#hes not good at this

[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. 

[wishfulsketching]

Silco and his terror of a daughter

[razzafrazzle]

Just Checking In! (aka Something About Red Triangles)

[froopa-coopa]

"I never asked for this"

[noamglompsky]

ERASE the plot of the whole series from your minds. they’re living a calm regular life and have their own jayviks to obsess over.

[captainjonnitkessler]

>Join a union

>Hear people constantly complaining that the current union leadership is super corrupt, it's all just the same ten guys making all the decisions in secret and nobody else in the union ever gets to know what's going on

>Go to the monthly union meetings that are completely open to all 1200 union members

>The only attendees are the same ten guys every month, giving detailed reports about everything that's going on

[hamletthedane]

Thinking about him (the soldier in Poynter’s Faithful Until Death painting watching an apocalypse unfold around him with horror in his eyes as he tries to keep himself standing beneath a doorway, based on an actual 19th century archeological find of a man in full soldier’s garb under a doorway at Pompeii)

[dashintrash]

He is THE King (and the father)

[kedreeva]

Following the author of The Last Unicorn on Facebook is the only thing that makes being on that site worthwhile.

(source)

[gwydionae]

Behold, one of my best friend's Halloween costumes, recorded and uploaded by a complete stranger with over a million views on tiktok! (I'm so proud!!)

[pangur-and-grim]

two “cats” interacting

[lesbxdyke]

I could think of no better way to share the news than this!

So when I was 17, my cat went missing and I'd given up hope of ever seeing him again.

Until on Monday, 27th of May, 2024, my friend sent me a FB post asking 'isn't that your mother?' about the person named on the microchip.

Here he is! 16 years old, and found safe, twelve whole years after he went missing!

Yesterday (Tuesday the 28th of May, 2024) I went to the rescue that had him, and I reclaimed my boy, renaming him Artie! (He'd originally been called 'Cat' because my mother and I couldn't decide on a name)

He's home safe with me now, currently inhabiting my bathroom and purring up a storm every time someone goes in there!

I'll be doing slow introductions between him and my current cat to give them the best possible chance of living in harmony!

Here's some pictures of Artie once we let him out of the carrier:

[wishfulsketching]

I know you’re probably super busy but I HAVE to share this with someone. I found this absolutely insane shirt at my job (thrift store) and it’s been killing me to imagine Silco in it

You can't drop something like this to my askbox and not expect me to draw something

Moms usually drop the kids off to their playdate, time for the dads to meet.

[gh0sthoodie]

Happy pride month maybe I’ll start watching Doctor Who again

[mantareidraws]

Giving battinson the big birb hug he so desperately needs 🫂

[hexjulia]

i don't even know what to say. Apparently my brother has been sending doja cat (singer) recipe links as instagram dms for literal YEARS now because he doesn't know an easy way to bookmark them in the app. Which led to an attempt to save recipes by just linking them to celebrities who he assumes aren't checking their dms anyways. this lifehack got him blocked by mac demarco and lorde however. Doja never blocked or responded so he just continued to use her inbox to save insta recipes. FOR YEARS.