whisper eyes

The Life and Times of Nathalie Sancoeur 7

Day 7: Future

Hours later, Nathalie held her sleeping grandbaby, rocking as she paced the room. She hummed a soft tune she’d learned before Gabby’s birth. The baby stared up at her with wide eyes for a moment before falling into a tired sleep.

She smiled. “You may not know how loved you already are, but you’ll learn, sweet Emilie. You’re in for some serious doting with this group.”

Curled on top of her exhausted brother, Gabby murmured in her sleep, drawing Nathalie and the newborn closer.

“I can take her if you want,” Gabriel whispered, his eyes peeking open. His hair stuck up in places as he removed his glasses to rub at his eyes.

Shaking her head, she expertly covered Gabby and Adrien with a spare blanket while holding the infant close to her. She watched them for several moments, grateful they hadn’t stirred. Adrien’s hand clasped Marinette’s as the younger woman slept.

Satisfied they’d remain covered, she moved closer to Gabriel and smiled, meeting his sleep-laden eyes.

“We’re doing just fine, aren’t we, Emilie?” She tilted the baby girl so he could glimpse their granddaughter’s content face. “I’ve missed this stage with Gabby. They never stay small like this long enough.”

“I remember.” He fell silent, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

Seeing the memories overtaking him, she leaned in, so their eyes met. She offered him a soft smile as she held out the baby. “I think Emilie could use a little time with her grandfather.”

His hands shook the tiniest bit, the baby wriggling to find the perfect position in the new hold. When her eyes popped open for a moment, Gabriel exhaled, enchanted by the newest addition to their family.

“Hey there, little one,” Gabriel whispered, his finger picking up Emilie’s hand. The tiny fingers gripped him tight. His eyes softened more than she’d seen it happen in years, her heart softening with his expression.

Nathalie smiled at the tableau displayed before her.

This was her family, for better or worse, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. It didn’t matter what the future held for her. She had everything she could ever want in that hospital room.

anonymous asked:

making out with hector 🤤🤤 those lips😋

his lips are pressed against yours as your tongues explore each others mouths, your fingers running through his hair as you tug slightly causing him to moan into your mouth, one of his hands on your face and one on your back as he pulls your body impossibly close to yours, small smiles on each of your faces when you pull away and look into each others eyes, whispered ‘i love you’s’ as you press your lips back onto his

2

i love their new uniforms and you cant tell me theyre not holding hands in you know what pic !!

also click for better quality aaa;;

Quick Whisper Eyes Update

As requested I’ve added a non-default file for the berry colours, if you’d like those they’re in the same folder as the others :)

And I’ve updated the original Whisper eyes (defaults, non-defaults and contacts) to include 2 better black shades, one red, and 4 cooler toned browns :) Please redownload if you want them! 

Berry Post

Original Post

3

…you know what it feels like to get booped off an edge. You just…let it happen and die a little inside is all.

When the funeral is over and everyone has gone home, Rhodey stays in Tony’s cabin by the lake with Pepper and Morgan. He makes grilled cheese sandwiches in the kitchen, holding Morgan on his hip no matter how bad it makes his back hurt (bracers screeching in protest, Morgan whispering soothingly back to them). Pepper is upstairs and falling apart, half in grief and half in relief while Rhodey takes the pressure of parenting off her hands. 

Rhodey sortof wishes he was with her, but he’s always done better taking care of someone else. 

(A scrappy ball of fluffy brown hair and wide brown eyes, laughing maniacally as the toaster burst into flame, racing towards a future that Rhodey had so desperately wanted to see-

(Take it back. He wanted the world to take the future back. He can’t imagine it anymore)

“They’re sad, too.” 

Morgan mumbles as Rhodey flips over a piece of bread and adds a layer of pesto to it (apparently Tony had convinced Morgan that grilled cheese done like this was ‘fancy’ though it was just as close to Italian food as Tony could get). 

“What was that, pumpkin?”

Rhodey asks distractedly. He curses quietly as some oil splashes back at his hands and his whining bracers refuse to let his legs move fast enough to avoid it. 

“Your legs. They’re sad, too.”

Morgan is still mumbling, still too quiet, and Rhodey’s heart breaks all over again. She looks so much like Tony did back then…

“You can understand them?”

He asks her, used to humouring this line of thought (”Honeycakes, War Machine has been complaining at me all day! Look at the way you’ve treated him! He’s crying!”). Morgan nods against his chest and blinks her huge brown eyes up at him. 

“My brothers sound like they do.”

She whispers to him. Rhodey stills. 

“U n’ Butterfingers cry a lot. Mom says they aren’t, but she’s wrong even though she’s never wrong. They cry and give me tools a bunch - except DUM-E. Fri says he’s just in…”

Morgan scrunches her brow and fists her little hands in Rhodey’s shirt, 

“Dee-nall? Cause Daddy promised him something. Fri said I should ‘respect his private-see’.” 

Drawing a breath that suddenly felt too shallow (or everything else was just too much), Rhodey flips the bread again and watches it sizzle. 

(Tony at MIT, hugging a hunk of metal on his hands and knees

(Crying for the first time with absolutely no shame. He’d looked so happy)

(”Hey there, baby boy! Hey! Look at you, you’re perfect!”)

(”Welcome to the world! It’s a big beautiful place and I promise you’re gonna love it. I’m gonna walk you through it, one step at a time, until you don’t need me. Ok, buddy?”

(Tony, palladium lines crawling back into his heart and away from his brain, hugging a hunk of metal on his hands and knees)

(”It’s ok, kiddo. I’m here, remember? The world is a big beautiful place and you’re gonna love it. I still have to walk you through it - you can’t do anything right yet, you bucket of bolts.”)

“Daddy made me. He said he made me 12% and mommy laughed, but he said it’s true. He made me loveable and made me talk to robots and-”

Morgan’s nose is scrunched and she’s clearly trying not to cry. The bread is burning and, God, Rhodey is about to cry, too. 

“Daddy made me and he made your legs, too. So we’re all sad. But I’m the only squishy one-” 

She sniffles wetly, 

“So I have to tell people that they’re sad so someone can make them sandwiches, too.”

Rhodey turns off the burner and gently sets Morgan on the ground. Then, despite his bracers’ protests, he hugs her on his hands and knees. 

“Thank you for letting me know, pumpkin.” 

He says into her hair, 

“I can’t make them a sandwich, but I’ll go…I’ll go take them out to the lake. They should’ve been there to begin with.” 

Morgan pats the metal lining his legs in an achingly familiar way. She smiles just like her father. 

“They wouldn’t wanna sandwich anyway.”

She tells him solemnly, little fingers pointing at the stove and the smoke rising from the cooling pan, 

“It’s burnt.” 

Rhodey chuckles wetly. When Morgan extends a hand to him, he takes it, even if she has no chance in Hell of hauling his old bones to their feet. 

He’s always done better taking care of someone else. But he’s gotten to take care of Tony the longest. The others came later - a fleet of robots, a devoted wife, and a fiercely loyal little girl come to rescue him. Maybe…maybe all of them needed to be taking care of someone else, too. 

Maybe they needed that more than him.

Maybe Rhodey could let himself be babied for awhile. What’s the worst Tony’s children could get up to?

Progress on the variant Whisper eyes. 

Yay or nay? :)

I want to be as thorough as possible so I have a feeling this is going to end up being a big project compared to regular sets. I think I may have been a little lazy with the colours in sets I’ve released previously so I’m trying to be better! 

Both eyes are new, the right side does have little “freckles” in the iris too, those are sort of the “base” eyes for the sectoral heterochromia.

 The left eye is a mesh eye with more prominent patches, the mesh is optional if you want only one eye with the big patches but both sides will be available to choose as regular eye swatches so that both eyes match. I just thought I’d add the option to have one eye more subtle just in case you don’t like the bigger patches being the same in each eye.

 I’m sorry, it’s quite hard to explain what I mean. It’ll probably be clearer nearer release :) Do you like the look of these so far though? 

4

There’s always doubt, Billy.  No sane man would deny that.  No good captain would acknowledge it. Take our present route, for instance. We tacked north by northeast, along Andromache’s best point of sail. If you’re Bryson, that’s the smart course. Well, he knows that I know that. So wouldn’t he have at least considered heading northwest to follow the coast, lose us in the dark? Or due east on the chance that we might sail right past him? There must be at least one chance in three that that horizon will remain bare and we’ll never see the Andromache again. That’s the truth. But what good would that knowledge do for any man on this crew trying to focus on doing his job?

initially this was just a fun pose sketch to pay back @alagaesia-overlord for her end of the deal but then I figured why not just Really Commit

happy early halloween 

It’s a Virgil! tada! (somebody tell me how long I freaking spent on this….. ‘cause…IDK.)

oh, and, here, have the initial sketch:

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: Aziraphale doesn’t mind sleeping if it’s next to Crowley

Aziraphale had never had any use of sleeping. He didn’t really understand why Crowley loved it so much. There was always work to be done, food to be eaten, or another fascinating book to be read.

And if there was nothing else to keep him occupied, Aziraphale just didn’t feel safe. Sleeping always seemed like such a risk and even though he knew, statistically very few people got murdered – or in his case discorporated – in their sleep, but the feeling of vulnerability never quite left him.

Until now. Aziraphale looked down at the outline of Crowley’s features in the dim light of distant street lights. The angel ran his fingers through the mussed hair and sighed happily. Suddenly, he felt tired, exhausted; he supposed it was the stress of the impeding Apocalypse. But there was something else, that granted him the luxury of even being tired. For the first time in over six thousand years, Aziraphale felt truly safe.

He wasn’t sure why he did, exactly – if it was the certainty that for the first time, he was not constantly being watched, or if it was his proximity to Crowley, the arm slung around the angel’s middle… or the kiss, Crowley had hesitantly pressed to his lips earlier. He smiled.

“What are you thinking about?” Crowley grumbled and Aziraphale felt almost embarrassed for absolutely no reason. “Your heart started beating faster, angel.”

Crowley’s voice was incredibly soft, uncharacteristically so, and if Aziraphale had not already been hopelessly in love with him, this would have been the last straw.

“I was thinking about you,” he replied just as softly.

Crowley shuffled around a bit, pressing himself even closer against Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry,” he continued.

“For what?” Crowley mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of the angel’s pyjamas.

“We could have had this so much sooner, dear. I got it all wrong and clung to my convictions against all evidence and –“

“Shh,” Crowley made and after a second, the shushing changed into a hiss.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he said and Aziraphale felt his heart leap with affection. “I don’t.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale whispered and closed his eyes. “You’ll keep me safe,” he murmured. It was not a question, not really. But Crowley answered anyway.

“Of course I will, angel.”

So, for the first time since the beginning of the world, Aziraphale slept contently, unbothered by heaven, hell, and anything in between.

family

↬ summary: extremely indulgent endgame fix it fic! that’s it

↬ pairing: peter parker x reader

↬ genre: fluff, slight slight slight SLIGHT angst

↬ word count: a measly 1.5k

↬ warnings: um i’m not sure if these count as endgame spoilers but??? read at your own risk dudes

↬ note: I CANNOT STRESS how quickly and vigorously i wrote this. its unedited and probably has about a million spelling and grammar mistakes. like this is just 1500 words of rambling nonsense because i saw the endgame premier and i’ve been steaming in my own sadness for the passed few days!! a bitch really just be havin emotions sometimes huh :/

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