“on the day their eyes met and at last said abruptly to both those first obscure and ineffable things the glance stammers out, Cosette at first did not comprehend. […] the next day on waking she thought of this young man, so long indifferent and icy, who now seemed to give some attention to her, and it did not seem to her that this attention was in the least degree pleasant. she was rather a little angry at this disdainful beau. An undercurrent of war was excited in her; it seemed to her, and she felt a pleasure in it, still altogether childish, that at last she should be avenged. Knowing that she was beautiful she felt thoroughly, although in an indistinct way, that she had a weapon.”
Cosette: the hot boy in the park finally looked at me.
Cosette: I’m gonna FIGHT him.
Yeah.. I tried drawing more than one panel.. Ha :’D
For a lil context: He returned from war, only to get to know his girlfriend (which he loves like crazy) (an OC from the lovely inokoo) nearly died in a battle with an old enemy of theirs (and is still not awake). He- in a fit of rage- tracks the thing down and (in said rage) awakes an old god, a vulcano erupts and covers the city in ashes, leaving them trapped in the house.
(Also credit to inokoo for doing this awesome RP with me! It’s so fun >v<)
“It’s confusing when people who do not know me say they miss the old me. You know me merely through the lyrics I write and the pictures I’ve been in. There is no old or new Hayley. There is however an older Hayley. I’m  now. Good on me for living through all these years with a million people’s judging eyes all over me and thinking they know me better.”
August 1st 2015, 1:30 am · 9 hours ago:
evening, detective.” She has no right. She has no. RIGHT. Detective
Inspector Fenris - the title still feels odd attached to a name such as
his - sits with his feet propped up, hands full of case files, and
watches her flounce in. Well, flounce might be too lazy a term to pin on
Hawke. Hawke is many things, but she knows exactly what she’s doing
when she saunters in, red lips curling slowly upward.
It’s been a mere month since her first interference, and it’s like she’s
always been there, occupying his station, trying to sit on his desk,
smiling at him like she knows two other things that he doesn’t and that
said things are critically important to life. He barely grunts an
acknowledgement now because he doesn’t have the energy to spare an
eyeroll any longer. She’s never going to go away, never going to stop
smiling and bringing him baked goods or helping him. And she has. No.
“Up to anything today?”
“Anything being what?” he asks, waiting for her
eyes to slowly drift toward the ceiling in feigned innocence and—ah,
there she goes.
“Nothing in particular,” she replies, and he reigns in a
snort, shifting reports. He knows perfectly well she’s here about the
local trinket thief and probably won’t leave until he starts talking
“If you tell me what you know, I will share what I know. If
it’s relevant.” She huffs out a sigh, pretending to humor him.
But she really is, isn’t she? They both know he’ll listen, scowl, scoff,
and then toss her his file and done his hat before she leads the march
to the outside of his office, red scarf fluttering behind her like some
will-o-the-wisp, or a kite without strings, catching against his
fingers, infuriating because it never sits still (like her) and that
it’s always just out of reach (like h—). “Inspector, please, pay
attention. Didn’t you tell me this case was important?”
So he sinks into his chair, giving her a pointed look so that she
doesn’t take up residence on his desk (that spider in a jar did the
trick last time, but how long would that trick last?), and watches her
pace as she talks. That little determined line between her brow smiles,
and he presses his lips together to take the edge of the smile twitching
in its confinement.
He’ll never admit it (her ego is already larger than life) but before
she came along, things were so ordinary in the station. Now, the day is
as fresh and promising as any flower in the market. And even with all
her terrible humor and her stubborn streak a good five miles wide, never
once did she make him feel like he wasn’t worth her time. Never once
did she make him feel like anything was impossible.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks, tapping her foot. He rises
(to humor her, of course), and grabs his coat.
“So help me if you’re
leading me on a wild goose chase—”
“I am not wrong,” she interjects
good-naturedly, daintily plucking up the case filed from his desk
(because of course HE’LL forget unless she’s here to remind him) and
speeding briskly ahead.
“As you say,” he replies, entirely skeptical.
Only when she scoffs with her back turned does he grin like the world
can’t catch them.
((For you, worker and passer of board exams, from nonnyland! Congrats on
everything, including jumping on the Phryne Fisher bandwagon!!! *throws
I AM COMING FOR YOU ANON AND WHEN I FIND YOU I AM GOING TO probably fall at your feet and cry for a thousand years so be ready, have tissues
THIS IS WONDERFUL. good gosh it is everything I love and especially the desk-sitting, seriously, every time I toss around the idea of the AU in my head it ALWAYS involves Hawke sitting on his desk at some point and this is great and you are great and I hope you understand how much I totally, completely, overwhelmingly adore you