#the burnt up raisin seems to be back yet again

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Well fellas, how are we feeling about the fnaf trailer?

[mood2you]

(ID: a page of The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice.

"…and her yes were… death. "And he like… in a royal tomb blocked my path. "I could hear no more from either of them than you heard from them when I took you down to the chamber here on the island. And I thought I might expire on the spot from fear. "Yet there was the sand on her feet and on her linen. She'd come to me! She had! "But someone had come into the corridor behind me. Someone was shuffling along the passage, and when I turned, I saw one of the burnt ones--a mere skeleton, this one, with black gums showing and the fangs cutting into the skinny black raisin skin of his lower lip. "I swallowed a gasp at the sight of him, his bony limbs, feet splayed, arms jiggling with every step. He was plowing towards us, but he did not seem to see me. He put his hands up and shoved at Enkil. " 'No, no, back into the chamber!' he whispered in a low, crackling voice. 'No, no!' and each syllable seemed to take all he had. His withered arms shoved at the figure. He couldn't budge it. "Help me!" He said to me. "they have moved. Why did they move. Make them go back. The further they move, the harder it is to get them back." "I stared at Enkil and I felt the horror that you felt to see this statue with life in it, seemingly unable or unwilling to move. And as I watched the spectacle grew even more horrible, because the blackened wraith was now screaming and scratching at Enkil, unable to do anything with him. And the sight of this thing that should have been dead wearing itself out like this, and this other thing that looked so perfectly godlike and magnifient just standing there, was more than I could bear. "Help me!" he thing said. "Get him back into the chamber. Get them back where they must remain." "How could I do this? How could I lay hands on this being? How could I presume to push him where he did not wish to go? " 'They will be all right, if you help me,' the thing said. 'They will be together and they will be at peace. Push on him. Do it. Push! Oh, look at her, what's happened to her. Look.' " 'All right, damn it.' I whispered, and overcome with shame, I tried. I laid my hands again on Enkil and I pushed him, but it was impossible. My strength meant nothing here, and the burnt one became all the more irritating with his useless ranting and shoving. "But then he gasped and cackled and threw his skeletal arms up in the air and backed up." End ID.)

Why are these two the funniest characters in the book

MFW a skeleton is pushing on me :🗿

[blxetsi]

HIIIII!! can i get a pieck finger dating headcanons if that’s alright with you of course? your stuff makes me soft, stay safe!

yuh ‼️ tysm for your request

pieck finger dating headcanons (modern au)

pieck finger x gn!reader

warnings: literal fluff, no angst or anything i love pieck

- bc pieck is assumed to be like 23-26 this wont be a uni au or anything

- idk i rlly think you guys wouldve met in a mundane way

- like you bump into her on the sidewalk and try to the really awkward "oh im so sorry i didnt see you there- no really it was my fault- are you sure youre okay ?- okay great- no im not hurt- yeah- okay have a good day and again im so sorry !!" thing with her

- and then maybe you guys see each other again at a coffee place, youre there with your friends and shes there with hers, and you dont wanna talk to her obv bc that would be awkward

- then ur friend makes u go and order another coffee for them, and while youre waiting for your order pieck comes and stands beside you

- and shes very observant yknow ?? if she sees a face its very hard for her to forget it

- so she immediately recognizes you and blurts out "its you !"

- and you have to be like "oh yeah ! it is me ! its you too"

- she finds it quite cute and giggles about it

- a very laidback person but also a very blunt person

- she doesnt find any harm in asking "can i get your instagram @" look she doesnt wanna be a creep and ask for ur number right at the start

- and it gives her a chance to find out what kind of person you are

- it would absolutely suck for her if such a cute face was posting fishing pictures and alt right propaganda yknow ??

- so you two do and then both of your orders come so you two give awkward goodbyes before going back to your groups

- her instagram is very pretty, nice themes

- she posted a couple of hours ago, with her and her friends in a park, taking a couple of posed photos while some looking like they were natural

- shes adorable and you cant help but feel your cheeks go warm as you basically stalk her page

- she dms you and says "are you too busy looking at my feed that you havent followed me yet ?" and you see this mf staring at you across the room like 👁️👁️

- okay nosy lets calm down now 🙄🤚

- you try to defend urself but ur typing so quick you keep making errors in your writing, she ends up saying something else

"you know, i was doing the exact same thing. youre beautiful you know"

- thank you pieck 🥰

- over the next couple of weeks thats how you two communicate. she'll send you instagram memes and edits of her favourite shows, movies, games etc. and you find yourself having a lot in common w her

- you check her story so frequently it becomes one of the first accounts on the top of your homepage

- and FINALLY, when she feels she can see you as a friend and not just some pretty stranger she met on the street she asks you out

- it was a simple thing, just to the movies, and she even let you pick which one !! (imagine its pre covid idfk)

- you two go and its an awkward hug before you both head inside

- you pay for your tickets and she gets an extra large popcorn and a drink

- you assume shes just v hungry but before you can order yourself something shes like "what are you doing i got this for us !!"

- rlly cute bitch omfg

- during the movies, after she eats literally most of the fucking popcorn, she pulls your hand out of your lap and holds it with her buttery one 🥰🤚

- this bitch had crumbs and didnt even think to wipe them off

- you still held her hand tho anyways

- after that night you parted ways in front of the theater after making sure you two would be getting home safe

- and that became routine for a couple of weeks, not going to the movies obviously bc thats expensive but watching movies together !! youd go over to her apartment or she would come over to yours

- one thing about pieck is that shes very touchy

- one way or another she will end up cuddled with you on the couch

- it doesnt matter if its you being forcefully pulled on top of her body or her draping herself over you like shes a blanket, you two WILL be cuddling and you WILL enjoy it

- but finally, as if the gods gave you mercy, she finally kissed you

- it felt so nice, her lips were soft and sticky from her lip gloss and she tasted like the swedish berries you had gotten for her to munch on

- and the rest of the movie you two just sat there, kissing each other and giggling like teens

- she ended up staying the night, and complimented your bedsheets

- your relationship moved pretty fast after that

- she had already told all of her friends about you, they werent very surprised

- when you got officially introduced her friends zeke and porco tried to do that whole "if you hurt her.." speech before she slapped them and had marcel pull you away to safety

- other than that the night was very fun, you got to talking about your career, why you moved to the city, and other mundane topics

- pieck is actually a graphic designer, and everytime she comes to sleep over she just HAS to bring her laptop with her

- its basically just her laying in between your legs while she types away, youll pet her hair and lay soft kisses on her neck, and occasionally ask what shes doing

- she likes to tell you, has no problem in answering the questions you have, even if you think theyre stupid ones, shes very soft with you

- also a bit of a trickster

- for your first april fools together she slept over, you didnt have anything planned for her bc youre a good person and wont hurt the ones you love

- she stuffed your breakfast muffin with mustard 😁👍

- you gave her the cold shoulder for the rest of the day until she apologized by getting you a new muffin

- now she always dropped the l bomb to you, but she never needed you to say it

- thats why, when you were helping her cook dinner at her place you softly said "see ? and thats why i love you" she kind of,,, stopped what she was doing

- you realized why she wasnt washing the knife she used to cut your vegetables and tried to backtrack, but it was too late, she was already tackling you into a hug and taking you down onto the floor

- she just gave you kisses while repeating "i love you i love you i love you" over and over again

- bc of her you burnt ur fucking chicken smh

- you spent that night eating junk food and watching movies

- piecks a very observant person, so she always knows when youre sad too

- when you give that little huff when you come home to your (new !) shared apartment she knows something is up

- she'll slowly trail behind you as you walk to your bedroom, stripping to your underwear and changing into your pajamas

- you crawl into bed just wanting a nap to forget about the day, and she'll crawl in with you and hold you

- you never like to cry but youre so frustrated and upset at your coworkers, at that rude customer, at those deadlines, that you just breakdown

- and she lets you, she lets you almost suffocate yourself in her chest with how much your pushing your head into it, she strokes your hair while you choke on your own cries and hands you tissues when you need to blow your nose

- "what do you need my love ?" "i just need you" "okay baby"

- communication is a big thing in the relationship, and because shes been so open and honest from the beginning, talking about how you feel has never been easier

- in fact, you like talking about how you feel about your relationship, or how you didnt like what pieck said to your friends the other day, this and that, you feel comfortable and safe with pieck no matter what, which makes talking about even the most hardest things seem so simple and natural

- all in all, even when she wakes you up with spontaneous ice cream dates or asks that you put raisins in the popcorn during movie night, even with the fights and the crying and the exhaustion the next day, life would be much duller without her, and you only have to thank your clumsy self

uhh i feel like this is very short but yeah ❤️ requests are open so go crazy mfs ‼️

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Blurb

A/N- Surprise! This idea came to me last night and I decided to run with it. Companion blurb to Chapter 3 of my Pretty Girl Series.

Summary: An insight into Pretty Girl’s mind on a bad day. 

Warnings: Swearing, sexual harassment description, self blame, sexism, burns, reader is a thirsty bitch. WC-2,175

You were chewing your lip again. You had been working hard to break the habit, but you gave yourself a pass for today, considering the circumstances. While Ron had promised you that he wouldn’t mention any details to Flip whenever the tall detective returned to the station, but you knew him too well. Flip was going to know something was wrong, he was too damn perceptive.

Especially when it came to you.

And actually, you adored how he always seemed to read you like a book. But when it came to how you felt about your best friend? Yeah, he hadn’t seemed to figure that out. A fact that allowed you to breathe more easily. The older, gruff man gave you more attention and kindness than you deserved, you knew that. You had no intention of ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship by admitting that...well, you loved him. You could just imagine how he’d turn inward, his mouth dropping into a frown before he said, ‘Darling, you’re too young for me.’ Or something equally as mortifying.

It was selfish of you, in many ways, not to tell him. You enjoyed time alone with him more than you could even admit to yourself and you loved how protective he was of you. Something about the different ways he showed this-like when he slammed that rude man onto the counter, right in front of you, with a wild look in his eyes that disappeared the moment he had met yours. That moment had shot straight to your core, delighted you entirely, but you worried he might have caught the brief-expression on your face that gave away how turned on you had been.

His protectiveness was the reason you were so stressed at the moment; he was, inevitably, going to find out you had burnt your fucking arm with coffee. And when he did, you knew you needed to try to avoid telling him how it happened. But whenever he fixed you with that damn stare, eyes dark-fuck, you couldn’t help it. You always seemed to cave.

You contented yourself as you waited for the nurse now by imagining the conversation in different ways, practicing what you’d say, how you would explain. Flip had been especially moody lately, which didn’t bother you as you were as laid back as he was passionate, but it did worry you. The last thing he needed right now was a reason to get angry, and if you told him what David Cole had whispered into your ear before his cold hand slid over your bottom and pinched? Well, let’s say you would probably be giving testimony at the murder trial.

The curtains around you swung open as the nurse returned with her tray of supplies. You swung your legs, starting to feel antsy to leave, and smiled at her. You wanted to try and get back to the station before Flip, maybe meet him outside and explain-

Movement caught your eye, and your head spun around as the fucking all too familiar Detective stormed towards you. How, how had he already found out you were here? You knew he was good, but this was insane. You had been here twenty minutes.

And oh, the look on his face. He hadn’t even seen the burn yet and you could already tell he was devastated to see you sitting in a hospital. Your heart tugged at the sight, despite the panic bursting through your veins-you hadn’t thought of how to explain-oh, fuck, he’s seen the burn.

You tried to smile up at him, but you knew he could see the tears on your face from the way his entire body stiffened when he was right next to you. You wondered if he was going to knock the nurse away and start treating you himself. You wouldn’t have been surprised.

What did take you off guard, however, was what he said.

“Pretty girl,” Oh. Okay, where did that new nickname come from? It shot straight to your core, almost numbing the pain in your arm. He’d never called you that before, but you never wanted him to stop. “What the hell happened?” His large hand was on your shoulder, warm and welcome.

“I’m okay, Flip, I just spilled some coffee-it’s mostly on the back of my hand and arm.” You tried to keep your voice calm but flinched when pain shot up your arm as the nurse placed your bandages. You could tell your words had no soothing effect whatsoever, his expression entirely too distressed.

Whoever told him you were here was going to have raisins in their cookies for the next year.

“You were lucky the coffee wasn’t fresher, dear. These would be much worse. As it is, you’ve scalded yourself fairly well so you’ll need to repeat this treatment for a few days, I’ll send you home with the supplies and instructions.” You stared at your nurse, silently trying to convey that she had just utterly betrayed you by announcing that. Could she not see the man standing next to you was coming undone?

The hand on your shoulder squeezed tighter and his thumb began to rub gentle circles, something that should not have distracted you as much as it was. Hell, Flip’s hands were big. You lost track of their conversation, focusing solely on the feelings his touch was inspiring within you. You only pulled from your thoughts when his hand was gone and he was taking a seat next to you on the bed, heaving one of his great sighs. You always wanted to hug him whenever he made that noise. Like he had the whole damn world on his shoulders.

“How did you get here?”

That surprised you-he hadn’t spoken to Ron? Who else would have been brave enough to tell Flip Zimmerman that you were at the hospital?

“Ron was kind enough to drop me off-I insisted I was fine on my own,” You frowned and met his eyes, “How did you know I was here if you didn’t speak to Ron?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “I brought in a gunshot victim, few beds over. Saw you when the nurse opened the curtain.”

Okay, so apparently the universe was just as against you as ever.

Now it was your turn to sigh. You glanced away, not wanting him to read your expressions, “I’m really okay, Flip. You don’t need to stick arou-“

“I’ll take you home.”

It was an order, as much as it was a plea; he couldn’t leave you. But the tone he used, that one that left no room for you to argue? You could only smile because you were afraid if you opened your mouth to respond, you’d say something that gave away that it turned you on whenever he used it. Or you’d moan. So you stayed silent.

You could sense him beginning to calm down; now that he knew you were okay, had seen that you received exceptional care, and was now leading you to his work car. He was especially content that he could drive you home, you could see the slightly smug smile on his lips. You were still considering what to say to him when he inevitably inquired again on how you’d managed to burn yourself, and so far your mind was blank.

He didn’t speak until you were both settled in the car. He had pulled out of the lot, the silence heavy. As if he wanted to give you a false sense of security, catch you off guard. But with his eyes on the road, he didn’t seem to notice how tense you were, already waiting for the question.

“You gonna tell me how you managed that?” He nodded at the burn, eyes scanning your face curiously when you made no reply. Damn, you had to say something or he was going to read it in your face and guess the worst.

“Just pouring coffees and spilled, that’s all.” No big deal, Flip, just leave it, for the love of-oh, now his hands were gripping the steering wheel and you could see the disbelief on his face, the surprise that you actually thought you could lie to him. Fuck.

“Okay,” He drew out the word, conveying his downright distrust. And then that damn tone of authority followed, the one he seemed to have reserved just for you. “What really happened?”

This. This was why you needed time to come up with a good excuse-you simply could not think on your feet around this man, and now he was glancing at you from the driver's seat like he just knew you were about to piss him off. Why did you get out of bed this morning?

Your voice came out in a breathy mumble, “Someone walked by me when I was pouring coffees and pinched...well.” You gestured vaguely at your lower body. He got the point.

The fact that he didn’t crash the car didn’t surprise you, you’d seen the way he had control over himself despite the anger many times. It always impressed you. And it made sense, as he was such a skilled detective.

He pumped the brakes as he looked around at you, meeting your eyes with the most searing expression you’d ever seen-okay, you knew he’d be mad, but he looked completely wreaked. You quickly grabbed his arm as he barked out, “What?”

“Flip, do not get so upset, happens more than-“

“Please don’t tell me that more than one person at work has put their hands on you-”

Yeah, you probably didn’t help yourself by saying it like that. But he was so upset it was flustering you. Alright, you’d have to stick with this, “It happens. I shouldn’t have to explain what it’s like being a woman working in a place full of men. Sometimes they forget themselves and-“

Flip threw the car into park, and you groaned internally. He was going to get out of the car, you just knew it. “And they grab your ass? And in this case, make you burn yourself?” He said the word burn as if it caused him physical pain to say aloud.

Before you could respond, he was out of the car, the door of which creaked with displeasure at how forcefully he’d opened it. You waited patiently, knowing he just needed to calm himself a little bit. But now you could feel your emotions bubbling up in the silence of the car, the days' events replaying in your head.

The smarter part of you understood that Flip wasn’t angry with you; though that section of your brain seemed to be down for maintenance. Being friendly, baking, you knew sent the message to some types of men that it was okay to cop a feel. To physically express their gratitude, your personal space be damned. You hated it, but it had been so much worse when you worked at that awful law firm. And really, it had only happened a couple of times since you began working at the CSPD. David Cole was just on another level, but you could handle him.

Flip came around the car and, more gently now, opened your door. You turned in the seat to face him as he crouched on the ground, and blurted out, “Flip, please don’t be mad at me.”

Flip took your uninjured hand into his own and rubbed his thumb across the back, his expression softening entirely. He met your eyes and seemed to steel himself to speak, “Pretty girl, I could never be mad at you,” Fuck, there was that nickname again. So it wasn’t an accident earlier, this was sticking around. You had no complaints, though you were sure he could see that in the way you gazed back at him like a dumb ass. “I’m mad for you-what happened ain’t right. Tell me who did it, each time.”

Absolutely not, you thought immediately. Shaking your head, you quickly replied, “Thanks, but I’d rather not get arrested for aiding a murder,” You squeezed his hand reassuringly and held his gaze, trying to convey just how okay you were, “It means a lot, how protective you are. But I’m alright, okay? I promise.” Relief swept through you when your words seemed to make a difference. First fucking time today, you thought. He visibly relaxed, though his eyes did scan your face for a few more moments.

You wanted to kiss him right there, for being so perfect. How lucky were you to have a man like him in your corner? Of all the dirtbags and assholes you’d encountered, he made up for them by simply existing in your life. For being so protective and caring for you in ways you didn’t even realize you needed. You also secretly loved how you seemed to always be able to calm him down, even if it took some time.

“Let me take you home.” He said after a pause, and you gave him your best smile, hoping he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

[samayla]

An Utterly Impractical Magician

Chapter 10

A Jane Eyre/Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell fusion fic.

Also on AO3

Summary: When John Reed burnt Thomas Godbless’ book of magic to spite his cousin, he had no idea how drastically he would alter both her fate and that of English magic.

@majorxmaggiexboy @shygaladriel @bookhobbit @wolfinthethorns @kaethe-nicole @warsawmouse @cassandravision @mythopoeticreality @jmlascar @seriouslythoughguys @isawatreetoday @rude-are-food @the-stars-above28 @the-candor-shadowhunter

Let me know if any of you would like to be added/removed in the tags list. I know updates have been super sparse, so if any of you want to be removed, I'll totally understand.

10

A Child at Hurtfew

Hurtfew Abbey, July 1805

Jane could smell Lowood School. Its muddy, sickly stink clung to her clothes and skin and closely-cropped hair. It had gotten all over the mossy-green bed linens in the night, and the damp cloud of it surrounded her and marred the clean, soapy freshness of the servants’ hall and the warm, exotic spice of the cinnamon Mrs Porter had just sprinkled over Jane’s porridge.

“Eat up, dear,” said the cook, adding a handful of raisins to her bowl for sweetness. “I daresay you’ve missed quite enough meals already.”

Jane obeyed, though the stench of mold was making her ill, and her fingers were stiff and sore around the handle of the spoon. Mrs Porter stayed to watch her eat several bites, then returned to her work in the kitchen as Childermass lurched into the hall, looking nearly as haggard as Jane felt. He took a seat across from Jane and bid her a good morning. “I hope you slept well, Little Miss, or at least better than you did in the carriage last night.

“I did, sir. Thank you,” was her quiet reply, though in truth she had slept very ill indeed. All night she had been plagued by disturbing dreams of Mr Norrell storming into her room in a fit of rage. In some dreams, he transformed into Mr Brocklehurst, red-faced and spitting sparks, lording over her as the damp smell of that rotting chapel clogged her nostrils. In other dreams, he became Childermass, his hair a churning thunderstorm, come to say that his cards had been mistaken, and he’d have to take her back now. Then he’d become Norrell again, lamenting time and effort wasted, and he’d open the door to a library, but instead of bookshelves, it was the yellow-white lambs on peeling green plaster. They grew jagged teeth as she watched, and he’d shove her through to be consumed, starting with her hands.

Childermass appeared skeptical of her polite lie, so Jane made herself eat another bite of porridge, hoping that would appease him. He watched the clumsy way she managed the spoon, then swapped his plate of buttered toast for her bowl and spoon. At her clear bewilderment, he made a pinching motion with his free hand. “The toast’ll go easier for now, until the swelling’s gone down some. Tuck in.”

He took his own advice and made short work of the porridge, leaving Jane to nibble nervously on the toast. As he’d predicted, the toast was indeed far easier to manage than the spoon, and she quickly discovered that it settled her churning stomach as well.

“Good morning, dears,” Hannah chirped as she bustled into the servants’ hall with a tray of used breakfast things from upstairs.

Jane and Childermass chorused their greetings in return.

“Mr Norrell is in the library, Mr Childermass,” the housemaid said. “He expects you and Miss Jane presently.” She offered Jane a warm smile, but Jane found she could scarcely return it. Her last bite of toast sat like lead on her tongue. She tried to keep her sudden anxiety off her face, but Childermass caught it.

“Easy, Little Miss,” he said soothingly, pushing her cup of water closer. “I know he gave you something of a fright last night, but you’ll learn soon enough not to put too much credence to Mr Norrell’s moods. My master is the sort of fellow who likes nothing better than a good, righteous vexation — and me disappearing on him for nigh on a fortnight, then turning up —”

“— at the wrong door —” Hannah put in with a sly smile.

Childermass smirked but continued earnestly, “— with a stray child in tow… Let us just say I gave him enough cause to be well and truly vexed, and it should have put him in fine spirits this morning.”

“He’s a bit quarrelsome yet,” Hannah offered, setting her tray down beside Jane’s place at the table, “but that’s just his nature. You make it through this morning, and I expect he’ll mostly forget you’re even here, unless we march you through the library once a month to remind him.”

Jane giggled at the mental image of the short-sighted bogeyman of last night’s dreams peering dazedly up at her over a heap of books. Her hands flew to her mouth in horror, but Childermass was smiling as if he could see it too. “That’s the spirit, love.”

Hannah gave Jane’s shoulder a squeeze. “Would you like me to come along, dear?” she asked in a conspiratorial stage-whisper. “We can’t count on these foolish menfolk to think of everything that will need doing now that you’re here.”

Jane smiled in earnest, even as she glanced up to make sure Childermass still hadn’t taken offense. He caught her looking, and she blushed. “That’s a fine idea, Hannah,” he declared.

They made an awkward procession as they made their way through the big, empty house. Childermass took the lead, and Jane followed with Hannah, her arm laced through the maid’s, leaving her attention free to wander and take in her new home. The whole place had a strange air about it. Not quite neglect — it was far too clean for that — but disused, Jane decided. Like a pressed flower, it was perfectly beautiful, but at the same time brittle and somehow faded in something other than color. Like the memory of a place.

“This is the way to the library,” Childermass said, drawing Jane out of her musings to find herself standing in front of a heavy oak door in a richly appointed parlor. “Mr Norrell is quite particular about his library, Little Miss, and he will not take kindly to anyone venturing into this hall without his permission.”

“I understand, sir,” Jane said, her voice choked by both nerves and anticipation. This was where her books had gone! She remembered Childermass’s words about his master’s collection, back at Gateshead. If she were very good indeed, perhaps she might even be permitted to choose a book to read. She hadn’t had a book in her hands since leaving Gateshead all those months ago, and she felt the loss like that of a limb. Its ache grew even sharper as Childermass led the way through a long hall that meandered around far more corners than should have been possible.

Jane’s skin began to prickle like the air before a lightning storm, and she drew in a shuddering breath at the thought of having one of her fits here and now. Images of the fire in her dormitory at Lowood sprang to mind unbidden. She’d be thrown out. She’d have nowhere to go. She’d —

“We’re nearly there, Little Miss,” Childermass said suddenly over his shoulder. He looked pale and unsteady in the dim hall, and it occurred to Jane that he was nervous. The realization was terrifying, but she resolved to do him proud. He had come halfway across the county to claim her; she would be brave enough for a walk to the library. She pictured her books, held the image of them steady in her mind as a talisman against the sparks she could feel gathering at the edges of her vision, more than ready to erupt into chaos.

A dull crash sounded somewhere up ahead, and then, so suddenly that Jane nearly ran right into him, Childermass brought them up short at another door. He glanced once at Jane, seemingly as startled as she and Hannah were at the door’s sudden appearance, but then he pulled it open, and they leapt back as a great pile of books cascaded into the hall. Mr Norrell stood on the other side of the heap, looking quite startled and more than a little alarmed.

Jane bent to retrieve the nearest book — Tott’s English Magic — but Mr Norrell’s voice rang out like a slap. “No, no, no! Can you not smell the mold? The damp? I will not have it so close to the books, Childermass! I cannot! Out! Out to the parlor, if you please!” And whether they pleased or not, they were herded out of the library, back down the strange hallway — which seemed somehow much shorter and strangely lacking in corners in this direction — and out in to the parlor beyond. Mr Norrell slammed the heavy door behind himself. He stood, wig askew, handkerchief over his nose, and glared at his servants.

And quite unexpectedly, Jane found herself crying.

“Do-do not cry, child,” Mr Norrell said softly, his voice almost that of a different man entirely. If Jane hadn’t known any better, she might have thought she’d imagined his outburst in the hall. He lowered the handkerchief with clear reluctance, and Jane felt even worse. The air in the parlor felt too close, the rotten stink of Lowood consuming all the air in the room.

“I did not mean to distress you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jane choked, trying and failing to get her emotions under control. She knew she ought to dry her eyes and behave as a respectable young lady, but she found she could not move. Her hands were wound so tightly into the back of her skirt that her palms stung and her fingers throbbed in time with her runaway pulse.

“Oh, sweetling…” Hannah pulled her close, and Jane buried her face in the fabric at her hip. Hannah’s clothes smelled of lavender soap, and Jane drew in great, heaving lungfuls of the scent, releasing them on high, thin cries she could not control. She was horrified. They would send her away, surely, cast her aside like a broken doll.

But Hannah’s fingers were gentle in her hair, stroking through the uneven stubble over and over again as she murmured soft reassurances. Slowly, Jane came to realize that Hannah was not angry with her. And if Hannah was not yet out of patience, then there was yet hope for the gentlemen, if Jane could calm herself and do something to repair this ghastly first impression. With a monumental effort, she stepped away from Hannah’s side. She clasped her shaking hands in front of her, though her every instinct was screaming at her to hide them safely away.

If anything, Mr Norrell appeared to be even more discomfited by her efforts. He shook his head when she opened her mouth to repeat her apology. He offered his handkerchief, which she accepted at once, pathetically grateful for the excuse to look away for a few moments.

“I only…” he began, sounding even more unsteady than Jane felt. “I only meant that mold is a pervasive beast. Your clothing and things from that… place… are already compromised. They will have to go.” He began to sound more sure of himself as he continued. “I would not tolerate such an abominable lack of care for my books, let alone a child. Such environments breed illness like a dung heap breeds flies. It is a wonder you have not succumbed to such conditions long before now.” At Jane’s stricken look, he caught himself and withdrew at once from such dire pronouncements. “B-but fear not, child: we shall order you new things. Fresh, clean dresses. And a new bonnet free of vermin, so you might have lovely, long hair — i-if you wished it, of course…” Mr Norrell trailed off uncertainly, and Hannah took pity on him.

“You shall be pretty as a doll, sweetling,” she said, laying her warm hand on Jane’s shoulder and offering another squeeze. Tears flowed anew. She wanted her doll. Sad, crumbling thing that it was, she missed it fiercely. Sparks crackled at the edges of her vision, and Jane rubbed her eyes in an effort ot make them go away. Hannah knelt and pushed Jane’s hands away, instead using Mr Norrell’s handkerchief to dry her eyes. “For now, though, I think perhaps it would be best if you came back upstairs for a bit more rest, hmm?” She smiled encouragingly, and Jane nodded.

“Yes, yes, an excellent notion, Hannah,” Mr Norrell said, looking quite relieved. “Childermass had you out inexcusably late, Miss Eyre. It is no wonder you are overwrought this morning. I myself have something of a headache after all the excitement, though it is nothing a warm cup of mint tea will not cure.”

“I’ll send Lucy along with a pot of tea presently, sir,” Hannah offered.

“Yes, Hannah. Thank you. A cup would do Miss Eyre wonders too, I should think.” He looked quite pleased with this pronouncement. “Childermass, I’ll have your help in the library. I’ve half a shelf’s-worth of books on the floor. It was the strangest thing —”

But Childermass, who had been fiddling with something in his pocket while the other adults dealt with Jane, cut him off. “I’ve one more matter to attend to with Miss Eyre, sir. I’ll join you in the library after you’ve finished your tea.”

Jane cringed. If any of her Aunt Reed’s servants had spoken so impertinently, the would have been let go on the spot, without references. But however irritated Mr Norrell might have felt at the interruption and proposed delay, he did not argue. He merely nodded and retreated back through the door that led to the library, muttering to himself about dresses and shoes “and bed linens, no doubt.”

A cup of tea and rest in her own room. Not a switch. Not even a reprimand for toppling the books — for she had little doubt that it had been her fault somehow. She could scarcely believe it.

Jane started and nearly fell as Childermass appeared at her side and tucked her free arm around his own. “I’ll deliver her to the kitchen for her tea shortly, love,” he told Hannah as they all left the parlor. Though she was confused and more than a little frightened — for she was keenly aware that Childermass had come off worst in their encounter with Mr Norrell, even if it hand only amounted to an indirect scolding over the lateness of their arrival — and she would much rather go downstairs for some tea with Hannah, Jane held her tongue. She had been quite childish enough already, she decided, and it was time to prove how well-mannered and mature she could be, even if she was still struggling not to cry.

Childermass led her through the smaller, more intimate rooms along the back of the house — all well-preserved, but just as forlorn as those they’d passed through at the front — and out into the back garden. “I owe you an apology,” he said conversationally as they walked down a manicured gravel path between some low hedges.

“You cannot be held responsible for the speed of the carriage, sir,” Jane said quickly. “And you did warn me to sleep along the way.”

Childermass blinked, then chuckled a little sadly and drew to a stop. He knelt in front of Jane, who was growing more alarmed by the moment. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew the crumbling ruin of Jane’s doll. “I’m afraid I stepped on her back in the chapel, love.” He laid the little bundle in Jane’s outstretched hands. “I’m sorry. I don't know how she got to be in my pocket this morning, but I thought you should know what had become of her."

Jane just nodded and sagged down to the gravel as it began to rain out of the clear, blue sky. She had known Helen’s sad little doll wouldn’t last forever. The leaves had been dry and fragile when she had died, but now they were mostly jagged stems, and the acorn face was split nearly in two.

“What’s her name?”

“Derwen,” Jane whispered. Helen had told her it meant oak.

“Well, Little Miss,” Childermass said, standing and ignoring the rain that was steadily soaking them both, “let’s you and me and Miss Derwen take a walk, shall we? Up you get.” He helped her to her feet and led the way in among the low, carefully trimmed hedges. He soon abandoned the path entirely and lifted Jane over those hedges that they could not walk around, until they stood in the very center of the garden, in a near-perfect circle of neatly cut grass.

To Jane’s utter bewilderment, Childermass knelt in the center of the circle and plunged his pocket knife into the ground. The rain slowed to a drizzle as he dug, first with the knife, then with his hands. The mud caked itself beneath his nails and around the cuffs of his jacket, but Childermass continued to dig with complete unconcern. “Got to be deep enough to keep the squirrels from smelling it,” he said when Jane leaned closer to get a better look.

“Smelling what?”

“Miss Derwen.”

Jane lurched back, shoving the doll behind her back, and the skies opened wide once more.

“Easy, Little Miss,” Childermass said with perfect composure. He sat back on his heels. “I mean you no harm, but your doll is broken and quite beyond help. But —” He extended a hand for the doll, and Jane, who had been at Lowood far too long to ignore such a clear command, handed her over. Childermass took her gently and tipped her to the side, his filthy fingernails prizing gently at the split in the acorn. “Look just here.”

Jane looked, and she saw to her amazement that inside the ruin of the acorn was a tiny shoot of pale pink and white.

“She’s trying to put down roots,” Childermass explained. “She may be done being your doll, love, but we can plant her out here, water her, and see that she gets plenty of sun, and one day, she’ll be a great big oak.”

“But Mr Norrell does not like me,” Jane blurted. “After the way I’ve behaved today…” She gestured helplessly at the steady, soaking rain that stopped abruptly three feet in every direction. Part of her was glad for the rain, for it hid her continued tears. “He does not mean to keep me. I know he does not, and so I will never see the tree grown.”

Childermass reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew one of his cards, careful to shield it from the rain. Two pairs of wands crossed at the center of the card. He glanced at the card for a moment, then smiled to himself. “This tells me you are to be with us a good, long time. Plenty of time to see Miss Derwen grow.”

He tucked the card away and then just waited, hand outstretched in offering, as if it was up to Jane to make the decision. Jane stared at him, kneeling there in the muddy grass as if he had all the time in the world, Jane realized it really was up to her. She had a choice, and suddenly, all she wanted in the world was to see her sad little doll grown into a great, towering oak. She nodded silently, unable to speak the words for fear of jinxing them.

Childermass asked if she’d like to keep the lace, imagining quite rightly that it was important. “I daresay Hannah could find a place for it on your new bonnet, or one of the dresses, and she’d have it looking good as new. She’s a wonder at such things.”

Jane hiccuped and shook her head. She took back the doll and ran her fingers over the sodden lace, the last piece of Helen she had. She kissed Derwen’s acorn face, then laid her gently in the bottom of the hole, careful to arrange the precious lace just so. “It is Derwen’t dress, and Derwen shall keep it.”

Childermass helped Jane fill the hole, and by the time they had finished and patted the little piece of sod back into place, the rain had stopped for good.

“Come along, Little Miss,” Childermass said, climbing back to his feet and helping Jane to do the same. “A cup of tea and a seat by the fire are calling your name.”

[magnesiaandlemonjuice]

Thursday 28 December 1826

6 3/4

1 3/4

my bowels quite right this morning - I do believe it was the tightness of my stays that disordered them - In my salon at 7 55/60 - from 8 to 10 20/60 writing to Mariana breakfast at 10 20/60 then read the whole of the paper of today and yesterday which took me till 12 - then finished dressing - at my desk again at 12 1/2 - 1/2 hour hour reading over all I have written to Mariana the whole 2 3/4 pp. [pages] very small and close - from 1 to 3 10/60 finished page 3, and wrote the ends of my paper very small and close to Mariana

then washed

&c [etcetera] went to speak to my aunt, and set off (to dine with Mrs Barlow) at 4 - I had before sent George with the remainder of the bonbons of Monday for Jane, and an iced plum cake (of 7/.) for Mrs Barlow on her birthday - she wondered why I had sent it - not obliged to me at all - I had sent a cake to Madame Galvani could not bear to be treated like other people - cared for nothing to eat - explained that it was customary enough to give a plum cake on a birthday - certainly had never dreampt that because I had sent a cake to Madame Galvani I therefore ought or ought not to send one to Mrs Barlow would do so no more - never ever give her anything eatable - Dinner at 5 1/2 or perhaps 5 3/4 - pear soup - vol au vent, filet de boeuf piqué, gateau de rie, and a crême glacé (ice) the four last from a traiteur and respectively 5/. 6/. 4/. and 5 or 6/. - for dessert a plate of raisins and blanched almonds, Saint Germain pears, at 4 sols each, little almondy drop cakes (stale) and rice and savoy biscuits - Beaune rouge at 4/. and claret from Madame Droz’s friend, Monsieur Lambert, at 3/. good of its kind - Madame Alexandre her late porter’s wife (her husband a joiner - ordered a pasteboard and rolling pin) retained to wait - what nonsense! and so I told Mrs Barlow who said she thought I liked a good dinner, and was determined to see what she could do -

it was meant to return the dinner she had with us I saw thro this the feeling was not thoroughly ladylike it had too much of the not bearing to be outdone and after all it was hugger poor madame ci devant porteress being shockingly gauche potter came in at first and set the dishes on wrong Mrs B hugged her and she appeared no more I cannot think Mrs B good tempered thought I all this would never suit me -

Jane had scarce swallowed her soup before she was called off to go to the play with the family below Monsieur and Madame and Madamoiselle Pouciègle - I took a little Beaune and water (very dear at 4/. like ours as well at 2/.) four glasses of the thin claret and we went to the drawing room at 6 3/4 - I had really had too much dinner and felt oppressed by it -

but she sat on my knee and I had soon the right middle finger up as usual and she said she came down better to me and felt more than she had yet done since my return tho she had been poorly all the week and thought she could do nothing for me she said she felt more when sitting on my knee when my thigh was next to her the feel of it went thro her -

we had tea about 8 -

then at her again then rested and at her again having latterly both second and first finger up being too full of dinner it was really an exertion to me and in fact the pleasure to me is no much merely the excitement of exciting her and having a woman to grubble who likes it so well I almost feel as much now at the moment of writing as when with her towards eleven she began to be pathetic and cry a little we must part she felt as a wife but what was she &c [etcetera] &c [etcetera] wanted her letters not safe with me surrounded as I was with friends alluded to π [Mariana] if I died my aunt would give her all my papers to read said I would pledge my existence that what ever might be π [Mariana] s curiosity I could leave one of Mrs Bs [Barlow’s] letters open before her a whole day and she would not read a line of it Mrs B [Barlow] said she was a woman and she would not believe said I come come give the devil his due she said I loved π [Mariana] might praise her as I liked but why should she Mrs B [Barlow] say what she did not think said I would give her her letters by and [by] she must give me mine no mine were quite safe her aunt was too blind could not read them nor would she if she could I thought they ought on both sides to be burnt Mrs B [Barlow] said mine could do no harm people might read and not understand them I protested they were such as only a husband would write but for myself individually I cared not the world would not blame me so much as Mrs B [Barlow] they would commit her much more than me I could not have written such without encouragement she said her aunt would forgive her if she knew what had passed but she would be angry at her going on with it when I was engaged to another but I had said we could not go on as we did and she had rather I sinned with her than with another ‘but if I have not your letters I have nothing three years hence you may say you never loved me you have your journal I could gain nothing by shewing your letters or boasting of you regard r love for me’ I merely answered no certainly not and declared it was impossible I could ever deny my regard for her but these words of hers ssand deep in my heart I mused on them all the way home and determined I never would give her her letters without getting back my own -

Jane returned at 11 40/60 - the poor girl had a wretched cold when she went and it seemed worse - took their fiacre (George had been waiting upstairs with Potter I know not how long perhaps an hour), and got home in 1/4 hour at 12 -

Mrs B [Barlow] forty today -

Dawdling and musing - very fine day -

Marginal Notes

very fine frostyish morning

Fahrenheit 37o at 8 a.m. 41 1/2 at 12 p.m. 41 1/2 at 3 1/2 p.m. 37 1/2 at 12 midnight

SH:7/ML/E/10/0037

[glorifiedsnickersbar]

Farthest North

Chapter 7 - Value

Word count: 1171

         "Japan has always been... an interesting character," China admitted, rolling up the sleeves of his knit sweater as Alaska served an interesting dish, what she called Moose Meat Mince Meat. A simple pie crust filled with a sweet smelling combination of meat, raisins and whatever made it as good as China failed to believe as he took another bite.

         "She has a certain charm to her," Alaska chuckled, sitting down just across from him at the table, a simple square made of wood slats and old tire rims for the base, the chairs being cut stumps that had been polished and sealed so that the wood didn't decay.

China nodded, swallowing his fifth bite before speaking again.

         "If you do become a Country I will agree to your terms of trade," he continued the earlier conversation, "But I may require at least one Alaskan desert a month."

The two chuckled at this, the simple jest almost not a joke as China let his usual strict eating regime be forgotten for this measly hour or so. 

         "Your lifestyle reminds me of mine, a long time ago," he told her, "Simple, very little to worry about. We're far from that now." 

His voice held an amount of regret in it, but it quickly vanished as he changed the subject to whom the State had met so far. She had started these meetings on December 10th. In 24 days she had spoken to 120 countries in order to establish a friendship, partnership, or at least find who her enemies would be. No one had heard of her visit with Russia, luckily, and she didn't plan on giving out that information until she became a Country, and no one seemed to brush that topic for... obvious dysfunctional reasons.

         "You're my last meeting today," Alaska informed as she lifted herself up from the stool, "My schedule has never been busier!" 

Her laugh was witty, and it filled the air with its inviting tone.

         "I'm afraid that's often how it is as a Country," China told her, not to scare her off, just as a friendly warning, "Unless you're Russia, Canada or America," he rolled his eyes, not noticing the hesitance as Alaska reached for the hot chocolate mix in the high cupboards. Not even China could reach as high as she.

         "Yet they have managed to stay afloat for so many years," she chuckled, the witty sound gone, "It's hard to understand sometimes."

         "Indeed," China nodded, thanking her for the hot chocolate.

     Wind rattled the windows outside, making the Country jump as a loose stick hit the window. At least he thought it was a stick, until Alaska hurried to the door, opening it to reveal a wounded bird that had hit the window. It's black feathers were ruffled, wing bent at an odd angle. The creature gasped for air as it blinked, stunned by the impact.

         "I swear your kind are as dumb as a box of rocks," Alaska muttered as she pulled out a ready made box from a large wardrobe, fancifully carved into, and placed the bird inside, "I'm awfully sorry," she told the Country, who was now standing as he watched the caring State.

         "It's quite alright," China assured, "We've discussed most business already. That is quite a large Crow..." he commented, and the woman chuckled, her original mirth back.

         "It's not a Crow," she replied, "It's a Raven. Crows are farther south, near Anchorage. I live too far up."

China nodded, not knowing what else to say, so he said nothing. before making a short 'of course,' when Alaska asked him to get something for the bird to eat. He asked what exactly, and she said anything will do, as long as it was food, a short laugh following afterword. China decided that this bird was a scavenger. He didn't exactly want to share the mince meat pie with something that wouldn't appreciate the time and perfection put into it, so he looked around the short counter, finding a muffin, only to find that it was an unfrosted cupcake, a blue and gold candle sticking up, almost completely burnt out.

         "There might be some venison in the fri-" she stood up, finding the Country holding what was going to be her little celebratory snack, and frowned.

         "Today... is your birthday?" He looked to the taller woman, who simply nodded, a melancholic smile on her face.

         "January third. My statehood."

         "No one has called?" he questioned, "Texted, sent a letter, invited you over, visited?"

All these earned a shaking of Alaska's head, yet she still smiled.

         "How long have you had this candle?" China then asked.

         "Since January third, 1959." She answered, taking the unfrosted cupcake from his loose grip before he dropped it. "I've made it last 60 years. My entire statehood.* USSR, when he was Russian Empire, never celebrated my birthday, so I don't know when my original birthday was. But I'm hoping to have a third. A new birthday."

She placed it delicately back on the counter before tearing a piece off, and striding over to the stunned Raven, who gladly took it, eating it with great vigor. She fixed his wing with a tourniquet made of thin cloth and sticks, doing some mental math as she guessed how long it would take for its wing to heal.

     While she pet the Raven, China wondered how someone could be so cruel... This State didn't deserve the neglect she was receiving. She had so much potential, yet no one recognized it because... because what? Everyone had value, yet no one saw hers... because while others gave money, pleasure or threats to get what they wanted, she gave what she knew was fair. China doubted anyone could bribe her. A few extra imports? She'll pay for those how she agreed to, not in dirty handed dealings. He doubted anyone could threaten her successfully. Missiles? She has an entire Air Force base dedicated to deflecting such attacks. This was a State not easily rattled into submission, and she was tired of playing the 'help', the 'fallback', the gold mine easily extracted from. She had been preyed upon by selfish Countries for so long... now it was her turn to be selfish, and get the credit she deserves. 

         "How would you like to come with me to my land?" China questioned, "You can have whatever you like as my birthday gift to you."

Alaska took a moment to register his words. Slowly looking up to the man in her comfy log cabin. The Raven nibbled at her crumb covered fingers.

         "But... I am not part of your-"

         "You are grown," he helped her up off the floor, looking up at the dark blue woman before him, "That practically makes you an independent Country already."

     And so the strict Country, always focused on tradition and form, let his own beliefs slide to make the lonely State of Alaska smile. To make her feel noticed, to make her feel... valued.

--------------------

* According to the date 2019

[lailannajacobs]

Finally Got it Right

Pairing: Loki X Reader (AU) 

Request: Hi, I really enjoy your writing! There's an idea I've had in my head for awhile, and I was wondering if you would write it. Maybe a Loki x reader where the reader likes Loki but is really shy, and she keeps trying to ask him on a date but every time she tries Thor pops up and says something funny and ruins everything?

Warnings: mostly just fluff! 

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Thank you so much for this request my darling anon, I absolutely had a blast writing it!! I almost put this out in two smaller parts cause of the length, but then I figured, why not? Hope you enjoy! I really would love to hear what you think! <3

Somehow - you didn’t know how, - you had decided that today was the day. Today was the day you finally told Loki how you felt. Had you worked up the courage because you had enough evidence that he felt the same way? No. Were you telling him because you thought he would sweep you up in his arms like in a Harlequin novel and tell you he felt the same way, before showering you in a million kisses? Absolutely not. No, you decided it was time to tell him because you couldn’t stand the feelings that were eating you up inside. Honestly, the feelings made you feel like you were thirteen again - not that your feelings had changed much since then.

Growing up next door to the Odinson brothers, you had never been bored. You had also never had a crush as long-lasting as the one you had with the green eyed, dark haired brother that had been in your life for as long as you could remember. Sure you had had other partners, even ones that almost made you forget what you had seen in the person who had gone from a mischievous playmate to, quite frankly, an even more mischievous, dark and handsome adult. But none of them ever seemed to be able to hold your attention for as long as the boy next door could.

You had never lost touch with the brothers, even after you had moved away for college and had gotten a job miles away from them. But somehow, they had failed to mention that Loki had signed a lease on the apartment down the hall from yours. Thinking back on it now, you realized Loki had probably just wanted to see the look of surprise on your face when you saw the two of them carrying that leather sofa up the stairs to the sixth floor because it couldn’t fit in the elevator. If you were right, and that was exactly what he had wanted, it had been exactly what he had gotten.

You’d recognize that mane of blond hair anywhere. The only part that confused you, was why you were staring at it now. Last you had heard, he was about three towns over, running his own construction company. The only way you could know for sure that it was him was if… and when the sofa turned the corner and a mess of inky hair followed, it confirmed your suspicions.

“Idiots?” You asked with your usual loving tease in your voice.

Thor tipped his head backward so that he was looking at you upside down. A wide grin lit up his whole face. “Ah! Unofficial Odinson! We weren’t sure you’d be home!”

“And I didn’t think I’d find either of you in the apartment’s stairwell,” your surprise earned a familiar sly smirk, those green eyes alight. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

Loki cocked his head, “Did we forget to mention? I’m the new neighbour moving in across the hall.”

And just like that, your heart had done that little floppy thing it did every time you saw that look on his face, and you knew. You knew that date you were supposed to have later tonight wouldn’t be happening. Because as soon as they would invite you for a housewarming pizza - and you knew they would - there was no way you’d be able to say no. And the look on those two idiots’ faces told you they knew that as well.

You let out a sigh, “All right, what do you guys want me to bring up?”

Not even bothering to knock, you let yourself into Loki’s apartment. Your heart hammered in your chest and you weren’t sure that he couldn’t hear it but it didn’t matter. If he could, it would just have to be the opening you used to tell him that you thought of him as more than a friend - that you always had.

“Hey!” You announced looking around for him in the open 3 1/2. “I know you said you weren’t hungry but I made cookies this afternoon and I brought them over anyways.”

“What kind?” He shouted from what sounded like his bedroom.

Before popping one into your mouth you called, “Oatmeal raisin.”

You heard his chuckle and shook your head. The only reason why he claimed to like oatmeal raisin so much was because of how many times he had tricked his brother into thinking that Frigga had made chocolate chip cookies instead, and the little shit lived to see the horrified look on Thor’s face when he bit into a raisin. But despite how often he denied it, you knew Loki’s favourites were white chocolate macadamia.

Settling into the black, soft leather sofa, you wrapped his dark green blanket around you as if it could protect you from the sting of rejection. You couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t return your feelings, but your nervous and panicky mind was only churning out scenarios that changed your friendship for the worst. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him. Maybe you could just ask him on a date instead. That way, it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal.

The old floor boards creaked as he walked into the main room. “You didn’t burn them this time and that’s why you’re bringing them over, are you?”

“That was one time!” You defended, whipping your head around to scold him for even suggesting it.

Whatever you were about to say next died in your mouth. When you had assumed he had been talking to you from his bedroom, you had been right - only you just hadn’t realized where he had been right before then. His hair was still wet, drops falling onto his bare chest. You followed one particular drop from his peck along his abs until it reached that alluring v - your mind drifting off to a place you had been trying to steer it from since you were teenagers. Yanking your gaze back up to his eyes, you smiled and hoped he couldn’t tell where your mind had gone off to. If you did tell him tonight, you definitely didn’t want him thinking it was only to ogle him without shame.

“You bring over brunt cookies one time and nobody lets it go.” You said shaking your head.

He slipped on the black v-neck he had been holding and came to sit on the couch with you. “I believe that was on you for bringing burnt cookies in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. Should I have come over empty handed and expected you and your brother to just accept it? That would’ve been ten times worse.”

“That may be true.” He amended, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “What do you want to watch?”

His attention turned to the flatscreen as he began flicking through the options. You hesitated. The part of you that felt nauseous at the idea of confession your feelings told you to pick a movie and to tell him after. All you had to do was suggest anything, it really didn’t matter, and then you’d have at least forty-five more minutes to work up the courage to tell him. Taking in a deep breath you decided against it. You had been giving yourself another forty-five minutes since he had moved in across the hall.

“Actually Loki, I was hoping we could talk first.” You blurted out, your heart pounding in your chest and echoing like a bass in a night club.

You thought about excusing yourself to go to the bathroom first you were so nauseous, but before you could, he put down the remote and turned his body so toward you so that you had his full attention. It was one of the things that had always made you so attracted to Loki, but right now, you were almost wishing he wouldn’t look at you like that so that you could get the words out easier.

“(y/n), is something wrong? You’re using your serious voice.”

You let out a nervous laugh, looking down at the bag of cookies in your lap to avoid that piercing gaze, “No nothing’s wrong…”

“Then what is it? It isn’t every day that you can’t look at me in the eye when you want to tell me something. Last time that happened was when you broke my kettle.” He paused and pulled the blanket up higher over your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your neck as he said, his voice much lower than before, “You seem to forget that I know you almost as well as I know myself.”

If that were true, he would have known about your feelings ages ago. It still surprised you that someone as perceptive as he was hadn’t figured it out yet, but maybe, just maybe, him telling you this now was his way of telling you that he knew about your feelings and that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you came clean. Or that it wouldn’t be so bad to simply start with a date.

Deciding to take that as a sign to tell him and nothing else, you took in a courageous breath, “So here’s the thing. I’ve actually wanted to ask you this for some time now and I wasn’t sure how to do it before, and honestly I’m not sure where I should start or if anywhere is a good place to start for that matter, it’s just.” You stopped with a sigh, knowing your rambling probably made no sense to him.

His brows were furrowed and you could tell that you had the entirety of his attention.

“It’s just what?” He prodded, a funny look on his face.

“It’s just-”

Suddenly the door burst open and a jolly, “guess who came in for a surprise visit!” boomed through the apartment.

Your attention snapped up from your lap as you watched Thor bound through the room in a few quick strides. He ruffled Loki’s hair as he walked behind the couch and around to your side, and plopped down in between the two of you.

“Hello brother,” Loki smoothed down his hair, “Nice of you to knock first.”

“If it were anyone other than (y/n) I would have,” Thor said with a wide grin, that despite it, didn’t ease the way his words reminded you that Loki would probably never think of you in any romantic way, “but they’re family. Family doesn’t need to knock.”

You rolled your eyes, “That is flawed logic.”

He grinned, “It is. I just couldn’t think of a good reason as to why I hadn’t knocked first. And how are you little one?”

Thor had given you that nickname when you were children and, compared to him, you guessed you could have been called little one. It didn’t matter that you had both grown up to be full fledged adults, Thor couldn’t seem to let the name die.

“I’m good, it’s nice to see you Thor,” you lifted your bag of cookies, “I made chocolate chip cookies.”

Though your attention was focused on Thor, just behind him you could see the wily grin on Loki’s face. How the two of you were still this amused by something that was this childish was beyond you, but Thor’s face, being ever so trusting, made it worthwhile every time. As you waited for the inevitable to happen, your nervousness now fully replaced by the warm feeling of comfort that only came with these two idiots, you decided you’d leave your declaration for another day.

A few days later, Loki was in your kitchen making dinner. Although normally this wouldn’t have been anything special, today, it was. And that was because he shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

The evening had started out like any other. You had been prepping for a quick stir fry and a night in reading, when the chef’s knife you had been wielding slipped and sliced off the tip of your index finger. The knife had clattered to the floor, more from surprise than pain, and you had grabbed a tissue and ran to the bathroom. It didn’t take long before you had realized that this wasn’t something you could simply bandage up yourself.

When you had gone across the hall to ask Loki for help, you hadn’t expected him to open the door. After all, most people actually had plans on a Friday night. Turned out, even if he had opened the door for you, he had plans too.  You had taken in his dark dress shirt and pants, slicked back hair and had known he had a date. You had seen him leave for them too often in your life not to recognize the look and the spicy scent of his cologne. Looking at him was a reminder that you had never figured out how someone could radiate in black the way he could.

But before you could back out of asking for his help, his eyes zeroed in the finger wrapped in a blood soaked tissue.

“What happened?” He demanded, stepping out in the hallway to get a better look.

“It’s nothing. Just a little cut.” You said, realizing just how close he was now that he had your hand in his.

While he made his preliminary inspection, you realized you were holding in a breath, and watched as he turned your hand in his, rubbing his calloused fingers across your hand.

He looked up from the damage, his eyes finding yours. His voice practically a growl when he said, “This isn’t nothing.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you whispered, trying to find humour in the situation. “you know extremities, they bleed a lot.”

“We need to stop the bleeding.” He went to pull you toward your apartment but you dug your heels in.

“Don’t you have a date to get to?”

He shook his head, his hands still wrapped around yours, “this is more important.”

The words made your knees weak but you forced yourself to put one foot in front of the other. When you made it back to your apartment’s bathroom, he took in the bloody mess you had made when you had tried to fix yourself up.

“Why didn’t you come to me first?” He asked, motioning for you to sit on the counter.

You raised a brow, “When have I ever done that?”

“Silly me,” The corner of his mouth quirked up, “how did I not realize that your stubbornness extended to missing extremities.”

“You should know it applies to everything.” You answered with a smirk that matched his. “And my extremity is not missing.”

“I should know.” He murmured, his gentle hands carefully unwrapping the tissue you had used as a bandage.

His hands were firm but he took care to make sure he didn’t hurt you as he cleaned out the cut. Moving with precision, his hands only brushed yours occasionally but it was enough to send shivers down your spine. He had gotten so close that his hair tickled your cheek but you couldn’t convince yourself to move any further away and as you watched him, his face scrunched up in concentration, you realized you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You had to tell him that when you looked into those green eyes, you felt more than friendship. And if he didn’t feel the same way, you could always blame your words on the shock and the loss of blood.

“Loki?” The name came out hoarse, as if you had strained your throat.

“hmm?” he kept his attention on your finger, the soft movements making you all too aware of his closeness.

You took in a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you?”

This caught his attention and he paused, finding your eyes. “Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to talk about the other day?”

“You remember that?”

You didn’t know if you were so surprised by his words because the feel of his hands on yours was so distracting or if you couldn’t believe he would remember something you hadn’t really gotten to say. Either way, the sly look in his eyes made you wonder if he knew exactly what you had wanted to ask him.

“I do listen to you when you talk, you know.” he smirked.

“it would seem you do. And yes it does actually have to do with it” You sighed. “The thing is-”

His ringing phone cut you off and you paused.

“It’s fine, keep going.” He said, not touching the phone in his pocket, finishing your bandage.

You waited until it finished ringing before trying again. “Okay well, I was wondering-”

Once again, the phone started ringing, louder than your pounding heart. “Just get it,” You let out a shaky breath, possibly of relief.

With an apologetic look on his face he answered, “Hello brother.”

Although he had barely been touching you, the loss of his body heat he backed up was impossible to miss. You weren’t really paying attention to his conversation, only you knew that whatever Thor had to say, he seemed to have a knack for interrupting your confessions. When Loki had skipped his date for you, you had assumed that it was a sign from the universe giving you the green light to tell him about your feelings. But maybe the real sign was Thor’s constant interruption. Maybe it was the universe telling you to keep your feelings to yourself - to keep things the way they were.

Seeing as you were patched up well enough to function, you hopped off the counter and went to go continue your dinner.

It didn’t take long for Loki to follow you in and take control of the kitchen.

“You know it was a scratch, I’m not dead.” You took a seat at your table. “I could have continued making dinner just fine.”

He began to sauté the vegetables. “Maybe, but then it would not have been as good.”

“We can’t all be wizards in the kitchen like you.” You grumbled.

He looked over his shoulder and shot you a cocky little smirk. It was the kind of smile that had always seemed to promise danger and adventure. It was also the kind that made your heart flutter every time. But this time, you tried even harder than usual to ignore what it did to you. The universe had told you to leave things as they were, and that’s what you were going to do. Everything was fine the way they had always been and you had to accept it and move on. You hadn’t gone on a date since Loki had moved in, and maybe it was time to do just that. Time to let go of that little hope that one day you would get the courage to ask him on a date. That little hope had gotten in the way of saying yes to your friend’s coworker she kept trying to set you up with and maybe it was time you said yes.  

Deciding to do just that, you spoke up but at the exact same time Loki opened his mouth, both of you pausing as you cut the other off.

“Go ahead.” You said, stalling.

“No, that’s all right. You first.” There was something in his voice that you had never heard before, but, unable to decipher it, you decided to speak up.

“You know, I’m fine to stay here on my own. I’m sure there’s still time for you to get to that date.” Although you could hear how forced the words sounded, you hoped all Loki heard was nonchalance.

“Oh,” he paused, his face falling, almost as if he had expected you to say something else, “It’s too last minute now. It will have to be some other time that’s all.”

You hated how giddy that made you, “okay, well, I’m sorry anyways.”

He shrugged, “I’m more sorry that you lost a piece of your finger and that we had to throw away half of the broccoli.”

“I barely nicked my finger. ‘Piece’ feels like a gross exaggeration.” You rolled your eyes, despite the throbbing in your finger.  

Loki turned around to fully face you, the stir fry almost ready. He looked like he wanted to say something. You waited, your heart pounding in your chest with false hope that maybe, whatever he wanted to tell you, would have something to do with what you had been trying to tell him.

Suddenly, your door burst open and Thor came barreling through it. “(y/n)! I came as soon as Loki told me! How are you feeling? How is your finger? Which one did you lose?”

You glared at Loki, “You told him I lost a finger?”

“You know how things can get over the phone,” his lips spread into a sly grin, “miscommunication and all that. Isn’t that why the children’s game is so funny?”

“You’re a child.” You wished you were closer so that you could smack him but turned your attention to his brother. “Thor, I’m fine, it’s really not that bad.”

Thor, calming down somewhat at your words, picked up your hand as if it was a delicate  baby bird with a broken wing and looked it over. “Are you sure you’re all right? On a scale from no pain to the trampoline incident, what do you rate this?”

You pulled him into a hug, smiling at the comfort of one of your oldest friends, “I’m fine, seriously” You mumbled into his hair, “And this is nowhere near the trampoline incident.”

He pulled back looking more reassured, “Do you need anything?”

“No, everything’s good here.” You repeated.

“In that case,” he turned to his brother, “something smells delicious and I’m starving.”

After the food was long gone, the dishes cleared out and Thor had left after asking if you were really okay another three times, you watched Loki wash the remaining dishes that couldn’t go in your dishwasher.

“Thank you,” you said, sitting on the counter beside him, “You know I would’ve done them if I wasn’t afraid that the bandage would fall off.”

He looked over at you, a small smile on his lips, “I know you would have. Although I doubt you’re sorry about it. I know how much you hate doing them.”

You wanted to say that was because you enjoyed watching him do the dishes instead, his shirt sleeve rolled up to his elbows and that loose strand of hair always falling in his eyes every time he looked down, but you kept quiet and shrugged, not bothering to hide your smile.

Music played softly in the background and you let out sigh of content, wishing every evening could be like this one - minus the finger chopping. He worked in easy silence, your mind flitting from one unimportant thought to the next, sometimes landing on the man on your left. This was what home felt like and it had been something you had rarely felt since moving away.

“(y/n)?” His soft whisper broke you away from your thoughts.

His eyes were now a dark emerald, alight with his usual mischief and something else you couldn’t quite name. The look alone made you a little breathless.

“Yes?”

He took his time drying his hands, the movement capturing your attention, “I believe there was something you wanted to tell me earlier?” His voice was no louder than before, luring you in, despite the dangerous question.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Don’t worry about it. It was nothing.”

“If you brought it up twice, I doubt it was nothing.” A laugh rumbled in his chest as he folded the dish towel, slow and meticulous. “I’d very much like to know what it was.”

“Really. I can’t even remember what it was.” You stammered, that look in his eyes making you glad you weren’t standing.

The words earned you a small, cunning curve of his lips. “Are you sure?”

The only thing you trusted yourself to do was nod, especially as he placed the towel down and took a step around your leg, his finger brushing it every so slightly. “ I don’t seem to believe you.” He whispered.

He moved until he stood directly in front of you, barely a foot away. The featherlight contact sent your heart racing, his eyes holding yours captive as you waited to see what he would do next. You wanted to pull him closer and put your lips on his but you needed to say what you had been trying to for the past few days. But with the way he was behaving, confessing didn’t seem so terrifying now.

Your gaze dropped to his finger that was lazily tracing swirls on your thigh, and you murmured, “I think you know exactly what I was going to say.”

“It seems to be slipping my mind” he whispered, as he inched closer, his fingers traveling from your thigh to the exposed skin at the collar your shirt up and to your cheek. Your breathing hitched and you cursed your body for being so traitorous. His thumb brushed against your cheek, “maybe you can help jog my memory.”

Then his lips were on yours and you wondered why the hell you had ever waited so long to try tell him.

[duskblue-art]

Thank you for writing Happy/May!! They’re super duper cute together

You’re very welcome!! Sorry this took so long, but I wrote you a short story! (I hope you see this lol)

(Read on AO3)

Too Many Raisins

When Happy lets himself into the apartment after another long day, he’s almost knocked over by a strange smell. To him, it smells like a mixture of burnt oranges and overcooked raisins--way too many raisins. Of course, this can only mean one thing.

May is baking again.

He’s debating if he should quietly sneak back out of the apartment and to his car where he can safely text May that he’s working overtime, or if he should play sick and go to bed early when she appears from the doorway to the kitchen wearing his way too big apron that’s looped once around her waist and tied in the front. She looks too adorable to lie to.

“Perfect!” she says, grinning at him. “I just pulled these new bars out of the oven. I think they really turned out!”

He smiles even though his insides are panicking. The last bar she made didn’t exactly agree with him, and he’s not really looking forward to another sleepless night. He sets his briefcase by the door while he thinks of something good to say. “Maybe we can wait till after dinner? I don’t want to spoil my meal.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she says, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the kitchen. “I cut them into smaller pieces this time.”

Happy loves May. He really does. It’s just that her cooking and baking is one hundred percent going to be the death of him. She’s pulled him to the oven where a pan is sitting on top, looking innocent enough, but when he peers into it, he knows this won’t end well. He’s not sure what exactly she put in these bars besides clearly a ton of raisins, but they look like some sort of defunct, overdone brownie with strange ingredients poking out through the top.

“Has Peter tried these?” he decides to ask. The kid has a stomach of steel, so if he can get it down and keep it down, maybe Happy might have a small chance of surviving.

She lets go of his hand to grab a few small plates from the cabinet. “He said he was full and locked himself in his room. He’ll come out for dinner, don’t worry.”

Happy thinks it’s because Peter knows who usually cooks dinner, and it’s not May. There doesn’t really seem to be any way out of eating a weird bar, so Happy swallows the lump in his throat and accepts the plate from May. “Uh, what kind of bars are these? I think I smell some sort of citrus flavor.”

May grins. “Oh, good! The orange was actually supposed to be a glaze, but I forgot and mixed it in with the rest. At least the flavor won’t be lost! Besides that, it called for raisins, but I accidentally dumped a few too many in the mix. Almonds or marshmallows weren’t exactly in the recipe, but I had those lying around, so I threw them in, too. Then when I took it out, it was a little syrupy with the glaze mixed in, so I put it in for another ten minutes. That seemed to harden them up!”

Harden them up was right, he thinks, looking down at the misshapen lump that sort of resembles a bar. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t break a tooth.

His heart beating faster, he pinches the bar between his fingers and raises it to his mouth. But before he can take a bite, Peter comes skidding into the kitchen, his socks sliding against the smooth floor.

“Is dinner ready y—” Peter’s face drops when he sees the scene before him, and it’s clear that it’s not dinner time.

May puts her hands on her hip. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry!”

Peter grins a guilty smile, taking a few steps backwards and away from the baked goods. “What’s with this eating dessert before dinner anyway, May? Isn’t that like against the rules or something? I came out for something healthy, not sugar.” He flexes his bicep. “Gotta stay strong and all that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Happy hasn’t even started cooking yet. We haven’t even discussed what we’re making. Are you going to eat a bar or not?”

Peter’s eyes flit to Happy’s, and they send each other identical ‘save me’ looks.

Happy decides right then and there if he’s going to suffer, so is Peter. It’s only fair. “Come over here, kid,” he says before May gets suspicious that they’re both staring at each other. “You like raisins, don’t you?”

Peter’s face falls into an expression of complete betrayal, but he schools his features before May notices. “Uh, I’m not sure,” he says, taking small steps towards where May and Happy are standing by the oven.

“Geez,” May says, handing Peter a second small plate with a bar on it. “You two act like you don’t want to eat them. I know I’ve made some mistakes in the baking department in the past, but I promise I’m not trying to poison either of you. Will you just try them?”

Happy and Peter give each other panicked expressions. This is what they’ve been trying to avoid. Neither one of them want May to know that they’d rather go hungry than eat her baked goods. Happy’s the first one to shove the bar into his mouth. He figures if he chews it quickly and swallows it in one bite, it won’t be as bad. Peter sees him put the bar into his mouth and makes the fatal mistake of biting off a small corner of his bar.

“So?” May says, looking between them.

Happy barely tasted it, and he’s probably going to regret that later, but he did get enough information to give her a little feedback. “Tastes like raisins,” he says because that’s definitely true. He wants to tell her it was pretty good, but he also doesn’t want her to think he really likes it, and she should make it again. “Not too bad, actually. I definitely tasted the orange glaze even though it was mixed in.”

May smiles at him and pats his cheek fondly. “Thanks, Happy. I know I’m not the best baker. But I really tried with these.” She turns to Peter who is still holding the majority of his bar between his fingers. “And what about you?”

Peter puts on a forced smile. “It’s better than the pineapple mint cookies you made last weekend,” he offers. “Can we have burgers for dinner?”

May takes the plate from Peter and sets it on the counter before turning to face Happy. “What do you think? We can test out the new grill you got for the patio.”

Burgers actually sound great, and Happy has been itching to turn on the grill. “That’s fine, but Peter’s going to have to go out and grab some buns. I think we have everything else.”

Peter makes a move towards his room. “On it!” he says before dashing away and out of sight around the corner.

“Walk to the store like a normal person!” Happy yells after him. There’s no reply, and he sighs, setting his plate down besides where May had left Peter’s. “That kid is gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Oh, come on,” May says, leaning into him and getting on her toes to kiss him. “He’s just going to the store, and it’s still daylight. It’s not so bad.”

Happy wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “You’re not the one who has to suffer through Tony’s daily interrogations on his Friendly Neighborhood adventures. What am I supposed to tell Tony if Peter runs into some sort of trouble getting to the store and back?”

“He won’t,” she assures him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But why don’t you send him a text to be sure. Better yet, have Tony text him.”

“No way. Then I gotta tell Tony that we didn’t stop him from swinging to the store just to get buns. I’ll text him myself.”

BONUS:

Happy: To the store and back. NO STOPS. If you get hurt, you only get one burger.

Peter: That’s really mean! But I’ll be back in ten minutes

Happy: NO TEXTING AND SWINGING!

Peter: Says the person texting me when he knows I’m swinging!

[groundzerobakugo]

time // hawks

  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

word count: 4.2k

warning: suicide attempt due to traumatic event. 

summary: because of your quirk, you’ve isolated yourself away from other; not to protect them, but rather yourself. after an attempt on your life, you meet hawks--the first person who wiggles his way into your life.

...

  you untied your apron, tossing it into the hamper. you despised the long shifts at the coffee shop, but with your boss’s time running out to be with his family, you were understanding enough to take up the shifts he needed covered. you supposed it was one way you could use your quirk usefully--giving those who were about to die time to spend with their loved ones. but, it was awfully draining.

  “good work today!” one of your coworkers called.

  you thanked them with a wave of your hand on your way out.

  the sky had turned into a swirl of violets, pinks, and oranges with the setting sun, a light breeze filtering through the air. small puddles from the early-morning rain still lingered in the streets, and you were thankful for the boots on your feet keeping the chilling water away from your socks.

  27 years; 48 days; 13 minutes.

  6 years; 52 days; 17 minutes.

  3 days; 33 minutes; 14 seconds.

  you sighed to yourself upon seeing the clocks. 

  since you could remember, you could see the time people had left. how many years they had left to live their lives to the fullest, how many days they had left to go on their last adventures, how many minutes they had left until they had to tell everyone they held dear they loved them, how many seconds until they took their last breaths. 

  the only clock you couldn’t see was your own.

   you had hidden yourself away, locked in your bedroom and choosing not to make friends at school. you didn’t want to get attached to people you knew would die, when they would die. it never made sense to get close to someone you could lose.

  when you quirk had manifested, you believed you were doing people a kindness, telling them how long they had left on earth. the grandmother that lived on your street only had a few years, the police detective had several days, and a child you met from across the street only had a couple hours. you told them shamelessly, unaware that you were only causing anxiety. it wasn’t until your mother told you that you were hurting people that you stopped. from then on, you suffered in silence.

  it lasted through your childhood, to your teenage years, and even as you became an adult, you were still wary of the world. but, with your own mother’s clock dwindling down, you knew you had to leave before time ran out.

  “mom?” you answered your phone, cradling it in between your ear and shoulder as you fished for your keys through your purse.

  “(name)! don’t you know not to make a sick woman worry?” came the hoarse voice from the speaker.

  you sighed, twisting open the lock and letting yourself into the small and lonely apartment. “sorry, i’ve been at work all day. how are you feeling?”

  there was a small, stifled cough. “i’ve been okay. the doctors say i’m getting better.”

  your heart panged--it was a lie. “th-that’s good, mom.”

  “but, what about you? any new friends, maybe a boyfriend? girlfriend?”

  “you know i don’t....”

  “(full name), you need friends! you need to socialize! you don’t want to die alone do you?”

  you dropped your purse and keys by the door, plopping down onto the couch in the living room. “mom, that’s not the point. i just... i don’t want to get attached to someone only to have them die.”

  your mother groaned. “everyone dies, regardless if you can see how much longer you have with them or not. you know i hate you’re doing this. i know you can tell how much longer someone has left to... live, but isolating yourself and thinking that it will protect you is a lonely life. i just want to see you be happy.”

  “i am happy,” you mumbled.

  “are you, (name)?” asked your mother.

  silence passed over the phone.

  she sighed. “i need to make dinner. i love you.”

  “love you, too.” and you hung up.

  your mother was your only friend seeing as your father left before you were born, she was the only person you permitted into your room, the only one you shared your thoughts with, the only one you felt understood you and your quirk. but you knew the time left you had with her was short. it was one of the reasons you had moved out. you couldn’t remember how much longer she had, but you knew it was less than a month.

  you called her every single day.

~

  you stumbled up the stairs, alcohol coursing through your veins. you had gotten a call from your mother’s doctor at work; unfortunately, she had passed in the ambulance, and they paramedics weren’t able to resuscitate her. you knew it was coming, you knew that she wasn’t going to get over her sickness. and yet, it still hurt just as bad.

  the winds were wild and chilled as you stepped out onto the roof. the rain continued to come down hard, washing away your tears. it always seemed to rain at times like these.

  “why? why did she have to die?” you cried, clambering up onto the ledge. 

  the tips of your toes hung over, your body swaying with the wind as you stood overlooking the city of musutafu. you felt numb. with your mother’s passing, you were truly alone. you didn’t have a family anymore; you didn’t have any grandparents that you kept in contact with, no cousins, aunts, or uncles. it was just you. would anyone miss you if you jumped?

  no, you supposed not. you’d never had any friends or anyone to check up on you. your boss and coworkers might question why you stopped showing up to work, your neighbors might question why they won’t see you in the halls anymore, and the heroes you served during their patrols might question why they haven’t seen your face anymore.

  tears dribbled down, and you shut your eyes. “i’m sorry.” you tilted forward, beginning to fall.

  hawks sat perched on a rooftop, a small bucket of chicken in the crook of his arm. he munched away happily, his eyes scanning the city for any trouble. it was a slow night, no major villains to fight or robbers to catch. he was somewhat bored, to be honest. but, at least he could eat his chicken in peace; it was a rarity in its own.

  one wing hung over his head, protecting him from the downpour, the other tucked behind his back. cleaning his feathers was going to be a pain, but it didn’t take him too long.

  he supposed he should at least fly around for a little bit. maybe there were villains in dark alleys, after all. that is where some crawled about. he might even run into dabi again, the burnt raisin was always causing trouble.

  hawks shook out the excess water from his wings and took off.

  wind filtered through his wings, a slight chill shivering through his body at the rain drizzling through his feathers. rainy nights weren’t the best for flying, but hawks didn’t mind it. it was refreshing, really.

  he flew over musutafu, eyes sharp as he looked around for evil-doers. but, what he hadn’t expected was to see a figure stood on the roof just a few hundred feet away. he squinted. he hadn’t enough time to see if they were a hero searching for villains just as he was, watching the figure begin to fall forward.

  hawks’s eyes widened, “wait!” he urged his wings to fly as fast as they could, darting through the rain and wind quicker than he ever thought he could. he could feel his cheeks getting windburn, but the adrenaline coursing through him prohibited him from feeling it.

  his heart raced in his chest, and he angled his body, arms reaching out towards the falling figure. the ground kept getting closer and closer, and a part of him worried he wouldn’t reach them in time--but, he was hawks, the fastest flyer in the whole world. he would make it, he had to.

~

  you gasped, sitting upright and blinking wildly as your eyes adjusting to the bright lights around you. you sat in a hospital bed with the curtain pulled back, and the room smelling of sanitizer and a little like bleach. there was a faint throb in your left hand, and you looked down to see a small cast around it. memories filtered through, and the last thing you could remember was jumping off a roof. but... if that was true, how did you end up in a hospital?

  “oh, you’re finally awake. good morning,” a nurse greeted as she walked into the room.

  “what happened...?”

  she took the chart at the edge of your bed and looked it over as she checked your vitals. “according to your hero, you fell off a roof. luckily, he saw you just in time and saved your life.”

  a hero... saved your life? “oh,” you muttered.

  “he’s been hovering outside the hall for a while waiting for you to wake up,” she said. “should i send him in?”

  should she? you didn’t want to be rude, but you never asked to be saved, either. all you wanted was to die and join the one person you allowed yourself to get close to.

  “miss?”

  “uh, ye-yeah,” you mumbled.

  the nurse smiled. “of course. i’ll go get him right now.” and she left the room.

  you wriggled back against the pillows, attempting to get comfortable. a sigh escaped your lips, and you looked outside the window. the sun was shining, despite the rain that brought gloomy clouds for the past few days, a few birds flitting past. you fidgeted with your hands, and your fingers picked at the cast on your wrist.

  the door opened, and you looked to see a man with large, red wings tucked behind his back. he had windswept blond hair and lively golden eyes, body clad in a t-shirt and jeans. you recognized his face from the news--the number two hero, hawks. but you could also see his clock. 11 months; 5 days; 19 hours.

  he smirked at you. “good morning.”

  a blush rose to your cheeks. “mo-morning.”

  “good to see you’re doin’ okay.” he took a seat next to your bed. “sorry about your wrist, they said i broke it when i caught you. but! don’t worry, i’ll be paying for everything.”

  “th-that’s not necessary. you... you saved my life, so, uh, thanks, i guess.” you looked down at your fidgeting hands once more, unable to look at the pro-hero next to you. “b-but i do have to ask. why?”

  the man hummed. “why what?”

  you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes. “why would you save me? i... i wanted to die.”

  he quirked a brow. “and why would you want to do that? you’re young, or look it at least, you have so much life ahead of you. don’t you have family or friends?”

  “no, i don’t,” you replied simply.

  “i’m sure that’s not true,” he said.

  “you don’t even know me.” your heart rate picked up with your anger. “i don’t have family, my mother just died, i don’t know my father, i don’t have any relatives. i don’t have friends, and i know that for sure because i avoid making them.”

  hawks’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “oh? why’s that?”

  “you’re awfully nosey,” you muttered.

  he snorted. “so i’ve heard. but, i saved your life, didn’t i? i should be able to ask some questions. maybe if i hear enough, i won’t save you next time.”

  you paused, staring up at him. well, he had a point, kind of? right? “my quirk... i....”

  “do you have a villainous quirk or something? want to protect people by not being around them?”

  you glared. “opposite, actually. i want to protect myself. i can see how long a person has left to live, and why get attached when i know someone’s going to die?”

  hawks laughed aloud at this.

  heat rose to your cheeks. “wh-why are you laughing at me?!”

  “everyone dies. regardless if you can see how much time you have left with them or not. that’s a stupid reason to not make friends,” he said. his words rang in your head, soundly oddly familiar. “in my line of work, people die all the time. doesn’t stop me from making friends. it’s sad, but at least i can be happy for a little while.”

  “that’s stupid,” you grumbled.

  “no, you’re stupid. and to prove it to you, i’m going to be your friend,” he grinned.

  your mouth opened and closed, words failing to come to your aid.

  “ah, speechless already?”

  “would you shut up? i don’t want friends,” you said.

  “too bad. because you’ve got one now.”

~

  for the number two hero, hawks sure had a lot of time to get under your skin.

  you thought maybe you could avoid him, as he would be plenty busy fighting bad guys and catching villains. he surely couldn’t have this much time on his hands? showing up at your work constantly and hovering around you on your walk home.

  “do you ever do your job?” you quirked a brow. your eye twitched as he continued to fly circles around you while you walked.

  he grinned. “just check the hero news updates. i’m just too good.”

  “you’re pretty cocky,” you grumbled.

  “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he replied.

  you groaned. “why can’t you just leave me the hell alone already?”

  he pouted. “but we’re friends.”

  “no the hell we aren’t.”

  “yes the hell we are.”

  “we aren’t.”

  “are.”

  “aren’t.”

  “are.”

  “aren’t.”

  “aren’t.”

  “are.”

  he stopped flying, looking at you with wide eyes.

  “wh-what?”

  and then he started to laugh. “i can’t believe it. it totally fucking worked, you said we are friends.”

  “oh, go to hell.”

~

  the nightlife is musutafu was something you hated, at least with the area near your apartment. getting a place for so cheap in such a big city didn’t allow for much luxury, and you lived in the dingier part of town unfortunately. usually you had hawks hanging over your shoulder, talking your ear off, but he hadn’t shown his face all day.

  but, it looked like you would be walking home alone. you’d done it a dozen times before, it had never been a problem before. it was just... odd, not having hawks. you wouldn’t say you missed him, you couldn’t. he was an annoying, bothersome, cocky, know-it-all asshole who pestered you every waking moment. no. you did not miss hawks--no way.

  you walked past one of the bars, the neon lights illuminating the sidewalk. even from outside, you could hear the loud music and the high-volume chatter of the drunkards inside. you rolled your eyes and walked faster, but, you were stopped as something draped across your shoulder.

  “hey there, gorgeous,” a voice slurred in your ear.

  you recoiled in disgust, and you shrugged his arm off, sending the drunk man a glare. “no thanks.”

  the man laughed. “don’t be like that. we could have fun, you know?” he slung his arm around your shoulder once again.

  “no,” you snapped.

  “oh, come on, you don’t have to play hard to get with me.” his breath reeked of heavy liquor, and your nose scrunched up.

  “get the fuck away from me, fuckhead.” you pushed his arm off once again. “no means fucking no, understand?”

  the man’s face hardened. “the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?”

  his fist connected with your cheek, and you flew backwards, hitting the wall behind you. you felt the air in your lungs being knocked out, and you gasped in pain. he advanced towards you and gripped the collar of your work uniform; he lifted your form against the wall as you struggled against his hold.

  “let go of me,” you spoke through clenched teeth.

  “shut up!” he shoved you harder, his fist pressing into your chest and making it hard to breathe.

  your stomach dropped and tears welled up in your eyes. “pl-please--”

  “oi, dipshit.”

  hawks stood just a few feet away; his feet planted firmly on the ground, wings tucked behind his back, and his arms crossed over his chest. one brow was raised, with his lips curling into a scowl. relief flooded through you, but it was a passing feeling as the drunkard’s eyes narrowed.

  “get lost, pal, find yourself some other bitch to fuck,” he growled.

  hawks’s scowl deepened. “wanna repeat that?”

  the man rolled his eyes. “i said, get los--”

  his fist fell away from your chest, and you dropped to the ground. you coughed, hands clutching at your chest struggling to breathe, eyes wide with fear as you stared with a blank expression. you weren’t even listening as hawks knocked the drunk on his ass and scolded him, but rather replaying the past thirty seconds in your head.

  if hawks hadn’t shown up, what would have happened? would he have knocked you unconscious and kidnapped you? would he have killed you? would he have--a hand touched your shoulder, and you jumped, eyes darting up to meet familiar golden irises glimmered over with concern.

  “(name), you alright?” his voice was soft, a tone so unlike his usual self with you.

  “i...,” your bottom lip quivered.

  hawks frowned. “i’ll take you home.”

  all you could do was nod.

  the small flight was short, and you numbly unlocked your door and let hawks into your apartment. it was a bit of a mess, but you didn’t mind. all you really wanted to do was go wash up and pretend that the event earlier had never happened. but, you also didn’t want hawks to leave you.

  so, as he turned while saying goodnight, you reached out for his hand in a blind haste. “don’t go. please.”

  hawks was taken aback. but, he nodded nonetheless. he understood why you wouldn’t want to be left alone, and while there was an entire city to protect, he wouldn’t let you down--not again, at least.

  “please,” you whispered.

  he gave a small smile and nodded. “i won’t.”

  and to his word, as you left your bathroom in fresh clothes with clean hair, the number two hero was seated on your couch, a spare book from your coffee table in hand as he disinterestedly skimmed through it. it was a self-help book gifted by your late mother, one you never even cracked open as you thought it was stupid--the sentiment was nice enough for you, though, to keep it.

  his golden hues met yours, and you offered a small smile. “you stayed.”

  “i said i would,” he replied.

  you looked down, shifting on your feet with unease. “uh, thanks. i just, i don’t really feel safe, i know i won’t be able to sleep at all tonight, and that stuff has never happened to me before, and i’m scared that he might come back, or that he has friends who’ll come after me, and--”

  “(name).”

  gold and (eye color) met again.

  “i’m not leaving. you’re safe. plus, it would be stupid for them to come after the number two hero’s best friend, don’t you think?” his eyes twinkled as he grinned.

  “just a little bit,” you said in a quiet voice. you tentatively took a seat beside him, a safe distance between the two of you with your eyes trained on a stray piece of thread at the hem of your t-shirt. “i... i also wanted to apologize.”

  hawks’s brows furrowed. “what for?”

  “the way i’ve been treating you.”

  “it’s fine,” he shrugged.

  “it’s not.” you looked over at him. “i’ve been, well, to put it simply, a bitch to you, and you’ve never been anything but nice to me, hawks. though, i don’t know if you’re that kind of person or just incredibly stupid, because nothing i’ve said to you in the past has been friendly, and you just referred to me as your best friend. and--let me finish,” you said, noticing how he opened his mouth to say something. “and the truth is i found myself missing you. even before that guy showed up, and that bad stuff happened, and well, maybe all your shit worked.”

  “hang on, hang on, say that again,” he said.

  “what? maybe your shit worked?”

  “no, no, a little further back.”

  “before the guy showed up and shit happened?”

  “just before that.”

  “oh, i--” your cheeks reddened. “no.”

  hawks scooched in close to you, his shoulder nudging you. “come on, i just want to hear it one more time.”

  “hawks....”

  “please? pretty, pretty please? with a cherry on top?”

  “you’re pushing your luck, birdbrain,” you grumbled.

  he huffed. “(name)... please?”

  “oh, shove off,” you hid a smile as you pushed him away. 

  you took a glance at your window, the blinds cracked open and the city lights peeking in against the night sky. your mouth opened to say something, but a squeak came out as you felt a feather-soft touch on your cheek.

  you quickly looked at hawks, his golden irises peering into your (eye color) ones. “hawks,” you said in a shaky breath. “what are you doing?” was he going to kiss you? he was leaning in, getting closer and closer--he must be. oh god, what the hell are you even supposed to do? you’ve never had a friend, so count out a first kiss. you licked your lips.

  were you even opposed to kissing hawks? after what happened not even an hour or so ago, it seemed like you should be. but... you weren’t? he was attractive, that much was definitely true. he’d been nothing but kind, always dismissing your rude attitude towards his friendliness, and he was overall a good person--he was a hero, for all might’s sake, it was in the job description. 

  but, over the past couple months, maybe you developed feelings for the number two hero. he always knew what to say to make you crack a grin, even if you fought hard to hide it. he never let you walk home alone, and he kept you company even when you didn’t want it. so, maybe you did want to kiss him.

  your eyes fluttered close, and you held your breath.

  “the bruise on your cheek should heal in a week or so,” he said. his hand left your cheek, and he shifted back, your eyes snapping open.

  “oh,” you muttered, gaze flitting back to the window. “i thought... never mind.” did you really think he was going to kiss you?

  hawks’s brow quirked upward. “what? what’s wrong?”

  “nothing,” you said quickly and stood up. “um, i think i’m going to go to bed. i’m--”

  “(name).”

  “--pretty tired after the day i had, and--”

  “(name).”

  “you know, you’re a hero so--”

  “(name), please.”

  “you should probably be out patrolling and doing hero things and stuff, so, uh, goodnight.” you turned to head into your bedroom, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. but not even five steps across the living room did you feel a hand grab yours to stop you. you didn’t turn around, keep your head lowered.

  “(name), look at me.”

  you shook your head.

  “look at me, please.”

  hesitantly, you turned, your eyes glancing up at the winged hero. “what, hawks?”

  “what’s wrong, (name)?” he usual grin absent, replaced with a frown.

  “nothing, i’m tired,” you replied.

  “no, something’s up,” he said.

  “nothing’s up. leave it be.”

  “i’m not going to leave it be. you seem, well, upset about something, and as a friend i can’t leave it alone.” his grip tightened on your hand, wings unfurling slightly as his feathers ruffled.

  you sighed. “i’m just tired. and--”

  he scoffed. “i don’t buy that. just twenty minutes ago you said you wouldn’t be able to sleep. (name), please--”

  “i thought you were going to kiss me,” you said in a rushed, quiet voice, pulling your hand out of his and turning your gaze to the floor.

  “what? i didn’t actually catch a word of that,” he replied.

  “i said,” your voice just a tad louder, “i thought you were going to kiss me, but i realize that was a stupid thing to think, and it’s kind of pathetic, and i don’t even know if, well--” 

  you were interrupted as you felt something warm press firmly against your lips, hawks’s fingers tucked under your chin.

  you backed away quickly with wide eyes. “wh-what was that?”

  “that’s what you wanted, right?” he asked, his voice low.

  your fingers brushed against your lips. “well, i-i... i think so?”

  “(name), i wanted to kiss you, i still do. but, i know it isn’t right. not... not now, anyway, after what just happened,” he said.

  “oh,” you mumbled. “i... i guess you’re right. but, well... never mind, doesn’t matter.”

  a small smile pulled the corners of his mouth up. “unless, you really did want to kiss me.”

  your cheeks heated.

  “all you gotta do is tell me, (name),” he said.

  you squeaked. “but--”

  “no, consent is important.”

  “this is coming from the same guy who interrupted me to kiss me,” you grumbled.

  “(name).”

  “fine. i want to kiss you, hawks.” you said with pink dusted across your face.

  “see? that wasn’t so hard,” he teased.

  you huffed. “just shut up and kiss me, birdbrain.”

  “whatever you say, baby bird.” and you were met with his soft lips kissing yours once again.

...

  there will be a part two, so please be patient!

[weartirondad]

Hell’s Frozen (I’m Getting You Out)

A/N: I’m not even going to try to explain this on here. Check the note on FF.net or ao3 if you’re interested in the story behind this mess. 

nebula, tony & peter, post IW

“Are you ready, Stark?” Captain America’s voice filtered through the intercom. It sounded tinny and far away and ran down Tony’s spine like ice water, making him shudder at the thought of how alone he was.

It wasn’t that he was completely alone, he acknowledged as his gaze grazed his partner swiftly. Half- alien, half- android and full of spite and a blood-curdling thirst for vengeance. If he had to reverse the effects that had randomly eliminated half the universe then Nebula wasn’t the worst to have on his side, not even close.

Maybe it would’ve been nicer if she would joke like he usually did before shit hit the fan, hiding his fear behind a mask of snark. She barely reacted to his jibes, hyper-focused on what lay before them. Which, if he was being honest, was probably a good idea.

So, no, not completely alone.

He would even go as far as to call her something akin to a friend and, without the shadow of a doubt, a trustworthy team mate. She rarely talked but she rarely had to. They were alike in a lot of ways, Tony had realized over the time they had spent together, and so very different in others. There were enough similarities and contrasts to make them work seamlessly as a team.

“I have never been readier for anything in my life,” he responded after a moment, keeping his voice steady and strong through sheer force of will alone. “I’ve been preparing for this for two years.”

It was the truth, too.

It’s been two years.

Two years spent planning and training for this one final fight.

Two years grieving everyone they had lost and building their resolve to get them back.

Two years that seemed surreal and somehow realer than anything he had ever lived through.

Two years that had felt like he was being cut open by the blunt knife that was losing a kid over and over again but that had healed other parts in him with the padding of tiny footsteps and happy cries of ‘Daddy’.

A lot had changed in two years and yet it felt like nothing had changed at all.

He had never really come back from Titan, at least not all parts of him. Not even the most important parts of him had made it back to earth in that clattering, rattling tin can that Starlord had called his ship.

Now he was back here on the planet where everything had been taken from him and he was about to get it all back.

Hell yeah, he was ready!

He let his mask retreat from his face and hissed when the cold air hit his face. His breath was coming out foggy, the cold a stark contrast to how he remembered the planet. As much as it hurt, the dark blue sky that had replaced the orange one he never did stop dreaming about made it easier not to fall back into the panic that was only an inch from the surface at any given time. It was easier to keep a clear head with the air cutting into his skin like a knife. The pain kept him centered.

Nebula was the first to move. She took a step towards where the man, that had called himself her father but had never been more than her tormenter, lay unconscious on the ground. Her stride didn’t waver and her guard never faltered when she kneeled down beside him, pulling the gauntlet off of his cold hands with an unprecedented gentleness.

When they had made the plan, this had been the one variable they hadn’t been sure of. They knew where Thanos would be but they hadn’t had any idea if he was still alive and, if so, how strong he would still be. As it was, this right there was the best case scenario Tony had never counted on. It felt wrong for something so life changing to be so easy.

The moment she had pulled the gauntlet off, she let it drop to the ground with a hiss and it landed on the frozen ground with a loud clong. It was all Tony could do to stare at her burnt hand in shock.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, already moving towards her in a way he did whenever Morgan cried out in pain, but she gave her usual sharp nod and ignored him in favor of smiling down humorlessly at the man that had taken everything from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, ignoring the demands for information from the other side of the galaxy in both their ears. Understanding dawned on him before she started talking again and it made his stomach coil in dread but, like hers, his resolve never wavered, if anything he stood up a little straighter.

“I won’t be able to wield the gauntlet,” she explained for everyone they had left back on Earth but her eyes were locked with his, a silent apology that made his throat run dry. She had been so ready to die, to give her life for everyone else and to prove her worth to herself and even that had been taken from her. “The stones won’t accept some machine as their master. It needs to be a living being.”

Tony could hear the screams on the other side. Could hear Rogers even over Thor’s loud hollering, both screaming that there had to be another way.

“Listen, Stark, don’t do anything stupid,” the Captain’s authority bled through every word but it couldn’t cover up Steve Roger’s panic, “We’ll find another way. We’ll do it some other time. We’ll send someone else up there with you.”

“There is no other way, Cap,” he told him gently even as he eyed the piece of metal that might very well be his downfall, “You’re needed on Earth the moment our purple raisin comes back to fight you. All of you need to be there to kill him, otherwise this would have all been for nothing. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“You might not be able to live at all.” Nebula’s voice cut through everything else and he met her gaze, warmer than anything he had ever seen on her before. “You could die.” There was a humanity bleeding through that she always covered up in fear of it being exploited.

He understood where she was coming from. Not too long ago he had been like this.

He jerked his head in a nod, tears trickling down his cheeks and freezing on his skin before they could hit his goatee. “If it’s my life for half the universe… It’s not even a question,” he told her quietly and even quieter, almost a whisper that he was sure wouldn’t be picked up on comms, he added, “My life for his life. There’s no way I’m not doing this.”

She understood like he knew she would but back in Wakanda Steve was still screaming.

“Stark! You can’t do this! Think of your family. Think of Pepper. Damn it, think of your daughter! You can’t sacrifice yourself. I won’t let you.”

Tony blinked the tears away, the mask coming back up to cover his face the second the nanites sensed his final decision.

(A parent choosing their kid’s life over their own wasn’t really a choice as much as it was a deeply ingrained instinct.)

“It’s not your choice to make, Steve,” he told his teammate and former friend steadily, “And you can be sure I’m going to fight it with everything I’ve got so I can come home to my kids. Both of them. I don’t want to die.” For the first time in his life there was no lie in his words.

“Rhodey,” he addressed his unusually quiet best friend that he knew was listening, “You know what to do should I not make it back.”

The response took nearly minute but it came because Rhodey would always have his back and Tony closed his eyes at the familiar warm in his heart when he heard the voice that had been by his side for most of his life, “I do, Tones. But I’m going to kick your ass six ways from Sunday if you don’t make it back.”

He couldn’t bring his lips to form the ‘I love you’ burning on his tongue but he knew Rhodey knew. He wouldn’t say goodbye. Not yet.

“Be ready,” he told them, his voice strong and sure – a lie, optimism, a flicker of hope maybe? “Give him all you’ve got. I want you to give me a play by play about how you managed to impale the grape head when all this is over. I’m counting on it.”

“We are ready, Stark.” Thor’s voice echoed through his helmet when it was apparent that Steve wouldn’t answer. “As always, it is an honor to be fighting by your side.”

Something in him steeled at the words and the images of other fights they had come out of on top flicked through his head, giving him the power to kneel next to the gauntlet and lift it up.

The moment his gloves touched the weapon, almost all of his armor assembled on his left hand, leaving only the bare minimum to cover the rest of his body. Somehow he knew that it didn’t need as much protection right then.

Somehow it felt like he had been destined to do this.

And it sounded way too cheesy even in his own ears but when he picked up the only instrument in the universe that could control all six infinity stones, it molded around his reinforced hand until it fit him perfectly where it used to fit a guy three times his size.

He was almost inclined to believe in magic when his eyes traveled to the spot where his kid had disintegrated in his arms. The place where he had learned what it meant to lose something so integrally a part of him that the mere thought of going on without it killed him. And then it didn’t – it hadn’t killed him and living had been that much harder.

Two years.                  

Tony had told Steve that he didn’t want to die and he had meant it but if his death meant Peter would come back then he knew he’d die at peace with himself.  There was no cutting the wire for this. No way he would pass up on the opportunity or ever choose differently.

No parent should ever have to outlive their child. He had learned that the hard way and he couldn’t do it one more day. If that made him selfish? Then he would let them call him that. As long as his family was alive, nothing else mattered.

The superhero closed his eyes then, blocking out the big red X that was the place he expected Peter to reappear in and concentrated on the power that surged through his body all at once.

Suddenly he could see everything, all the riddles that the no one had yet been able to answer, the reason why everything was the way it was. The pieces fell together like a puzzle – like they had always been there, only hidden from his view.

He knew and felt everything. Every soul, living or dead, that had ever walked in this galaxy was suddenly a part of him and he understood. It was too much for a mortal like him, he knew that rationally and – a distant part of him felt the pain that was surging from his left hand through his entire body.

The power he possessed in that moment almost brought him to his knees and he lost sight of why he was doing this in the first place. Only for a minute but then Peter was standing in front of him. No. That couldn’t be right, he could swear his eyes were still closed.

Still, Peter was there looking up at him with his big brown eyes alight with unconditional love. Alive?

“Mr. Stark?” he asked and his voice was shaking, he sounded afraid all of the sudden and Tony hated it. Who the hell dared to scare his child like that?

“Daddy?”

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when his little girl appeared next to Peter, holding on to his legs that were still clad in the Spidersuit. And it didn’t make sense. Because Morgan had never gotten to meet her big brother, had never gotten to cling to him or hide behind him when she was scared. Peter had never gotten to lay a protective hand on her head like he was doing now.

They had never –

“You have to let the stones go,” they both said and they were both crying and he knew he was crying, too, felt the tears streaming down his face the same way he felt a flower way back on Earth breaking its way through the ground in need for air. He felt with every ounce of his being how life was being reformed in that moment and he basked in the joy of it but something was still wrong.

His children were still crying.

“Come back to us,” they begged him, now both pulling on the gauntlet that he was now realizing was burning its way through his suit slowly but surely. “Come back,” they demanded with a last tug and then he felt himself tumbling to the ground, his knees scraping over the freezing ground-

Wait. No, that wasn’t right.

He blinked and tried to wrap his mind around the dusty ground lit with the bright orange of a slowly dying sun.

A hand was on his shoulder suddenly and he looked up to find Nebula staring back at him, her eyes more expressive than he had ever seen them. Was she crying? Could androids cry? Why did he feel like he had known the answer to that at some point? Why were they here on this orange planet? Why had he expected it to be frozen?

Before he could utter a single one of his questions, voices were in his ear, screaming. He flinched.

“God dammit, Stark, answer!”

“Tony I swear to fucking god if you sacrificed your stupid –“

“Are you there, Tones?”

“Nebula! What’s the status?”

“Titan.” The word broke through his cracked lips, rolled off his dry tongue and suddenly everything came back and his body felt too light and too heavy all at once. He couldn’t hold it up so he let it drop down.

“Tones!” was the only thing that got through to him then, as well as Nebula’s hand still on his shoulder.

“He’s alive,” she finally said, voice cracking on the two words when her eyes focused on something a little off to his side. “They’re coming back.”

That seemed to be the only incentive that his body needed to scramble over to the place he could find with eyes closed because he had revisited it in his dreams every night. He knew the rocks that were going to cut into his legs and the pit he would stumble into before he even took the first step.

But there was one difference to his dreams.

Where he would usually grasp at thin air, hands coming away covered in dust, his fingers now hit a solid body.

Trembling, cold and bloody. But solid. And alive?

“Peter.”

The name left his lips like a lifeline. It was a plea and a curse and a prayer. He was too afraid to open his eyes, scared of not finding what he needed to see. Scared that if he wouldn’t, he would die again. There was no way he could go through that a second time.

He did, though, and when his eyes found him his heart soared only to then clench painfully.

The boy’s eyes were closed but his face was contorted into a painful grimace. He wasn’t moving, not even a twitch of a muscle to tell him whether or not he was alive. There were no signs of any open wounds when Tony looked him up and down and because of the suit he couldn’t check his breathing. Just –

His mouth twitched.

Tony fell forward, cradling him in his arms, when Peter’s eyes fluttered open and stared up at him and for a moment he just looked at him. His face giving nothing away, as if he was too out of it to form facial expression, as if his muscle memory was still coming back.

“Pete,” Tony whispered again, pulling him up until he was halfway sitting and he could see his eyes moving back and forth – unfocussed all of the sudden – until they came back to rest on him. He opened his mouth and-

Gibberish.

The billionaire superhero couldn’t make out a single word that left the teenager’s lips but he didn’t have to. Peter was alive and he was breathing and he was talking and –

“Mis – Mis’er Stark?”

“Hey buddy,” he whispered through tears because he couldn’t raise his voice over the barely audible volume. He tried to say more but two years of grief were sitting on his chest and they pushed down on it with all their force. All the agony of life without Peter had to leave his body before he could choke out something that resembled an “Okay?” and he just hoped Peter would understand.

Peter who was alive.

Peter who was breathing heavily but he was breathing. Peter who was laying in his arms, eyes wide with shock and something wise and sad in them that Tony wished he would never have to see again. Peter who fell forward, forehead hitting Tony’s shoulder. Peter who, upon contact, started shaking and sobbing in his arms.

He held the boy’s trembling body that seemed so much smaller than a regular teenager right now that reminded him more of the first time he had held his newborn child. The now toddler who was waiting for him at home. And finally he gave into his own need and buried his face in the dirty, sweaty curls in a way he had never done before because they hadn’t been there yet. (His words. He never regretted anything more in his life.)

PeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeterPeter-

His whole being centered around the boy that was clinging to him, that allowed himself to fall completely apart in his arms. And he cried.

Tony cried for everything he had lost and for everything he just got back. He cried for everything his kid had lost and for every damn thing he would make sure he would get from now on. The tear tracks felt like burn marks, like a tattoo permanently etched into his skin to tell the world of all the loss he had to endure.

But it didn’t matter. His tears didn’t matter. All that mattered was the kid in his arms.

“Pete?” he whispered, trying to call onto the last piece of his soul that wasn’t shattered and that now had two years of parenting practice, “Hey bud. You’re alright, you’re safe. I’ve got you.” Over and over he whispered soft reassurances into his ear until Peter’s sobs had quietened down to heartbreaking sniffles. All the while he was alternating between massaging his scalp and pressing a kiss into his hair. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here, Pete.”

“Mis’er Stark?” The teenager’s voice was muffled by his shirt and stuttering through hiccups. “I-I wa-as s-so scared. I-I’m so so-sorry. I-“

“Shh. None of that,” he interrupted him gently, hand moving to his neck to hold him even closer, glad when the kid only buried into him more instead of moving way. “None of this is your fault, okay? I know you were scared but I’m here now, okay? We’ll get you home and you’re never going to be alone again. How’s that sound?”

Peter nodded, small hands making a move to curl around Tony’s shirt more firmly, “’S good. Really wanna go home,” he sniffled before Tony felt his eyes flutter close against his neck.

“I’m getting you home, kid.”

A promise, a vow. And the second the words had left his mouth, he felt the kid’s body go limp in his arms because he trusted him to keep him safe. And Tony would. This time he would get to hold on.

[canaryatlaw]

okay. so today was pretty good. I woke up at like 12:25ish I think? naturally, I texted Jess and asked if she wanted to get lunch, citing a lunch special that was posted at one of the restaurants we went to last week. she said yes and we said we’d meet in 15, so I got dressed and headed out. Once we got there we couldn’t actually see the lunch special where it was posted so we were kinda just like fuck it we’ll get whatever we want lol. I ended up getting a burger, which I kinda got meat-fatigued with (I don’t care if that’s not a real thing, I’m making it a real thing) but I ate like two-thirds of it before switching to my tater tots. they also like, fully cooked it when I said medium rare, so that may have contributed to my feelings there, lol. but mostly it was good. So we got the check and paid, I later would discover I accidentally left my credit card there and would have to deal with that later. but for now we headed home. For a while I just did random computer stuff, namely ordering a bunch of stuff off amazon after looking at recipes I wanted to make that I needed some specific ingredients for (some of which you couldn’t really find at a grocery store) and I wanted to get better tips for my piping bag for making macarons because the ones I have now aren’t big enough to properly pipe the shells so I end up having to pipe them using a circular motion instead of just doing dollops like you’re supposed to. I had gotten a reply email from the one I sent yesterday regarding the kitten for adoption and they said to call for a short phone interview and set up a time to visit, so I gave them a call but it went to voicemail and nobody’s called back yet, I may try them again in the morning because we were hoping to be able to go get the kitten tomorrow, so we’ll see how that works. I was on their website and they didn’t list a specific address for their location because apparently it’s a primarily a private home but they listed approximate coordinates by street numbers, which I tracked down to actually be really close to both of our apartments, so that should be easy hopefully. After that I decided I wanted to make oatmeal raisin cookies which had been on my mind for a few days now, so I set about doing that. I always fuck up with remembering to take the baking sheets out of the drawer below the oven before preheating the oven, because if I leave them in there they get really hot and are just generally harder to deal with, so I had to put up with that which was annoying. I tried to see if I could get my broken cookie dough to work if I used a certain technique but it was not in fact successful, so I just ended up using a spoon and rolling them into balls with my hands. I later went back on Amazon and bought a new cookie dough scoop, so I really went a bit Amazon crazy today 😂 oh well. The cookies came out pretty good, the only thing was the ones that were put on the bottom rack, which I hadn’t scooped out until after the first tray was already in, ended up being a little dark on the bottom, not burnt except for a few small areas but definitely getting there, so I’ll have to be careful about that in the future. But I was mostly satisfied with them. I went back on my computer and did nothing in particular until Jess and I decided to go get ice cream, and as I was heading out I looked at the clock and realized it was like 6 pm and not like 4 like I thought, so when we met up I suggested we get some actual food first since it was actually dinner time, so we went to one of the restaurants on the main street that I’d been to a few times before and it was pretty good. we didn’t want to fill up too much because ice cream, so we shared two appetizers: fried mac and cheese balls, and poutine. they were both super good, but the poutine was like, freaking amazing lol. I knew I was going to get sooooooo much acid reflux for eating it (and I did) but it was totally worth it. When we went to pay I saw that my credit card was suspiciously missing from its spot, which was concerning of course but I figured I’d probably just left it in the restaurant we were at for lunch (which was conveniently just across the street from where we were), so I tried to not panic and paid with another card, then we went across the street and asked about it, they told us to talk to the bartender who said to give him my ID, and I did, and he went to a little like flash card box (I forget if those have an actually proper name or not) and flipped through a bunch of pages (apparently a lot of people have left cards there before, but I guess that’s the case with a bar sometimes) before finding mine and bringing it back to me, which of course I was very relieved about, I had to deal with losing my wallet last year and getting fraudulent charges on my cards almost immediately and had to cancel and reissue all of them and then there was this ongoing problem with the bank and it was really just a nightmare, so I’m glad I don’t have to do that again. We continued down the street to the ice cream place (we have like a ton of food places in like a two block radius), where we ordered our standard choices and sat and ate them before parting ways. I got home and decided I was in the mood for some more game of thrones, finishing season 3 and starting season 4. I gotta say that I’m finally actually getting really into it. like for a long while I just was not following it, but now I know who (most of) the characters are and how they fit into everything, and just how crazy things get. I know a ton of people come back from the dead so I’m kinda just waiting for that to happen with some of the recently “deceased” characters (cough Starks cough). Poor fucking Sansa man. She’s just getting tortured from every angle. At least Tyrion is a decent human being and tries to protect her, seems he’s really the only Lannister that’s not completely terrible. and OF COURSE I left off at the end of the episode where Joffrey met his tragic end, and I have to see while actually watching it was kind of gross, it was still a beautiful sight to me because THAT LITTLE SHIT IS DEAD and I’m so happy about it. When everyone was going on about there being peace I knew that couldn’t last long, so something was going to happen, and it did. I suppose they’ll further investigate who actually poisoned him, because as much as Tyrion hates Joffrey I don’t think he would go to straight up homicide in such a public setting where he would very easily be found guilty for it. My money right now is on Tywin honestly, he was pretty done with that little shit lately. So like, who gets to rule the throne now?? does Margaery get to be queen now because she was technically married to the king when he died? Does it go to Joffrey’s sister (I think he only has one sibling? would they actually allow secession to a female at this point?) Would it go back to Stannis if Robert has no more viable heirs (assuming Joffrey’s sister can’t take on the throne)?? so many questions, and I’m sure they’ll be answered in like, the next episode, but I have many questions about them now. also when is Robb gonna show up again?? we all know he’s not really dead, and I’d like Catelyn back too for that matter. Also, I continue to adore both Daenerys and Arya as two (completely unrelated but still) total badasses who do not bow to others and do what they think is right. My girls, love them. Sigh. Anyway, when I finished that episode I started getting ready for bed and here we are. Not sure what the plan is for tomorrow being that I once again have nothing to actually do, we may get breakfast and then if things actually work out cat wise I may end up bringing one of those home, so stay tuned for details on that subject. But yeah, that’s it for tonight, it’s almost 2 am so it’s definitely time for bed. Goodnight sweeties. Stay awesome.

[dietauthority]

The Ultimate Fat Loss Guide - 25 Simple Tips To Try Out Right Now

Life was basic back then before social networks's unrelenting image sharing, taste, commenting and dissing each other. Looking excellent has actually never been as essential as now in the days of twitter, instagram as well as facebook. There's a great deal of pressure to stay fit.

Ultimate Weight reduction Overview To Remain Fit:

The path to lasting effective weight loss is not a simple one. Adhering to a reasonable workout and also food regimen will help you to shed weight without penalizing your body. Below is a weight reduction guide including food routine with 25 straightforward ideas to try out right now.

1. Breakfast:

Start your day with a healthy morning meal. The last dish was the previous night's dinner and also the body requires some gas to kick start the day. Without sufficient food, the body as well as mind won't perform efficiently. If you're hurried as well as don't have time, bring a morning meal smoothie to go. Even if you're running late, never ever skip morning meal. Missing breakfast puts the body in hunger mode which consequently makes you eat way too much through the day.

2. Packed Lunch:

Research reveals that a residence cooked lunch is much more healthy and has less calories compared to all those fancy exec lunches. Load a healthy and nutritious lunch. If you are pushed for time in the early morning, make some standard prep work the night prior to. Wake up 10 mins early as well as make a quick sandwich in the early morning or rustle up a straightforward salad. The added time you invest in food preparation and also packaging a lunch will certainly be justified when you realize that you have not just kept an examine your weight gain however also conserved money by not consuming out.

3. Early Dinner:

An very early dinner is a sure shot means to weight reduction. Eat your last dish for the day in between 7.30 to 8 pm. You may require some additional will certainly electrical power to not connect for chocolates or a sugary reward afterwards. To avoid lure, brush your teeth quickly after supper and tell yourself that the cooking area is formally closed for the day. Attempt this for a couple of days and see the noticeable difference in your waist. We need to eat at the very least 2 hrs prior to going to sleep. Activities as well as tasks around your home like placing meals away or folding clothing or simply strolling from one space to the other doing random points helps digestive function. Eating a heavy dinner and also crashing promptly leads to bloating as well as disturbed sleep.

4. Avoid Temptation:

If you do not intend to eat specific foods, don't buy them. When you're starving, possibilities are higher that you will certainly reach out for candy and also except carrots. Avoid buying chocolates, candy, chips, crackers as well as the usual suspects. If you crave something specifically, get as well as consume it occasionally to obtain it out of your system. Do not stock up on undesirable food. A kitchen area that stocks on only healthy as well as great food is the secret to weight loss.

5. Replace Dessert:

If you have a craving for sweets and also absolutely require to eat something wonderful after a dish, a minimum of make healthier selections. Raisins as well as days make a tasty after-meal dessert. You could possibly also attempt some homemade fruit yogurt. Mix or mash a fruit in yogurt as well as freeze. Feed on when you really feel the should eat something sweet.

6. Fad Diets:

Juice diets and salad diet regimens deprive your body of crucial nutrients. As much as feasible, consume regular food. According to the food pyramid, your body needs protein along with carbs. A little bit of fat through butter and oil is also necessary. Over the previous couple of years, diet plans that assist drastic weight loss have become preferred. This type of weight reduction isn't sustainable as well as the weight will gradually sneak back and also create you much more misery and also stress. Also stay clear of packaged diet food as they trigger much more damage compared to excellent. Consuming regular food in moderation will aid sustainable weight loss.

7. Processed Food:

Packaged juices, refined soups, icy food and also canned food include salt, sugar as well as preservatives. Although some juices and soups are advertised as healthy, nothing that enters into a could or container to be consumed a lot later could be healthy. Refined food has little or no nutrients and is finest stayed clear of. Furthermore, the taste and wholesomeness of newly pressed juice as well as piping warm homemade soup could not be changed by store bought counterparts.

8. Food Journal:

If you are just one of those psychological eaters, attempt to maintain a food journal. Write everything down from that relatively innocent granola bar to that extra treat you are enjoying every evening. Seeing it on paper just aids you identify exactly what you are doing best or incorrect. It additionally helps you gauge a pattern or a trigger for emotional overeating.

9. Fresh Food:

As far as feasible eat fresh cooked food. Leftovers have no nutrition and also you are just eating empty calories by completing that bake from two days ago.

10. Green Tea:

Considered as a fat buster, green tea apart from helping digestive function also speeds up metabolic rate. It has EGCC, an advocate that sheds fat. Consuming green tea also helps one feel full as well as can be used to reduce pains of hunger between meals.

11. Alcohol:

Beer and wine have gotten a bum rap from fitness lovers however in truth any type of type of alcohol will certainly trigger weight gain. All type of alcoholic beverages are fattening. If you must drink, do it occasionally or perhaps socially.

12. Healthy Snacks:

When hunger strikes, pick snacks that are filling up. Carrots, yoghurt, fruits, and also popcorns are snacks you can chew on without feeling responsible or stacking on weight.

13. Homemade Junk Food Trap:

Do not misguide yourself that homemade cakes, cookies as well as french fries do not contain fat. A whole lot of individuals believe it is much less fattening to eat homemade fried food and also baked rewards. This could be real to a particular extent however you will certainly recognize that has a tendency to eat way too much home made rewards more than store acquired ones. Wolfing down on 5 delicious chocolate chip cookies also if your caring mommy baked them could not be excellent for your health.

14. Visit A Dietician:

If you intend to come close to fat burning a lot more holistically, you could see a dietician who will certainly personalize a diet regimen plan for you taking into factor to consider your activities, task and health and wellness. Sticking to the plan, nevertheless, is completely approximately you. A proper diet guide for weight loss will certainly help you concentrate on the essential nutrients you require. It will certainly help you consume on time and monitor the quantity of food you consume.

15. Cheat Days:

If you have an intense craving for something fried, cheesy or sugary, succumb to your body every now and then. If you maintain depriving your body of occasional deals with, not you will be crabby at all times, you might most likely consider food all the time. Delight once in a while however make it an indicate stroll back residence that day or take the stairs rather of the lift. Eat whatever your heart desires but in small amounts and also when a week. It's crucial not to go over the top. Cheat days are a fantastic means to give yourself a break. Also, if you recognize that you are eating something sinful over the weekend, you won't mind slugging it out with simple and healthy residence cooked dishes through the week.

Exercise Routine To Stay Fit:

Watching what you eat is half the battle won. The other half is complying with an exercise program. A great exercise program not just helps weight management yet has numerous various other benefits. Study shows that routine exercisers are usually those people who seem to have their life in control. Regular exercise makes your skin glow as well as enhances posture. In addition, the normal release of endorphins aids you really feel great through the day.

16. Enjoyable Exercise Routine:

Pick an exercise regular you appreciate. If you like tennis, play for half a hr prior to or after job. If swimming is your point, after that swim those calories away. If you genuinely appreciate doing weights, join a fitness center. If you discover on your own obtaining burnt out, mix it up a little. You could possibly additionally try hula hooping or a dancing class. If you enjoy your workout, you will certainly look ahead to it on a daily basis and also the chances of you avoiding your exercise are minimized.

17. Fitness For You:

Incorporate a fitness regimen that fits in your day. Merely because your close friend does pilates for an hour and a fifty percent, does not suggest it could be for you. Find out just how much time you can dedicate to work out often. If you have just 30 mins in the early morning, you might discover also the concept of obtaining ready for health club stressful. Because situation, a basic 30 min stroll or bike trip might appear doable.

18.Workout Gear:

Looking great always makes you really feel excellent. Purchase nice workout clothing to really feel good inside to inspire on your own to delight in routine exercise.

19. Have A Goal:

It could possibly be reducing weight for your birthday celebration or merely desiring to match your old jeans once again. No goal is too shallow if it helps you awaken every morning.

20. Regular Modest Workout Vs Extreme Occasional Exercise:

You beginning slimming down just after 20 mins of exercise. Whatever your kind of workout, do it consistently for 30 mins for best results. Not running for two weeks and also running 10 miles like a maniac. It certainly won't aid fat burning. Understand that regular workout for Thirty Minutes is better than sporadically working out for an hour as soon as a week.

21. Cardio And Weights:

Cardiovascular exercises, such as walking, running, swimming and cycling help you shed fat. Nonetheless, when you train with weights, you can construct muscular tissue. Do not depend on only cardio or weights as you need a mix of both to drop weight. If you are a beginner, start with cardio and after that carry on to a combination of both weightlifting and also cardio.

22. Workout Time:

Figure out a time that works ideal for you. If you begin your work day really early, attempt working out in the evening after you're back. Some job locations now have a gym in the office. You could avoid the idle note chat near the coffee maker as well as save some valuable time and also exercise in the mid-day. Some individuals like to obtain workout out of their way initial point in the morning. It has been proven that individuals who work out in the early morning have a tendency to adhere to their workout programs. Select whatever time suits you ideal. This is considered to be one of the most effective natural remedy for ascites.

23. Small Tricks:

Over an amount of time, you will realize that small tricks will help you stay with your exercise objective. Maybe a brand-new playlist or a super trendy water bottle. A brand-new tee shirt or perhaps a wristband will help you break the dullness of a routine workout.

24. Workout Buddy:

Having an exercise buddy will certainly assist you remain inspired. Some gossip on the tread mill cannot be all that bad. If you exercise with somebody, it does not seem as tedious. Attempt to work out with your partner, good friend or colleague and also see the distinction in your level of motivation.

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: Think Differently.

Requested by mentallydestroyedfemme. Includes: Victor Creed x Reader. Request: * Could you do a Sabretooth imagine where the reader is a mutant and pretty much filled with bitterness towards moms and dads because they were abandoned as soon as they mutated, and then he pretty much changes their life and mind on the subject?  Ability/Abilities: 1)  Power mimicry or absorption- Ability to copy or absorb another's powers or skills. 2)  Superhuman longevity-Ability to live longer than a normal human.

Note: I didn’t know how to end it or where to really go with it so it’s very crap. 

    The room was cold, dark, and damp. The air was heavy, it created a burning sensation like cement was filling your lungs, it hurt to breathe. Whatever was done to the room, whatever he did, it stopped your mutation from working. The black rings that circled your neck, wrists, upper arms, stomach, thighs, and ankles, no longer glowed the strange blue that you were used to seeing. The black chains that locked you to the wall clinked as you moved your arms slightly. The chair—the metal block against the wall that you sat on—numbed your butt, the feeling in your legs began to fade. He promised you power. He promised you strength. He promised you control. But instead, all Stryker did was lock you away until he wanted to taunt you, to try and continue to persuade you to join his team of mutants.

    After allowing your gaze to drop from the heavy door, your top lip turned up in disgust, you looked to the ground, cursing yourself for being so reckless, so naive, so weak. It annoyed you that you couldn't see straight through his lies. The lies that he would help you. The lies that you would be safe. The lies that you wouldn't be abandoned again. Yet, the confinement to the strange room contradicted his words. It revealed to you that no one—even a father to a mutant himself—would care for your kind. They were all the same… not the Homo sapiens that is, but parents.

    Light, albeit faint, flooded into the room, causing you to squint and turn your head away. Heavy boots scuffed into the room. Multiple pairs of footsteps. "Are you done sulking?" Stryker asked.

    "When I get out of these chains—"

    "I'll have my men shoot you… dead, if you try anything." You could tell that he began to smile, planning on telling you another bullshit story that he seemed so fond of spilling out of his mouth, or ass because that’s where they seemed to come from. "You know, my son, Jason, he—"

    "Has a disappointment for a father, I already know." A growl left the back of your throat. He paused as your eyes met his, glowing an unnatural blue before fading back.

    The last time you had been out of the walls was when he first took you. It was in the back of the truck, when you woke up, that you saw his face peering through the wall of the small cell you were being transported in. Stryker introduced himself and offered everything to you. It was all a lie. None of it would have ever been real. But in that moment, you wanted to believe it. He kept trying to recruit you the entire way, of course, but you simply didn’t want to listen to him any further, you worked alone. He even told you that his son was a mutant, and in that moment, you knew Stryker wasn’t. It was the way he spoke about Jason, the way he said mutant, that tone he had, made your blood boil, even when he didn’t realise how he sounded, it was the way your parents spoke about you when they realised you were a mutant.

    "—Was never as strong as you. I tried getting him help, but he couldn't be saved. Not from himself. But you can be if you just allow me to help you."

    His tone of voice, the fake words he spoke, were clear to you now, more than they were before. There would be no way that you would believe his lies, not again, not ever. He flinched when you moved the chains again, rattling them, and he saw the blood from the raw wounds they had caused in the faint glow of the fire torches hanging on the wall outside. Stryker stood up straighter, nodding his head towards two men dressed head-to-toe in some sort of military, or another type of soldiers, uniform. They undid the chains while you kept eye contact with Stryker.

    It wasn't until you were completely free that you grabbed the necks of the two men, breathing deeply as your black rings glowed blue, your eyes lighting up the same unnatural colour as they choked, struggling to breathe while you got stronger, absorbing their life force. Watching Stryker still, you easily lifted the two men as they began to wither away, drying up from the inside out like grapes to raisins. Soon, the choke holds you had them in tightened. They crumbled, turning to dust, while you let your body grow stronger for the first time in months, maybe even years. It was a warning that he would have the same fate if he tried anything, you were still able to kill them, even being as weak as you were.

    Stryker closed his eyes and sighed. "I have a proposition."

    "Why don't I just kill you?"

    "It's time for you to join the others. Join the team."

    A scoff escaped you. "And be your puppet?" He stayed quiet. "I'm not Jason, you can't make me do something I don't want to."

     "He didn't do what I wanted him to do," he argued back.

    "I wonder why," the words fumbled out sarcastically, obviously striking a nerve within him.

    "Either you join or die slowly, just like you were before. I mean, how long had it been since you last fed? Since you last took the life of someone else? Eight years? Eleven? I'm shocked you lasted that long. Although, I did watch you take out an entire school’s gym worth of people during the children's basketball game. How sadistic. You even made the children watch before you killed them. How many people was that? A hundred? Three hundred? How many people did you kill before I had my men take you out and drag you back here to rot?"

    "I'd rather die."

    "Suit yourself." Stryker turned back and left, locking the door once more.

-

    That had been a different time. It took another year and a half before you ‘decided’ to join Stryker. In the back of your mind, the last remaining free part you had, you tried fighting against Jason and his mutation, but he was too strong, and he forced you to join his father, even when his father hated him. Now, you were a part of the team. The one he had always wanted you to be part of. He burnt something into the back of the neck every time he saw you stare at your glowing wrists. He did it every single time.

    While the truck, with the other recruits, drove down the path in the forest, you sat away from the others, clenching and unclenching your hands. Victor sat down next to you. You knew it was him, even without looking. He was the only one who sat so close to you. “Still thinking about it?”

    “About what?”

    “Whatever it is that you keep thinking about during these rides.”

    “That obvious?”

    “Well, to someone who watches you it is. Everyone else tries to stay away from you, or at least not look at you in case they look at you in the wrong way to anger you, especially after they heard what you did and what you could do while being so close to death.”

    “And you don’t care? Or are you just suicidal?”

    “More like testing the waters, to see how far I could go before I made you light up.”

    “Spare me the mutation jokes.”

    Victor held his hands up in defence. “Whatever you want.”

    A sigh escaped your lips and you went back to clenching and unclenching your hands. “How do you do it?”

    “Do what?”

    “Not kill every single parent you see? You know, considering how Logan and yours weren’t the greatest, especially after seeing his mutation.”

    He shrugged. “I just remember that they aren’t my parents,” he answered. “They are somebody else’s, and probably a lot different than my own. Not everyone fears mutants, or at least having a mutant child.”

    “Mine were.”

    “Were?”

    “They abandoned me as soon as they saw the marks appear and glow, they even screamed when they saw my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people run faster in my life.”

    “How old were you?”

    “Thirteen.”

    “And you’ve been a prisoner for well over twenty years, but you barely look older than nineteen.”

    “Mhm,” you agreed with a hum, nodding your head.

    “You’ve been alive around the same amount of time I have, haven’t you? Considering your mutation keeps you alive and young as long as you keep taking life force. You age the same way Jimmy and I do.”

    “Very slowly. All I know about my parents is that they are long dead. It’s been over a hundred years.”

    “Well, think of it this way; they weren’t your family, but they lead you to your real one.”

    “That’s a bit sappy, Vic.”

    He shrugged. “Well, am I wrong?”

    “No.”

[tumbleweedshorts]

Family Secrets (part 1/6)

Inspiration: in one of the writers’ groups on Facebook, I saw this prompt:

A twelve year old finds a shoebox in the back of his mother’s closet. Inside the shoebox is a gun, a yellow stained newspaper clipping with his photo, and a birth certificate with a burn spot in the middle of it. Challenge. Could you turn this into a story?

I wrote the following based on this.

Danny was stunned. His photo stared back at him through at least seven years of his life. It was part of some kind of article detailing how a boy named Hans Fischer and his mother Margit had died in an apparent murder-suicide in New York City. He put the clipping back in the box and turned to the other paper in there. It was a birth certificate. What struck him was the date of birth: “15 März 1982”. HIS date of birth. But the name on the certificate was… Hans Fischer. It was only then that Danny realized the birth certificate was written in German. Right where the birth place was supposed to be written, there was a burnt spot. He tried to make out the place but couldn’t. Looking at the names of the parents, he saw they were Margit Schulz, 35, and Friedrich Fischer, 42.

This left Danny utterly confused. As far back as he could remember, he’d been Danny Beck. He’d never known his dad, and his mom had raised him in the USA, teaching him German all the while. He’d been in school in LA for years and always fit in just fine. As far as his classmates knew, in fact, he was 100% pure all-American. It had come as a real shock to Joe when Danny had told him he spoke German. But this… This opened up a whole bunch of questions about who he was. Or at least who his family was. Was this the birth certificate of a twin brother he had? Or was it his own? And the picture? He had to try to find out more.

Then there was the matter of the gun. He was terrified of guns, having heard many stories already about the rampant gun violence in some parts of the LA suburbs. He was afraid even to touch this gun. It lay there, on top of yet more papers in that otherwise empty box. He didn’t have a clue how guns worked, whether this one was loaded or functional or anything. But still he dared not touch it.

Putting the clipping and the certificate back in this box, he closed it and laid it aside. Finding another under where this one was, he opened it too. In there he found strange documents, also written in German, but he could hardly understand what they meant. Most of them were just written in some kind of gibberish, but two of them had handwritten notes added which referred to weird stuff… “3kg leeks, 4kg turnips, 20 boxes of raisins, to be delivered to the market…” Underneath those he found a faded card with what looked like his mom’s face on it, and some unreadable text.

A noise in the hallway brought him back to reality. He hurriedly put both boxes back in the closet as he’d found them, then made his way out of his mom’s room. She found him just as he was closing the door.

“What were you doing in my room?” she asked him, in German as usual.

“Just…” he didn’t know what to answer.

“Were you looking through my stuff?” she asked him with a suspicious look on her face.

“No, mom, I swear!” he said, then, suddenly thinking of a reason, added, “I was just looking for my skateboard. You said I could use it again, but didn’t give it back.”

This much was true. She’d confiscated it because he was jumping off a makeshift ramp in the front yard with it, and had very nearly broken his neck with a false landing.

The suspicion vanished from her face. Her eyes relaxed and she answered, “Oh, yeah, true, I’m sorry. I’ll get it for you.” Then, turning stern again, she added, “But I’ve told you before never to go looking through my stuff. Next time I catch you, the skateboard ends up in the dumpster.”

“Yes, Mom.” Danny answered, looking contrite. “I was just bored, and I wanted it back. I’m sorry, Mom.” He went up to her and hugged her. He knew that always calmed her temper down. Indeed, she softened her tone and her posture and returned the hug.

***

The next day was a public holiday. But his mom still had to work, and left him home alone again. Intrigued by his discovery of the previous day, he started searching through the rest of the house in case he found more information. There was nothing. By noon, he was getting frustrated and his curiosity was overflowing. He desperately wanted to just ask his mom about it, but that would of course mean admitting he’d looked through her stuff and she wouldn’t let that fly. He could go to the library to try to look something up, but he wouldn’t know what on Earth to look up.

His mom’s bedroom door stood tantalizingly closed before him for hours. By 3pm, he decided to go for it. He needed to know what this was about, and the only way seemed to be by betraying his word to his mom. He opened the door and went to the closet. He found and opened the box with the gun. This time, he gathered up his courage and nudged it aside, just enough to be able to grab the papers underneath it. There was a passport, a French one, with a younger picture of his mom and the name Josiane Meunier, and a baby picture of him with the name François Meunier. The date of issue looked to be June 24th, 1984.

Beneath that, two more passports, Canadian this time. Both contained current pictures, and the dates of issue were only a few weeks ago, in February 1994. But the names were different again. Joanne Claude and Jérémy Blondel.

He couldn’t make head or tail of this. He went back to the second box, but there was nothing more he could understand. He found a third box beneath those, and in there was a massive book. Opening this, he saw news clippings from all over, pointing to various unexplained disappearances, destructions and deaths.

Alongside them were notes describing… Danny gasped. From what he read, it sounded as though his mother had been involved in those.

He checked the time. He had until 5 to replace everything, put it back and leave the room before his mom came back. It was 4:30. As he couldn’t understand any more of this, he decided to pack it all up again and leave, making sure he left no traces.

Back in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of milk and sat down to think. His mom had clearly been involved in some sort of covert operations. But what was the truth? Was he indeed Hans Fischer? The only way he could get more information without admitting his treachery to his mom was to go to the library and look up the events he’d read about. He took his skateboard, left a note on the kitchen table and took off.

Once at the library, he went straight to the newspaper collections and found the dates he’d seen. He found an article about one of the events. The article didn’t say any more than he’d already read, however. Less, in fact. RAF base Gatow had been broken into, and a hangar had been blown up. The article pointed to an accident. But her mom’s notes seemed to point to specific locations in the hangar and explosives to be placed there.

He tried to make sense of this in his mind. Then he remembered seeing a James Bond movie a couple of weeks earlier - he’d gone with Joe and his parents, who are a bit more relaxed on the PG-13 ratings and exaggerated their ages when buying the tickets. Both of them had been really excited to see a PG-13 movie for the first time in their lives, and they hadn’t been disappointed.

Anyway, he started making tenuous connections. He looked up more about the Cold War and various intelligence services. In the World Book encyclopedia, he found the entry for the Stasi, the East German intelligence service. A picture caught his eye. He didn’t recognize it. But it reminded him of the mostly faded logo on the papers from the second box.

It looked like his mother had led a secret life, working as an East German agent until the late 80s. But he knew so little still, and couldn’t figure out how to find out more. He’d have to ask her about it, but he’d need to find a way to do so without admitting to snooping again. That was going to be hard. He’d have to read up some more.

He stayed at the library until 7, when his mom came to pick him up.

“I found your note” she said, “Thanks for leaving it. What were you doing at the library, by the way? Homework?”

Danny hesitated. Not now, he thought.

“Yeah, homework.”

Then he turned away and got into the car for the ride home.

Continued in part 2

[missmorior]

Just a mini project I started concerning my DA:I Inquisitor Evangeline whose play through I just recently finished- I swear I had a theme going but it just kinda got lost somewhere in here;;

Redcliffe wound up a relatively simple mission. A briefly tense moment during which the Herald and Dorian vanished in a plume of smoke before shortly reappearing, but that was the end of it. Alexius surrendered without a fight and the Inquisiton gained valuable allies in the rebel mages and in Alexius’ son, Felix. Returning to Haven, few saw the shaking of the Inquisitor’s hands or how her eyes would mist whoever she glanced upon one of her companions. She was quiet when recounting the events that occurred in the future, obviously skipping over details but still giving enough information to ensure that the terrible future would never come to pass. Questions about it all were expertly dodged, even Dorian couldn’t pry anything from the iron trap that she became.

It wasn’t until Skyhold that cracks began to appear in the great armor of lady Trevelyan.

Cole notices first, because of course he does. Her sadness reaches through even beyond how bright she shone. Pain, so much pain. Need to keep moving, cannot rest until everyone is safe- I will NOT let them fall. He sees that she makes an effort to remember him, to seek him out and make sure he is welcomed into their fold. How her eyes go very sad whenever they arrive a moment too late or when she sees her people in pain. She wants to help, but doesn’t know how. Her hurt is so much bigger than she knows and it stops her from helping how she wants to. Makes her scared, and very small. Even when she stands up to the bad people and becomes so very, very big- she shrinks back into herself and the hurt. He finds reasons to leave flowers in places she frequents. Small white blooms that smell like home. Evangeline’s smiles are a little softer when she finds them; it still hurts, but the hurt is different. Easier. It brings back memories of things other than the sickly red glow and dying sky. She’ll tell him later that the feeling is called homesickness, and it’s bittersweet in a good way.

Dorian’s awakening is a rude one. He’s grown rather fond of the Inquisitor, she’s one of the only relatives of his that he can stand at present. She’s willing to listen to his views on politics and magic, better yet she doesn’t question his choices and makes a point to shoo off anyone who would give him too much trouble. Nothing he can’t handle but seeing the delicate woman snarling at an over-confident templar and bringing them to heel is a great show. So it’s beyond distressing to answer a quiet rapping on his door in the middle of the night to find dear Evie shaking like a leaf, looking up at him with watery eyes. She must have worked wonders with make-up because how could he not have noticed those circles under her eyes, so dark they could have been bruises? They made a habit of this, pestering each other in the ungodly hours of the night when either the nightmares hit too close to home or when they simply needed the reassurance of family. He managed to help some with those haunted looks she’d keep sending everyone, knowing all too well that she still saw her friends warped by that dreadful lyrium, and Andraste preserve him- his cousin actually managed to help bridge the impossible divide between he and his father. If Evie happened to deck Magister Halward Pavus and leave him with a rather glorious black eye, well Dorian wasn’t going to be the one to snitch to the Imperium. The altus keeps an eye on her when they travel, fussing like a mother hen if she tries to get away with taking multiple watches or ignoring injures. Insists on teaching her simple spells- “These are child’s play! How have you not learned how to do this?” - to be used in daily life that offer small comforts. He’ll handle the good-natured ribbing from Bull about going soft, she’s family.

When Solas walks the Fade, he finds an echo of Haven and the dreaming Inquisitor within. She does’t seem to notice his approach, sitting on the dock of the frozen lake and staring at the Chantry across the way. It’s full of life once more, noisy but dulled from being memory. He sits beside his fellow mage and they watch in silence for a time. Evangeline breaks it when she sighs, snow falling as creatures of despair begin to take notice. “You said in the Fade, when a spirit dies something could once again form in its place. Do you-… Do you think that in time, something new could be built where Haven stood?” “I cannot tell you, my friend.” They walk together in the Fade often after that, speaking of everything and nothing. The Inquisitor was eager to listen as he spoke at great lengths of his travels and his studies of magic - things he knew would keep her mind from wandering to the past, ironic as it was. Later, far later when the greatest threat to them all was slain and Evangeline victorious, Solas would spare her from having to say goodbye. Though he did not look forward to the inevitable clash, they would surely meet again.

Sera likes Evie. Sure, she’s got the whole glowy, mage-y shite going on but she’s people. Despite being her high and mighty Inquisitorialness, the mage always puts the needs of the little people first. It was a bit of a shock when Evie had her people go and run Red Jenny stuff, even more so when Sera found out that the Inquisitor was always up to running around pranking people. It was good. Meant that the pomp and nonsense didn’t go to her head. Regardless, Sera knows people, so she sees how Haven hit Evie hard. Not the loss of the base, let Cully-Wully and Josie fuss over that; she’d been there with the Inquisitor, running into fire and headfirst at red templars to save every person they could. They still lost people, good people, ones that even Sera knew. The cookies were honestly a mistake. She was just going to try something and then next thing she knew the tray was overflowing. They weren’t even any good, stupid raisins. But Evie liked dumb stuff like this, and it’s why Sera dragged her to the kitchens to help make decent cookies. Inquisition cookies. Those were good, yeah? Getting all covered in flour and making a huge mess wasn’t how it was supposed to end up, but it was fun and it got Evie focusing on something other than the hole in the sky. The Inquisiton cookies weren’t too bad either, even if they were burnt.

Being a Ben-Hassrath (well, former now) meant Bull had seen the cracks before the rest of them, close to when he noticed Cole leaving weeds all over the places the Inquisitor went. Evangeline was a good leader- wouldn’t do well under the qun though. She was too soft, too willing to listen to a sob story and throw herself into problems that weren’t her own. Liked to sing when no one was looking. That’s what really tipped him off. When the camp settled down, the dwarf and the warden having gone to sleep already, he’d expected their resident songbird to pipe up while tending the fire as she took first watch. Instead, all he got was the crackle of their fire and the occasional yipping of hyenas further off in the Approach. She barely made a peep when he’d woken up later to take over for the second watch, just stayed huddled too close to the fire to be safe and glared at it like it’d offended her. Wasn’t a look he’d see often- “I don’t think you can intimidate the fire like you do templars. You’ve gotta be tired if you’re trying that." “Just a little longer out here. I can’t sleep, not yet. I’ve-.. I have cards-?” “...Sure, Boss. Might want to move away so you don’t burn them.” He understood Dorian’s fussing a little better after that, when the Inquisitor ends up falling asleep curled up against his side, clinging like he’d vanish if she didn't. She had too big of a heart for the shit hand she’d been dealt- even if she usually carried the weight like it was lighter than her grimoire. So if he’s a little more protective of their leader after that no one takes notice, they probably see it like his affection for his Chargers. Probably a little too transparent with the boss though- she thanks him by taking him along to fight an Abyssal High Dragon.

Vivienne and the Inquisitor did not often see eye to eye on issues. Though both had attended the Ostwick circle, lady Trevelyan seemed far too keen on disbanding the circles of magi for some other solution. Discovering that Trevelyan had found copies of some manifesto by a Kirkwall apostate- no, from /the/ Kirkwall apostate that blew up the Chantry- and that she agreed with them set the two against each other fiercely. Still, Vivienne could not discount the girl’s kindness, however misguided it was. She sought to assist the front lines, taking on the specialization of knight-enchanter (finally some sense of good taste in the dear Inquisitor) and Trevelyan brought her the snowy wyvern heart without so much as a question. Agreed to come along to-… Well, no need to dwell on the unpleasant past now. Truly, such single mindedness would be her undoing. One cannot afford to be unerringly kind to so many without risking undermining one’s own worth. Don’t even get her started on the girl’s agreeing with Tevinter ideals or allowing a demon to roam free within Skyhold. But perhaps she was too hard on their dear Inquisitor at times. There was a quiet strength to Evangeline that Vivienne could come to appreciate and count on, one that rarely showed until she was pressed beyond what that outer image of innocence. The younger mage played the grand game expertly even with her heartfelt honesty, and her dancing left the nobles’ heads spinning in her wake with all their secrets now held within hands that quickly turned to assist the servants. What a curious paradox.

From the moment that mage popped up on his doorstep and into the fight with those bandits, Blackwall knew she’d be nothing but trouble. She was overeager to hear stories of his travels and liked to flit about the stables, chattering nonstop to whatever poor sod was unfortunate enough to be seen. Worse yet, she understood. Something in that little mage wanted so badly to do something good in the world despite how they were all too eager to demonize her missteps. She pulled together a menagerie of people who should have never been able to cooperate and turned them into something along the lines of family. Maker’s balls, she even inspired him. Made him want to be better than he was and if that didn’t bring trouble crashing down onto him then he doesn’t know what else could, short of darkspawn. He’d thought after the ordeal with his leaving and revealing himself a complete liar that the Inquisitor would want nothing to do with him. Count him not at all surprised but entirely disappointed that she pulled strings and brought nobility to heel all for the sake of getting him out of the Orlesian dungeons and into those at Skyhold. They’d been friends, despite his lie, and he’d seen her fury the one time she spoke with him. Sparks literally flying as they yelled at each other. He’d been certain with this he'd traded one executioner for another but- he hadn’t. The fury he’d seen was still there, but it had been all for his secrecy. Sentenced to carry out his duties to the Inquisiton as Thom Rainier and given his freedom to atone. And, to quote the Inquisitor after she’d caught up with him and backhanded him before a bone-crushing hug complete with messy tears, “to never scare me like that again you blighted fool”. She was still trouble, dragging them around to the far corners of Thedas and ever chattering about whatever came to her mind, but Rainier supposed he could use some trouble. It was what Grey Wardens were kept around for after all.

Their friendship was a strange thing indeed. Cassandra hardly expected to count the suspect of Divine Justinia’s murder among her friends yet here they were. Evangeline was a curious person, incredibly strong in her faith yet greatly unhappy with the Chantry. She was a fierce advocate for the freedom of mages yet she agreed that the templars had their place. They had first argued, Evangeline refusing to allow herself to be without a staff and met the Seeker’s own bullheaded determination with that of equal stubbornness. But that came with a sense of duty, of needing to atone for whatever had happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Over time they found more common ground, even in the most unlikely of places. Cassandra still couldn’t believe that she and the Herald both enjoyed the terrible writing that was Swords and Shields. But once she’d been found out Evangeline had squealed with delight and launched into a flurry of excited motion- going on and on about her love of the plot twists and how the guard captain just /had/ to find her true love in the next book! Surely there would be a good ending! She’d been going to drop off the gifted manuscript of the unpublished Swords and Shields to Evangeline when she’d stumbled across the Inquisitor staring down at the war table, looking far more tired than she let on and scribbling note after note as she adjusted the pieces upon their map of Thedas. A piece with bells towards Nevarra, two pieces with nightingales towards the Emprise- Cassandra felt herself smile softly at seeing their leader pick up one of the pieces representative of their forces ever so carefully and direct it towards the Hinterlands, reconstruction efforts if she remembered correctly. Cullen would be more than happy to lend his soldiers there after several arduous campaigns in the Frostbacks. Their leader’s soft spot for their Commander would not go unnoticed for long but, Cassandra adored that the two could get so caught up in their own world, just like in stories. But, letting the Inquisitor get lost while planning troop movements would do no good, not alone and with such a melancholy expression. They could do so together. Friends shouldered each others burdens, it was the least Cassandra could offer.

Varric had seen a lot of shit from his time in Kirkwall to joining the Inquisition. Turns out he had a habit of following the weird shit into even weirder shit. First a trip to the Deep Roads, then Qunari invasion, the Chantry getting blown up by Blondie, Meredith losing her mind- and then there was the Maker damned hole in the sky. That was great. Really. Not like he wanted a break after all the chaos with Hawke. Then along comes another mage with the Seeker and he just knows that this one’s gonna be it. Aside from the glowing mark on her hand, the kid just had that same look in her eye that Hawke always did before he went running into this danger or that. He half expected the words ‘Let’s go to the Bone Pit again’ to fall right out when she first opened her mouth. But heroes don’t get happy endings, and this poor kid wants to be a hero. He sees it as she goes running around across Fereldan and Orlais, trying to keep the world from falling apart through sheer force of will and some seriously persuasive puppy dog eyes. Literally puppy dog eyes in the case of those four huge mabari of hers, that was a story he’d definitely write to Hawke about- Garret would be green as envy at the idea that someone had four of the dogs imprinted on them. Maker knows it’d have him dragging Anders and Fenris all the way from wherever they’d run just to see if Varric’d been bluffing.  He’s along on the mission to Redcliffe when the Herald and Sparkler vanish and reappear like a failed rogue’s smoke bomb. He sees that look of hers when she turns to the magister, how Sparkler had to hold her back from something. Remembers seeing the same look on his friends after the Chanty went sky high and Blondie just sank right down on a box to await judgement. So he keeps an eye on her and watches carefully. Sure, she winds up earning a nickname of her own (Birdy, half because of Bull drunkenly calling her a songbird one time and making Evangeline flush bright red and half because of how excited she was to be free as a bird- damn near floating on air even as they trudge through the muck of Crestwood) but she’s nothing like Blondie, doesn’t go turning to anything from the Fade for help. In fact, she’s almost as bad as he is about asking for it. She’s busy with the Inquisition but he still catches her up far past the time any sane person should be awake, notices how she watches them all like a hawk, and how she seemed to have developed one hell of a personal vendetta against red lyrium seemingly overnight. Haven damn near breaks her. The Chantry was bad, but nowhere near as bad as Haven was. Nobody they knew was in there save for the Grand Cleric but even then only Sebastian really cared for her. Haven- Birdy dropped a mountain on herself and somehow lived to tell the tale. Buried their home and nearly died but got right up and marched them all to Skyhold. Took on the title of Inquisitor with more grace than he’d thought anyone could manage then set them all to work readying for the next steps to defeating Corypheus. Turns out she and Hawke got on like a house on fire, a dangerous combo. Especially when those two started talking about new spells and how to wield staffs as melee weapons. While one grew up in a circle and the other as an apostate, they swapped stories like they’d known each other for years and not just hours. It made Varric puff up a little with pride, seeing those two just get to relax and have someone else around who got it. (Well, right before he went back to hiding from Cassandra’s wrath) It’s when he sits down to write that he really takes stock of things. Birdy was one hell of a mage, and she commanded the Inquisition with ease that belied how she’d been raised noble before her magic showed. She was scared shitless though, and he knows something happened in Redcliffe that not even Sparkler gave up the details for. Something that makes her look at all of them like she’s seeing ghosts; he’s definitely seen how she recoiled away whenever some new hopeful vows to give their life for the Herald- and he slowly pieces it together from there. So when ‘This Shit is Weird’ actually comes out after the Exalted Council, he hand delivers a copy to her and Curly at their place just outside of Kirkwall. Lets her flip through it and watches as he always has. Varric knows that Evangeline found his note when she can’t quite hold the book steady anymore and lets it drop into her lap as a huge grin stretches across her face. She’s complaining about him making her cry even after launching at him to wrap him in the strongest one-armed hug he’s ever had. Because sometimes, heroes actually get their happy endings and he’s so, so glad that she proved him wrong.