Summary: In which you help Bucky combat a sleepless night by going on a night drive.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 2,366
A/N: Oh hey, it’s me. I guess I’m back.
The screaming starts late that night. Or maybe it starts early that morning; it’s too dark outside your window to be sure of the time.
Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes is easier said than done. Your slumber had been a deep one, as the fatigue from two sleepless nights in a row had caught up to you. Once your head hit the pillow, you were convinced nothing could possibly wake you up.
Nothing except the sound of Bucky’s screams in the room down the hall from yours.
the last time combeferre got pissed drunk he ended up getting “eat my ass” in egyptian hieroglyphics tattooed on his left ass cheek so les amis like to keep a close eye on him whenever strong liquor is involved with anything
Eventually, the current Avengers cast is gonna age out. RDJ is in his 50s now, and by the end of infinity war a lot of contracts will be up and cast members may wanna move on to new things. Marvel will have made a shit ton of money by then, so, of course, they have the option to slow down and take a break. They also have the option to make more solo title films, and miniseries with Netflix (which I hope they do, starting with a BLACK GODDAMN WIDOW MOVIE).
But if they want a superhero team, well, it’s way too early to reboot the Avengers. (especially seeing what a disaster the premature Spider-man reboot was).
So instead, plant some seeds for the next generation – Easter eggs, or cameos in the current films.
Give us more Cassie Lang, playing with her dad’s gear.
Give us a muslim girl in Jersey looking out her window in excitement as Carol Danvers flies by.
Give us a young black boy handing Cap back his shield with a smile and a salute.
Give us a dark-haired girl with a Hawkeye t-shirt picking out a bow and arrow at a sporting goods store.
And at the end of infinity war, kill Loki off. Let him go out in a grand fashion, a sacrifice play in a game played by his own rules, with a smirk on his face as he burns.
Then, in the post-credits scene, give us a shot of a street in Paris. A little boy picks a tourist’s pocket, then slips away into an alley before he’s spotted. The boy looks at his ill-gotten gains, then looks up at the audience and smiles, before waving his hand and prompting the screen to go dark in a flash of shimmering green.
Summary: Being a high powered publicist, the reader is hired to work with the destructive rock star Jensen Ackles. Her task is to revamp his difficult image from the ground up. Will the reader succeed? Or will she get sucked into his crazy life?
“You must be out of your damn mind, beautiful.” Jensen’s sudden shift in attitude catches you off guard, the smugness oozing out of him gives you goosebumps.
Why does this infuriating man have to be sexy as hell? And why does he have to be your client?! You continue to focus on Jensen who’s now licking his kissable lips and it’s driving you insane. You need to shut this down. Now.
You watch from a distance. You watch the sparing in the middle of the ring, and the groups of women that watch it only mildly interested. You move your feet ever so slightly, and the skirt of your dress makes a slight swishing sound. You miss your jeans.
Opening your book you ignore the chatter around you, and try to focus on the words. It’s a bit difficult to understand, you know very little greek. Only the few phrases your mother had taught you through your life. Your grandmother had insisted on a more formal education.
In the six months since you’d come to your new home, you’d been immersed in your studies. You’d learned greek, and the amazon’s history. You hadn’t however, made any friends.
Despite your grandmother’s protests your mother's’ sisters avoided you. If you entered a room, then they left. It stung more than a little bit. As the fighting got louder, and as a result the cheers, you gave up on your book. Leaning back against the column you gave the fight your full attention.
Artemis was someone who liked to win. She was strong and fierce, and she reminded you of your mother in that way. She also tended to be cruel at times. She showed no mercy, and even littler patience. You avoided her to the best of your ability.
As she once again claimed victory you slipped away. Your rooms were near your grandmothers. On most nights she would join you in them, and tell you stories of the Amazons, and of your mother. Tonight however, she was dining with some of her sisters. You had been invited, and carefully rejected the offer.
You collapse on your bed and watch the sun set. When the darkness envelops your room, you shred your dress, and make your way to the locked trunk on the other side of the room. You remove the key from around your neck and unlock it. You carefully remove the workout clothes you had brought from home, and slip them on.
You take a moment to look at the other things in the truck. Other clothes, pictures, and important documents. You close the lid, before you let your mind wander into the past. Dressed and ready you slip from your room and into the surrounding woods.
Your parents had never wanted you near the fighting. They had never wanted you to follow in their footsteps. But being a Wayne, being Batman and Wonder Woman’s daughter brought a special kind of danger to your life that could never be escaped.
Your father had taught you how to move, how to escape and how to hide. Your brother had taught you how to fight. The lessons had been hard and unforgiving, but then again, everything Damian did was that way.
He’d always had sense for these kind of things, of what the future would hold. Unlike what most people thought, Damian was actually a very caring older brother. At least he had been to you. Something to do with blood relation.
All your brothers had spoiled you though. You’d been the baby. Their sister. The one who was never supposed to go through what they had. Yet here you were, running through the jungle on an Amazon island protected my magic.
You run until your legs go weak, and your lungs burn. You go until you just want to collapse. And you do right into the sand. It’ll be pain to wash out of your hair, and an even bigger pain to run back in. But you don’t care. The feel of the sand, and the sound of the waves brings you a bit of peace you hadn’t had earlier.
“You still cling to man’s world.”
You want to curse at the sound of the voice. Any peace you had achieved flies out the window as your body goes tense. You crack open and eye to stare at Artemis. She’s dressed in the same outfit she had been fighting in earlier. There’s still blood on it.
You let out a sigh, “They smell like home.”
“This is your home now.”
You stare up at the woman for a moment, before sitting up, “Could have fooled me.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t want me here. That I come from man’s world, and I am a taint upon your precious Amazon blood.”
You see the fire rise in her eyes at the statement, “And who told you that, tell me and I will cut them down.”
You quirk an eyebrow in surprise, you had heard the statement in passing. You weren’t even sure who said it, and to be honest you didn’t care. You’d grown up being the target of every tabloid imaginable. You knew how to ignore things that weren’t true.
Standing up you brush the sand off the best you can before saying, “It doesn’t matter.”
She reaches out and grabs your shoulders, “It does matter you are our sister.”
You eye the hands on your shoulders, and you feel the first flare of anger, as you grip her wrist and twist. You pin her arm to her back, and you’re certain that you can only keep the hold for the few seconds you do, because she’s stunned. She quickly breaks it and turns to face you.
You circle each other for a minute before you both charge. What follows is a knock down, drag out fight. By the end of it you’re both lying on the sand panting. You’re bother battered and bruised, but you’re far worse off than she is. And the only thing you can think, is that you would have made Damian proud.
“You fight well young one.”
You turn your head, wincing as you do so to stare at the woman. She’s already sitting up, and she’s grinning.
You look back to the night sky, “My brother taught me how.”
“And what has happened to him.”
“I don’t know. That’s the worst part. I don’t know if my brothers are dead or alive. Or what’s happening to my friends. It’s the unknown that haunts you.”
Artemis stays quiet for a minute before saying, “I’m sorry that I can’t help you know.”
You laugh, and then groan, “I’m sorry for attacking you.”
“You have spirit little one.”
You smile at the woman, before turning back to the sky. The two of you stay there staring at the stars until the sun breaks through. You don’t talk to the woman for several days after. To be honest you kind of avoid her.
But Artemis is stubborn, and she tracks you down. You’re reading in a tree when that first arrow sores past your head, and embeds itself in the bark. You stare down at the crazy woman whose shot had drawn a fair amount of attention.
“Come little one, it is time for your lesson.”
You do your best to hide behind your book, until you feel the tree shake as she climbs up it. She sits on the branch in front of you and simply says, “You can not spend all your time in books. It would be a dishonor on your mother, and your brother who taught you.”
You continue to stare and she simply says, “You’re small, but you’re crafty. While a direct approach may not work well, a long distance one will. For that you will need a bow and arrow. May your aim be true.”
And between the seriousness of Artemis’ statement and thoughts of Oliver Queen and Roy Harper all you can do is laugh. Because you know your father is turning in his grave. And despite that you take hold of the bow and follow your sister through the now gathered crowd towards the practice field.
Distracting kiss - nuresydex (they would totally do that shit)
9. Distracting Kiss - When you are competing, maybe playing video games or something so you press kisses anywhere available; arms, nose, knees, ears, knuckles, temple, just anywhere to distract them.
There’s one piece of pie left, and Nursey and Dex see it at the exact same time. They’d been in class together and they’d walked back to the Haus, into the kitchen together, and they’d both frozen in the doorway when they saw it.
After a few moments of doing nothing but staring at the pie, Nursey slowly averts his eyes and glances towards Dex, and Dex is doing the same thing and-
And then all bets are off and the fact that they’re dating flies out the window, as Dex makes a mad dash for the pie and Nursey grabs the back of his shirt to stop him. It works, and Nursey uses the momentum that Dex’s surprise generates to pull Dex into his chest, wrap his arms around Dex’s waist, and then spin them around.
With Nursey between Dex and the pie, he takes half a second to press a kiss to Dex’s neck, right where he’d left a faint mark the night before, but then he lets go and spins himself around, heading straight for the pie.
Nursey makes it two steps further than he’d expected to, before Dex grabs his wrist and then his forearm, and then Nursey blinks and his back is against the wall, and Dex is kissing him. Their entire bodies are pressed together, with Dex’s hands on Nursey’s shoulders and Nursey dropping his hands to Dex’s ass, and for a moment it feels like the pie’s been forgotten, but they’re both way too competitive to let that happen.
The second Nursey feels Dex pulling away, he deepens the kiss, grinding against Dex slightly and moaning, soft and low, without any shame, and the second he feels Dex give in, he flips them so that Dex is against the wall. He doesn’t break the kiss the entire time and he stays there for a moment, relishing the feel of his boyfriend falling apart at his touch, before he pulls back, presses a quick kiss to Dex’s forehead, and then takes a huge step backwards and lunges for the pie.
He would have made it there, too, if his foot hadn’t caught on the rug that Bitty’s mom had bought them but, as it is, Nursey trips and falls and he’s half a second away from hitting the ground hard, when Dex catches him. Of course, Dex isn’t quite strong enough to stop Nursey from falling entirely, and the whole thing ends in both of them hitting the ground, tangled in each other’s limbs, laughing at each other as they go.
Nursey isn’t hurt and Dex isn’t either and, once they’re sure of that, Nursey doesn’t bother getting up. Instead, he pulls Dex’s face towards his and presses a softer, longer kiss to Dex’s forehead, and then to the tip of his nose, and then to his lips, and-
And when Bitty walks in moments later, Nursey and Dex are lying on the floor, making out, with the pie long forgotten, and Bitty can only shake his head and say, “Y’all are a mess,” before he walks past them and gets the pie for himself.
I might or might not make a series depending on how it goes but as a followup to my post kinda meandering about how certain folk react badly to protagonists in video games no matter what I’ll go into protagonists in games that are actually genuinely bad and I’ll attempt to explain why they don’t work, in my opinion.
As a general warning for this series, there will be spoilers for every game that I cover (of course) and content warnings for the specific games will apply, which I’ll tag to the best of my ability.
This one will be about
(with apologies to the gif maker)
Dante, from DmC: Devil May Cry, the intended reboot of Devil May Cry (aka Donte, aka YOUR PROM DATE YOU UGLY SACK OF SHIT)
More under the cut, cause this gon b a lonnnnnng one
A/N: This is my first time writing for Peter Parker, and I hope I’ve done this request justice!! Feel free to send in more requests about this cutie pie!! Please don’t post this elsewhere without my permission!!
going, (Y/N)!” Sam hollers. “Get to the jet!”
hunker down behind a bench. From your vantage point, you can see Spiderman kicking
Sam and Bucky into a pane of safety glass. You duck your head to shield your
eyes, so you don’t actually see the windows explode. But you hear it. You feel
it, too. Those little shards of glass hurt
as they pelt onto bare arms and legs.
wish you’d thought to wear jeans.
go. You rise from behind your cover and sprint. Coach would be so proud, if he
could see you now.
“Your, mission, should you
choose to accept it, is to get through enemy territory, and hijack their jet.” So Captain America hadn’t
said it in those words exactly, but
the point he’d been trying to get across was essentially the same. Bucky and
Sam would keep you from having to engage anybody, leaving you free to slip over
to the Hangar and get the jet prepped and ready to go. You would have loved to
pilot a jet – say, maybe, after about ten
years of lessons, not after some hastily given instructions from ex-Agent
Barton – and had told Captain America as much. You only had a learner’s permit
for driving a car, not some fancy,
high-tech jet, but he was adamant on having you as the getaway driver.
if you were being honest, having Captain
America relying on you for help was pretty darn awesome.
warning comes too late. As you run onward and duck into a hallway, spandex-covered
arms embrace you from behind – one around your shoulders, one around your waist.
You put on an extra spurt of speed. The hands latch on. A shrill scream splits
the air. It sounds like you. But it’s a futile effort – Sam and Bucky are
securely trussed up, sticky webbing keeping them pinned to the floor. Even if
they wanted to help, they couldn’t.
“Let me go!” You demand, twisting and
kicking. “Let me go right this instant!”
the arms around you slacken; drop gracelessly back to their owner’s sides. You
scramble away, with wide and frightened eyes, until the small of your back hits
the concrete wall.
You stiffen. Oh, no. Please, no. The voice, though woolly and
quiet, is thoroughly familiar to you, from years of studying with him, talking to
him, being friends with him. “Oh,
God. Oh, God, why are you here?
(Y/n), you shouldn’t be here.”
You blurt out. “Peter, is that you?”
I’m not –” He’s nervously tripping over his words, trying to come up with a
suitable lie. “I’m Spiderman, not –”
lips twist up in a sad smile. “You’re a rotten liar, Peter.”
this time, he doesn’t try to deny it.
two of you had been best friends ever since the second grade, when your nanny had
forgotten to pack your lunch one day, and Peter had given you half of his tuna
and mayo sandwich. You’d shared every day, every moment … Every secret.
it would appear, not every secret.
… Spiderman, huh?” You manage, letting out a watery laugh that doesn’t hold
any real humor in it. Spiderman might have saved you once, but this side of
Peter is new and entirely foreign, much like the new and shiny suit that he’s
sporting. “You’ve – You’ve really been busy, huh?”
wonder when Peter was going to tell you; or if he was even planning to. Ever
since Uncle Ben had passed, Peter had been acting strange: Showing up to school
bruised and bloodied, cancelling days out together with only the flimsiest of excuses,
showing up late to the appointments he did
agree to go for …
now you finally, finally know why.
sorry, (Y/n),” Peter says miserably. Even under the mask, you know that his
forehead is creased and puckered up, warm chocolate eyes downcast. “I wanted to
tell you, but I didn’t – There was never a good time.”
Of course not.
what you’re really saying is: You don’t trust me.” It bursts out of you. You’ll
admit there’s a sour surge of satisfaction when Peter recoils, even though you
haven’t raised a hand to him. It comes out again, louder this time. “That’s what
it all boils down to, doesn’t it? I thought we were friends. I trusted you. I told you everything – the boys I liked, the
crushes I had. I thought –”
“Me?” Peter’s glumness turns into
irritation, and you realise your mistake. “I’m
not the only one keeping secrets! You
didn’t tell me that you’d be running around with Captain America and a bunch of
- Criminals. He doesn’t say it, but you know that’s what he
means. The word hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare at Peter, not moving,
not even blinking. A day ago, that wouldn’t have meant you. A day ago, you and Peter would have been in school. A day ago, the two of you would
have still been friends.
you had accepted Captain America’s request for help, you didn’t think that you’d
have to face off with your best friend in the process.
I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –”
cracked something in you wide open. You stride away from the boy you once knew,
but you can’t leave yet.
“Fine,” You say, infusing the word
with venom. “Then arrest me. Take me
in. I’m just a criminal, right?”
voice rises in octaves, building up to a high crescendo. Your anger rises up, blooming
in your chest like a poisonous flower, and you focus on that, since it chases
away the chill that permeates deep into your bones. Blind now with a mingled
combination of hurt and anger, your hand lashes its way through the air in a
flicking motion, forcing the powers sleeping deep inside you to the surface.
Even though Peter’s standing motionless at least six feet away, he’s shoved up
into the air by an invisible force, slamming into the window behind you hard
enough to crush bones. He flies out the window with a shriek.
turn away from the remnants of shattered glass and a broken friendship, gloom already
gathering atop your shoulders to weigh you down. In another life, you might
have been fighting by his side, the
two of you working together as Avengers. Now you’ve become public
enemy number one.
Criminal, criminal. Your mind chants it over and
over again, in a sing-song, lilting voice, matching each syllable with your
racing pulse. I’m a criminal.
ok ceo!tom being such a stubborn and usually assertive/dominant guy in general buT THE MOMENT HE MEETS YOUR PARENTS THAT ALL FLIES OUT THE WINDOW, he turns into a stuttering mess and his demeanor does a complete 180 because wow these are your parents and they raised you and wow he needs to make a good impression if he wants to remove their last name from you one day
Notes:This turned out sadder than I expected, tbh. But enjoy, I guess?
Edit: Moodboard below submitted by @saf0607 (isn’t it pretty??)
“Men often make up in wrath what they want in reason.”
-William R. Alger
yourself to where you know Jaebum’s placed, in a level below the others. You
bite your lips as you trudge your way down the staircases, encased by nothing
apart from the fluttering light from the torches lining the wall; you often
wonder why Lucifer can’t just invest something more modern, but you remember
that he’d prefer the creepy vibes he’d achieve with them.
really want to face Jaebum. Not knowing how much he must be beating himself up
for their failure, like he does every other time. By some sort of luck, he’d
managed to find himself in a position of responsibility after his creation,
hence why he’s now the little leader of the Sins and, as a result…
trying to will your eyes to stop stinging. You hate how much he blames himself,
but as the Sin of Wrath, he can hardly help but show his frustrations out—it’s
a miniature hell of his own, for himself, made by himself.
can we take a moment to appreciate that St Trinian’s was basically built around Colin Firth being in that film because it kills me like:
- compulsory colin firth wet shirt scene
- colin pushed into a fountain (cheeky nod to “Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason” quite possibly?)
- reference to his appearance in “Girl With The Pearl Earring” which is also the painting they try to steal from the national gallery - one of the answers during their quiz show being Pride & Prejudice (may just be coincidence but Man cmon its too good)
- dog is called Mr Darcy and when it stars humping Colin’s leg he shakes it off and it flies out of a window and into a lawNMOWER????
- references between colin and rupert everett to the film “Another Country” which they both starred in
basically if you needed any more reason to watch st trinian’s this is it (also, yknow, colin firth is in it)
…He’s always thought she was pretty, albeit a bit of a know-it-all. Now though, beautiful would be the right word to describe her. The way her eyes light up with determination when studying. How her long flowing hair shines in the sunlight. How she can kick your butt eight ways to Sunday.
It’s time he stopped admiring from afar and did something about it.
Dash Baxter was a lot of things. Shy wasn’t one of them. This foreign feeling is unsettling. He’s always been a confident guy. He can get any girl he sets his eyes on. All he has to do is flex and wink. In that order. But, that all flies out the window when it comes to one Jazz Fenton. He knows she’ll never fall for those things. She’s way too smart.
He had a crush on her freshman year. He thought that was a momentary thing. A passing phase. Boy was he wrong. It’s one year later and he still can’t stop thinking about her. He used to date a bunch of girls, if only to get her out of his head. All his past girlfriends were know-it-all-gingers. He didn’t succeed.
He thinks about when he went from crush to L-lo…love. Does he love her? Wait. Hold the phone. Ok. Think about it rationally. He’s hopelessly fallen head-over-heels for Jazmine Fenton. That realization is both liberating and terrifying. His brain stalls. What should he do? What should he say? He debates whether he should call Fenton and ask him for advice…He’d probably get filleted first for thinking about his sister that way.
Him and Fenton buried the hatchet a long time ago. They’re not exactly best friends like he is with Manson and Foley. But they chill from time to time. His phone rings. He looks at the time. It’s 2:21AM. Who in their right mind would be calling him at this time? He answers.
“Dash, calm the fuck down, I can feel your anxiety all the way over here”
“FENTON, WHAT THE FUCK!? How did you-never mind I don’t want to know”
There was a beat of silence. He’s somewhat freaked but can’t really be surprised. The kid is half ghost for crying out loud. There’s rustling and a yawn on the other side.
“You…wanna talk about it?”
He sighs heavily, well there’s no use hiding anymore. The universe has made the decision for him so he’s gonna charge ahead.
“It’s…see…about your sister-”
“Oh shit! Did you finally tell her that you love her? I swear to God Dash if you hurt her I will ghostly wail you to Timbuktu, in pieces”
“Sorry, sorry, continue”
“…Am I really that obvious…?”
“Dude, you’re as subtle as a flying mallet. The only reason she hasn’t caught on is because she’s a Fenton. We’re all dense as fuck”
He groans and sighs, flopping on his back. Damnit, if Fenton noticed, then everybody at school knows by now. Fenton says something but he didn’t catch it.
“Are you gonna tell her?”
“What choice do I have. I’m not the type to sit around and wait. But I’m terrified of what she’ll say. She’s different from all the other girls at school. She’s way smarter for one, but she’s also real nice. And she cares about other people’s happiness. Enough to-”
“Dash, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to hear you gush about my sister. Honestly you should just go for it. If you really want her to notice you, use something she likes. You really gotta be genuine though, she can smell bullshit from a mile away, trust me.”
“Huh…thanks Fenton I actually feel a lot better”
“No problem, but I will blast you to pieces and then sell your organs in the black market if I hear the words Dash and heartbreak in the same sentence. After, of course, she beats you to a pulp with her bare hands.”
They hang up. He feels a lot better actually. Aside from the very real threats. All of his previous fears are gone. He can think clearly now. Use something she likes to ask her out…he knows what to do. The perfect way to show her he’s genuinely interested in her as a person.
The next day he’s sweating buckets. He’s almost hyperventilating. His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy. Hell his fucking teeth are chattering. He spots Fenton and makes a bee line for him. But as fate would have it, the doors to the library open right in his face and he falls to the floor in a heap. Damn, hopefully his nose isn’t broken. He hears the culprit spouting apologizes. He looks up.
Standing there, extending a hand to help him up is Jazz Fenton. He short circuits. Autopilot takes over. He mechanically reaches for her hand and gets up. It’s only after ten seconds of her apologizing that he remembers his mission. Centering himself he dives in.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Um, I wanted to ask you something actually…”
She looks at him curiously, those big sparkly eyes, that put gemstones to shame, make his knees wobble all over again. He’s gotta act fast or he’ll turn into an even bigger pile of sweaty teenage hormones.
“Uhh…there’s this new Psychology of the Paranormal thing going on tomorrow at the museum and um I was wondering if you’d go with me? No big deal or anything. Oh this is for you. Um yeah.”
He thrusts a blue rose into her field of vision. Scratching the back of his neck and looking everywhere except directly at her. The silence feels eternal. His face feels like it’s on fire. He knows he’s at least gone three different shades of red. Glancing at her she’s looking a bit pink too. He’s so nervous, he hopes she’ll get it. The blue rose symbolizes immortal love. So he chose it to let her know that his love for her will never change and will remain forever.
She takes the rose. Looks at it for what feels like years. Gives it a sniff and puts it in her hair. His heart leaps into his throat. He’s never been so nervous in his life. He’d rather get run over by the Green Bay Packers twice than feel what he’s feeling right now. She looks him in the eyes and he’s rooted to the spot. He can’t look away. She opens her perfect mouth with her perfect lips.
“Sounds interesting, I’d love to”
“Cool, I’ll pick you up at six”
Heavenly light is cast upon him. The choir of angels sings in the background. Fireworks spell out his name. He has ascended to a higher plain of existence. The pure bliss he’s feeling at the moment is intoxicating. Nothing can ruin this moment for him. He can see Fenton high five-ing Manson and Foley handing them money. They bet on him!? Aww who cares she said yes!
He couldn’t help himself. He’d been testing Alec. 17,000 was everyone. All of them. Any relationship, by any measure.
If a vampire had asked him for a number, he would have given them a ball park of 10,000. Vampires were visceral and had a… fluid thing. To a vampire, a number was about sex. A seelie or a werewolf would have been asking about connection. People that, for a century, or a decade or an afternoon, had overwhelmed him, linked themselves with his mind or his spirit in some way. Maybe 8,000.
There is a parable about a sparrow flying through a mead hall during a storm, written back when they still had mead halls, and way before they had window screens. The sparrow flies through one window, and quickly back out the window on the other side. For a moment, he is warm, and safe, and there is light. But the storm rages on outside, and he slips out of it, and then back in, with a nearly meaningless moment of safety and warmth in between.
That’s what love, real love, is when you’re immortal and alive. A moment of light in an unknown eternity. What number would Magnus have given if a warlock had asked him?