#anyway. the starks are little babies. holding them in my hands. and the survivors WILL be reunited in twow youll see youll all see

[rhaemartell]

on starklings, for @xvalhallax, happy secret sansa!

[macabrecake]

THAT SENT TOO EARLY SEBIWBW7DB HELLO, CAKE, im invading your inbox to request a smol blurb of re6 Leon and fem! Reader where reader is a rookie and Leon is vv protective of them and when Leon thinks reader is accidentally killed but turns out to be okay, he kisses her or sumn idk im blushingbsjwbwebeu

HAHAHAHA HI LYN and oh shit oh my fucking god u H- You're an amazing writer I've been saying that since I first met you (Eros Trials bby godDAMN) so for you to send me an ask that's also RE6 Leon? AAAAA I'M DEADASS GOING TO PASS AWAY 😭 but I'm gonna try my best so here we go!

In the DSO, Leon is known as one of the best agents who gets his business done with complete professionalism, not without some slight snark on the side of course.

He's also kind of your bodyguard of some sort.

He still has no damn clue how you did it, though. After all, you're just a rookie who happened to take a shine to him. Following him around like a lost puppy that's so young, and bright, and eager to try your best. It's like looking at himself in his rookie years. Ok, sure he'll offer some sagely advice in the hopes you don't turn out like him.

And sure he'll accept your company, it's greatly appreciated on the days when work was slow anyways- maybe he'll wait a little until he knows it's you coming. Listening to the sound of your heels lightly tapping the floor along with your voice softly singing whatever tune is stuck in your head that day. But he never meant to get this attached.

Now it's meeting up for coffee on weekends just to chat about everything and nothing all at once. Now it's him stepping in as your shield when other co-workers try to shake you up just because you're the newbie. Now it's his heart stopping because he just watched your body fall limp.

"Y/N!"

God, why did he have to get so attached?

It was your first mission out in the field. You, Leon, and Helena just landed in China- more like crashed. Where you met up with Agent Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller. You've heard about Sherry before and was already aware of her and Leon's history as survivors of Raccoon City. Jake was new though, would've liked a more proper introduction if not for the sudden appearance of the Ustanok.

The behemoth had downed Helena and would've most definitely killed her if you didn't act fast. Before your brain could scream that this probably wouldn't be a wise choice, you gunned for it. Quickly climbing up it's back you start shooting, stabbing, kicking, anything that would buy her some time. It did work, a little too well. Helena managed to clear off but you weren't so lucky when the Ustanok grabs you and tosses you like you weighed nothing more than a bag of bread.

Your world blurs with the sudden velocity, everything too loud to focus on as the wind rushes past your ears, until your back harshly meets one of the shipping containers with a loud bang. Delivering you a stark contrast of sudden silence and darkness.

It's unclear how long you stayed like that until a deep, frantic voice pierces your unconscious veil. "Come on baby girl, get up..." Your body moves but you can't tell where or from what. "Don't do this to me- please!"

Your eyes flutter open with a groan as your hand comes up to hold your aching head, "Did anyone catch the number on that truck?" You weakly ask. Vision focusing on a familiar pair of deep, fear ridden, gorgeous blue eyes shrouded in shiny golden locks.

It sinks in now how close Leon is to you. You can feel his body heat as he holds your smaller frame snuggly against him. Shielding you once again but so much closer than normal. You're worried he's gonna be mad about your stunt and yell at you so you try to soften the blow with a timid, "I'm sorry."

What you get in response instead, is the agent's shoulders loosening up with a sigh of relief then-

Pure plush warmth and spearmint.

You don't get a chance to register or reciprocate the small, but passionate, kiss Leon lays to your lips before he's pulling away as gently as he gave it to you. Leaving you rather dumbfounded but holy FUCK are you fully awake now.

"Did you just...?" You start, hoping he'll answer for you. What you receive instead is Leon's usual little smirk as he stands up and offers a hand to help you up. "Maybe, but you mind holding that thought until we get out of this?"

You giggle and accept, letting him pull you up to your feet with ease and follow him back into the fray.

Your giddy little smile matching his.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

let our hearts (like doors) open wide, open wide

Post-Endgame fic with Pepper, Tony, Bruce and Peter. Oh, and there’s a baby as well. No spoilers, this was written before the movie. It was a short drabble and then something went out of control and now it’s 3k words, but I promise that it contains a happy ending and an Irondad scene.

TWs: Vomiting and panic attack.

Thank you @whumphoarder for beta-reading.

It’s a night full of stars and tenderness when Pepper tells him that she is finally pregnant.

It hadn’t been easy with her being already well into her thirties. A long chain of failed attempts and endless doctor appointments lay behind them, but Pepper, an optimist at heart with the patience of a saint, never lost hope.

They have dinner on the rooftop in order to celebrate, SI appointments and Tony’s lab all but forgotten. They dance and laugh and make out a little, the air heavy with anticipation. Everything is perfect for once.

Right until it’s not.

He’s holding her from behind, taking in her face over her shoulder, absorbing the dimple on her cheek, the smile hanging on her lips. His fingers trail somewhere between the hem of her skirt and her bellybutton, light and teasing. He can feel it already, feel where her abdomen is just the slightest bit swollen.

There’s a life under her skin, just below my hands, he realises. His heartbeat speeds up at the thought of it, the thought that it’s his, it’s ours, our responsibility, and if I fail again -  

His heart beats faster and faster and then it’s all he can hear, the noise of it ringing in his ears and cancelling out everything else. A heavy weight settles on his chest, choking him, and suddenly there’s not enough oxygen left in the world.

“I need to - I gotta- ” He loosens his embrace on her and stumbles away. Don’t touch her. Don’t hurt them. “I’m sorry, Pep,” he rasps.

He’s out of the door before she can call him back.

*

Bruce has witnessed a number of unexpected incidents in the Avengers compound’s common kitchen, but he never imagined that he’d one day walk in on Pepper Potts violently throwing up into the sink.

“Are- Are you okay?” he asks, a little too perplexed for any more profound question.

“Oh, Bruce,” Pepper pants. “Yes, yes, I’m fine, just - give me a sec, okay?” She swallows hard, then loses the fight against another retch.

“What’s going on?” He carefully pats her on the expensive-looking blazer she’s wearing, then checks the back of her neck for a fever while she heaves again.

“Don’t know,  just…ate something bad, I guess,” she replies when she is finished with the current round, avoiding his gaze and thus confirming his suspicion.

“Mm-hm.” He watches her rinse her mouth and then motions for her to sit down at the large kitchen table while he starts the water in the sink, cleaning the mess and getting rid of the smell.

“What's the time?” Pepper asks hoarsely.

“Almost seven.”

“God, I need to go.” She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deep through the nausea. She is still more than pale under her make-up. Her face looks tired and the dark circles under her eyes that Bruce knows all too well from the months behind them speak of yet another sleepless night.

“You should get some rest, Pepper,” he assesses. “Go back to bed, reschedule whatever meeting you were heading to.”

“Can't. Today’s the bidding for the harbour reconstruction. The shareholders made it clear that…” she cuts herself off upon seeing the lost look on his face. “Anyways, it’s important.”

“I see.” Bruce gives a sympathetic wince when she stifles another gag into her fist.

“Oh god, I’m such a mess,” she whispers.

“Okay. Breathe, Pepper.” It’s still been a while since she’s been that upset, but Bruce has seen her in much, much worse states and he knows that this is only a temporary crisis. “You got five minutes? I'll make you some ginger-lemon water. That should help with the nausea.”

“Yeah,” she exhales. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Bruce.”

“Hey. We’re past this, right?”

He doesn’t have to say what he is thinking about, knows that it’s still all too present in her mind. The weeks of waiting after the catastrophe, every day tainted with the news of more and more dead friends, colleagues, long-forgotten family members. All the nights spent waiting for a sign from the skies, willing for something, anything to let them know that there was still hope, that Tony might still be out there somewhere.

She’d refused to give up, even for a second. He’s been gone before, she’d said, he’s always come back. He’s a survivor, Bruce. And although she’d been just as broken as him, more than once it had been her who’d held him when the world threatened to break down over his head. That had been the time when he’d learned the true value of the woman who, against all odds, chose Tony above all others. It’s the worst way they could have gotten close to each other, but Bruce is glad that they did.

“You’re right,” she chuckles sadly. Then, almost inaudibly, she adds: “I’m pregnant, Bruce.”

He sets the cup of ginger water in front of her before sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

“I know,” he admits calmly, a bit of relief in his voice.

“H-How?” she asks in surprise, looking up at him.

“I’m a doctor, Pepper. And I’m not stupid. I’m glad you told me, though, I don’t know how long I could’ve played along.” He hesitates for a second. “It’s good news. Something happy, after everything.”

“God, Bruce, please don't tell anyone yet.”

“Hey. I would never.” Following an instinct, he lays his hand on hers that’s clutching the beverage. “Does Tony know?”

“I told him last night. He’s...I don’t know. I mean, we decided this together, but I guess he needs some time to get used to it.” She takes a sip of the water, closes her eyes for a moment. “This actually helps a lot.”

“I often drink it after the transformations,” Bruce remarks.

They sit silently for a minute before Pepper speaks again.

“Tony...He’s different since…” She leaves the end open, but of course he knows what she is talking about.

There’s no term for it, really. How can there be a word for the end of the world? They call it the snap in the media and while joking around, but it sounds inappropriate, almost small compared to the impact it had. Half a universe extinguished. Everyone brought back in the end, thanks and a toast to the Avengers. But their victory came at a cost, and Bruce would dare to say that there’s nobody in the world who was left untouched.

“Aren’t we all?”

Pepper empties the cup and then stands up slowly. A bit of colour has returned to her cheeks. “Okay, I really need to get going.”

Bruce takes the cup and puts it in the dishwasher. “Where’s Tony now?”

“Downstairs, I think. He wasn’t there when I woke up. Could you check that he eats something?”

“Sure,” Bruce says with a nod. “Pepper?”

She turns in the doorway. He steps forward and gives her a brief, careful hug. “Stop worrying so much. It’s gonna be alright.”

*

When Bruce enters the lab with a plate of sandwiches, Tony is sitting reclined in an office chair, one arm covering his eyes, facing away from the door.

Bruce sighs. Talking about changes. In the couple of years that he’s been living under the same roof with him, Tony has always been working on something. Or rather, on multiple somethings simultaneously, on top of scolding dummy, exercising, and flirting with Pepper.

“What -?” Tony flinches when Bruce touches his shoulder lightly, then catches himself. “Oh, hey. Didn't expect you here.” He blinks hard against the lights.

“Thought I'd get you some food.”

“Oh, that’s great.”

It’s a plain lie. Tony eyes at the sandwiches with a mixture of disgust and barely concealed nausea, his pallor turning ashen.

“Or maybe later.” Bruce hurries to set the plate aside, definitely having seen enough vomit for the day. “Friday, lights at fifteen per cent,” he orders. Tony makes a small sound of relief when the room goes dark.

“How bad is that migraine?” Bruce asks doubtfully.

“Oh, that? It's nothing. Just a headache, really.” Tony makes to get up, but Bruce gently pushes him back down.

“You should rest.”

“Nah, not working. Peter's coming over later to fix his suit and Pepper will kill me if I don't get the proposal for that rebuilding thingy done today…”

Bruce feels like he's caught on repeat, not sure whether he should be amused or desperate. For all their differences, Pepper and Tony can be remarkably alike when it comes to being the epitome of workaholism.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Stay put, I'll get you something for that headache…”

Bruce returns with a couple of painkillers that Tony swallows dry.

“Okay, spit it out already,” the engineer sighs when Bruce hovers awkwardly behind his chair.

“Spit out what?”

“You’re an awful liar. Pepper told you, didn't she?”

“Yeah, well... kind of. I walked in on her puking into the sink.”

“Oh shit.” Tony slumps a bit, guilt written clearly over his face. “Is she okay?”

Bruce shrugs. “I think so. She left for her meeting.” He hesitates. “Uhm, congratulations are in order, I guess.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Okay.” Tony takes a couple of deep breaths, his hand balling into a fist.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asks with a hum.

“Nothing,” Tony deflects.

“It’s obviously something.”

“I can’t - not right now, okay?” Tony swallows, visibly fighting for control.

“It’s okay, Tony. We don’t have to talk about this immediately. I understand.”

“I know.” Tony offers a weak smile. “Everyone’s so goddamn kind and understanding and I-”

He doesn’t say I don’t deserve it, but Bruce can finish the sentence himself.

“I’ll be there, if you want to talk,” he offers.

“I just…I'll take a shower,” Tony responds. He gets up slowly and staggers only a little when he brushes past Bruce. “Thanks for checking in.”

*

“Okay, Mr. Stark, what’s going on?” Peter asks, a hint of exasperation in his voice, when Tony drops the soldering iron for the third time in a row and barely avoids setting his own sleeve on fire. “And don’t say you’re fine, because I know that you’re not.”

Peter takes the tool out of his mentor’s hand and sets it back into the bracket. It’s something he would’ve never dared to do before the snap, but things have changed since he's come back. May tells him that he acts more grown-up, more sincere, but also more serious. Like there's a big grey cloud hovering over you, she'd observed one time, and Peter had shrugged. Maybe that’s just what being dead for a year does to you.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony says flatly. “You should get going, kid. It's about time for your beauty sleep.”

Peter frowns. “What, before we finish the upgrades?” Tony had called Peter for a complete overhaul of the Spider-Man suit's hardware, and they'd barely finished half of it by now.

“I can do that alone. You’re here to learn, not because I need your help.”

Denial. Sarcasm. Insult. There they are, all of Tony’s defence mechanisms laid out clearly in front of him. Any time before Peter would have obeyed and left with a dent in his self-confidence and a heavy feeling of concern in the pit of his stomach, too afraid to oppose his mentor. But not anymore.

“Mr. Stark. Please.”

“I just -” Tony draws a breath before replying in a whisper. “Pepper’s pregnant.”

He lets out the air slowly through gritted teeth, seeming to shrink a little as he does so.

“That’s-” Peter feels warmth spreading through his chest. “Mr. Stark, that’s great news. I’m so happy for you, for both of you.”

Tony doesn't smile, doesn't do anything, really, and Peter’s cheerful words, despite their genuineness, suddenly have a hollow sound to them.

“Yeah,” Tony finally replies, not quite looking up at Peter. “I guess so.” His left hand is trembling hard. He quickly covers it with his right.

“You, um, you wanted that, right? I thought you’ve been trying for a while…” Peter trails off when a hint of panic crosses Tony’s face.

“Course I wanted that,” Tony retorts defensively.

“I just - I’m happy for you. You really deserve it, after all that happened, you know-”

He understands that the choice of words was wrong the moment he hears Tony’s breath and heartbeat picking up speed.

“Out,” Tony orders, and Peter isn’t sure whether that’s meant for him or for the engineer himself, but he decides to ignore it either way.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I can’t  - Leave me -” Tony pants, his chest heaving. “Oh, fuck.”

He makes to stand and probably escape, but his knees buckle as soon as he puts his weight on them. Tony slides down at the side of the workbench before Peter can round the table and crouch next to him.

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark. You’re okay,” Peter tries to reassure him while biting down the panic welling up in his own chest. “You’re having an anxiety attack.”

“I know - doesn’t help - to tell me-” His mentor is clutching a trembling fist to his chest while gasping for breath, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, not now.”

“It’s okay,” Peter murmurs, biting his lip. It’s not the first time either of them has had a breakdown in front of the other, but he’s never seen Tony cry before. He lays a hand on the older man's shoulder, careful not to get too close. “Breathe, just breathe. Count backwards from ten with me, okay?”

It takes nearly three rounds of counting, but finally the attack ebbs away. When he can breathe a little better again, Tony pulls his knees to his chest in an unusually vulnerable gesture. He lays his greying head on them for a bit until the trembling dies down before finally glancing up at Peter.

“That sucked.” Tony looks pale and utterly drained, and there is still moisture around his eyes. “Gosh, I didn’t want you to see that.”

“It’s okay, really. Uhm...Should I get you some water?” Peter asks, unsure of what to do now.

“Nah,” Tony replies, drawing in a slightly shaky breath, “Don't think my stomach’s up for it.”

Peter feels his own clench in sympathy. “Sorry that I triggered you,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Wasn’t your fault, kid.” Tony gets to his feet a bit unsteadily, supporting himself on the workbench. “Today was a panic attack waiting to happen. Was just a matter of time till I'd spazz out.” Dum-E, whirring worriedly, wheels an office chair towards him and Tony lets himself fall into it gratefully.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asks hesitantly, standing up and leaning against the edge of the table..

“Absolutely not,” Tony huffs. He picks up a wrench and fiddles with it in his hands. “But I guess I owe you an explanation. And I don’t want you to get any wrong ideas about me and the…the baby.”

Peter silently waits for Tony to compose himself. He can count the number of times his mentor has opened up to him on one hand, so he is hyper-aware of the fragility of this moment. He knows that one wrong word could cause the other man to draw his walls back up immediately.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” Tony finally admits. “I don’t think I can do this.” He throws up his hands. “Honestly, I had a fucked-up childhood, and I have no idea how to do it better than my dad. I destroyed so many lives along my way, Peter, and I really don’t want to destroy another one.”

Peter waits for more to come, but Tony goes silent, gazing into the distance as if he is looking at ghosts from another time.

“I…I think you’re wrong,” Peter responds carefully. “I think you’ll be a great dad.” He slowly steps in front of Tony, staring into his eyes. “Look around you. Look at the lab, at all the time we spend here. Did your father ever do anything like that with you?”

Tony shakes his head. There’s so much fear on his face that moment, so many painful memories, and once again Peter wishes that he could just erase Titan from both of their minds. Because of course that’s what it ultimately comes down to. It’s not like they ever talk about it, Tony being Tony, but Peter knows that his mentor has never forgiven himself for what happened out there, knows that the year in which he has tried time and time again to bring back the ones he’d lost has left deep marks in his heart and soul.

“I never really had a father,” Peter says carefully. “Uncle Ben…we were close, I guess, but it wasn’t the same.”

Peter hesitates for a moment, but the time seems right. When the snap happened, during that brief moment when he knew for sure that he was going to die, there was so much he regretted not having said. He doesn’t want to feel like that ever again in his life. “But if I could choose one, I would happily pick you.”

Tony looks at him, his eyes large and dark and a little warm now.

“I…” He swallows, once, again. “Glad you’re back, kid.”

*

It's a night full of thunder and rain when Morgan is born. There’s pain and fear and more than once Tony has to count himself back to reality, swallowing down guilt and ignoring the voices in his head that mock him for panicking when Pepper is the one doing all the hard work.

It’s not easy for any of them. But Bruce is just outside in the waiting room, making coffee for Tony when his jittering hands won’t obey anymore. Rhodey is texting him for updates every couple of minutes, messages that make Tony feel a tiny bit better even when he doesn’t reply to them. And Peter swings by just before dawn, minutes before Morgan comes into the world. He stands there next to Bruce, his grin spreading from ear to ear over his red face while they wait to greet the newest member of the family.

Inside, Tony kisses Pepper, wipes away the sweat and tears from her face, kisses her again. Then he takes a deep breath and looks at the child in her arms, branding every detail of that moment into his memory.

My greatest creation… His father is still in his head, will always be there. The path behind him is bloody and there is nothing he can do to change that.

But the road ahead is yet untouched. Pepper smiles exhaustedly at him when the baby makes a small sound between a croak and a cry, then blinks up at Tony. His heart fills with a kind of warmth that he’s never felt before. Ever so carefully, Tony takes Morgan into his arms. Nothing is impossible anymore.

Link to another pregnant Pepper fic

[areiton]

heart of iron

A/N: I kept having feels about the in-flight movie from Spider-man: Far From Home. No real spoilers for the movie--enjoy! 

Read on AO3

~*~ 

Pepper calls him, is how it starts. 

Pepper calls him often enough that when the phone rings, he doesn’t flinch away from it the way he did in the days right after the Blip, doesn’t turn it to silent and hide in his blankets. That stopped when she showed up at his apartment--the new one, the one that didn’t feel like home to him or May, the one that SI was paying for and he felt guilty walking into, the one Tony would never visit--

She shows up and says, gently, “Take your time.” 

She says, carefully, “He loved you so much.” 

She says, pleading, “Morgan can’t wait to meet you.” 

And it’s that--the utter sincerity and the truth behind her words--that drags him from his grief and his hiding, back to a house on a lake that he loathes, to a little girl with a tremulous smile and tear stained cheeks and her father’s wit. 

He comes back to life, for Pepper, for May, for Morgan. 

Pepper calls him, and it’s not unusual. 

“We’ve been approached by a producer,” she says, and that is.

Peter sighs and leans his head back on the mountain of pillows, and says, “That’s what, the third one?” 

“Fourth,” she corrects, and he huffs. 

She says its normal, expected even. He thinks it's inappropriate, far too soon. 

May says the world is mourning too, and Peter would care about that more, maybe, if Tony weren't dead. 

So producers come and pitch their movies and they decided early--Pepper and Rhodey and Peter and Harley--that they'd agee to do it together, or not at all. 

So far, it had been not at all. 

The first was a biopic that Pepper and Rhodey dismissed after reading five pages of the screenplay. The second was about the Avengers, about the Civil War and Peter threw up reading it, reading what they thought of Tony. 

The third Pepper threw the legal team at, and they were still fighting the cease and desist. They’d make it, Pepper said, even if they had to change the names. 

The world was waiting for the authorized movie, the one Tony’s remaining family endorsed and supported. They were waiting for the biography, for the story of a man who saved them all, and Peter hated them for that. 

Tony was theirs. Not the whole damn world--he’d given enough and he deserved to rest, to be given in death what he never had in life--privacy. 

“What is it?” he asks, and on the other end of the phone, Pepper pauses. It makes his gut churn, anxiously. 

“Sweetheart, I think you should come in and listen to what they have to say.” 

~*~ 

He doesn’t talk during the meeting. The movie-- Heart of Iron-- is a documentary. The directors don’t talk at first, just smile, nervous, at Peter and the others and turn on the laptop. 

Tony fills up the screen, and Peter bites back a hurt noise, clings to Harley’s hand where it clenches on his. 

The footage is grainy and the camera shakes, but it’s Tony, in a small desert town. He systematically destroys the weapons stockpiled there, and disables each of the hostiles holding the villagers at gunpoint, and Rhodey laughs,a tiny noise, when Tony punches through a wall and drags a screaming terrorist into the open. He leaves the man there, surrounded by his victims, as he blasts into the sky. 

The scene is replaced by a boy, a few years older than Peter. He looks ancient. “Ironman saved us, that day. He didn’t just keep us from being killed--he gave us back our dignity, by giving us the choice to punish those who hurt us.” 

Off camera: “Did you lose someone?” 

“No. He saved my father. He saved us all.” 

“What do you say to those who claim he can’t outweigh the deaths his weapons caused?” 

“If you save one life, and save the world--what do you do when you save a hundred lives? What do you save, if you save a thousand? Show me the lives he took, and I will show you the lives he saved.” 

It goes on. And on. And on. Shakey cell phone footage of Tony saving lives. Survivors recounting their experiences. 

It’s a tribute. Not like the first three project which all felt exploitative and invasive. This feels genuine. An honor. 

“The film,” the producer, a man named James, says, when the film has ended, “will chronicle all of Mr. Stark’s life as Ironman. His successes and failures and why he turned those into successes. But we’d like to include the people who mattered most to him. That’s you.” He pauses. “We aren’t--I know that you’ve been approached by other projects. This isn’t like that. We’re not trying to entertain. We’re trying to honor a man who deserves to be honored.” 

“And if we say no?” Peter asks. “If we say this doesn’t belong to the general public--what will you do?” 

James hesitates, his gaze flicking over Pepper and when she waves a hand at Peter, he focuses on the boy. “We respect that. We’ll make the film without you’re blessing and do everything in our power to honor him. But--Tony might not belong to the general public. But Tony Stark? He does. He always has. He made himself our hero. And I think--” 

Peter tenses. 

“Maybe the world doesn’t deserve him,” James says, softly. “But he gave himself to us, anyway. I want them to know who he was, not the shadow that Hollywood and the tabloids created.” 

~*~ 

Peter sits in his room in the dark. 

They talked, after James left, but Pepper had put the final decision off. “They want to do it,” he says, softly. Dully. 

Harley shifts, curls closer around him, pressing against Peter’s back, lips arm against his skin. “Yeah.” 

“And you do.” 

Harley kisses him, and doesn’t answer. 

“Why don’t you?” he asks, finally, gently. 

Because he wasn’t the world’s. 

He was ours.  

“The world took so much from him. And he gave them everything.”  

“He didn’t,” Harley says. 

Peter twists, peers through the darkness at this beautiful boy he never expected. 

Tony was still giving him the best gifts he could never ask for, even in death. 

“Tony didn’t give everything to save the world, baby. He did it for Morgan. For me and you and Pep. He was selfish--he only risked himself when he knew he could save you and me. Not the whole fucking world. He didn’t care about them. They were a happy byproduct-- I was, if we’re honest. Tony tore the universe apart and died to bring you back, to keep you and Pepper and Rhodey safe on that battlefield.” 

Peter blinks, tears burning in his eyes and Harley shifts, coming up to straddle him, thumbs carefully brushing away his tears. “That’s what the world will never know. What they don’t deserve, what they can’t earn. That’s our Tony. Ironman, though? He always belonged to the world. Let them have Ironman. We have Tony.” 

~*~ 

He agrees. 

He doesn’t want to, hesitates about it. He can see in Pepper’s eyes she thinks he’ll balk. But he agrees. 

~*~ 

He sits in an uncomfortable chair, and the camera is big and unavoidable, the lights too hot against his skin. 

A disembodied voice asks, “What did Tony Stark mean to you?” 

Peter hesitates. 

And then he smiles, and says, “Everything. He meant everything.” 

[thatwitchrevan]

Okay so here’s my general impression of Endgame, aka what I liked and didn’t like. This post has ALL the spoilers (or at least a lot of them.)

Things I didn’t like:

Carol’s parts in the movie were way too brief. I understand this movie was mainly about sending off the original Avengers but I really thought there’d be more Carol!!!

I also wanted more Valkyrie.

Steve’s ending was...not at all satisfying to me. Seeing him as an old man was jarring and the way they did the scene felt cheesy and if they expected me to be happy about him going back to live with Peggy I’m...not. It’s not that I don’t like Peggy but I literally haven’t been invested in their relationship since the end of The First Avenger. At least not romantically. Steve’s scenes with Peg in Civil War were good and I was heartbroken when she died. I like her as a character. But I’m so far from convinced that she was the great love of Steve’s life that he was always meant to be with. If that’s the case why wasn’t there more than a literally five seconds foreshadowing that he’d go back? I liked the scene where he saw her in shield hq and they should’ve left it at that.

Because here’s the thing. Not only has Peggy not been upheld as The Significant Person in Steve’s life, but he has other people that are right there in 2023 that he should give a second thought to. All the surviving Avengers, for one, but particularly Bucky and Sam. You’re telling me Steve loves Peggy SOOOOO much after not seeing her for over a decade and not having been in a relationship with her for much longer, that he would abandon his best friends without ever telling them he wasn’t coming back, RIGHT AFTER they had just come back from the dead and he’d mourned them for five years??? really??? nah absolutely not. There isn’t any way in hell Steve Rogers would ditch his best friends for his ex like that. Are you kidding me. I hate it. 

Natasha?????? Didn’t get??? a funeral??? SHE SHOULD HAVE A STATUE. A MEMORIAL. She sacrificed herself for a CHANCE to save the world and she gets nothing except a few solemn words between Avengers? why didn’t they at least give her and Tony a joint funeral are you fucking kidding me all the same people could’ve come. 

Don’t tell me Fury wouldn’t speak at Nat’s funeral. AND CLINT. AIUDNUDNAUIDND

The fact that instead of resetting the timeline (which I understand why they couldn’t do that) they brought everyone back five years later with all the consequences of millions of people disappearing from existence temporarily is fucking with my head and given the way everything was handled in this movie I highly doubt it’s going to be satisfyingly addressed in future ones. Like listen - May lived without Peter FOR FIVE YEARS. That’s just an example.

I’m really really really sad they didn’t bring Loki and our original Gamora and Vision back. They didn’t even really discuss it. Thor said NOTHING about wanting his brother back. I don’t even think he said he missed him?? We spent this whole hiatus thinking about if and how those characters might also be revived and Endgame gave only the barest shrug in response to those questions and hopes. Those characters’ stories got NOTHING satisfying to tie them up. I’m so disappointed.

The fact that Nat didn’t get to see the massive team up at the end makes me emo.

Things I liked:

Morgan Stark is absolutely precious and I love her and I too would tell all the Avengers to fuck off and let the world continue to burn in order to protect her.

Seriously I haven’t been able to get over the fact that they gave Tony and Pepper a beautiful baby girl. The pure happiness I felt when realizing that TONY HAD A CHILD was...unparalleled. I literally cannot. He loves her SO MUCH. He wanted her SO MUCH. He wanted to be a dad, and a good one. and he was. He was the best dad. i’m crying. 

“I love you 3000″

Morgan is an absolute angel 

NAT NAT NAT my baby my love

she’s so fucking sad the whole time. her expression when they killed Thanos and realized there was nothing left to do destroyed me. And post time skip??? her crying over her sandwich and smiling at Steve with ALL the sadness in the world in her eyes and trying to keep up with being an Avenger even though it kind of feels like there’s no point anymore, because she HAS to? you can see her survivor’s guilt. She knows the world’s already ended and she’s one of the ones who has to go one. She knows her best friend lost his family and is out there losing himself too. She knows half of her family is never coming back. I can’t handle how sad she is or how strong she is for going on anyway. She’s amazing.

and it KILLS me that she died but if it had to happen I’m glad it was the way she wanted. she saved the world one more time.

Bruce was so good the whole time. I love seeing him and Hulk coexist, I love his nearly ever-present sweet little smile, how much he appreciates what and who he still has, how he’s still trying to be optimistic. Bruce has been through a lot, including suicidal depression, and here he is doing his goddamn best and SMILING. I’m just?? so proud and I love him he’s come so far.

I love all the tender little moments??? Nebula and Tony playing tabletop football (and the way he very calmly, non-judgmentally says ‘you don’t have to do that’ when she thinks it’s a fight at first) and taking care of each other (she lets him have the rations?? covers him with a blanket?? is this fanfic that I wrote in my dreams??); Bruce reminding Thor how he helped him when he was in a bad place (and his goddamn smile when he says it, so full of love and care?? Bruce adores him and just wants to help him I cry); Steve trying to cheer Nat up and them just being friends; Rhodey and Nat being buddies and looking out for each other; Rocket and Nebula holding hands; Tony crushing Peter in a hug; Carol meeting Peter and giving this kid she just met a smile and their whole exchange...I could go on. Just Avengers being friends and loving each other and being wholesome and overwhelmingly platonic?? aijdnauidnhuadn

And also painful as fuck like see: the ENTIRE scene between Nat and Clint before she throws herself off. Particularly the forehead rest and how they go right into fighting each other (again). THEY’RE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH.

Thor talking to Frigga again was???? Everything. I love them both so much. Especially how she told him to stop being who he’s supposed to be and be who he is.

Also the fact that Korg and Miek and Brunnhilde are still there for Thor even after five years of being in a Depression Cave? amazing. 

Nebula is so important. My love for Nebula has grown with every one of her appearances and this movie gave me so much of what I wanted for her....character growth, making new friends, tender/ funny scenes, getting to see her relax. Her reaction banter with Rhodey was great to see. Just the fact that she’s loosened up enough and learned to trust enough to joke with these people and be friendly with them, even if she is still Nebula about it......im love her. And she genuinely became an Avenger like she was just as determined to fix things as the others and she didn’t hesitate to shoot alt Nebula to protect Gamora. She’s fucking perfect lots more Nebula please.

Let’s talk about the big fight scene. 

as soon as I heard “on your left” i was freaking THE FUCK out.

Sam is a dramatic magnificent man and I love him. 

and Steve!

guys he finally fucking said it

they assembled guys

ALL of them 

(except nat)

jainkjandknadkjandkjandkjadn 

and my FAVORITE part of the Battle was Wanda

She went ALL OUT on Thanos and I just enjoyed it so so so much

Carol was also amazing and I think I ascended when she took that headbutt without a flinch...without even blinking...GODDESS

and the team up?? “don’t worry, she has help” I DIED Y’ALL 

for a moment I was in badass female character heaven where all was right in the world

Rescue was particularly awesome I’ve been waiting for that for YEARS and she was AMAZING

And seeing Shuri, Okoye, and Valkyrie acting as Avengers was!! good shit

and alright I’m heartbroken that Tony died but again, it was the way I would’ve wanted him to go. He saved the world one more time! and at least I got to see him with a fucking infinity gaunlet

watching Thanos die not once but twice was. extremely satisfying.

SAM. IS. FUCKING. CAPTAIN. AMERICA. (no not like that. I mean also like that but. you know what I mean.)

a lack of end credits scenes is the best way to pour salt in the wounds of me.

but I did cry at original Avengers bit of the credits. particularly Scarlet and Robert’s.

[4hoursleeptime]

Thwisps

Fire.

Raining down on the small town of Tanawyr, the once-peaceful night’s sky blackened by billowing smoke. The flitting, familiar forms of the Thwisps were now gone, replaced by a cloak of sorrowful destruction, and its cause—a shape of boiling red rage: A mighty Dragon.

Darielle threw herself to the ground as a burning wave of flame shot past her, frighteningly close. The ends of her long, brown hair smoldered a bit, and she fervently reached behind herself to pat it out. She scrambled to her feet and continued running, trying desperately to distance herself from the monster, paying no mind to the few people still on the streets she pushed by in her efforts to escape. The angry roars barely lessened as she made it to her destination: The blacksmith’s shop. This was one of the sturdiest buildings in town, and hopefully it was more than just a little fireproof. She patted herself, searching for her key and cursing herself as she remembered she’d left it on her nightstand at home in the hurry to get out.

She looked back towards the center of town, hoping the dragon was still out of sight. No such luck. She saw the great, leathery wings before she saw the monster itself rise above the buildings, beating its wings to keep aloft. Its crimson scales shimmered with a horrific beauty in the light of the fires, and the large, horned head that must have been as large as Darielle’s torso turned, searching. She swallowed as their eyes seemed to meet, her emerald eyes staring into the dragon’s blazing yellow orbs as they filled her with dread. The dragon roared and opened its maw wide, the flicker of flames visible even from here. She could feel her heart stop; her legs frozen in place as she saw her own demise building inside the monster’s terrible jaws. Before anything could happen, though, she felt a hand grab her white tunic and yank her around the side of the shop. Looking up at her savior, she immediately recognized the only person in town that wasn’t a Pallide; Orrum Fovis, the old storyteller.

“Delgato, right? Anything going on up there, or were you just planning to let ‘er broil you?” He demanded, poking her forehead as a wall of fire engulfed the area she had just been standing. After a few moments, the intense, continuous, forceful stream of flame overcame the structural integrity of the building, and the front wall of her cousin’s store collapsed inwards onto itself. Darielle pressed herself against the wall of the building next to them, watching Orrum follow suit, his tanned skin and leather coat in stark contrast to her pale white skin and tunic.

“I wish I’d left home when I had the chance.” She grumbled, flinching as the sounds of destruction continued filling the air. “But no, I just had to do what I was told, and stick around to help my cousin with the store… look where that got me. On my own watching the store while he’s off on his honeymoon, so of course everything gets destroyed now.” She continued, yelping as Orrum reached out and swatted her head gently.

“Shut your trap, girl! Dragons got some crazy hearing, an’ she seems to think she incinerated you!” He whispered, glaring at her with his piercing grey eyes. Darielle nodded dumbly, keeping her mouth shut and listening intently.

  They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to count, but eventually it seemed as if the dragon had run out of things to burn… or at least it got bored. With a final roar, the red monster soared over them and out of the ruined town, leaving the fires burning. Once the dragon was gone, Darielle let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slumped to the ground against the wall. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure Orrum could hear it, and she suddenly felt the sticky warmth of sweat coating her body. She stared dumbly at the ruins of Birel’s shop for several long minutes, feeling the adrenaline slowly fade before the harsh reality hit her like a hammer. The town might recover eventually from this, but Birel wouldn’t be able to start up his business for at least a couple of months, and she couldn’t do anything until he got back anyway… so she’d have to live off charity and what little survived the attack for some time. She struggled to her unsteady feet, moving towards the ruined building in hopes of finding something salvageable. The fires had mostly gone out here, but the stone was still warm to the touch as she dug through it slowly. Orrum sighed and watched, the old man clearly exhausted from running around like he had. She didn’t know what she was looking for. Something to just make everything go back to normal, something expensive enough to sell to some unlikely traveler and get everything fixed up for Birel before he came home.

Darielle was about to give up and go back to her house to see what had survived there when she heard an odd screeching noise. She froze, staring at the stones under her, wondering if maybe the senseless destruction and near-miss with a fiery death had driven her usually timid self a little bit insane. After a moment, though, she heard it again, weaker this time and accompanied by a slight shifting of the rocks. There was something under there. She redoubled her efforts, pulling away the stonework and wincing as she scraped up her hands doing so, most of her nails broken before she revealed the fruits of her labour.

“Orrum! I think you might want to see this…” She called, looking back to the old man. He was slumped against the wall, waving his hand dismissively.

“Later, Riel… I ain’t as spry as I used to be…” He groaned. His complaints were suddenly forgotten, however, as Darielle carefully lifted the survivor. Soft, almost leathery scales, blackened by soot, covered most of its body, and a line of thicker, overlapping scales ran down its spine. Four claw-tipped limbs moved weakly as it was lifted, showing off some surprisingly intact, membranous, bat-like wings on its front limbs. Its head was about the size of both of her hands, and the creatures small, sharp teeth were visible in its mouth, while the creature’s closed eyes were disproportionately large, smaller than its dog-like ears.  A long, wispy tail hung down from her hands, equal to the length of the creatures’ torso and head. Darielle held the housecat-sized creature in her arms, noticing the numerous small injuries covering the creature and oozing some blood onto her once-pristine tunic. She swallowed, barely able to believe her eyes as she held a baby Thwisp in her arms.

    As the sun’s rays began to force themselves into view between the vast mountains of the Giant’s Brow, the survivors had picked themselves up and, almost unfeelingly, set themselves to work. Yes, it was sad, but mourning wouldn’t feed their families. The buildings that were intact enough to be safe were converted into hospitals and shelters, and those with the strongest stomachs went about collecting the dead. From what anyone could tell so far, most of them had managed to escape with their lives, and many without injury. Those who weren’t healers or rounding up the dead found themselves either working to clean up rubble, trying to salvage food, or cooking said food.

Darielle, however, had what had been decided was a much more important task. Her home was demolished, and she was hardly in the mood to pick through the debris for anything that may have survived just yet. So instead, Orrum had graciously let her use his house- a small, quaint building at the edge of town, far enough away from the centre of the town to suffer only minor damage- to take care of her discovery. The building was nothing if not old-fashioned, with sturdy, rough wood paneling on the floor and ancient brickwork making up the walls. The house had four rooms on the main floor, as well as a staircase leading up to its second floor. The rooms on the ground level consisted of a kitchen with an ancient stove that smelled of old woodsmoke and some mostly empty cupboards, a dining hall with a dust-caked wooden table surrounded by three chairs, the main entryway with hooks for jackets and some sparse decoration, and the room she was currently in: the washcloset. The creature she’d rescued had been seemingly comatose for hours now, only weakly moving his limbs on reflex, barely even stirring. Her first task was to clean him. She’d filled a bucket with water and took a clean rag, tenderly wetting the cloth and trying to smudge away the soot and blood. Her tunic was, in fact, ruined by the red liquid, but she knew that if it was already soiled then why should she change to clean the Thwisp. Besides, trying on some of Orrum’s clothes hardly appealed to her. Every so often, she would pour some of the water over the young thwisp, slowly chipping away at the ashy soot to reveal the iridescent green scales in their proper glory. When the worst of the dirtiness was taken care of, she set his limp body in her lap and inspected his wounds. For the most part, the bleeding had stopped, luckily. His wings were a bit ragged at the ends and she saw several patches of missing scales, but the little creature was very lucky, it would seem. She sighed, taking a deep breath and shaking the sleepiness from her mind. She couldn’t sleep now, what would she do if something happened while she was asleep? She sighed again, taking a moment to breathe and absently run her hand over her charge. The loose line of scales on his back made a twinkling sound as she ran her hand over them, clinking together like windchimes. The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile, taking the time to properly admire the thwisp. She’d never really thought twice about the creatures that spent so much time in and above her town, she suddenly realized. They’d just always been there, like the stars in the sky and the cool, mountain breeze. Not now, though. The melodious cacophony of their trilling calls- something she’d never paid any mind to- were gone, leaving an empty, deafening silence in their absence. Now that she held one, though, she found herself missing them terribly. As she stroked his scales gently, it took her several moments before she realized she was staring into large, yellow eyes. She let out a startled squeak, jolting back and lifting her hand from his back. This prompted an equally startled squawk from the creature, jumping in her hold and almost falling, the cry turning into a hiss as his injuries made themselves known to him. Darielle hushed him gently, lifting a hand to show she meant no harm, as the line of scales she’d been petting raised themselves in an attempt to seem threatening. Their eyes never broke from each other, however. She stared into his disproportionately large, round eye, yellow as an egg yolk and streaked with gold, save for a cat-like vertical slash of a pupil. After several long seconds of nervous silence, however, the scales slowly relaxed, the thwisp deciding she meant no harm but still staring up at her with unblinking wariness.

“Oh good, it’s up.” Came a gruff voice behind them, making them both jump and the scales immediately stand up again. Darielle looked back to see Orrum taking off his ash-blackened coat and setting it on a hook by the door, the old man having slipped in with surprising stealth. He looked horrible, coated in a layer of dirt and ash, his greying hair looking as though it had regained its black colour once again. “How’s it looking?”

“He seems alright… a little worse for wear but he got very lucky. Nothing seems serious.” Darielle responded, looking back to the thwisp and hushing him again. “… Tell me about Thwisps, Orrum. I’ve never really thought twice about them, but now… I realize I don’t know very much about them at all.” Darielle finally piped up, glancing into the kitchen.

Orrum grunted and glanced over at her. “Thwisps are symbols, really. They’re why your people settled down here, apparently. Symbols of protection and safety, an’ all that. No one wants to hurt ‘em, so they adapted pretty quick to having us around, even started liking it so much they’d fly down an’ relax with us. Beautiful singers, ‘specially during mating season, hah!” He chuckled, prompting a quick glare from Darielle. “Thwisps aren’t known for their bravery, an’ even less so for their prowess in a scuffle. Couldn’t fight off annoyed pussy cat, most of them.”

“That’s hardly fair! Aren’t they symbols of safety? You just said so.” Darielle retorted.

“Yeah, they sure are. ‘Cause if they’re hanging ‘round a place, it means they got no reason to be scared there!”

“I think you’re just generalizing. I certainly didn’t see you out there waving your stick at the dragon!”

“Boiling Red ain’t the same as a grouchy housecat! Back then wasn’t an example, you know!”

“I thought you were a storyteller, aren’t you supposed to take every opportunity as an example for a story?”

“That’s enough outta you, Riel.”

“That’s not my name.”

“An’ my name ain’t Rum, but it’s what the pub knows me for, hah!”

Darielle sighed, shaking her head and looking back at the thwisp. He seemed to be looking around curiously, and she realized her hand was back on it, slipping down the row of scales on his back soothingly. “An’ it seems you’re a real natural with ‘em, considering you don’t know a thing about ‘em.” He added, pouring the now-ready tea into two cups and bringing one to her. The cup was chipped and plain white, clearly not important, but considering how barren his kitchen was and how often she saw him performing at the tavern, it made sense that he wouldn’t put too much care into his dishes. “One more thing about Thwisps you might wanna know.” He added, setting the cup down. “They’re pack animals. They don’t like being separated from their family, so your little friend there ain’t gonna be this calm forever.”

Darielle frowned at that, watching as he left the room and stomped up the stairs, grumbling about needing to change. She sighed, looking down at the thwisp in her arms and gently rubbing its head. He couldn’t stay with her forever, she knew that. But what if the other thwisps didn’t come back? Orrum had said they settled down in places they had no reason to be afraid in, but a dragon attack certainly qualified as a reason, didn’t it? That attack had rattled her to the core, and if the thwisps were as defenseless and cowardly as Orrum suggested, it certainly would make sense to stay away now. She stared down at the creature, wishing for some solution to appear. He simply stared back at her and let out a distinctly unhelpful chirp. “Hey little guy… I guess I have to get you to your family, huh?” She murmured, then paused. “But… if your family isn’t here… I guess that means I’d have to go on an adventure with you to find them, won’t I?” She asked, unable to keep the small swell of excitement from her voice. For once in her life, she didn’t have to just do what she was told. No one was here to tell her to do something, and she had a mission now that was too important for her to just be talked out of it… maybe it was time for her to finally take charge! If she’d done that in the first place, then she wouldn’t have been Birel’s assistant for the last five years, working hard to prove herself since she could hold a hammer and stopping her from ever seeing the world. The thwisp tilted his head as he stared up at her, shifting and moving until he was practically standing on his hind legs in her arms, leaning the rest of his body against her chest and nosing into her neck. She laughed, feeling him sniff at her like a very strange dog.

“You like that idea, huh?” She asked. “Then it’s settled! We’re going on an adventure together!” She announced, standing up suddenly. The thwisp in her arms let out a squeak of excitement and surprise as she stood, and Darielle suddenly felt a nip to the side of her neck, making her cry out and lift her free hand to nudge his head out of the way, holding the area and feeling a little blood leak out. The bite was clearly not meant to harm, though. “Sorry!” She apologized, realizing sudden movements most likely weren’t welcome for the startled thwisp.

    As she waited for Orrum to return, a few things began to gnaw at the back of her mind. Why did Orrum call the dragon ‘Boiling Red’ twice now? Where would they go to look for the thwisps? And something that overtook any other thoughts in her mind; What was her new companion’s name? As she pondered this, the old storyteller came back down the stairs, hair still slightly damp from its apparent washing. The ash was mostly gone from his body, and he wore a clean, if plain, brown tunic and trousers. He leaned on his gnarled walking stick as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the past day having not been kind to his aged body. “Do you know the dragon?” She blurted, making Orrum jump slightly and turn to blink at her as she stood there, holding the thwisp to her chest.

“Damn, Riel, you startled me!” He huffed.

He waited for several long moments for her to respond, but she simply stared at him. She wanted answers.

“Alright, alright, fine. Yeah, I’d recognize that dragon anywhere. She’s got legends about her, you know! The terrible Boiling Red, scourge of the lands. She doesn’t head this far north too often, but she matches all the stories far too well to be a coincidence.” He sighed.

Darielle nodded, digesting this information. “Right… okay. Second question… Do you know where the thwisps would go after running away from Boiling Red like that?” She asked, her little friend chirping and glancing over at Orrum, as if wondering the same.

He shrugged. “South. There’s a little grove a couple weeks’ foot travel south of here, thwisps live there too. If these ones got spooked, they may have gone to live with more of their kind.” He suggested, then frowned. “Hold on now… does this mean you’re planning to go?”

Darielle nodded again, this time with determination. “I always wanted to go out on an adventure, this seems like the best chance I’ll get!” She replied, making him groan.

“There’s no talking you outta this… so I guess I gotta go too. Otherwise you’ll get yourself lost or killed… or both. Besides… maybe it’ll make for a good story one day.”

She beamed at that, grinning down at the little thwisp. ��So, what’s his name?” Orrum piped up again, making her think for a moment.

The name finally popped into her head. She had no idea where it came from, but something made her feel so sure, so right about it. She petted the little thwisp, looking at Orrum again.

“Kovek. His name is Kovek.” She announced, receiving an approving, almost affirming chirp from her newly named friend.

“Kovek? An’ just what gave you that idea, eh?” Orrum scoffed.

Darielle was quiet for a moment, looking down and wondering if she was wrong. No, she was right! “I’m not sure, but I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m right!” Yes, she was. That was his name. Kovek chirped and nosed into the small bite mark he’d left in her neck, seeming to apologize for it. She gently patted his back, even as she continued staring down the taller man until Orrum gave up.

“Seems like he won’t accept anything else, huh? Fine. Kovek the thwisp. I’m sure that name’ll stick when I tell the story of how you got yourself killed…” Orrum grumbled, but Darielle could see the slight shine of amusement in his eye. He was looking forward to whatever happened next, despite his grouchy demeanor.