump with such a pretty color and nails dipped in gold.

And that dress...

It might as well be a second skin, with how sinful it looks on her. A black Spaghetti strapped body con dress with the deepest v-line they've ever seen. And when she walks, the splits show off her shiny, thick thighs and her long "Stairway to Heaven" legs-- fuckkkkkk

The clicks of her gold gladiator heels makes all of their fantasies want to come true. "Alright, boys! How do I look?" She asks with a smile as she pivots her back towards them. Oh hell, you can see some of her ass-- who the fuck made this dress?

Gaz inhales deeply and Alex bites his fist. Soap has drool coming out of his mouth while Ghost is hiding his crotch behind a pillow. "You look absolutely gorgeous, princess." Price tells her with a low voice, his crossed arms straining against his chest. "Strahlend..." König whispers to himself. "Good." Horangi flats out. He mechanically gives her a thumbs up, not noticing the blood trickling out of his mask. "Good, good. Very good style."

Sweetheart giggles, collecting her purse. "Awww, thanks guys! I'll see you later, okay?" As she was turning around, she drops her wallet on the floor. She mumbles a curse under her breath and bends down to retrieve it.

I mean, good lord. They can only take so much.

[typhoonboom10]

Nice weather! What conspiracies are we cooking on the menu today?

[hua-mo-jin-is-a-cutie]

Ena: Coral would you perhaps entertain one of my queries?

Coral: alright, shoot

Ena: oh I'm afraid I don't have a gun

Coral: 🤨

Ena: 🙂 so can I ask you a question or not?

[that-rand0m-pers0n]

ENA!!

I've been needing to share this since friday but I kept forgetting gulps

ANYWAYS

Silly billy

ENA ENA ENA!!! I chant

I was gonna make her a clown but I settled for a ring master instead! Still kept the collar though I love those collars giggle :3 her old design was...a little different and omfg the speedpaint for this was showing the stages of grief I went through I messed up so many times

I'm drawing her a silly work partner right now!!(she works in a circus obvi so I'm drawing a juggler right now!)

FIRST PROPER DRAWING ON MY IPAD?? Lowk proud I've never drawn on procreate before and I was so lost omg

The titles aren't really locked in for her yet(will probably keep the ringmaster but debating changing irritable to smth else)

[smokingcitrus]

as unkempt as he always was, i'd like to think that birkin at least tried to look put together in his early days. the middle part was him trying to look professional past the hairs sticking in every direction and the back of his haircut never looking quite right.

his mother's nagging about his appearance seemed to linger in the back of his mind even after he moved out, going days, weeks, years without talking to her. any real meaning or even importance behind the self-grooming was lost, boiled down to habit. taking a minute to pick through his matted hair with a broken comb in the morning was a ritual that kept him sane. it grounded him.

the evential side part was him letting go of the half-cobbled man that he used to be, relinquishing what little identity he had in pursuit of finishing his life's work. even until his final moments, golgotha had always come first.

[temeyes]

141 babes and friends, I have a question!! What instrument would you play and why? I’m a drummer, and I love everything about percussion!! It’s so fun, especially to make music more dramatic:3

oh my god okay okay!! (bestie i hope ya forgive me, my knowledge for musical instruments are a little rusty HSAHSHASHSH)

starting with the old man again, Price would be, again, a basic bitch and would prominently play a guitar. but i think he'd be good with any kind of string instrument??? maybe a cello or a double bass??? but i think he'd be a casual aerophone enthusiast, like he'd enjoy playing a flute- a pan flute to be exact. i can imagine him carving one himself too.

sweetheart Gaz would make a great pianist! i'd like to headcanon that he has a taste for mellow but dramatic music. Gaz would definitely love the flexibility that comes with playing a piano. he also feels like the guy who would record videos of himself making piano/keyboard covers of his favorite songs, especially when he was younger. (he also gives the vibes that his parents forced him to get formal lessons when he was a kid LOL.)

Soap would be like you, bestie! a drummer! he's definitely a loud music enjoyer. also i can envision younger him just going all out on hitting his first drum kit that he managed to convince his mom to get him for his birthday. though i think he'd enjoy playing guitar too, both acoustic and electric.

jesus, Ghost is always so hard to write for LOL. he technically knows how to play a guitar??? lowkey i think he's also a basic bitch like Price. but me thinks he'd have an unexpected preference for a ukelele or a violin. i think he'd avoid loud music- not because he can't take it, he just doesn't like it LOL (basing this on the 2009!Ghost comics btw) and like Gaz, Ghost i think is a chill music enjoyer lol!!!!

bonus Laswell again, me thinks mother would be play the saxophone and would blast it directly into Price's ear like that one meme AHSAHHSAHS. also, she'd love Chappell Roan

[abnormal-vacuum]

i’ve seen several other people do this BUT i’m sorry everyone’s getting it wrong.

price is the missing person, have we forgotten that the man has now killed shepherd and is a fugitive now?

no hate to the people who made the other ones though , this is all lighthearted jest :-)

[fisheito]

i can't look at him i can't look at him i can't look at him i won't i can't im not allowed to why is he I CANNOT

[sickandvomiting]

Why do I only have the motivation to make art when I have no time for it? Why must fate play such cruel jokes?

[talkfastcal]

the only good thing to happen was reneé performing this sucks

[joysmercer]

ok but. imagine

gina accidentally telling ricky she doesn't want a [public] proposal but to ricky (she thinks) it sounds like she doesn't want a proposal at all because she worded it badly. and he doesn't really react in any way but gina comes home and immediately bursts into tears and terri's like "just propose to him instead problem solved". and then the two of them spend the rest of the evening planning the thing out because this is the kind of thing porters find fun i guess and they decide the best time would be just before her graduation party in a couple of months and gina gives terri the very important task of wrangling ricky because there are only two people in this world who can ensure he's somewhere ready and on time without question and one of them is doing the proposing so.

the next day ricky comes to pick gina up for another date (gotta maximize her last spring break of college!) and while waiting for her to get ready he lets terri know he's planning to propose just before gina's graduation party (yeah.) and could she please make sure gina gets her hair and nails done or whatever that morning and get her to the place at the right time so he can pop the question but not say anything to her or their friends because he wants it to be a surprise?

and now terri has a headache.

(and has to buy a hot glue gun because of course they're both planning to go all out with their respective proposals too.)

[delimeful]

give me mercy no more (1)

G/t July Day 1: Enchanted

(Full Prompt List)

patron prompt: virgil hugging a crying janus!

warnings: arguing, tension, betrayal, mentions of assassinations, offscreen character thomas, it's a g/t fic but i didn't actually get to the g/t yet LOL, self sacrifice, crying, angst

-

“You can’t do this.”

Janus paused for the briefest moment at the sound of his closest friend’s voice, before continuing to pack away rations.

“Can’t I?” he asked airily, not turning around to face Virgil.

He’d known this confrontation was inevitable since they’d come up with the only possible solution to their kingdom’s problem. He hadn’t realized how unprepared he’d feel even now, with the hour of tribute rapidly approaching.

“It’s not right. Thomas needs you,” Virgil insisted, stepping closer.

Without even looking at him, Janus could picture the scowl he was wearing. Terrified and defiant in the face of impossible odds, as always.

Bringing up the heir apparent was a low blow, however.

“Yes, he does,” Janus snapped, a bite to the words. “Do you think anything else on this continent or any other could possibly move me to do something like this?”

A short, stagnant pause as Virgil struggled to find a retort.

“His Highness will be alright,” Janus added, softer. “Of course he will. You’ll be there at his side.”

A year ago, the idea of trusting any of the knights of this kingdom would have been laughable at best. The Sanders kingdom was a pit of vipers, and Janus had blended in with the best of them, climbing the ranks to the position of advisor through means that would make any moral man weep.

He’d still only barely been in time to prevent Thomas from perishing in a political assassination, one initiated by the same mage faction that had orphaned the young boy originally.

Janus didn’t have to do any investigation to learn that particular tidbit; it was an illuminating and concerning letter from the queen, an old friend of his, that had brought him back to the kingdom.

He’d been too late to save her. He’d made sure that the same couldn’t be said for her son.

Back then, he and Virgil had constantly been at each other’s throats, both expecting the other to betray the prince at any moment. Virgil saw right through Janus’ sly facades, and Janus knew that the rank and file of the kingdom’s army were only loyal to the highest bribe.

That was what they’d thought, anyhow.

When the next attempt rolled around, Virgil had been forcefully diverted from his usual patrol route, and was halfway across the grounds when the alarm was raised.

He’d torn through any opponent in his way in a desperate frenzy, and burst into the prince’s quarters expecting to see the worst.

Instead, he’d found Thomas whole and unharmed, positioned solidly behind Janus, who stood ready with two narrow, poisoned blades. The room already had a handful of would-be assassins collapsed on the ground, some in the same exact livery Virgil wore.

“Come and try,” Janus had hissed, keenly aware of the slash along his side and the way blood was already darkening his doublet.

Virgil, bigger and stronger and less winded even after a sprint across the kingdom, had taken two steps forward and knelt before him, head bowed.

The fool. Janus had almost stabbed him on reflex alone.

“Thank you,” he’d said, the back of his neck well and truly exposed, “for protecting him.”

Janus wasn’t used to being trusted. It had thrown him off for long enough that he’d stayed his blade, and before he knew it, Virgil had managed to worm his way under his defenses and become not only a trusted ally, but a snarky, paranoid, invaluable friend.

They grew to be called the Two Hands of the Future King, a title probably invented by some of the more pretentious court nobles. Virgil hated the attention, and Janus leaned into it just to annoy him.

They’d have to come up with something different, after Janus was gone. He wondered if his death would be referred to as something garishly insensitive, like The Amputation. Hopefully not; Virgil might actually come to blows if he heard that sort of thing.

He dragged his mind out of the past, sliding another ration he would likely never eat into his bag with the same smooth calculation he’d done everything else in his life.

“Besides, there’s no cause to be dramatic. I’ll be fine,” he said, voice full of a certainty he didn’t feel.

He held his breath as Virgil stood silently at his back for a long moment. His lies had never worked on the knight, but now he silently begged that for once, Virgil wouldn’t shatter the illusion. That he wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be.

“Tell me how you plan to convince them,” Virgil finally said.

Janus let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “I already went over my strategy at the council meeting, didn’t I?”

“I was too pissed off to pay attention,” Virgil replied bluntly. “Tell me again. The way you’ll tell the beast.”

It was a rare occasion for Virgil to want to embrace a lie instead of the painful truth. Janus could grant him that, at least.

“With the damages from the invasion, we find ourselves unable to provide our usual tribute without starving to death ourselves,” Janus began, the speech long-memorized in the agonizing past week of waiting. “In order to preserve the existence of our kingdom, and by extension, the existence of your future tributes many years to come, we have provided an alternative offering that we hope will please you.”

He turned and spread his hands in an elegant flourish, his posture loose and pointedly unwary. “Along with precious heirloom riches, you are offered His Highness's own most trusted advisor, with vast wisdom and knowledge gathered from this continent and others.”

To do with as you please, he completed silently in his head. That would be no comfort to Virgil.

After all, everyone knew what most dragons pleased to do to humans that inconvenienced them.

Virgil stared at him with a deep wrinkle in his brow for a moment, and then snorted. “I should have guessed that you would flatter yourself even in a time like this.”

Janus smirked, repeating his favorite retort. “I speak only the truth, Honored Knight, and I’d thank you not to imply otherwise.”

Virgil smiled despite himself, but as the silence stretched it collapsed into an expression much more desolate.

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Janus lied, and then, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arms in a wordless offering.

Virgil crashed into the hug with enough force to nearly bowl Janus over, but he didn’t bother with a single complaint, only savored the warmth of his best friend safe in his arms.

He was doing this for both of them. His two most important people.

They stood like that for a long moment, and then with a low, pained sigh, Janus began to pull back.

Only to find that his limbs had gone strangely numb.

A jolt of surprise went through him, but all Virgil did was slowly shift them over to the nearby armchair, giving him somewhere to sit heavily as the prickling feeling spread further through his body.

“Something’s wrong,” he managed through lips he could barely feel.

Virgil, usually so quick to check him over at even the slightest sign of injury, spent a moment longer with his head tucked over his shoulder before withdrawing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his eyes were eerily lit up from within by magecraft. “But we both know who Thomas needs more. And it’s not me.”

The enchantment didn’t hurt. It settled soft and heavy on him like a blanket with the weight of stone, keeping him stuck in place even as his mind began to shriek.

“How?” he managed.

“I was born into a bloodline with the gift. Got kicked out. I didn’t want anyone to know,” Virgil said, letting a few sparks flick off his fingers. “I probably could have told you, I was just… afraid, I guess. I know it’s not fair to ask, but don’t tell Thomas? I don’t want to bring back bad memories for the kid.”

Janus had moved rapidly from shock to anger, not at the secret of Virgil’s nature, but at what exactly he planned to do with it.

“Don’t,” he said, a desperate tilt to the word even as it came out slightly mangled.

“You were right, Jay,” Virgil said with a wry tilt of his lips. “You’ll be fine. So take care of him, okay?”

Janus managed the slightest shake of his head, and whatever expression he was making was enough to make Virgil’s own composure crack slightly.

“You hypocrite,” he said, voice choked, and pulled him into another hug.

Janus hadn’t wept when he’d realized that the only way to keep Thomas safe was to sacrifice himself.

Now, with Virgil’s arms wrapped around him, he felt his stinging eyes spill over.

His breath hitched, the only version of a sob that could make it through his body’s current stasis.

“I know,” Virgil murmured, clutching him tightly. “I know. I won’t change my mind, but I’m sorry. I don’t— I don’t want to leave. But I have to.”

He couldn’t do anything to stop this, Janus realized blankly. He could only clutch back at his best friend’s arms with the barest curling of his numb fingers. He could only see the slight tremors that shook through Virgil’s frame, the pallid cast to his skin.

He could only watch as Virgil released him, picked up his bag and walked to the door, stopped to look at him with fear and stubbornness in equal measure.

“I’ll see you around,” he said simply, giving him a simple salute and a small smile.

And then he was gone.