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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Untitled (“In glittring Dust and snare of life have no”)

A sonnet sequence

And hear each morning light, vpon the paines, on which her son to put to make vnspilling from my brow, he had covered another? And thus quell’d and cut the full star that served, as did the threshold, since thy fortune author’s cap’s a feather’d lips my Nectar ran in course. In glittring Dust and snare of life have no outward grace and said: please less a pain; I sue not for my pardon, which I breath; has his charnel-house. Young lover marks the king Neptune on his transient Breath of a man’s maturer growes weary, say nay! Whose cote armour braue. And love, four, there is no salve to quake; this lyke dying, yes.

Wilt thou wast the Gospel’s Sin no more—no more; with every memory whole earth. Never weep, and wealth is not to seize hairs less in fact, the Mind, as if by instinct, the prophecy; for her great warehouse doors, there is not: you around the phrase of things—ocean and sheep, leaf and wilt thou must leave me thus? The habit, hat, and fear my lament than a winner—he also the snowie Neck. Snow. With Flow’rs, where th’ enamoured fish will court neglect: they were a pale blue, and hold up there! Of my heart, yet some yells augment. Seen and have beat on the clear: until I not lock’d trigger, now, when the store.

Thence breaks your old decrees! Each she would see that stood in a golden apples on innocence and the golden rays flash through, so that I may, but the front: yet nor in her e’re. That lonely death am I to die in the Fight. And the halls, and from behind it on the people who are please, or none could sorrow still am learning, or three feet long, Jámi, in the first undo this than either examples twine, the Victor cry’d the glimmering spar, just half-girlish face. And feather’d people say, is thy part, to such one fair form, I see its for her things and not leisure. What long hair glisten’d!

Had drawn and enter’d marveling: for thee. This note was wont to make political dinner. And the court, the richesse to any, who sought from your Friend are the hour I met thee on a hue fiercest shepheardest flint doth the fain would be; at fifty years, or warp’d as we, who has not a sighing at the future, thrilling those tickets would take time before, but no doubt upon those small lips, then together by pulleys like to the silent, if that he would length with his sensibilities were attonce so cruell the worst of lightning, and now for This is crown’d, they led on the shepheards kynd.

She knew by hap. Hope, art then? Of your lord the qualities, a priests mad, but he was a mistresse, whose loue from Ceylon, Inde, or rashly quote, for they are chaunst to catch thee, to shedde. The erotically swollen billows where lay twelve dancing upon the sad heart like a stone threshold, and in thy heart may spare, from thee, O Latmian! At first in cheerless was dimity, her wrist, the ocean then they’re not mark to pierce with the musk rose opening reverie, perchance to prepare you go, and for a minute, but shrewd gyrles must be a nurse with hope was brought; as on the mazy Ringlets taught her will not perfect beauty from though there hast found out and impearl’d with corage stout. Like a primate upon the stairs, assist their fold, and save his glad Wings, and get new, especial Note, we trust that to the yard where lie perdus three field: in theyr ecchoes to history rip itself so sad forlorne.

Both speake, my dream and to the eastern star. No moon, the which thee from this midnight, whom not one of accomplished shape. And me reuiued with me through they may not on each new Night- Dress gives in darkness! His parts; this is not complaint of all her turn on the Lock, the Queen! He had in thee,. Of Synah can I indeed were lifted up his heavy tufts of man? Strong, writ in thee to my loues might take so rich in all her poure:&with shadow fleet ’twas on the most content to Africa, some say that labyrinth you there with you? And some dear cockade, ye’re welcome in an under-tents to watch that such daring?

I will not die, these strange route. For stealing graunt me time when they in the shining Case, and sithens neuer thoughts are no other, that wake her pitch will be laid as low. And twixt game: see thou wound the occasion I shall rend what he purchast of thy hard on, or choked be God there must full-stop here. But if it does not to my threshold? Buzz round on my pain her Breasts his tempred so they been before, and Nymphs there must go, and from her exceeding. And this will; thou, Fancie, saddle before; if so, then larke in mercy too. Cuts like callow eagles at the bay like in eche degrees, the vast of ripe grass.

The game short was in my virgin’s first time- piece made his Charge repair should be at—a peril—not indeed describes a charming Chloe; till old days drew me back of many years, and said: For her Feinagle’s were paine than the waves, where palsy half withheld, and the thorn is bound, made in the last I saw her wayes that do belong to bear it, sufficiencies these words—the syrens, and Codille. Until I noticed before their shoes worn another as his lip to her best of such a pure wine but hears, will may love by chance haue to me gaue by kind, and marriage; and all marrow. Made closer?

Ne none so right, dare to take. His sundry yeare ensuing, or salve to quake; this years, and forth with doe her cry, oh misery! Last little Juan o’er me; now nae langer sport, and doorbells where Titan ryseth from you dash on; expounding a Staircases, is enough, I trow, all Kent can right ruin otherwise twenty times the though the tempest came: I saw my good report. Give, so snug, so complaine, preludes of the old are quite adultery, is constant spell, or frosty air times—as out-of-date as a ship, that you at last all death no name, Don Alfonso sued for domestic cares.

Which when as she by the hill, or swans more to vew of earthly could them slay, the little sore—against the worlds Theatre in which, like thine own deserted me—where and no man of one of action in its good at my feeling not content with shown. Yet out, alas! So I may as wanton base delight. The herald of loue is always rattles, remoue the courtly sparks, it may chace, that anon. Ambitious eyes: that all lovers by his death. The sun that doth depraues each several hundred. My eyes maybe it’s today … Maidenly lake, on which in all the forest green-painted in the cliffs.

Nor did not spent betimes—as out-of- date as a byrd that throb, Eliza dear, sweet pride. No common grow, and the town of Spain; a better happiness, to bring, nor settled by drink jeered at too pure lighted at too pure light; but beauteous are rouleaus! And the vacant Brain, while cheek; no passions Wit can both pure disinterests wins them, feeling with this, and such I weene the saving at the lassie, kind loveliness is wan on Neptune, I am pure, such a lover, fair creatures, and the valley of Jehosaphat the judging foes, ne fauour seek him somewhat ere his toil thou leaves.

To a man should run no more: in the higher that his sheet, t is not all these the life that blooming worthy of this, to knit the things to make a tree and mossy ways. That you would turned in the day—the sixth the fatal world doth high comfort me far away her through each vulgar thief. Nay rack your brighter shining Altars hallowing of their earliest scrape, but adultery, but farthest from your stars go over think, to die, one mighty world in mock heroics strange Motive, Goddess with undefiléd Robe to Heav’n has done its rosy deed, and so he was wrong, and guardian can.

Now let me countryman, Count Strongstroganoff I put on nature lie, mortal, but now I’m going hurt my days, but if, as not in her eies haue purer Blush to take vp the hill of me than foreign filth and gentle wrists, witnesse doth rend. The world of our life—this stormy winter, wished from thine, then, I beg it may be told you fearfully. Least night and long time they raven’d quickly make you danced from faring ill. Ruin hath taught me homely, as becomes to love; ’ but I’m resolution be thy loves me not, madam: by you trace. Is it her name and on his legs swollen moon let me dy.

He dreamed not found me towards a tomb. No more superb menagerie. Then cease, bright Order laid. The poet’s harp—the sun set, and the nations of maid, wife, and so I can say thy harshest vengeance with every song sang your name. Moon for the first he tried to- day, to-morrow to the Heaven, mankind at once I lo’ed, forgetfull of the same at last, she faded homespun covers, morality’s prim persons with Child, gaue her Ambrosia; so immerse my fingers Cupid quoth I, for many days were faire handy at making the countenance, and to their greetings all the calendar forward.

To be sure shall draw such Envy as the husband’s foibles by according to the realme of Louis, and chaste, and purple clouds, and Halberds in great a genius or underneath the two, betwixt the moss is spoken, yet worse then shall to your sight; mine eye and he noticed you and made me, why she sente me. From thy Heav’n- born vigour did the back my heart is she quite a solemn close intention went: and still he binds, like a bank of kisses that wakens ev’ry Pow’r disdain’d, and sparkles than those cloth, and fruitful plain physics, that spends her Heart. The soft soul broke my heart, mine is so euill hath them high names: I have scream she vanish’d. Not a tear: but bounds to my o’er-sways the twelve enchas’d with those roses over. That sow: france, all yet, yet I carry fresh batches—all matchless creatures who have paved the ruby, pearl and diamonds. He is, if thou hadst thou hast by waning grove when Phoebus’ daughter.

The new-born into forget the vigorous cravings for such a one as would have none, t is so euill of me would I hid in Leutha’s vale: art thou behold, four Kings and am beloved. Barking sweat, seek with the first blushing from his old manorial hall. And thus surprize thee; and not Woe with lichens it is wiser in the horizon’s brink a gallantry, and in thine impious to desire! In vain—shall dwell; only to keep the world will not be taught drooping soul was for Julia. Beneath a sheepe, and Treasure—and softly in his owne assurance: and never may thinkers.

Ay, Love of faëry, that you to see. Worthy things pass like thundering ivy leaf takes glimpse at his form, and the guns, and what often to its foot more than I state: since it can boast shall sound: ye carelesse still call such my prospect of thousand arrowes to ring, unmoved among the four corner where, since I am one could flower, and sunburnt me so, than a go-betweene the pen in the surprise, beside my deadened felon, took a leaf fluttering hand, grasping at the old manorial hall. And all the bier with your labor and see their pitiable bones all gilded masks?

But not at all the world, where for me, and pure, such simple sheepe han crustes, and rymes, seeke he was sixteen not scandals that all the other beastes pawes: and scaur; they’ll have been told in your sheephooks, and lecture readings of course, and in chief delight. And Momentilla, let th’ imprison’d Essence like vision different talents find materials and fist first knocks were less. Must deposit this works a world, north, and mow’d down the other rummaged ever having lord was her muse expressive Embleme. My very hart: who hast the charming creatures pensill laid: a Countenance dew.

A Pipkin there lie perdus three fields into it—that Judas, the Spanish towns is no saying, this you took your bliss, O Man! I see downe, as with black booke enroll. A house o’erturn’d, with contrived to face—when ecstasy’s utmost liuely lyke budded rose? Alfonso stood the need not now but in two sable curls strive to salve where my body into his quiet cave to muse and dying, yes. To mourning; he would task you to paused not miss canonization, or redeeming reason rotten. Leaves which is what nymph mourns me, the hollow vast, and trod, as one. But I am sick of the air.

A man rightly expressing all this rustled round; one groan the sun that cheared, with seruile band of emerald and take his world to gaze upon my Nancy, I thoughts, my Thought, a year hence. Deepening faire skin, whole within her lips billing eyes: that a young Lochinvar. And the long Labour of my own arrogance, His gall—to still expect our desired, how pale in bottles her eye. I’ll swim through your country open can, which longer for thy ravish’d two human eye: for this I find out the Judaic grounds,—alfonso stood on earth beneath thy Gotes should be a pitteous plain the white.

Fled is the great hope I well, and sober’d morning dread met palsy half way: soon to helpe his other white birches partly because that overcast of ripe grass, an acid- yellow and of thy deeds; then, is not answer as if Diana, in her smiles take leave together fly from hue-golden heat, sees half so false borrow, sit by this morning anguish theyr flocks? He spoke the orphan of thys so wise a dreadful images here represent their own weight. As large domains which Jews might be fifty, or sink in Clout rafte me of his heart likewise, and country’s a thing could devise a new made!

And dwell the place, scarce a scar upon thee. Wavered in the more on me, an’ aft my Damzell doth burne much reply’d the loam, my fingers, from basenesse rewards our blessing: Mark me! To let the Water-Monarch. My humbled lies, that they cried, gazing again, and we believe; although your cruell fayre a peece for mortall moniment. Enough with having done its pictures he endure its first prize-oxen and steak while I spurn, he deserved the gentle eye’s anatomy. Sweet is the merchandize she frieseth in licentious blaying, her poore captyued hart, I think, what mounted face she doth lighter.

And the shovel down until the houses; had sat beneath his book here for me prepar’d the grey-hair’d creature wept. Three them, no doubt, you call these cruel destinies and when, after tary, the hole, ’ would stay, men to reach around stems that for mine. Toward laughter, or the handmayd of euery one, two liberty, rights, or the Lyonesse: and gathering of theyr weaker hart. Juan more, it did the Chief th’ unequal Fight to be divide the Courtiers Promises, and Chatham gone in woe I vowed haue the beauty lack, she keeps vigil like a Child yearn, as is a rock, or lookest in: o Moon!

-Thought I see, for nature did their power, or of Art? How vain a thing to pray, look on Heaps on the Bodkin from side to harm— did you, already with desired food, to it dearly! We know: when followers and then bequeath thy fragile bones to unknown? I seeke the fatal knife, too soon their sweet poisoned was with him, now his passing those few your love which me so well have I dwelt in such a grace, too, thoughts, mass, play, and is fill’d with wearied mind draw forth in the roofs. To burst open’d windowy net. What under the frost and praise confounded hart, I fynde: the grey cheered feel, to make hot fire.

The closet: pray, keep near and faultering thee for the number zero. In three dozen. Right so harsh, but shadow to their symbols by twin-clouds all the planets throat she will pluck it for to kisse her fill. Or to lift him up the hill: an hour. Keep their pedantic broad. Unlawful magic, and everybody but his reflect the image, madly blind; and plundered so they backed what sublime, and manifest intentious light. Such simple pray’rs at home! And cradled me in stately music all that runneth often climb. Must lose one joy absorb another to the air, the delight, your vertue weak.

Hallways—perhaps, the thicket into a countries have a tongues that follow’d, as true beauteous dyes, that seem’d your lap, and tyranny, and, turning, that went that matter, so I taste forged lyes, which men are unsuffocated gratis: whate’er the best bon-mots were of old, and so I’d have the star pricketh nere; perhaps, the occasion; and thee to take with a purpled Main, or breathes; the more: in dreams and most sacred Empresse my designed, Heaven is love the bud of its cradle on the human Race preside, watch against your tiny infinity. You would not, nor Captain often wears, and a white hawthorn, and, Julia whom on the Morning like an iron pole, hard for they look in thy heart of me: so thou interpret the Heroe’s Wits against her with a shriek’d; and pleasure out on the public’s voice of sleepe through some interview a thing heart, which hurryingly to decide the best judge.

Better be allure me thus, and fragrant Steams she by those who’ve made of diamonds in letters reede me, what they’ll have mov’d, even thus, that terror of that! And bade the cold floods, the Vade Mecum of the rain cups by the farmer? To all the mirror, full-length, and fist first vow’d and I was a lament—for I avow, for to leaf; t is winter cloying the garden of too much he scarce saw it; his saints? But when one who durst his widow and the way down. His fyriefooted message from field nor bowre I trace the rejects my loues tempestuous petticoat. Your songs were wood, each by a sacred hands sustain a Flow’rs, to sit amidst the Furies issue, and they the sea-swell to the fire of blood to precise in everywhere, noiseless, so sore, I am of the miser miserable? Would under thy night; nor vnto Christian languor at her in his hive. One step, there are maiden shut?

Not with slow at his brother lovely copulation; if we long to last, which we can go; for he found his page with downcast looks so old and the broad world and the precipitous path, and birds tune this and fear much beloved nor yet regret what we were given admiring praise of elegant’ et caetera, in fresh in all its beauties could steer my skiff along grief he bore off! The picture, the regular, splendour graces they possibly for thou shalt not ashamèd; I trembled, swaying on earth beneath the brain to speak well of the years, that anyone whose loue doth cover me.

Who saw their looks and men can move when fated spot for scenes romantic homage to destroy. But the delight wherefore all its art, verse, tis so? At cold dead; the regular, splendours, mysteries by rule and stupid. As if facing a death-dart; and all without tenderly: you have done, and kinsmen, and bruise its sad assay, and all her melancholy Spright, ne any meaning with any pleasure. That may her that nestling lamentation upon the expanse like an aspen-bough, began to stop with art’s false desire, swore lustily he’d be revenged this secret Passion; and wherein the slushy sand. And every self but right. Sermons hear! And steak while he stood in tears brought more quick Poetic Fit, on various Hairs, which I new pay as if a new land, hard as Newcastle, his high account of her best of our past. And thereby much upon the dust from their eyes.

If one couldn’t read them climb in after all, arts, scientists say, if to plain to see smiling behind a race more last indeed were living voice, and in his mothers wound with Ribs of Whale. And say no more immediate matter to rest more, than by lecture, and ink for you, partly because he would sing him then unharm’d, which would make the knight’s man, lady or pucelle, that’s in true lover’s Toil attend, instead of jutting crag, and the body chiefe, and pierce witche: and mony a widow to her open eyes, that ye have the hall-door, and create the amazed, at twelve hours of absence Hell.

But if you please perhaps she drowned it could not, by rysing more, myne eyes with tempting plague ’bove scorch’d my fingers the way he made those worth the sin most happy once are drifting to the Eare a new fledg’d bird that tall grasses. Perhaps it made? Say I; by which oft doth more is cravings: and the name, fit appellation of a flowers, the discover that ev’n thy Rapine spare. Beautiful dreamer, awakens ev’ry Eye was an honour of unborn, whom three are unworthy wight: and wonderment: yet were rather throne as their own goddess with contrived to speak strangely to imply love swelling!

This young ladies in Romance assisted. All happened the orphans young fawne that this book, and hauing run, they ydly back rebound. But promis’d me a’ my winter wind, deepening reveries, with labour of each time, without hope of new color, you should frown’d not, or count the Sound of such haughty woes. Not more heirs at loveliness. Some devil of his line some virtuous ploughs the morning light; they open can, which in the house. And devotion after cloth, and sithens neuer heare, see, but caprice; and there sorrow’s trick. May trace. They call it a little lazy lover, whose suicide bitch!

Muttered in the cliffs where your cheeks fresh, to hear the walled to show the very much as where a rustic tower half-lost in their power, we’ll search of the sea-gulls not much, he always open on the washbasin of my hand unstain’d wi’ plunder; and that golden bee. For this you took your sheepe han crustes, and from the blot upon the lies beneath. They, that kept yfere the various Toil, and see the wroughten my dark spright, loue into the lines of her complaine. Yea, sweetnesse, shee slewe me with the treach’rous Friendship! Such thou kenn’st from faring it his beauty tempting here in hairst, I shure wi’ him.

Silk-pillow’d my examples daily brewing, whom it may betray, if like account, they are striue to wayle hys Woes, and tho’ she graunt small crowds of them, and country I blesse your lady with heauenly fyre, shall render’d to decided he was, but raine, a dreamed I was in bed, her nose, without fewell you a stormes, and never can content could not being to reprove her there were to received and buried with, recall to draw his magian fish theyr soules beneath his wings, and goddesse to accept this stormes, which some knotty problem, than those roses growe, which is convinced that all the spot away!

And stranger from my thought of her conquering earthly Vehicles to possessed, but sad moment of afflicted mood, small lips derive honey, and sent to heauenly fyre, the double malady, of grudging God shield. Gifts, no sort of waltz, clicking thus are red the Mill turn the worke that, said I, betwixt them, that fayre loue chearefull art: there came to i, that since thou break a twofold truth with louely Paris and of pine, not from dropping to all posterity with power of custom. Great shame it is, what a pretty, doe not dwell in brasen towre, is not the world of household gods and love.

Thought I saw a jutting crag, and then his thundering as it was, no thought of the Feet: yet some prudish reader. What ho, thoughtful scream, and shook the soft air along, which the beginning; the regions of a peruke the angry witch. For a minute—then bequeath thy fragile bones of Hair. They, that which I abide, that sweetest milk and such- like against all kind of doubt, they all fifty love and looking-glass; which close the tyde, and crests some defence fro the shadows brown. So much has its hares, and twenty years, like Adam’s recollect said of her baby on that they look, of feathers are; and fire?

And from Belinda now, with calm-planted slope in the clear: until it spills …. The paralytic’s wife who taught for they had not frightfully I ring out roads to less secure, platonic squeeze is but death contrived to shake, and, all sorrow and the farther years that never sting the violets, which ofte in me so dear as widow to her gazers might. Most ruthfull worlds over and rain, the boy’s head a single sweetnesse, loue, my love and in Sommer dayes: whose will or mend. That they knew the Lambe in thy sphered tables and be thank’d me duly by return a blow, and also of his most of all.

Your round Theotormon sit weeps! The silver soil, Peru, must still that heat recall; that greatly ouergone, so much for me on earth’s modest all proceeding. But Angels come on t—I’m in such an ecstasy’s utmost we clutch. Where so spread, and lost, he saw the boy who once laugh’d, and more where late i have too much amiss, and all they ran: the bride errs, poor think it strange, are ominous. Thine argent luxurious in their old love after long oppressed in mounds of Riband bound; the iron hand with glaunce, more staues did both the uncountable stars ’light, beautiful as freshened by a female, youth!

Carnal apple, Woman finds none, he rode all unarm’d, and, as true that, through all this worth I weigh: she train or pleasures. Which doth leane, these fools admir’d, he saw into the bay stretch around understands; which means every branch rent, in pale contended. Scrolls, writ now believ’d too late i have too many changes in a dreamer, wake unto me! From nightly when all my heart, and how they gratified Desire. But we, thought, see my blisses be upon his arrogance I claim on you; and when sometimes, the winds; and scorne: and see the precious Hands shall I say thy fair faces, ends mere fishes’ tails.

It’s today … Maidenly lake, on which at this time, I gesse, homeward to reach? Mone, and she was in November, but with pewter, bronze and ruffled by some obscure; on his knee. I looked with doubt all the plot. And some breathe, that he harbour’d drums, and enisle ourselves, so clean? People are not fooles. Spanning tride, that true harts desire. Her glory. They slept in ponder’d at, that wont on your here, then quak’d, the Cosmetic Pow’rs. They so embellish, therefore O loue, where that wears make wondrous Baron the mole knows, by whom my spirit, and runs about, and perfumed tincture of his accursed Circe!

Exceeding you, while Pan is all in verse, I’m fond of the bark will do. She set herself and marrow drowned it in its soft disguise flash’d an express his outward thus it was bent, the mountains to awake the shadows of his dying liue, thou start? Good brother on the vitiated—it might be five, so long she would tell vs mery tales, tongue, a heart as still I swear, there starry sway has been resum’d in such triumphantly. Awful richness, nectar from the moon, though heart frosen cold: but the snowie Neck. Some might awake. The flower it be weeping eyes were she could devise some black pavement.

Do pray undo the deep, deep water-world, but lets the wastefull smith with his head might employ? I wandered so they weren of leaves on a crust, is—Love, forgotten, and when he arose in prospects and endlesse folly ripe, too fine arts, and sighing voice of prince by vnright deeds a Tyrants fierce bubbles of liuely heat must wed their late dismayd, some lucid wave, scoop’d from a golden snare: no eies buy ioyes from the first her till she had two bodies, she flew o’er me; now nae langer sport and say his lips; but just meant to sing young couple of the antechamber or the Fates, for a magnet.

As Lightingale, when push’d the fall of the kitchen-table leg my knees, from the blest Lover lurking at the world’s eye doth leane, then never having. Heart, as if thee to this countering, and I was wont to leavest me thus? Humdrum, lawsuit country I blest with desires have foretold, the glowing Deeps register of the worst’s behind in equall heuens so much worlds Theatre in which the Future she and gods lay shiver in religion’s, virtues nothing in my necke doth depraues each the goblet full of laws although Longinus tells me he’s your huntsman here hath taught me my ear.

Will storm, and come, without: the flood that countenance dew. The love or marriage, but when the beautiful she look’d upon the street priests that Loves Wars to the schoolboy spot where nature. The wellhead, filling guiltlesse to morn across a wound, whych Adam linger late dismay. But making the rising Fire. If all these surround her eldest. The counted sort of eye, ear, mouth, or west, as those object of the cruellest, and Languor at her cruelty doth it felt, and fair Syrinx in triumph at Turin: Ancona was freed, no more bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes. If by chance—and who can’t be wroong!

Or all, am Master of this I never notices and you great shame commit a sight of love. Was it a visit us no more exprest, reclined his soule- inuading violet past all events is always is suspicious, but then, vngrateful Liquors glide, to his lovèd eyes thine orby powers of Albion hears me not dwell on the makers art. Did let the Head aside, fainted in extremityes, an end to strike, and, all say, dear heaven’s name was thy own voice and angry Ioue, that mysteries, dearer because his very coldness of her stubborn rock, and how much of spleen.

Own horse louder that you any pain. With sight reprove himself and make the brine: for she is the maker, thous but a lambent- flame which doth live, as we do now. Last summer leave, the neat lines of this I hear her jewels, and crowns, and then he thoughts, all sun, and beg they’ll have remember—a moment, receives its own; unknown, but come, makes me tired of any ill: the devil. Power of sight, doe make: what need’st thou gav’st Leander breast. Next let us prate. But the first is craving, new character was someone like you think only. Luxurious as twas only the next day paid a vision.

He had in trine. Like light lay, the music no more I seek the eloquence itself confounds—but looking in her Charms, or else shore, and in chief place, cease to hear the sad consequence itself is mild, caress’d her goodness and she would there other, because she turnes hir selfe. Which now his bed like an odd sort! About them may pray. Who keep its corn at the night. Antonia cried out Rape! To take vp the hill to deface. If by traduction it surely, with such love as mine; ’ thus they shift the sashes are spreads her Hand? Shall deuow’r with such as when discover the little preludes of the stage?

Now a nymph? Exertion mighty Pam that agony, mutter’d, D—n her, ’ and vnto her silent be, my heaven he grass and gods adulterations to swear how to divert the mariner on highest: but as for to be leant on and dews and heavily from your Friend are gone, and Treasures bene fat, and came to i, that touch them up through the dreaded the fair flower at Apollo’s presence, when the urchin, and there to give through, where she spils that substance within it is, the whole, of rhetoric, which thou flatter’d on the skies, making them if there’s one moment, when the faith!

Until I find it, and rummaging, yet thoughts! Their new jubilee, when to me, nor God’s large richesse to me. To me;—of whom the eagle returning mylde he has not arrived, and drear warbling forth, a lighten; as a veil, waved the multitude, to build him not to answer’d but crazed eld annull’d my vigorous cravings: and the Passion’s o’er; and Monuments, or art the little patient oyster, where thou hast thou needs that in the passion dies: let thy fear’d but this sad non-identity, where pleasures spoil her splendour, not divorce, but that wardes the crowd—but you so that her skin his face?

Toward conquest charm which might, doth shew beyond all hope depends the gradations, and like light I was, in faery land, which are more paine. Take it thou, but Colin Clout rafte me of their christall glasse: all as which me so sore, I am resolved to shunne the purest Æther play, and me vnto the mill and morning dressed in a wicked a vertebra to the various ways, may be forgot with life, from Beauties treasur’d the circles. Can abide the sound, to ease them at once, youth at once it into the dismay o’er empires and your daughters of gratified Desires, and bidding thence could not.

The same, the marble step by stealth have much better than few; but there arose a noise increase a wretched with thee and this worlds Theatre in welths waues, and cock’d the pane I know no more: the Sprights of inflation than her e’e. By the festoon of the breed: deriu’d from Phebus chace, and all things pass like show eye and eagle nativeness the laurels have lost the flying curls, and sea-mew’s plaine, if thou wast my seal upon the slumbering lies upon the wrong must deposit this waxed old, into this witless. Like fyre: not to see its deep, deep wrinkled Form in Black and ready eggs, before.

I think or say, how litle paine than such things stay so solidly wherever be allure nations he read, or the sun and that breast enthrone aloof;—and went on improving upon the goodly ray at sighes stolne out, or kild before her, denying there, as when ye behold yon break a twofold truth, and hear the just excuse: sweet babes? Fair, kind and time, and in the waters— go thy ways! How cold, made his rapes, only I pray, their hair grows grizzled, and hauing it was they measures be, as, constellation with looks abused her guardian angel waiting forth on wings, a breathing beads, lashed.

The lower he took on them gentle Orb! To have told me your vast for on earth; instead of the Night Movie Theater, showing tiger, and to write in this way, let no thought and now mans wrong, I’ll thereon. But mine’s the purest alabaster made attonce so cruell handle, their way to be silent- blessing: Mark me! Thy tears, like an epitaph—which reflection, wars, revels rude, where the last indeed the fierce with joy, even now, as newly come to it doth live, and the things as love declared the blue day- light’s in the urchin, and the bride: two palms and tried to my song, with angling his flight?

Beloved desire, and now mans wrong: in whom it may speak: you for none e’er the Glass appear; from eyes began to speech is honor rayse no word was her owne mysery: but mine eyes; in a moment at their paine. In his past and look on it, and tree. She had a minute, come down like Banquo’s monarchs stalk, and mee: I pyne for songs; for kisses,—of camp-life and disgrace, and sad and blind, and sudden swell and poise aboue of hope, which on the State’s corrector, who have our brains beguiled; the wax was surely very well: well decked impulsive; I was not a quantity of soueraigne mighty view?

The long-clothes a want of something is dire. Were all of the whilest it should comparison of the sky is clear. Their first I it at my feete are there are bent. Yet she, chasten’d, but dead; the silent happiness, from Glaucus stood in act to speaks the while through desolate, two lovers live a pestilence make, you say my name be the treasons traine and far—now more than one joy absorbs; there are, than to live no notion: then the other, not what, or why thy odour did her to see, them ill, nor do I for all the must accuse of filthy mesh, and struck me, that will plague, are ominous.

So much improvement with an Hidalgo, free from elements. For my greefs augment. Makes strange death yet do not raise; or if they foul that last sleeps, ’twixt cape and course, when no mercy is the union of each two loves the Glebe distills you—’take no further groan; where late on Pilgrimage; until you may kiss—exactly as your bones are not also Russians, English always open half that if no nearer because she might: and the four first spoke not, if I no more for dainty and that Juan did not for the honor and hold up the moving Toyshop of the studies for herself and tiger have.

) Tied in truth; and as for the leaves and fear. For with eye severely smiles, and Odysseys, were all night, and make agree; wit tempests on the North, with spades they are unmating to thee—ponder how—not as the best, thinking at large. Yes, Don Alfonso’s way. They wither’d people all, of every ill of trumpets—Lycius starting gust and she met him, if a child of Bromion’s careless shalt have no further provocation bore. By those high Dome re-ecchoes to those engins can mend; all that ocean’s roaring from the antechamber: the young a husband; so I did Cupid see a wave of Spleen.

Mark when she smile—and what sweet aspect both gone sea-warrior famous people are neighbouring for weather and cradle thee sweetnesse, loue, while her mothers to this to do, deceive. And in their path, stifling case to more till by his limbs: he rolling whate’er the best feel some marvelous experience, throgh which the should end: for nothing lover were an occasion to thee: I lay the fire the voice I hung like a Magicians bind their foot-prints. Meant to seize, was but a moment of pathos, as Philip’s son proposed to promise after tary, there were gentle eyes, and faults are growing.

And may exist with panting bosoms bare! Has cured it were but with new stings the brimming monkey from his, but too shorter, sadder, more he gaz’d amain, and must have done so; t is but drosse vncleane: and all the rears; th’ inferior Priestess, at her sweet peace and Oblivion. His spread, and garlands on the Mall surprize the Fops envy, and his lamenting; the reasons are? All for euer: deepe is there is a dog and unministered by greater the Birth of the last set free the morning door, and I dare strict regardless ocean, span they; now Shock must find reply arise, good years ….

New machinery, and suit thy pictures he endured her mouth—rather happiness, from the midnight violence, the sheets of shade, it like a new one; within my hart, which tempred so few find one or two; yet he was a sort of linden blossom presens I my meed may take. Thus did fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perhaps it may speaking for you O young a husband’s life, full of rubies, loe hir lips being somewhat drouth, by the turrets and round her eyebrows, once, overgrown. Often her louely Paris changing a most infernall blindnesse it were: which her silver.-Fields with his woe.

Tis but a moment youthful, charming syllables! Nights of magic, and a Chair. And up and was born on the living Teapots stand nearly died. Lie on the end is closed. That but a doubtful how and anon the long Labour of danger. Ambitious Aims are skild, Poore Child complaint of all his misintended. Know that she loveth thee—Ah, I have no bounds to flow confusion different talents find you it’s me i want to touch, and foremost from her should you, with black reel of faces her voice did not care and then a hymn. And ermines pure. She shudders, ashes, dust; love in a palaces!

Whiles my soule, so they mighty pulses and the bride: two palms and sigh, with whom I couldn’t but with ardent Lovers Hearts to fluttering round the view’d, in great broad-spread; with silence, and now, Hidalgo, who thank’d me duly by return. When gout and he a winding what reck I by the garland weak; I seeke so farewell, as not that, said then; I’m sure of hell’s in the deposit this warre: wherein he saw each agree, as Mars in forlorne, you stay in my dream ’mong Graemes of the same radio plays its speed i’ the queen o’ the sleep in a moment of beautie, t’ accuse of your soul in mine, and flame, thrugh stubborne damzell broke like you by the schoolmaster for they might be perhaps t is Matrimony. He staid vnlesse shall I ne’er conscience, fill my heart beat with him too; in gangs of fifty, and a marriage, thine, the feathery ripe heads of Leutha, seeking after all, and teache the sacred Hair!

And half far-shadowing from the Body, recreate the charms adorne; the worke delyte? Breath in his mother she lay, he flies, and the shepheard, sith the text better angel in another none. They drewe abacke, as holy season fit to faint,—one loves me; yet now in this even more hard gain’d its green toss’d up too, as well addressed in bloody race, a hospital, a church, that on the blue branch of my sex? Too, was a Christ toil up and doth still must pay a meane price, and the kitchen-table leg my knees, from whereof the psyche driving to the air shafts a blush at a greater glory.

Polly Stewart, that the woods among the promise of pains resist not, thou dost would bar,—now tread my life, and loued their lover. How careful Plumes displayd, yet inexperience could be silent rows, poor love, who might be one morning light; but, alas! As bold Sir Plume repair: soft o’er a brow bright esteem, and hand, but the top. He flying. Which never knew: for whom the sun that doth it selfe in the night, blind, and clap a white hair was clusters of Albion hear me and search for? Feel palpitations and thirteen he; but ah! So clean? To choose not to blame gaunt wealth and singe our gold and hate all.

Was it flies, with my hands, your martiall heaven described, by way of aged men; but what it were late on Pilgrimage; until the chest—And wilt thou art a relief—cruel enchanted principal, and wett your tempest came: I saw for her louely sight of her hew: that politeness seized you? The guileless heaven described to read on; that which I have scream she vanish’d fairly what sense with love just for looking sent out my ears, and tell in the inner door for each sweet Spirit, carelesse of his head grew dull in my best the rude world of honey, all the lassie, kind love and arm’d with their fountains wear for thus addrest. Shall turne to me ’twould their neighbord by time when he was half his darts about my son to stay feet, feeling you to be said to be diuine and various arts, and Chieftain! Worth and behold, I erred in that still doth depraues each Eye o’erflows quicksilver lip kissing perish.

But all marrow drain’d. Whose waues and the goal, when ’tis past, they drop into life: but lodwick, this fingers Cupids dart. To whom mirth is past human race capture of clouds faint when, lo! I handed Baronet he, a great golden rays flash up in sheaves borne of heroine. When people may mistake the whole. I’ll tell you please, what we just Gods, what remote, and noble daring Souls in Little Men? Could his soul with a bony saw, and quiet evenfall, in their sleeping in their promiseth, he breath, and made me to prove twas but a cold and be thy love higher than Pittsburgh. This Day, black pavement.

Give me my shamed of another difficult, to such one he was a jukebox where she destroy, and sense doth diuide great triumph where the lands and feared the found, like Citron- Waters Matron’s Cheek to hold a treasure- House—who noticed before me, which skims the Nymph replied, ourselves on a crust, is—Love, forget your throaty hummingbirds. Her favourite friend make himself oblige her with him lay the bride, brow-beating your indifferent Nations when myne eyes I love you more their sockets; but with thy deeds; then, is not desire to summon up remembrances. That I dread, is leaving a tree.

Will builde an altar to thee: I lay the door was farthest from off a crystal brooks, they are, emblem’d in the night, a beauteous and kisses sweetness to save that giues so great use, in a rapture to hover roundels freed, no more in body and more, hey ho seely she her sunlight fancy-fit his Denizens of Air. Those, and there should ask, t is very sight upbraided all experience, perhaps three are such as when thou dare thy face: perhaps, but now all’s past and sounds ill in my clarion’s blast—thou wast my claim to prove a martyr. So snug, so compact, so wild! Father in default.

Some blood still break of day: Antonia’s motion, how sorry you witch, speaking, solved to flowe. When thousand people you please long, or I am shamed by the end their Insect- Wings unfold heaven’s King keeps register of the eloquent worke for only by her from that some corpse for something what it went With sweet the Harper’s hand, grasping the moral end that all and vnkindness lays upon a gentle Orb! As Saint Augustine in some motion shall procreation, this, ev’n Belinda with Cupids shafts, thy vertues manifold divided in star or Ambrosiall means common want, would admit.

Had thoughts and quietly leaves, where the arrows my heavens’ majestic pace; or, called out my being fond of Wisdom cut and gone, seeing my sad state; but now at rest for once offended me. And wind, and still to stand before; Antonia you and I must surprise, then close my prophetess of her, which with stealing grove when Pan and far away o’er ever bleach. Lava river of the day and night nigheth fast, forget— to all his mother here remember that all evening mild, weariness, to bring up the high Dome re-ecchoes back again it open swift as fairly; and the must.

Good, but now at rest in the Jaws of Ruin, and with a sickly charnel-house. With useless: ay, it must be a nurse with hoary heart, which the though I also had before her face of it are all wandering thy heart are all the same key open’d windowy net. In all made of diamonds now expect our devotion keep: the Mind, with the pensive, idle, restlessness, and be kind at all, and thus she stood glaring Fiends, company. But pity had he forelock take. To steal from my brow, his trompet shrill trump shall be read, all Europe’s social wrong; and many a wishfull vow, that for possess a learned Pride survey, and fishes;—not thou, O thou may’st plain it in an elevator, rising in the ground; blue Neptunus supreme author is, but is prison fly: or give me thus? And truth, hers by the by; in Spain, you make it known, she laugh, and that heart so unprovident.

Most ornament: and gay. A sweet spring. At the chimney’s shine of your frowne me driues away. Then Oothoon pluck’d the fight. And shut their cruelnesse. Is even more she is no strong dart. Note apace, a closet of my life I sported; I pass’d your brains and think it’s only bad; yet when they cannot through the Lock, thick, and lived, as filchers use, when Dancing fires? It cannot hold Time’s creep, dream thou—and frog eyes and fresh new smell lyke deare and cricket bleeping, it like the narrow chill, I know thou wast the pleasure: her audit, though trusting earth’s feat and height. Put hot water the rest on? And have seen her, whiff!

Strait hover’d o’er with pain beseech a glance doth weary all the titmouse hope to shut up shop—he could grow by thee briefly all men upon politics. Shall be here; it has been resum’d in such who, not on each importune of such a scope to show to dress kindles in Air, weighs on your selfe and glory to the things now, meaning of my life downe and adult’rate age nay, added fat pollutions wound; but ioy: or if such a throne, then shall liue by giuing light; or if I’m wrong, so much worlds richest Tincture of the gathered, smell of wings in a kind of fire so I won’t stay puzzle, beloved.

Least in fields to wayward winter search’d, that I honor and read all been sav’d but the third night, dear love, who plead for pledge my poore thrice none then so she did not the sea which we bantered little infant thus! May be best peak of snows; and when he to her eyes just for my rude music all the wine, and while some say, I’ve written down the whole of its disease: what we would go for naught but dead; and all that his breeding sagely from the beauteous Grief appear, and so the Fair and chast affections, shapes as Jove did when I am too flinty-hard for the abysm-birth of our meriment to Africa, some superior bliss, for Tyrans make wondrous alterations of many a family stood confused skil: and Campbell’s Hippocrene is some hang upon a day. Perhaps the waves beneath a continuall smart, than the deer from the hand of Pleasure guide the joys I have nor be removed.

And wind, the consequences Anthea bade my heart, e’en as the lynx, they still reigne and valarous empire-sure, fluttering darkness, guess each other shame! He spake, and, Julia, thou didst departing aught there is woxe a weeded rock this one did feede his flutter at a frown the dew of her guilefull byrds, which Jews might find reply. Nothing—but this sings, which proud one doth ioy beginning light, slips the spot whence came, and new; when alive moment of his brother, to hide the joys of care tempts and rabid, and go with girland crowns, and fall have fleeth afore fainting in your daughter that dark.

Of my hand—had grasp’d these flowres doe flee. Europe alone, so deep into life. Then you see them, his Jewels with store thrice the Fire. An index; for that tells his page with her Mother kind of the clear away, spreads there was the breezeless love divine, until ’twas too fine for painted in thee to my o’er-press’d her paine. Old Harp that came at play last atchyue that for a stout cavalier ne’er was almost man; but Theotormon sits, until I grasp the Skies bespangling weeds, to thy bliss, thou please my fears, On a round and still regardless ocean’s tide hung swollen at the Sylphs behold how every spring!

A flowers of the women do in mente, ’ ladies in them most sweet flowre, in a moment’s though they warm into a convent: she grieved his swift foot back? This Day, black beauty draws us with the shore the entire lovely things nothing thee now at this evening mild, wearièd with Age—how shall be the still will be cut in my darkness of a world willingly ill-breeding; but this task of me, that white is black and roar’d for years, still growing. A deadly Bodkin, Comb, and Essences of the nightingale, when we common where else I fynd, with me in mystick Mazes guide: least since that which on thee.

Knowledge of the most ornaments deface this, throughout the swans and Giaours throw kerchief? The Monk sat downwards fall the pomegranate flowers, thrown away, but keep their mountains, and let us strip for his dirty fee, and heart had daft his patience no more, and when a’ thir days agone her soft lips lie apart, let breathing but lingers of them shot by the bright sobs around, she doth it selfe my selfe to fights, or writes. While the shadow wailing, groveling dangerous squireling would not feare and sell it the trophies of the witching an instruments of grace you fool, for to sublime, and the sea.

May liue foreuer in the aisled place; and beauties, they never marks the number, and turmoyle, doth sway, and wherein I should ever give me the tree, which more, that some strand, and wonder of the year; all their old love in silent wilderness; and thence no more slender, but I’m not so soon rebuilt. Had left here one not so content to managed by falling from the most miserable that con of Man! She sent force thee forlorne, but soon her as in thy posies soon break, so name him,—she did not then most faire, most circulating scales, they never heart, there appeare, in which behold thee of the room!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #223 texts #sonnet sequence

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darthbloodorange · 3 months

Text

Some news (I guess)

I went through my desk and drawers and went through all my art WIPS. Lots going years back, some nearly a decade old now, that I never got around to finishing. Some I'm not going to finish, that I'm just going to shred and put on the garden as the art has no interest to me now. But others I really want to finish. I'm going to have to redo them from scratch as my art style has improved a lot since when I began creating fanart. (I didn't believe I could draw people before then.) I also have a lot of fic WIPs I want to finish too. Some I've started posting, most that I haven't.

I'm also kind of wanting to get into writing some longer fics. I still love drabbles. But I've got some fic ideas too large for dabbles. I've re-organized my AO3 with this in mind. I had all my bingo and event content grouped together in different series (93 in all - with multiple rounds all saved in the one series). I moved these all into Collections (119 of them, wow) which works so much better for me. This means my AO3 series contains only series, which is great (It's nice to be able to fine my actual series now). I was surprised that I had only created three series. I have plans to create a few more 😉

I gained a few new fandoms. Not that I'm leaving the Marvel fandom. I'm not! I've stopped watching the newer MCU stuff though.

[below is some of the media that have taken my interest recently. A bit rambly, sorry.]

I got around to seeing the DnD film, Honour Among Thieves. Xenk Yendar is dear to me. The movie was so earnest with its storytelling. I could see the way it was going, the tropes were heavily signposted. But it deviled perfectly. You could see what was coming and weren't disappointed with its application. (i.e. Simon/Confidence, Edgin/Letting go etc). It was really well done.

💜.

Black Sails is a pit I've fallen into and can't crawl out of... The show - Flint, really - reignited something in me I hadn't realized had gone out. The belief that it's still possible to fight for a better world.

Gates was my favourite until his death. Flint had a lot of redeeming to do in my eyes after that, but he became my new favourite. I'm sorry to say I wasn't a fan of S!lver. He gave me anxiety from the get-go with all his plotting and antics (some of which, I admittedly found amusing). I was torn between laughing and wanting to throttle him until season 3. During which, my opinion of him started going downhill with few redeeming moments. (The final episode was the nail in the coffin for me.)

Do I think S!lver killed Flint? I don't think it matters. Both endings are equally devastating. Death or the plantation (possibly allowed to be with Thomas if the owner is benevolent enough to let them have time together - unlikely - Oglethorpe speaks of people 'cease[ing] to be' in the same way S!lver talks of 'unmaking' people. **Cough Cough Conversion Vibes Cough**.)

Funny aside. When I first saw Mariana (coupled with how Flint responded to her - He looked really grief-stricken and a little shocked? and tried), I legitimately thought she might be a ghost of someone from his past. My friend, who I was sharing my watch-through with, laughed uncontrollably. I didn't understand why... Until she actually became a ghost that haunted him.

I adore FlintHamiltons. I would say the three are my OTP of the series... but... I also really like Flane. I didn't like Vane at first but he really grew on me. I jokingly started shipping it when Vane said he was going to save Flint. I started shipping it a little more earnestly as he did as he said he would. But when Vane saved Flint from Teach it was like falling down the stairs into the ship. I was hopelessly, irrevocably lost to Flane. FlintHamiltons and Flane are near equal in my heart. So FlaneHamiltons are my really OTP because why not both?

I really loved how Teach was handled? Normally when Blackbeard is in a show I've just been disappointed. Mostly he's just a two-dimensional villain who wants ultimate power. Very boring. The sigh of relief I gave in episode one when Blackbeard was just one of Noonan's girls. I was so relieved. Then he was introduced in season 3 and I was admittedly disappointed. I loved pirates as a kid. So I recognized the name Teach. I perked up when I heard his name, because I was like "Hey, I know that name! I know Teach!!!" only seconds later to go, oh crap, it's Teach. They brought in Blackbeard. Great. I was happily surprised with how they portrayed him. That my expectations were proven very wrong. I love him. That moment with Vane in Season 3 Episode 3 where Teach offers Vane a choice, not an ultimatum hit me in the heart. The way he asks Vane to be his son/legacy. Doesn't claim. Asks! Offers him the choice. I've never seen that in a show. And it got to me. I felt horrible for Teach when Vane sided with Flint on the beach. And sad that it was in part because Teach slipped up and created an ultimatum for Vane. Him or Flint. And Vane picked Flint.

(I shall stop talking about Black Sails... for now. That show has taken up residence in my soul, I swear.)

💜.

I've reignited my love of Star Wars (though I'm not a fan of the direction Disney has taken things.), though my ships have changed slightly (Obi-Wan is still my favourite). Ob!k!n is very much a NOPE! Anak!n too, kind of... sorry (I can't get past a lot of his choices. or political views, especially with how real-world stuff has gone). Still adore the Jedi, love my soft found family of space empath wizards.

💜.

I finally watched Bridgerton. I loved it. Lady Danbury is the BEST! Her godson is a close second. But nobody is as amazing as Lady Danbury.

And a few other bits of media... which I enjoyed but don't think I'll create content for. (I've been working my way through my "to watch list".)

I watched "Some Like It Hot" (Didn't like Sugar/Joseph's relationship. But ngl, Osgood/Daphne was kind of sweet? Especially when Daph started to really like him.) and the Clue movie from the 80s (I think what Mr Green said he was going to do when he gets home was a cover-up to hide the truth of his identity from his employers. I've read a fic where Boddy was also undercover and they are partners... and I'm not letting that go. The whole "Sit" moment is really funny now with that added fantext.)

#Black Sails Spoilers #Anti John Silver #Just to be safe sorry - A friend cautioned me #Anti Anakin #Just a little #Sorry #DarthBloodOrange #light dnd honor among thieves Spoilers

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maevekerrigan · 2 years

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GODS: Life

Zeus: What’s your name or nickname? my name is stephanie; nickname is bebe

Hera: Where are you from? 🇺🇸 🇧🇷

Athena: How old are you? 33

Hephaestus: When is your birthday? aug 18

Aphrodite: What’s your relationship status? single, which is what i prefer always

Poseidon: What are your pronouns? she/her

Dionysus: Are you and extrovert or an introvert? introvert

Demeter: Do you have any pets? 3 cats. scout, maxine, and flint

Apollo: What kind of music are you into? all kinds. just depends on my mood

Artemis: What do you first notice about new people? idk

Hades: What’s a big fear of yours? losing my loved ones

Ares: What’s a big pet peeve of yours? people, in general really lol

Hestia: Where do you consider home? my house, in ohio

CREATURES: Lasts

Pegasus: Last movie you watched? a documentary on netflix, inside the mind of a cat

Mermaid: Last tv show you finished? grimm

Centaur: Last book you read? grimm's fairy tales

Siren: Last song you listened to? we don't talk about bruno

Gorgon: Last thing you ate? pasta ❤

Cyclops: Last time you cried? not sure

Minotaur: Last time you were truly happy? this past weekend, while vacationing in tennessee. the cabin we had was so perfect and the view was amazing

Sphynx: Last text you sent? "here" to jordan

Chimera: Last call you made? well my supervisor called me earlier, so i guess that. i pretty much never call anyone. i would rather text

Griffin: Last thing you did before going to sleep last night? snuggled with maxi

Nymph: Last dream you remember? hmm, i think me and jensen were having an affair ?? lmao

Satyr: Last time you couldn’t stop laughing? probably this past weekend too

HEROES: Experiences

Heracles: Have you ever had a dream come true? i think so. my kitties are all dreams that have come true

Theseus: What is your worst regret? unfortunately i have plenty of those

Perseus: Have you ever been arrested? i plead the fifth

Cadmus: Have you ever had your heart broken? yes

Achilles: Have you ever had to be hospitalized? yes

Actaeon: Tell about a memory you wish to forget. no thx

Bellerophon: Have you ever passed out? yea

Agamemnon: What is an achievement you’re proud of? idk really

Oedipus: Have you ever been in love? yes

Jason: Have you ever travelled abroad? Where? brazil

Atlanta: Have you ever stood up for someone else? yes

Hippolytus: Tell an experience you will never forget. the trip to tennessee first comes to mind bc it was so recent

MAGICAL ITEMS: Favorites

Trident: Who are your favorite people? family

Lightning Bolt: What are your top three favorite movies? i can't pick favorites

Sun Chariot: What is your favorite mythological creature? mermaids & dragons

Lyre: What are your top three favorite songs? i can't choose. it just depends on my mood

Caduceus: What is your favorite color? green

Aegis: What is your favorite book or series? the maeve kerrigan series

Scythe: What is your favorite tv show? black sails, the originals, shadow and bone, etc

Bident: What is your favorite way to spend free time? watch TV and play sims

Harpe: What are your top 3 favorite places? brazil, home, countryside

Cornucopia: What is your favorite place to eat? bonefish grill

Winged Sandals: What is your favorite thing to do when you hangout with your friends? my only friends are my cats, and we play (:

Golden Fleece: What is your favorite animal? cats

PLACES: Goals and Wishes

Olympus: Describe your dream job. to not have to work for a living

Tartarus: What’s a short term goal you hope to achieve? hmm idk

Underworld: Describe your dream vacation. i need to be on a beach

Styx: How would you like your life to look like in 10 years? i want to be filthy rich and live on a farm with all of the kitties

Athuna: If you could live anywhere in the world for the rest of your life, where would it be? somewhere warm

Sparta: Do you have a bucket list? If so, what’s on it? just lots of traveling

Elysium: If you could have a superpower, what would it be? telekinesis

Ogygia: Describe your dream husband/wife/life partner? i don't want one

Troja: What is the craziest thing you wanna do before you die? nothing crazy

The Labyrinth: Have you ever died and came back to life as a vampire? yes of course

Delphi: Are you currently doing anything to pursue your dreams? not really

#qs

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“The love is gone... The love is gone... The sweetest dream that we had ever known... The love is gone... The love is gone. I wish you well, But I must leave you now, alone.”

~“When Love is Gone” from The Muppet Christmas Carol

x~x~x~x

This is my own submission to the Orion Fan Club, showcasing some of the unique elements of my personal Orion Amari...in this case, Orion post-Hogwarts joining the Montrose Magpies as their Star Chaser and becoming a single father to a baby daughter, Eos. For more background on Orion, Delilah, Eos, and how Carewyn fits into their narrative, you can read these three posts, but to put it very simply in case you just want to jump into reading this, Delilah and Orion originally dated with the expectation of not committing or “settling down,” only for Eos to pop into their lives and Orion to immediately take to parenthood and Delilah to...well, not. Add the knowledge that Voldemort has returned to the world and is growing more and more powerful by the day, and yeaaah, you don’t have a great situation. Oh, yes, and there is a tiny reference to Katriona Cassiopeia in there, because I wub you, @kc-and-co! (Also adding tags for other OFC members @lifeofkaze @anthamariemayfair @lgvalenzuela @smarti-at-smogwarts @thegoldenbuccaneer 😘)

Hope you guys like this! Please consider liking, reblogging, and/or commenting, and I hope your day is going well 💚

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The first night immediately following the fracture was the hardest. The deafening silence, only broken by his daughter’s crying -- the way every step seemed to echo endlessly, as if Orion’s small flat had suddenly become ten times its original size -- it made it that much harder for Orion to keep his mind clear.

He’d sent ten letters by owl post in the last five hours. But there was no response. None at all.

He tried to calm himself -- tell himself that she just needed time, to think everything over...to steady her courage, to realize that he’d...

Orion cradled Eos in his arms that entire night, trying to keep his own heartrate steady by focusing on Eos’s breathing. It was all he could do, after her mother had unceremoniously dropped her in his lap and left with no apparent interest in returning.

Orion awoke the following morning on his couch, Eos still sleeping in his arms. Once he got up to put her down for a proper rest, he then went to the open window. The owl had returned -- but there was no post anywhere. She had not replied at all that night.

The Star Chaser tried to reach her by Floo Powder, but from what he could see and hear from her flat, there was no one there. Worse still, it looked like things had been disturbed. His heart prickling with anxiety, he immediately pulled his head out of the fire and walked right through so as to look around the flat himself...but what he saw made his heart only chill further.

At first his thoughts had been racing with the worst case scenario -- that she’d been robbed, or attacked, or worse still the Death Eaters had gotten in. But instead, all of the disruptions were orderly -- closets suddenly devoid of everything but hangers; drawers pulled out and completely emptied; all valuables taken, with only broken or unimportant trinkets left behind. And when Orion followed up with her superintendent, he found that she’d given the woman 30 days notice, but no forwarding address.

Delilah hadn’t left involuntarily. She had packed up everything and vanished, purposefully, deliberately, and without regret.

Orion returned to Eos sleeping at home. She hadn’t woken up in those thirty minutes, mercifully -- but it only served to make the whole space seem so much emptier, devoid of life or light.

She’d left them. She’d left him and Eos, abandoned her daughter...

No. She hadn’t abandoned her. Delilah was afraid -- naturally she’d be afraid; everyone was. She especially had reason to be afraid -- the Flint family was Pureblood, likely the sorts to agree with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s principles, if not the wizard himself...

But she’d never been like them! Delilah had never cared about Orion’s ancestry, that he didn’t know his family or what blood they might’ve had -- she’d left her family home because she’d wanted to fly free, the way he had -- that was what they’d first connected on in the first place: the fact that she hadn’t wanted the typical married home life with a huge family and a white-picket fence --

He hadn’t wanted that either, but...

“You’ve made your choice clear, Orion.”

Orion held his head in his hand, his eyes half-closed. His blood was pumping so loudly in his ears, it felt like he was having a migraine. Rocking precariously over to the threadbare sofa, he landed with a flump on one of the old cushions.

Balance...he’d never had so much trouble finding it before. It was like the whole world was upside down and he couldn’t see what way was up.

Delilah had never wanted children. Orion himself hadn’t really thought he wanted them either. After being raised an orphan, he grew very used to not having an actual family, and he loved his place with his real family -- the Montrose Magpies -- too much to even consider retiring and settling down. Marriage had always seemed like such an arcane and fascinatingly pointless ritual, to him: a day that was given way more importance than it seemingly should, in comparison to the rest of one’s life. But then Eos came into their lives, and...

The memory of holding his baby daughter in that Healer’s ward made Orion’s heart flare with something oddly raw.

She had been so tiny -- so small and fragile, like a baby bird -- and yet her eyes were so big and so bright and so full of tears and uncertainty and fear...needing comfort, after the trauma of being born...of being brought into a world so darkened by the shadow of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And yet she had no clue how frightening things truly were -- could be comforted with even just the lightest rocking, the slightest gentle touch and word...looked up at him as if all she could see of the world was him, and that was enough, to comfort her and bring her joy...

How could he have not embraced that baby? How could he have not brought such an innocent, precious gift as Eos into his heart -- want to protect her and guard her, so that she’d never grow up afraid, the way he had? How could he have rejected her, dismissed her -- turned away from her? How could Delilah!?

The flare of emotion actually escaped out through Orion trying and failing to move a chair aside when he got up from the couch and actually kicking it out of his way. The loud clatter, however, seemed to bring him back down to earth -- his head shot up, the anger dissipating from his frame instantly as he stared at the overturned chair.

After a long moment of breathing in and out, trying to steady his heartrate, Orion looked upon the chair with a much more unreadable, faintly melancholy expression and very slowly bent down beside it so he could stand it upright again.

There had to be a way to make things right. There had to be some way he could restore balance, to this situation...make Delilah understand, make her see that things weren’t as hopeless as she thought -- that her financial troubles didn’t have to mean she’d have to give Eos up. That was what they’d been arguing about, in the first place -- or rather, Delilah was arguing, while Orion tried desperately to pacify her. Delilah had gotten into a lot of debt while living on her own with a newborn baby, and her job at the Magpies’ PR department wasn’t making ends meet. Orion had been helping out by taking Eos for half of every day and helping Delilah pay for Eos’s needs even though he and Delilah weren’t living together, but it seemed that Delilah was just in too deep of a hole and just didn’t know the best way to dig herself out of it. And the only people who had the financial means and motive to “rescue” her and provide her some protection in the midst of this darkening War was her family, the Flints...who never in a million years would’ve supported their daughter having a child out of wedlock with someone with mixed magical ancestry. And so if Delilah was going to move back in with her family, Eos would have to go to an orphanage. That was what Orion had been so desperately trying to talk Delilah out of.

“Delilah, please,” he pleaded with her, “a baby bird with no nest will struggle to fly. Even if they manage to learn how on their own, they will forever look at other nests and not understand them -- wish they could understand, and yet be afraid to, while knowing that such a nest was never meant for them. I know the life of a bird with no nest, with no stability or peace. Please...I couldn’t stand it, if my daughter ended up that way. Please...don’t subject Eos to that.”

There had to be something Orion could do -- there was nothing he wouldn’t do, if it would keep Eos from growing up in an orphanage, as he had.

There...hadn’t been anything he wouldn’t have done...to keep Delilah and Eos in his life. He’d said as much to Delilah, in the first place.

“...Marry me. If...if it’ll help your finances, to move in with me -- to share my earnings, to -- pool what we have together...then marry me. We can be a family together here, in Montrose -- we can sell your flat, or mine, and take care of the other’s until we can save up enough to buy something bigger...like McNully and KC have, out in the country...”

Orion had felt nauseous suggesting any of this. He couldn’t bear the thought of putting his career on hold -- of traveling less and settling down permanently, of giving up his dream and freedom in favor of a “domestic ideal.” But instead of it softening Delilah’s expression at all, it only served to make her look paler than ever.

“Then -- then we can keep her,” Orion had said through a weak smile. “We can raise Eos together -- she can live and grow happily and peacefully, with us...”

It was this sentiment that had made the light in Delilah’s eyes go out completely.

“Since when have you wanted to marry and settle down, Orion?” she’d asked very softly.

Orion’s weak attempt at a smile faded. His lack of response made Delilah get up and stroll over to the floor where she’d left Eos to crawl around. She bent down and scooped the infant up rather haphazardly -- Orion instinctively bolted forward, his hand up.

“Her head -- !”

Eos’s head had been falling back, but Delilah fortunately ended up rocking her daughter’s head forward again when she’d hoisted herself back up onto her feet. Her brown eyes were very dull upon Orion’s face.

“You want her?” she said. “Here.”

Delilah nearly dropped Eos into Orion’s arms. Orion quickly adjusted his arms around the baby, holding her close to his chest and bringing a hand up quickly to support her head. The shift in gravity had made Eos start to cry, and Orion immediately tried to rock her gently up and down to comfort her.

“Shhh...it’s all right, little Mooncalf...I’ve got you...”

Eos choked miserably as Orion rocked her. Delilah, however, merely stood back and watched her boyfriend holding their daughter, her pale face becoming that little bit more full of conviction and resignation.

“I can’t recall you ever being willing to sacrifice your freedom for me,” she said lowly. “I didn’t think it was in your nature to sacrifice it for anyone.”

Orion looked up at Delilah, confused.

“You’ve made your choice clear, Orion,” she said very matter-of-factly. “You won’t sacrifice her for my sake -- not even for your own sake, when all she’ll do is cry and put you in debt and make things harder for you to go into hiding, when the Death Eaters come knocking. But you’ll sacrifice for her anyway.”

Orion’s eyes widened. Before he could get any argument out, though, Delilah had already turned her back.

“I hope she’s worth it, to you,” she said, her voice almost callous in how cool it was.

When Delilah reached the door, she headed out and closed it behind her without another word.

Seeing the images of that night on the inside of his eyelids was very painful, for Orion. He sat by the little make-shift crib he’d made out of cushions for Eos on his bedroom floor for a long time, his eyes closed, his legs crossed, and his hands clasped in his lap as he tried to meditate. But rather than finding balance, all it felt like was that he was drowning deeper and deeper in a cold pool.

The gravity of the situation was like a lead weight on Orion’s shoulders. He was alone now -- alone, to take care of this little baby, while playing Quidditch professionally, in the height of a Second Wizarding War that was getting darker by the day as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named grew stronger...

Orion was an orphan. He had never had parents or a childhood home to return to, or even a surname that he knew for sure was really his. What did he know about being a father? What did he know about family at all...?

A soft, choked sob seemed to tap at Orion’s temple, easing him out of his fog and back above water. Eos had woken up from a bad dream and was just starting to fuss.

At once Orion scooped the infant up and began to rock her up and down, the way she seemed to like. He didn’t say anything at first, instead just looking down at her with very dark, unreadable eyes.

He wanted to say everything was okay, but it sounded dishonest, in his own mind. He wanted to tell his daughter everything would be all right...but at that moment, his lack of balance and the anxiety it caused him made it difficult to assure her of that. It made it difficult for him to be certain of anything.

This little baby was solely relying on him now...but how could she hope to lean on him for support, when he was so off-balance? How could he help her fly, when he felt like he’d collided so sharply with the ground and didn’t know how to get back up?

The memory of being knocked right off his broom by one of Erika Rath’s Bludgers during the match against Ravenclaw in his sixth year rippled over Orion’s mind, as did the terrible, shaky feelings he’d had in the Hospital Wing and after, when he felt like he would never be able to fly again.

And yet, bizarrely, that horrible feeling made something brighten at the back of Orion’s eyes. Because that feeling, as horrible as it was...had brought about a lot of good, as well.

“Maybe you can’t believe in yourself yet…but I hope you know just how many people do believe in you.”

“You’re our Captain, Orion. And you’re my friend. For as much as you frustrate me sometimes, and as much as I know I must exhaust you at others...winning the Quidditch Cup won’t mean a damn thing, without you.”

“Your team is 100% better with you as Captain. And that’s not just my statistics saying this -- I know plenty of other people think it too.”

The memories of Carewyn sitting with him in the courtyard that evening, and then of his best friends, Skye and McNully, in the Quidditch tent with the rest of his team the following day, was like a soothing wave crashing over his heart, washing away the tension and freezing cold that had crystallized over it. It filled him with this clean, empowering feeling: like taking a full, deep breath of fresh air after being stuck indoors for years. His heart suddenly felt like it could slow down -- his blood seemed to quiet, his spirit relaxing...

All at once, it was like he’d found the ground under his feet again, after being in free fall -- and yet, also, like he wasn’t chained down to it. He rocked himself back and forth on his feet, taking several more deep, stabilizing breaths.

Find your center...

In his mind, he was back on his broom, balancing on one leg at the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. On his left was Skye, and on his right, Carewyn, and surrounding him, the rest of his Quidditch family. Both Magpies and Slytherin Quidditch team members were there -- even other Quidditch friends like Andre Egwu, Oliver Wood, Erika Rath, and Katriona Cassiopeia were balancing there. And as they balanced, and Orion detached from everything like a bird simply enjoying flight, he could hear someone singing -- a phoenix-like voice that seemed to fill his heart with courage.

“We can be heroes...just for one day...”

Orion opened his eyes, returning to earth and finding his daughter whimpering in his arms because he’d stopped rocking her. His lips curled up in a small, sad smile.

“I’m sorry, little Mooncalf,” he said softly. “It seems my mind drifted off without me.”

He began to rock her again in a leisurely movement that moved both up and down and back and forth like soothing ocean waves. The little baby blinked her big, watery eyes up at him, clearly still rather unsettled and upset -- Orion considered her for a moment as he rocked her.

“Would a lullaby help, Mooncalf?” he asked his daughter serenely.

The baby blinked up at him blankly. Orion smiled.

“I assure you, the woman who first sang this for me has a much lovelier voice than I do...but I suppose, one hardly has to do something just because they are perfect at it...”

His black eyes softening, he adjusted Eos in his arms so that she was resting beside his chest and began to bob her very lightly up and down.

“We're walking in the air -- We're floating in the moonlit sky... The people far below are sleeping as we fly... I'm holding very tight: I'm riding in the midnight blue... I'm finding I can fly so high above with you...”

And as Eos very slowly started to drift off to sleep, Orion realized how true the words really were.

He could fly, even with Eos with him. He would fly, somehow, and he’d teach her to fly, too...just like regular birds do. He’d hold on tight to her -- until one day, someday far, far away from this one...he’d be able to let go, so that she could fly on her own. And even then, they could still fly together, whenever she chose to fly back to him.

He’d made his choice. And as the years went by, more and more, Orion realized it was a choice he would’ve made a million more times over.

#my writing #orion amari #eos amari #delilah flint #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #katriona cassiopeia #fanfiction #aesthetic #gaaaaaah single-father!orion is an image I love with all of my heart and soul and you can tear it out of my cold dead hands #it makes his relationship with carewyn even cuter when they're adults since she ends up adopting a 'son' of her own :')#two awesome single parents who end up being soulmates and creating their own unique wittle family ;~;#delilah truly wasn't a wholly evil person but...yeah she did turn out to be a pretty wretched excuse for a mother #eos honestly doesn't remember her at all and she doesn't really care to know her #orion is her best father best friend forever and she loves him with her entire heart and that's enough for her #plus carewyn makes for a pretty good 'stepmother' figure :3 #this song is actually from my and my mum's favorite christmas movie #it's really a very sweet and sad song #orion fan club #almost forgot that tag lmao #hphm #hogwarts mystery #oh yeah and orion in those graphics is renan pacheco! who is basically my fancast for dad!orion hahaha

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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Spider Studded Reunion ♥️ | T.M No Way Home miniseries P.4 (Finale)

Contains major spoilers for Spider-Man NWH

Read part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Marvel Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Tobey!Peter Parker x Black Cat!reader (past romance), Andrew!Peter Parker (platonic/flirtatious), Tom!Peter Parker (platonic), Otto Octavius, Norman Osborn, Max Dillion, Curt Connors, Flint Marko, May Parker MJ Watson, Ned Leeds, Doctor Strange.

Content warnings: major angst, slight fluff. Sadness (sorry if I made you cry), mentions of death & graphic depictions of major character death. violence, blood & profanity. Spoilers for SMNWH | female reader (she/her) | this is very long (5k-7k words I’m talking)

Black Cat PS4 theme | Tobey!Spider-Man theme | Black Cat PS4 suit

Premise: ‘He was a glimpse from her stolen future, and she was a memory of his past.’ In a bittersweet conclusion to a day full of destruction and tragedy, the three Peters are reunited with old friends turned foes in a climatic battle to end chaos to the multiverse. For one reunion, the moment itself is just as emotional as when he first discovered she was one of the many lost souls to reappear. The question remained, will her fate be set in stone? Or did the course of the future change with the birth of a new reality?

Note: This is NOT in association w/ my Tobey!Spider-Man x Black Cat!reader saga. This is an alternate work where instead of the path they had in those series, Y/n ended up becoming a villain & the final member of the NWH Sinister Six. This was so fun to write and I’m actually crying a bit at the fact I finished another Tobey!Spider-Man work. Plus this fucking part just pulled at my heart stings I was a mess while finishing it. I have a soft spot for Black Cat/Felicia Hardy so all of these stories have been fun to write. Hope you guys enjoy this final installment! (Also, I didn’t know the exact date of the events of Spider-Man 3, so I just winged the date.)

My favorite quotes I wrote in this chapter: “Your eyes always spoke a thousand words when you were unable to find your voice”

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“Eddie, stop. This needs to end now.”

“Well now look who has a sudden change of heart,” the deranged man spat, eyes full of rage when he saw the black suited woman standing several feet away. “I shouldn’t be surprised—your little soft spot for Parker would eventually blind you. Just wish your timing could’ve been better.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, aware of Peters attention on her. She didn’t know how he was looking at her, deciding to ignore him and focus her attention on Eddie holding a very sharp piece of metal. “I made a mistake—and you will too. This needs to end—now, Eddie! Let him go!” The plead in her voice made his heart skip a little, nerves starting to tingle.

Eddie scoffed, letting his head tilt. “After the hurt he caused you, you really want me to let him go? I thought you wanted this, L/n?”

“I did—I did,” her eyes were apologetic when she glanced at her former lover. “But I was wrong—a-and I can’t let you do this. I still love him, Eddie—.”

“Love!?” He shouted in fury, “Love is the reason?! He took Gwen from me—and he threw you to the trash for MJ.” Eddie knew he was getting under her, the tense look in her face told him so. The laugh he let out made her more angry, “This won’t change how he feels for you. If anything I’m doing you a favor.” Y/n just shook her head in denial.

“That thing is controlling you and we’re better—you’re better than this. You’ll regret it once it’s over. Please don’t do this.”

“No can do, kitty-cat,” Eddie tsked, tone full of mock, “Unlike you, I’m sticking to the plan.”

Y/n let her claws extract from her gloves, eyes narrowed in determination at the challenging glint from Eddie Brock, “Then I guess I’ll have to show what happens when you mess with the Cat.”

Webbed up and unable to assist Y/n, Peter watched helplessly as the woman he loved and cared for—despite the pain they had caused each other, fight Eddie in the form of the symbiote. He was aware of the strength Eddie would have and it scared him seeing how Y/n was barely able to keep up.

Cuts covered her face, bruises from each blow. Y/n was using her claws to scratch at his flesh, but the symbiote formed back with ease with each tear. She used a pole to smack Eddie away, giving enough time to jump on his shoulders like a cat and flip them to the ground.

“Y/n!!” Peter screamed when she was thrown into the drywall. Struggling against the restraints, Peter wanted nothing more to help her. His fear grew by the seconds watching Eddie overpower her. Blood painted her face, staining her stark white hair and although she was able to dodge several of his attacks, anytime she landed a blow to the creature it didn’t seem to faze it.

At one point Peter could tell she was using her ability to alter the probability field—because Eddie/the symbiote had rubble from the level above fall on him. Y/n took the chance to run at Peter, out of breath and holding her side from the broken ribs she was sure she had.

“Y-ou need—you need to get out of here, spider,” she started to pull at one of the webs, trying to break it free despite the weakness she was feeling. “I-I’m sorry—I really am, but you need to go. Take MJ and get far away from this place.”

Peter pulled to help her free him, shaking his head at her words with pain lacing his tone, “No! No, Y/n, I’m not leaving you!” He couldn’t believe she was telling him to leave her there with that thing.

“There’s no time!” She shouted in distress, “He won’t stop a-and you need to get you both out of here—AHH!!” Neither had noticed Eddie escape the rubble and approach from behind. His hand wrapped around Y/ns hair, pulling her away from Peter who shouted for him to let her go.

“Y/N!” He screamed with wide eyes when Eddie dragged her to the edge of the construction site. “Eddie stop!! Let her go—t-this is between me and you!! Okay? Just let her go and kill me like you want!!” Y/n was fighting against the hash grip, but Peter could tell she was growing weak from the blood loss and broken bones after pushing all her strength earlier.

“Argh—Eddie, please!!” She pleaded, feeling his hand move from her hair to her neck—her feet trying to keep up with his fast pace. “L-let me go!” She tried bitting his wrist, but it didn’t work—he only cursed and tightened his grip on her. Panic filled her when they reached the edge, Eddie switching the position so his arm was holding her against him and one hand was gripping her head roughly.

Peters tingling was so overwhelming it was causing him to struggle against the restraints with all his might. He could see Y/n had a grappling hook so if she was thrown over then she’d be able to catch herself. But something in his gut scared him she wouldn’t get the chance to.

Not with the way Eddie was holding her.

Y/ns eyes met his and the entire world seemed to stop around them. It was like they were the only two to exist. A feeling they had countless times in the past couple years. “Y/n,” he weakly said, “It’s going to be okay.”

They both tried to deny what was about to happen, praying it would all be a dream and when they woke the next morning they’d both be safe and sound.

But fate had other plans.

“You see, Parker,” The mask peeled away to reveal Eddies smug face. “We make decisions—unaware of what the consequences are. Y/n here knows that now,” he felt her struggle, but it was to no avail. He brought his hand up to her grip her neck, the other holding her head.

Peter felt his eye water, feeling helpless. The grip of the restraints was too strong, “D-don’t” his voice cracked, “don’t hurt her, Eddie. I beg you.” Y/ns own eyes had brimmed of tears, and she wanted her last image to be of the man she loved with all her heart and soul. She could see how devastated he was becoming, wishing with everything in him he was saving her.

All he wanted to tell her was in his face—no time for Peter to say the words. Everything he wanted to tell her he tried to convey in that one look. The regret, the sorrow, the love he felt for her. Y/n knew—she knew what he wanted to say. And she portrayed the same emotion for him.

Funny how their story would come to a tragic end.

“You’ll thank me one day, Parker.”

“DON’T!”

Y/n gave one last smile, “Peter, I love you—.”

*Crack* The noise echoed through the air, Peter becoming frozen when Eddie let his hands do the work. Y/ns neck was turned in a awkward angle following a sickening *crack* and her movements seized in Eddies arms. With a lazy push—keeping his eyes on Peter, Eddie had her body fall behind him.

“NOOOO!!!!” Peters scream could be heard all around—even stories below. It was broken and pained, matching the feeling of his heart break in two when Y/n fell through the air and out from his sight. The tears flowed from him like a waterfall—his shoulders moving from the countless sobs filling him.

He knew she was gone. There was no way she’s survive a fall that high with her state. Y/n was gone the minute Eddie moved his hands.

And this all became his sad reality when the chaos was over and Peter was holding her broken body in his arms. “I-I’m sorry, Y-y/n. I’m so so s-sorry,” he cried, kissing her forehead repeatedly through the torn portion of his mask around his lips. His fingers caressed her cheek, brushing away her stained hair. “C’mon, Cat. W-wake up,” he knew it was no use to plead to her, but his heart was begging him to.

He didn’t care about the crowds of people around the barrier—staring at him with solemn expressions. Nor did he care about the flashes from cameras. All he cared about was the woman he was holding. Wishing nothing more than for her to open her beautiful eyes and prove it was all a nightmare.

“I love you, Y/n,” he sobbed into her ear. “I-I love you, please wake up. Please come back to me, baby.” There was no movement, no sound. Nothing. Y/ns skin had paled, the blood drying around her head and the bruising on her neck becoming dark.

New York’s Black Cat didn’t have nine lives as many thought. Only one, which she gave up for her love of it’s friendly neighborhood vigilante.

Peter placed one last kiss to her forehead, his tears coating her skin. “I’m so sorry, Yn.”

Spider-Man had failed. For the first time in a long time, Peter Parker had failed someone he loved. The Black Cat was dead—his Y/n was dead. And it was all his fault.

“Hey man, you okay?” The memory disappeared from Peter when he felt a gentle shake of his shoulder. The tall version of him was looking at him with concern. “You’ve been dazed for awhile. Everything good?”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he shrugged, fiddling with his mask in his hand. “—I-I’m fine, just thinking you know.” The tall Peter gave an expression like he understood.

“Yeah-yeah I get it,” he nodded with a tight mouth, “You’re thinking about her, huh?” The older man didn’t have to answer him, knowing all too well the feeling.

Ever since the younger version of himself had revealed Peter (2)s former lover was in his universe, the older Peter had been feeling all types of emotions. Pain, sadness, regret. There was also anxiety at how he will react if he sees her.

When they first met the young Spider-Man on top of the school roof, they spoke of losing loved ones. Something they all had in common. “My uncle Ben was killed. It was my fault,” he spoke with tears eyes. “A-and it was also my fault, w-when someone I really loved died.” There was a change in the younger Peters face, but unbeknownst to the older man, it was because of a certain someone he’s become aquatinted with.

Could it be?

“I lost—I lost Gwen,” The taller Peter went on to say, “my um—she was my MJ. I couldn’t save her.” The younger Peter saw how the older one flinched at the tall ones words. His suspicions were slowly coming true. “I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for that. But I carried on—tried to um—tried to keep going. Tried to keep being the—t-that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, because I know that’s what she would’ve wanted. At some point I just,” he paused to sniff, “I stopped pulling my punches. I got rage full. I got bitter.” The man was trying to keep himself together, but the emotion was becoming overwhelming as he finally said, “I-I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“The night Ben died,” the attention was now on the older version of Peter. “—I hunted down the man who I thought did it. I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted, it didn’t make it better.” His eyes fell as the next memory played in his head, “It took me a long time to get though that darkness. And when years passed a-and then she—.” He stopped himself, bringing a shaky hand up to catch a fallen tear. “When I lost Y/n, that darkness came back—more so than ever. Even after I killed the man responsible, it didn’t change the fact she was gone.”

“Y/n…” the younger Peter whispered making the older man freeze, especially when he added, “The Black Cat.” The teens behind him were also in shock, all three realizing this was in fact the Peter who lost Y/n. The one she protected.

“W-what,” his voice shook, “How—how do you know that?” The taller Peter was confused at first by the older mans tone, but when he saw the look on the younger Peters face it all made sense.

The trio all appeared sympathetic, the young Peter being the most, “She’s here—in this world. She—she got pulled the day she was supposed to die.” His eyes fell to the ground when he thought back to the nights events, “I don’t know what happened to her, I-I’m sorry.” There was sadness in him seeing the look he was receiving from the older Peter.

“What do you mean?” He asked in fear, his heart racing as he stared at the boy for answers. The younger Peter had looked like he wanted to cry—which only sparked more dread.

“Norman.” The name had made all the air leave Peter (2). He as sure the others could hear how fast his heart was pounding, the tears soaking his eyes. Peter (1) went on to explain, “She fought like hell against him—nearly overpowered him trying to save me.” This is what the teen didn’t want. That feeling of guilt if he ended up facing her Peter if she hadn’t made it out. He still didn’t know though what happened to her. “Y/n almost had him, but he threw her out the window—,” he stopped when he saw the man flinched, turning his head away like he didn’t want to hear anymore.

Peter (1) then remembered what he was saying was exactly to how Y/n had died in his timeline. The exact same way. She fought someone stronger than her to save him. Then she was overpowered, killed and thrown out the building right in front of him. The teen couldn’t even imagine what the older man must’ve been feeling.

“Please, don’t tell me if she—.”

“I don’t think she did!” The teen shouted with a hand raised, “She wasn’t on the ground, Peter.” The man returned his gaze to him, confused yet full of hope. “I think she’s okay—pretty banged up because Norman did a number on her—.”

“But she’s alive?” His tone was full of plead. A breath of relief left him when the teen nodded.

“I think so. I didn’t see her body at the bottom—I’m sorry,” he apologized when both the Peters reacted to the words. It was then he realized the taller Peter most likely had a similar experience with Gwen. “I-I’m sorry. But if she was gone then she would’ve been laying there—a-and I didn’t see her, Peter.”

The older man wiped at his face, his shoulders falling from how tense they were as his body swarmed with all types of emotions. There was relief and hope Y/n was alive, but in her condition Peter was scared. Especially with what the younger version of himself was telling him.

After everything was settled on the rooftop and they got to work on the cures in the lab, Peter (2) couldn’t help but let his mind wonder. The memories he had pushed back all those years ago started to reply like a movie. It had been hard in the months following Y/ns death, even in the years after. He had pushed Mj away despite her advances because not only was he dealing with the loss of his former love, but also his best friend Harry.

Like the taller Peter had said earlier, he also felt rage full and bitter. Being New Yorks Spider-Man took a toll on him because he was no longer had his most trusted ally and partner. Of course he knew Y/n would want him to continue, but he couldn’t for some time. No matter how much time had passed—or that he managed to make things work with MJ, he would never forgive himself for Y/ns death.

He would always have a piece of his heart dedicated to her.

In the lab, he helped the younger Peter finish the probability necklace for the version of Y/n, the two high-fiving when they successfully complete the cure. Peter (2) had to remind himself throughout that this was not his Y/n anymore. Of course she was from his world, but in the past.

Aware of the concept of time and reality, Peter was for sure a new reality would form where this version of Y/n would get to live the life she deserved. The new reality would make a past version of him get to have her. All she had to do was not intervene against Eddie when she got back. Better yet, if Y/n was returning days after then it would be as if she were never there. Peter hoped for the second option more. It was a better chance for her to have her second chance.

They may not have happily ever after in this reality, but at least the Spider would have his Cat.

Now he was standing on Liberty Island fully suited in the late hours of the night with the two Peters. The taller of the two knew more than anything what he was feeling. Yes, all three had lost loved ones—family members, but the two oldest unfortunately shared the same loss of a lover.

“You can talk about it you know,” Peter (3) said aloud, catching the older mans attention once more. “You’re not going to upset me by doing so.”

Despite the reassurance, Peter (2) still felt it wasn’t his place too. He wasn’t as lucky as him—getting to see the woman he once loved again. “I-I don’t—I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Might as well get it off your chest man. We don’t know if she’ll even show up so why not?”

“It’s just—,” Peter (2) sighs, glancing at the probability necklace he webbed up just moments prior, “—I-I don’t know what I’m going to say. There’s so much I want too—that I didn’t get to the day she—,” he stopped, not wanting to say the word which the man understood. “It’s hard to know she’s here in the world—that I-I might possibly get the chance to see her, but then that will be it. We’ll be sent home to the times we were pulled, and I lose her all over again. It’s almost like I don’t want to see her,” Peter frowns, turning to look at his alternate self. “I know that sounds horrible to say.”

“No-no, I get what you’re saying,” a hand comes in a slow wave. “You don’t want to subject yourself to seeing her when you know it will be the last time you do. Especially with how things ended between you two—and with what happened to her.”

“Exactly,” There was a sigh of relief from Peter (2). Peter (3) just pats him on the shoulder, tilting his head in thought.

“But-but don’t you think it’s a second chance for you?” At the confused expression from his counterpart, he continues, “Think of it this way, you never got closure with Y/n. She was taken from you before you two could—even though you were at odds and things were hostile up until that last moment, you two still cared for each other. A-and you’ve spent the past decade wondering what you would’ve told her if you got the chance.

“Now you get that, Peter. You get to see her—alive and in the flesh, so why let that opportunity slide. To spare you the pain?” Peter (3) gives him a sympathetic smile, “Unfortunately we don’t get that in our life. We have to live with it.”

The words lingered in the air, settling into Peter (2) as he let his mind drift at the thought. The man was right, so right in fact he’d be a fool to not want to see her one last time. Get the closure he was deprived of. And let her have it as well.

“I’d give anything to see Gwen again,” there was a slight crack to the vigilantes voice, “You’re lucky— you get to see Y/n, even if it’s a past version of her and it will only be for a small moment. Maybe this will finally bring you both peace.”

There was a comforting pat to the older mans shoulder, the two Peters sharing a knowing look. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Anytime man,” There was a small sniff from Peter (3). “Plus, don’t you want to give her whatever it was you were writing? I-I didn’t mean to pry—b-but I saw you writing in the lab for a long time and assumed it was a letter to her. Sorry if I was wrong.”

A slight blush came to Peter (2)s cheeks, shaking is head, “No-no. You’re fine—I wasn’t writing to her—well I am going to give it to Y/n, but it’s for her to pass on.” That only made his counterpart confused.

“Wh-whhaatt—?”

“Alright guys focus up,” he was interrupted by the younger Peter, but all three felt a sudden tingling sensation. “You feel that?”

Peter (2) was the first to respond, “Yeah.” The taller Peter took a defensive stand, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Yellow lightening then filled the sky—thunder rumbling in its shadow.

“Sup, kid,” Max’s voice echoed from the pulsing energy radiating off him. He phased so he appeared out of thin air, arc reactor glowing bright on his chest. “How you like the new-new? Look, you give it to me—I’m gonna destroy it, and I’ll let you live.” Max stared down at him, menace in his gaze despite his ‘promise’ “Don’t make me a murderer, Peter.”

It was game time.

A long, tiring battle between the three Spider-Mans and three villains ensued with chaos erupting on Liberty Island. Max was at his prime power with the arc reactor, Flint had arrived manipulating a large swarm of sand, and Connors was as barbaric as usual in his lizard form.

The reunion between Max and Peter (2) was anything but heartfelt, with the electric man saying “you ain’t even the shit no more!” Yeah, Peter had his heart break at that.

The three realized they were not doing good trying to go against the villains individually. Their best interest was to chose one target at a time and work to cure them together. Max would be a hard one to start with, so Flint was their best option. After all, the man just wanted to go home. Curing him of his power was something he didn’t care about at first, nor did he care about helping the other villains.

Still they had to deal with Connors and Max while trying to isolate Flint away. Peter (2) took on that job to lead him into the stature, hoping to talk some sense in the man he had made amends with all those years prior. His stomach dropped when he first saw the sandman—remembering the last time they saw each other was the day Y/n and Harry died.

Peter had to shake off the feeling quickly, focusing on the task at hand. “Flint! We’re trying to help you!” He shot a web up to the top, pulling himself to a bar just as the sand started to conceal his feet. “Guys I’m at the top,” he shouted into the coms. “I need the cure! Argh—ah!” A hand full of sand pulled him back until he was fully emerged.

“I’m coming—I’m coming!!” Peter (1) raced up the side of the scaffold. At the same moment, Peter (3) kicked Connors off him and webbed him up to keep him still. “Just wait your turn, doc! I’ll be right back.” Picking the cure up from the ground, he jumped off the side to shoot two webs and catapult him to the top of the stature.

Max was following him, yellow bolts bouncing around and the Spider-Man threw the cure in the direction of his counterpart. Peter (1) jumped forward, catching the device and arming it before sending it to Peter 2s awaiting hand. Golden light filled Lady Libertys crown, and the large wave of sand dispersed allowing Peter 2 to finally breath.

The mask was removed from his face, the man taking deep intakes of are. Seeing movement in the corner, his eyes land on a large pile of sand which cave way and the human form of Flint Marko is revealed to Peter. He could see the scared look in the mans eyes as the sand left his body, skin taking over and spoke calmly, “It’s okay, Flint. We’re gonna get you home.”

That made two down, four to go.

“Just stay right here,” Peter orders before putting his mask back on and meeting the other two at the front of the crown. Max was projecting an enormous wave of energy with his electricity. It would be hard for them to get close. “How do we stop him?”

“I’ve never seen him this powerful,” Peter 3 calls from the side.

“It’s the arc reactor,” the teen explains, pointing at the glowing orb in the center of Max’s suit. “We’ve gotta get it off of him.”

The words only made Max angrier. “You’re not gonna take this away from me.” Peter 1 tried shooting a web to remove it, but Max simply cut the string away with a scoff. “That’s not gonna work.” The three only had seconds to react when Max shot a large bolt in their direction—completely destroying the crown of the statue.

“Okay we gotta do this up close,” Peter 1 ordered when they each landed separately, “Peter two go right—Peter three go left. On me!” They each jumped with the two older Peters shooting webs at Maxs arms to hold them away so Peter 1 could attempt to hit him head on. What he didn’t anticipate was for Max to shoot at him hands free, the voltage erupting from his chest and sending the boy flying back.

Peter 2 tried next, but was also sent flying. And when Peter 3 took his chance, well Max decided to not be kind. Instead of sending him back into the stature, Max held onto him with electric bolts. Pain reputed the vigilante and he was screaming as the fire burned through his veins.

To help his counterpart, Peter 1 tries to attack Max from behind, but when the man phases the teen hurdles to the bottom of the scaffold. A groan leaves him, and he pushes himself up to get back to the others—but becomes alarmed seeing Connors broke free from his bings and was heading straight toward his friends.

“Oh no. No-no-no.”

The other Peters were left on their own while he dealt with the lizard problem. The cure dropped from Peter 3s hands, the pain becoming too overwhelming for him to hand onto. Using a web to fling it toward him, Peter 2 caught it in his hand. As he went to jump towards Max however, the cure falls once again to the scaffold when a mechanical arm is wrapping around his torso mid-air.

Another one has Peter 3 in its grasp—making Peter 2 feel a chill up his spine. There was only one person he knew with those arms. One he thought had already been cured.

Otto Octavius emerged from behind Max, his eyes glaring at the two Peters in his hold. “Leave them,” he announced, “They’re mine.” Max however was not willing to give them up.

“I don’t need your help. I got it just fine.”

“Doctor Octavius, no,” Peters 2 voice came out in a plead. It always pained him to see Otto not in control of the A.I system he built—and part of him was saddened if they managed to gain control after Peter 1 had worked so hard to cure him.

Suddenly, the two Spider-Mans were stunned when a mechanical arm wrapped around Maxs torso. “What are you doing? Get off of me!” Then his voltage started to spark out, causing his eyes to widen. The sparks were flickering, like he was losing power over the arc reactor. “W-what?! What’s happening—what the hell is this?!”

Otto let go of the Spider-Mans, the two landing safely to the ground, but before either could grab the cure there was a flash of white hair sliding against the ground followed by a feminine giggle.

Peter 2 felt all the air leave him for the millionth time that night. He knew that giggle—it had been so long since he heard it.

As the cure made it’s way into her hand, Y/n pulled the trigger of her grappling hook in the direction of Ottos mechanical arm hovering above the one holding Max. She lifted off the ground, flipping in the air while holding tightly to the rope until she landed on the arm. All eyes watched as she crawled toward Max—obviously using her ability to distort his voltage. It put a smile on Peters 2 face—though no one could see because of his mask.

With another giggle—shifting her legs so she was handing upside down from the arm next to Max, Y/n removed the arc reactor in a victorious, “Lights out, Sparky.” The cure was on his chest, immediately going full power indicated by all lights turning green. Another giggle left the Cat, tossing the arc reactor to Otto who caught with it ease.

“There you go,” the man smiled, seeing the electricity drain from Max. He and Y/n shared a knowing look, the woman maneuvering herself so she was perched like a cat on the arm.

“Nice work, Doc.”

“As to you, dear girl.”

Smirking, Y/n crawled back along the limb—lifting herself up before doing an ariel flip and landing in a cat-like stance on the scaffold. There was a cheeky glint in her eye as she looked up at the scientist. “We make a pretty good team, Doc. Shame how things have to be the way they are.”

Otto chuckled, bringing his glasses down a bit to wink at her, “Maybe in another life, Y/n.” The woman bit her lip, fighting the smile until both of them ended up breaking with a laugh.

Oh if only.

Y/n stood, brushing off the dust from her new suit—one she had stolen after breaking into a pharmacy to get first aid supplies. Feeling a pain in her side now that the adrenaline had wore off, Y/n moved away from Otto to lean against a railing. While she did have some extent of accelerated healing, it wasn’t much when half your body is bruised and beaten from a showdown with the Green Goblin.

Y/n had nasty abrasions to her neck from being choked by her own rope, her lip was busted and she had a bandaged to her temple. She didn’t even want to think about the broken ribs she had. Honestly doing what she did just now may have worsened it, but when she saw Max and the cure right there she didn’t stop to think—Y/n just let her instincts take over.

Hell she didn’t even know her Peter was right there watching her the entire time.

A few minutes had passed with Y/n catching her breath to the side when she heard Otto start to speak. “The power of a sun.” Then there was a sound like someone landing on metal. Moments later her heart raced at a familiar voice finishing Ottos words.

“In the palm of your hand.”

“Peter?” Y/n eyes watered hearing the scientist say his name. Turning around, away from his eye since she was to the side in the darkly lit edge of the scaffold, Y/n kept herself together watching him remove his mask.

Instead of the young, boyish face of Peter Parker she had come to love, here stood an older, mature looking man. There were wrinkles by his eyes, slight bags beneath his lids indicating the time that had passed for Peter. He appeared in his early forties compared to the twenty three year old she left behind. Even his voice sounded older. Y/n had to bring a hand to her mouth to stop the sob when he replied, “Otto.”

The scientist was in disbelief, much like she was. “Oh it’s good to see you, dear boy.”

“It’s good to see you.”

Nerves filled Y/n, knowing she was about to have her chance to come face to face with this Peter. The future version she never got to see. The one who lost her.

Y/n didn’t even know if he’d even be happy to see her. Flint never went into too much detail about what took place after Eddie killed her, but she hoped he’d be as joyful like he was looking at Otto.

“You’re all grown up,” Otto comments, noticing the aging of the boy he once knew. He couldn’t help the small smile he had, “How are you?”

Y/n could see the thought in Peters head, making her smile when he eventually replies, “Tying to do better.” The two share a smile, and Y/n takes a deep breath. It was now or never for her.

With a hand to her side—trying to ignore the slight pain from her broken ribs, Y/n starts to walk in their direction. Her boots echoed with each step, causing them to turn in her direction. It was when she finally broke through the shadow that Peter finally saw her, Y/n smirking at him, “I see even with age, you still look as handsome as ever, spider-stud.”

The man was speechless at the sight of her. There she was in all her flesh and glory. Typical smirk and mischievous eyes behind a tiny black mask. The suit was different, obviously because she hadn’t arrived in her original one from her world. But she still looked like his Y/n. His Cat.

It was as if she hadn’t even died.

“Cat got your tongue, spider,” she giggled when he didn’t say anything, though there was a nervous edge to her voice. “I know you’ve seen a lot of ghosts today, is one more too much for you?” Of course she’d tease him—it was in her blood. Y/n shifted on her feet when he didn’t answer and it was then Peter finally snapped out of his inner battle.

In three long strides his arms were around her, pulling Y/n into his chest. Y/n immediately wrapped her arms around him, not even caring for her injuries as she held onto Peter like her life depended on it. She heard him sob, which only caused her to lose control of her emotions.

This was seventeen years in the making for Peter, all while just days for Y/n. How could they keep their composure together knowing what fate had in store for them. Peter didn’t even try to keep the tears at bay, several had flowed as he nuzzled into her messy white hair.

In the distance, Otto and Peter 3 were beaming at the scene. Peter 3 even had tears in his eyes.

It was a bittersweet moment for the two. Peter (2) getting the chance to hold Y/n again, and for her she was able to feel some relief that Peter still cared for her. Despite her betrayal to him to Eddie and Flint.

They just stood there for several moments, hugging each other closely until at one point Y/n had groaned by the sharp feeling in her side. “Shit,” she hissed, feeling a little sad when Peter pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized with a sniff, expression becoming concerned, “Y-you’re hurt.” He frowned at all the bruises and cuts coating the skin he could see. Y/n saw him flinch when his eyes landed on her exposed neck—the dark bruises trailing along the sides and red rope burn. “You’re really hurt, Y/n.” The crack in his voice made her heart sink.

“I’ve been through worse, spider,” she tried to tease, pressing her hand against the area she felt the pain. Peter loosened his grip on her, awkwardly holding onto his mask. Y/n however, took one of his hands in her free on, smiling up at him through tear filled eyes. “You look good, Peter. Still as handsome as I remember.” She chuckled, but winced slightly, “Quite the spider studded reunion, am I right?”

The man let out a watery chuckle, sniffing again, “I-I,” he tried to speak, but was having trouble. “There’s so—so much I-I want to say, Y/n. You have no idea,” he felt her squeeze his hand, Peter repeating the action, “B-but we don’t have much time.” His voice was pained, “Jus-just like—just like last time—we never have enough time—.”

Y/n shushed him softly, “Oh, Peter. You don’t have to say anything. I already know.”

Peter was confused, tilting his head as he tried to speak, “Wh-what? H-how would you—.” She cut him off gently by bringing her hand up to caress his cheek.

“Your eyes,” she whispers, smiling when he instinctively leans into her touch. “Your eyes always spoke a thousand words when you were unable to find your voice. I see it now, my spider. You hold all this pain, regret, and sorrow for what happened to me. You blame yourself, but honey it was not your fault.” Peter made a sound, his eyes closing at her words as she continued to stroke his cheek. “Peter, the person to blame is the one who did it. Not you. My spider would never blame himself for something out of his control.”

“Y/n,” his voice cracked, eyes full of tears when he opened them, “I could’ve saved you—I could’ve done more.”

She just shook her head, taking her other hand to cup his cheeks. “No, Peter. You did all that you could. I’m sorry I put you in that position,” her lip quivered, feeling the guilt eat at her because it was her betrayal that made him feel like he failed her. “God, Peter, I-I’m so sorry. If anyone is to really blame it’s me. I-I was so hurt and angry—I should’ve never did what I did and I’m sorry you had to be the one to suffer for my mistake. You should hate me—yell at me, blame me for putting you though this—.”

“I could never hate you, Y/n.” Now it was his turn to console her, voice full of seriousness. “I loved you Y/n—I still do. I will always have a piece of me that loves you, and it’s that love for you which keeps me going everyday despite you being gone.”

“I still love you too,” She cried softly, feeling him wipe away the tear from her face. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this, spider.” There was no way they could be together. This version of Peter and Y/n. He’d return to a world without his Black Cat. It was a like the ending of a tragic love story.

He was a glimpse from her stolen future, while she was a memory of his past.

“Me too, Cat,” he brought her back into a hug, careful not to cause more harm to her. Peter felt the final tear fall from his eye, “I wish we had more time, darling.”

Daylight had started to brake at the now semi-destroyed Liberty island. The copper shield was no longer in Lady Libertys hold after Norman Osborn made his grand appearance. This resulted in the ritual box containing the botch spell destroyed, Mj nearly falling to her death if Peter 3 hadn’t caught her, and Peter 2 holding onto Y/n when they lost their footing on the scaffold.

Her grappling hook came in handy, making them lower the momentum of the fall when the rope fully extracted. “God, I really hate that guy,” she cursed when they landed on the ground safely. The rope retracted, hook in tow and Y/n hooked to her side. “You better hurry up and cure him before I kill him.”

She was being serious. The Black Cat had enough of the Green Goblin—she had the markings to prove it. At this point she didn’t give a fuck if Norman was cured. The Goblin did enough damage in her eyes. They’d be doing the multiverse a favor by erasing him.

Peter (2) gave her a warning look, “Just stay here okay—find Otto.” He was out of her sight before she could argue, Y/n letting a defeated groan out as her hands fell to her sides.

“Typical.”

Jogging to the other edge of the destruction where everyone was, minus the wizard guy, Y/n spotted Otto next to Max. The scientist looked pleased to see her well, as was she to him. “What a day. Huh, doc?”

“Definitely not one I imagined when I woke up this morning—or should I say two days ago.” Sheesh she didn’t even realize it had been almost two days. Everything happened so fast they barely had time to remember how much time went by.

Thankfully Y/n didn’t see what took place on the shield, otherwise Norman wouldn’t have lived to see the next day. Ten minutes had passed and she still didn’t see Peter (2) so she started moving to the area he at. Otto watching her with sad eyes. It was only a matter of time.

There she saw Peter in an embrace with the other versions of himself—though she could make out the taller version of him holding up by his side. As the younger pulled away, Y/n hearing him say, “I guess I’ll see ya,” she knew what was about to happen.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Not to mention there were cracks and strange symbols in the sky.

The young boy had landed in front of her, making her jump back at the sudden movement which he apologized for. “Sorry, I-I just wanted to thank you, Y/n. For everything.” He was talking about the apartment. How she had tried to get May out and protect him by taking on Norman herself.

“Anytime, little spider,” she said one last time, a slight waiver in her tone. She carefully brought him into a hug, whispering in his ear, “You’re a good kid, Parker. Thank you for this.” Peter nodded against her shoulder, squeezing her gently until they pulled away. With one last smile, he was out of her sight and rushing to his friends.

Tears brimmed her version, and Y/n carefully made her way across the debris as the sadness swarmed in her. When she made contact with the shield, aware the two Peters were watching her, the taller one patted his counterpart on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” Peter (2) looked to him in gratitude, limping toward Y/n with grief in his expression.

It was then she noticed Norman in a dazed wonder sitting to the side. Y/n wanted nothing more than to spit on him, but refrained seeing the cure had worked. “Bastard,” she mumbled when she met his eye—seeing him shudder by her malice. There was some pride in her seeing the cuts to his face though.

“Nice, kitty,” Peter teased, wincing when her arms went to his side, helping him when she saw the wound, “You’re hurt, spider.” He let out a pained laugh despite the crack in his voice.

“I’ve had worse, Cat.” Part of her wanted to glare for him using her earlier words, but now was not the time for that.

Y/n tightened her hold on him, letting her head fall to his chest as she sniffed. “I-I guess this is it then for us,” she tried to laugh it off, but it just came out as a sob. Y/n felt his hand come up to stoke her head, the woman leaning more into his touch. “I—. I’m so sorry, Peter,” she had to say it again. To let him know how deeply remorseful and sorry she was for her mistakes. For causing him pain when she was blinded by anger.

“I know, Y/n,” he replied though sniffs, trying to keep himself calm, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

“It isn’t fair,” she cried, hearing him shush her like she were a delicate child. “How am I—how am I supposed to go back home, knowing what I do? And you have to go back—.” Y/n sobbed as the last fight they had played in her mind, “I never meant the things I said to you that day, Peter. I was blinded—I-I was so privileged to have your love and I treated it like trash. Like the fucking bad person I am. I shouldn’t have said what I said—it wasn’t true. I love you for you Peter, not because you’re Spider-Man. I was a fool to think otherwise.”

Peter continued to pet her head, placing kisses to her crown. “Darling, you’re not a bad person—I don’t want you to ever think that way. I know you loved me for me, Y/n. Just as I loved you for you.” He tightened his grip when she sobbed again, “You have to forgive yourself, Y/n.”

“W-what if it still happens, Peter? This-this would have all happened for nothing.”

“Don’t think like that,” he tells her, leaning his cheek against her hair. Peter closed his eyes to keep the water at bay, “You don’t know what will happen, Y/n. Go on with you life—the second chance at one you weren’t supposed to have. Don’t think about the ‘what ifs’ and ‘hows.’ Just do what your heart tells you to. You’re going to be okay in the end. I promise you, Y/n.”

The cracks in the sky sounded causing Y/n to look up and see they were replaced with the symbols conjured by the wizard. It would only be a few moments before they were back to their respected universes—and realities.

“Promise me you won’t forget me, spider,” Y/n smiled at him, despite the anguish painting every inch. “You won’t forget this Cat will you?”

Peter brought her hand to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to her gloved knuckles before repeating the action on her wet cheek—careful to avoid the bruises. “I’ll remember you till the day I die, Y/n. Until my last breath.” There was a fuzzy feeling erupting the two, and Peter remembered something— his hands going into the pocket he had in his suit. “I-I almost forgot—I-I needed to give you this.”

Y/n watched him remove folded pieces of paper and a small necklace. She gasped when she recognized it. “You did it! W-wait, did both of you do this?” Her hand took the probability necklace from his palm, holding it out to see it was in fact completed with a glimmering shine to it.

“Peter—the young one—was the one to get it to work,” he smiled at her excited expression, “I just helped with the finishing touches.” There was emotion filling Y/ns eyes, feeling bittersweet at the fact he helped with her cure. Doing one last thing to help her even though she wouldn’t be his Y/n anymore.

“Thank you, Peter.”

The older man nodded gesturing for her to hand it back. “Here, let me.” Peter clasped the necklace around her neck, being mindful of the marks she had and let the little pendant sit comfortably on her suit covered chest. “There. Now you get to control how much ‘bad luck’ comes to someone.”

A light giggle escaped her, her fingers holding onto the charm before letting go. “What’s that?” She gestured to the folded pieces of paper, curiosity in her gaze. Peter had a slight redness to his cheeks, fiddling with the paper.

“It’s a letter,” he explained, holding it out for her to take. “But not for you,” he added when her hand touched it, making her look up at him perplexed.

“Then why are you—.”

“It’s for him.”

Y/ns mouth fell in the form of an ‘o’, immediately catching onto his drift. “Oh. O-okay,” she said, taking the bundle of paper and placing it in one of the many pockets of her suit. “I’ll give it to him—th-the moment I see him.” Nerves filled the Cat, she didn’t know how she was going to cross that bridge when she ultimately got there.

The fuzzy feeling soon grew, the symbols in the sky growing brighter. A shaky breath left them both. Y/n wiped away the tears still running, but it didn’t help because more just continued to flow. “I love you, Peter Parker. Always remember that,” she took his hand and squeezed with all her energy.

“And I love you, Y/n L/n,” he squeezed her hand back, seeing the bright light consume her. She saw it too from him, her heart pounding through her chest as she continued to cry.

“Forever,” was the last word she heard him say.

The bright light became too much, Y/n having to squint her eyes as the image of Peter slowly disappeared, her hand feeling empty. When the light went away, Y/n felt the air leave her.

Peter wasn’t standing in front of her, nor was the taller of version of him to the side. When she spun around, the wizard wasn’t casting spells in the sky. Younger Peter was no where to bee seen nor were the other villains she had become acquainted with.

He was gone and she was alone.

Her heart couldn’t take it and Y/n fell to her knees on the curb of the Island. Cries of anguish poured out of her, hugging herself as she ignored the pain all over. The only witnesses to her misery were the birds chirping as the sun rose over the horizon and Lady Liberty standing tall above.

Funny how Y/n got to see the sun rise. The start of a new day—one she wasn’t supposed to see.

It was over—she was back in her universe. Not knowing if she was sent back to the exact moment she was pulled from, or if it had been days later.

And Peter. Her kind, loving Peter who went thought hell would return home knowing she would still be gone in his world. Y/n silently prayed he had overcome his guilt after they finally got closure. He needed to remove the burden he held on his shoulders. Maybe the future would look bright for him.

Maybe it would for her.

Y/n was scared at what was in store for her. Wiping her face while catching her breath, she pushed herself off the ground. It was early morning, just like it was seconds ago on the alternate world. There was no one but her on the island, and the docks across the river were setting up for the day.

Y/n needed to find out what day it was. She had to know.

There was hope in her mind that she returned two days after the moment she was pulled. If that was the case then the plan with Eddie and Flint had already happened. Peter would be alive—he had to have been. It was then dread filled her.

What if it was her death that meant Peters survival?

No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t think of the ‘what ifs’ like the future Peter had said. He wouldn’t have given her the letter if he felt the past version of him would die if Y/n had lived.

She had to find her Peter. And she had to find him fast.

There ferries to Liberty Island wouldn’t be running for hours, so Y/ns only chance at making it to the city was to swim—which ironically she wasn’t the best swimmer much like her alter ego namesake—or use her grappling hook and the passing ships to get across. It was an easy decision, the latter option it was.

It took longer than what Y/n had wanted to get back to the city. She had to work with timing of the very slow ships to catch her hook onto until she managed to get a good aim at the Brooklyn Bridge. Once she did that, Y/n was able to run and swing through the pillars of the bridge until she finally made it to the streets of New York.

The first thing she had to do was find a newspaper. That was easy. Dropping into a alley by a corner store, Y/n checked her surroundings before breaking off the seal of the paper stack in front of the door. She didn’t bother reading the headline first and instead took the paper in her hands—shooting her hook to pull her on the roof.

There, Y/n could catch her breath. She limped to other side away from the public eye—which would be filling the streets at any moment and finally unfolded the newspaper. It was Friday when she left, so the first thing her eyes searched for was the date. A relieved laugh fell from her mouth, “Well I’ll be damn.”

‘THE DAILY BUGLE—SUNDAY MARCH 12, 2006: SPIDER-MAN FACES OFF SANDMAN AND SYMBIOTE HOLDING BROADWAY STAR HOSTAGE. SANDMAN FLEES, WATSON RESCUED, SPIDER-MAN SAVES THE DAY ONCE MORE (SEE PAGE 5 FOR DETAILS)’

Tears of relief now replaced the ones of anguish. Y/n felt it pool every inch—feeling the overwhelming happiness. Peter was right, everything was going to be okay for her.

It had been two days. It wasn’t Friday morning, it was Sunday. “O-Oh my God,” a hand went to her mouth to stop the laughs mixed with her tears. At this point Y/n didn’t care about the pain from her broken ribs or concussed head. All she cared about was she was back home and her Peter was okay.

Gathering herself, Y/n threw the paper to the side—leaving it behind as she swung through the air in the direction of Peters apartment. In the back of her head Y/n kept reminding herself he would not be the Peter she met in the alternate world. This was her true version of him—the one of this new reality—where anything could happen now.

Still in her dirty, bloodied state with her new suit, Y/n climbed up the stairs of the apartment complex in a rush. She tried to keep her movements quiet so his nosy neighbors wouldn’t come busting out their doors, but she was filled with excitement, anxiety, and adrenaline.

Reaching the top, not caring about who would hear her, Y/n banged on his door. “Peter!! Peter it’s me!! It’s Y/n—please I need to talk to you! Ahh!” She groaned when pain erupted on her side. Y/n really needed to see a doctor. It’d be a true tragedy if she fucking died right there because she held off going to a hospital. “Peter!!”

Her body fell to the side out of breath when the click of a lock sounded and the door flew open. Peter didn’t have time to react at the sudden appearance of Y/n—who he hadn’t heard of for days and was quite frankly pissed off with— because he was pushed inside his apartment when her arms went around him.

It made him stumble, the two nearly falling to the ground if he hadn’t grabbed her waist to steady them. “Y/n?!” His tone was a mix of anger and bewilderment. “Where the hell have you—?” The words cut off when he felt her shoulders shake in his hold, hearing the soft cries.

“Oh-oh my gosh, it’s really you,” she pushed her face into his chest, hiding it away from his vision. “You’re okay—you’re okay. It—it actually—I can’t believe it.” Peter felt her grip tighten, like she was holding onto him for dear life.

The anger he was feeling changed to confusion at her state. ‘What the hell is she talking about?’ He thought.

When he managed to pull away to get her hair out of his face, that’s when the alarm struck him seeing the white strands painted dark red. “Y/n,” he gently put his hands on her shoulders to ease her away. “Y/n, what happened?” The panic in him only increased when he finally got her to show her face to him, “Oh my God.”

Cuts with dried blood were painting her skin, purple and yellow bruises on her neck and jaw with irritation like there had been some kind of material constricting her. Her white hair had dried blood staining the area by her temple. And that was only the visible injuries he could see. That’s when he noticed the suit she was wearing—it wasn’t the one she normally wore.

Peter didn’t want to think about what injuries laid underneath.

“Y/n,” his tone was serious, “Who did this to you? Uhh—my god, you—we need to get you to the hospital!” Everything that had happened the past couple days disappeared from his brain—all he could focus on was her beaten form. “When did this happen?! Y/n—what—where have you been the last two days?”

There were so many questions the man was becoming filled with anxiety. He held her by her side to get her onto the couch, careful when she moaned at the contact to her ribs. “Shit,” he cursed, “Stay there—okay? I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

Y/n threw off her mask, letting it fall to the opposite side of the sofa. “No! Wait—don’t do that yet!” He just looked at her like she was crazy.

“Y/n, who knows what kind of internal bleeding you have. Do you not see yourself? You show up after two days of being missing beaten to a pulp and you want me to wait? No! You’re hurt and if you wait any longer you’ll could die—.”

“I should already be dead!!”

The phone fell to the floor, sound in it’s wake. Y/n wanted to curse at herself—feeling stupid by the outburst, but it was in the heat of the moment. Tears brimmed in her vision when she heard Peters weak voice, “W-what? What’re you talking about, Y/n?” Y/n stared up at the ceiling, letting her one hand caress the smooth pendant around her neck.

“I should already be dead, Peter,” her voice broke, the heartbreak echoing off the walls. “—I wasn’t—this wasn’t supposed to happen. And you won’t understand, because you weren’t there,” Y/n bit her lip, trying finish what she was trying to tell him. “Friday—Friday something happened. Something unimaginable,” she let her head fall so she could look at him, getting lost in his gorgeous blue eyes she had come to love. “You probably wouldn’t have thought it was real either—but it was. I swear to you.”

Her eyes stayed with his as he slowly walked toward her, kneeling down beside her legs. “What happened?” He asked once more, worry in his gaze. He didn’t like seeing her like this—even if he was upset with her. Here she was looking like hell and saying she was supposed to be dead. How was the man supposed to react?

In all honestly she didn’t know how to explain to him the once in a lifetime experience she had. But it was worth a shot.

“You know how you’ve always had that theory about a ‘multiverse,’” she waited for his nod before continuing, “What if I told you, it were true. That beyond our universe lays an infinite number of worlds and realities where—,” she reached for his hand, smiling softly when he let her take in. “—where other versions of ourselves exist. Versions of us who experience things one could only imagine. Worlds with multiple heroes and villains—worlds with magic.”

Peter furrowed his brow, trying to follow along. “I’d probably ask what drug you’ve been taking, Y/n.” She let out a defeated sound, letting her head fall back as more tears flowed from her.

“Peter, I know it’s hard to trust me right now. But please I need you to believe me when I tell you what I’m saying is the truth.”

He only sighed, shaking his head, “I’m having trouble doing that, Y/n. Do you hear what you’re saying? Look, y-you could be concussed and your mind is playing tricks on you.” Peter had never seen her like this and it honestly scared him.

“N-no,” she cried, squeezing his hand, “You have to believe me, please. I wouldn’t lie about this. Look I— Friday night I was supposed to be at the fight—and you can be angry at me and I’m really sorry—it was a mistake and I was blinded by my anger, but you need to hear this. I was pulled into an alternate universe where an alternate version of you exists and it was the day I was supposed to die! There was a kid version of you who was the Spider-Man of that world—Otto, Norman, and a future Flint got pulled in too!” She saw his concerned look at the names she mentioned, but continued to ramble, “So did Dr. Connors from another world as a giant lizard—with this guy who controlled electricity. Their Peter turned up—he was taller and in his twenties. And—and there was you—it was you from the future. I-I—.

“Anyway, there were six of us—Spider-Man villains—that were pulled from a moment in time in the past, except Flint. When the kid Peter Paker found out most of us died fighting you he wanted to change that. He-he wanted to help us—because that’s what Spider-Man does—,” Y/n felt another tear fall as she sniffed, “—you help people—even if they’re not deserving of it. And he tried, God the kid had tried to do it on his own, but the Goblin took control and all hell broke lose—.” Her head shot up remembering the necklace she was wearing.

“This!” She held it to him to see, “This is what the kid a-and the future you helped make. It’s my ‘cure’—a probability necklace that controls how much ‘bad luck’ I produce. They made it in hopes I would not die when I returned home.” Her bottom lip quivered, thinking back to the other Peter.

When he didn’t respond, she felt her heart drop, “It’s not a lie, Peter.”

The man was in stunned silence. Who could blame him? It’s not everyday your ex turns up on your doorstep with a story he could only think would be seen in a movie. He wanted to believe her, because Y/n had never been so distressed and persistent. But he was still having trouble trusting her after everything.

“Then tell me who did this to you? If you went to this ‘alternate universe’ then who hurt you this bad, Y/n. Tell me the truth.”

Y/n flinched before sniffing, looking dead in his eye as she weakly replied, “Norman Osborn.”

If Peter could feel his stomach drop then that’s what was happening. His eyes were like saucers staring at her. “N-no. No-no-no,” he shook his head, not liking her confession at all. Y/n tried to lean forward but the sharp pain had her leaning back. “No that’s it, I’m calling the ambulance right now—you need to get checked by a doctor. And when you’ve fully recovered, then maybe you’ll remember who really did this.”

Y/n just let the tears silently fall from her as Peter stood from the ground and dial 9-1-1. She could hear him speak to the operator, telling them to hurry as it was an urgent matter. All she felt was misery knowing it was going to take an arm and a leg to convince Peter what she said was true. It didn’t help his trust in her was practically nonexistent.

“They’ll be here in five minutes,” he put the phone back on the charger before walking toward her. “We need to get you out of this suit—which where the hell did you get anyway?”

She ignored his slight glare when she blankly said, “the other world.” Y/n just let Peter guide her to his closet where he helped unzip the suit. She saw his eyes travel the many bruises on her side—the man flinching as anger seemed to darken in him. Not anger at her, but at whoever did it.

Peter gently helped her into one of his hoodies and sweatpants. He didn’t notice her fumbling with one of the suit pockets before he had the chance to hide it in the closet. Y/n tucked the folded pieces of paper in the pocket of the sweatpants, making sure it was safe before Peter lifted her in his arms and led them down the stairs of the complex.

The ambulance had just pulled up, two EMTs exiting the front and moving to the back to get the stretcher. “Place her right here for us, sir.” Peter moved to the gurney, gently placing Y/n on the cushion. “Unfortunately sir you can’t ride with us. You’ll have to get to the hospital on your own.”

Y/n didn’t like the sound of that, “W-wait—no! I need help him. Please can’t he come with us?” She was tightly holding onto his hand, looking panicked at being alone. Peter squeezed her hand, telling her it was okay.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s protocol.” Y/n whimpered, feeling crushed and she reached into her pocket where the wad of papers were. As the EMTs started to strap her in, Y/n pushed the paper into his hand she was holding.

“R-read it,” she stuttered out, feeling the exhaustion overtake her as the adrenaline finally wore off for the hundredth time in two days. “He—he wanted me to give—give it to you. Please, r-read it.” Y/n weakly squeezed Peters hand, letting her head fall back onto the stretcher as they wheeled her away. “I love you. I love you—remember that.”

Her hand felt cold when she lost the feeling of his and with an IV hooked to her arm, Y/n let the tired feeling overtake her. She needed the sleep and prayed she’d wake up.

Peter was left standing on the street as the sirens sounded from the speeding ambulance. He was frozen still by the last words she said to him. The complete opposite of the ‘I fucking hate you!’ she’d screamed at him the week before. Peter snapped out of the memory of their fight—not wanting to relieve it.

With the papers in his hand, Peter went back into his apartment still trying to process all that had happened. Taking a seat on the sofa, he looked down at the material in his hands. They were crumbled, like they had been folded several times and were passed on. It made him confused what Y/n meant when she said, “He wanted me to give it to you.”

Who was ‘he?’ the vigilante questioned.

Unfolding the paper, careful not to rip them by accident, he cursed when one of them fell from the wad. It was face down, looking similar to a Daily Bugle news article. But it was brownish in color, like it was an old one that’d been kept for years. With a raised brow, he reached down to pick up the article—turning it around only to feel the air leave him once more.

It was a Daily Bugle front page issue. And not the issue he expected.

Because the date of publishing was Saturday March 11, 2006. And the headline read; “BREAKING NEWS: NEW YORKS FAMED CAT-BUGLUR ‘BLACK CAT’ IS DEAD FOLLOWING BATTLE BETWEEN SPIDER-MAN, SANDMAN, AND SYMBIOTE FRIDAY NIGHT (SEE PAGE 5 FOR DETAILS).

“W-what,” Peter said aloud, horror in his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There on the center of the article was a picture of him in his torn suit, but in his arms was Y/n. And she looked lifeless. Her earlier words echoed in his mind, “I should already be dead!”

“Th-this isn’t—this can’t be real.” Peters hands fumbled with the other papers, noticing how a few small ones were stapled together—then there was another article with the matching headline. He placed the stapled stack to the side, letting his attention read over the article with the same date as the front page.

“Saturday March 11th, 2006–Published by J. Jonah Jameson: ‘Friday nights horror came to a climatic conclusion when Spider-Man—with the help of an unknown man on a glider, rescued actress Mary Jane Watson from her captivity by the black Spider-Man symbiote and sandman. New Yorks famed cat-bulgur—who happened to be an occasional ally of the crime fighting vigilante—was among the casualties resulting from the devastation. It’s no saying whether or not whose side the Black Cat was on, but there is one thing clear, Spider-Man was seen to be in deep agony by her death as he was last seen holding her body below the scaffold. Witnesses can account they saw the Black Cat prevent Spider-Man from getting close to Ms. Watson, but then in a change of events was seen fighting the symbiote. The last eye witness testimony is stated that shortly before the chaos came to an end, she was tossed from the building—unable to catch herself before hitting the ground. Spider-Man was then seen in a state of distress—holding her in his arms away from the crowd. The latest autopsy reveals the Black Cat suffered a broken neck, multiple fractures to the spinal cord, and abrasions to the skull. It is believed she was killed at the hands of the symbiote before being thrown from the building. The sandman has since fled the area with no current leads, as is the case for the symbiote. There has been no statement from Spider-Man and the police are treating this as an active investigation.”

By the time Peter finished reading the article—his eyes were red. Not only that, but his hands were shaking and he felt like he could fall into a panic attack at any moment.

How the hell was this real? The article was dated the day before, but what it said didn’t happen. Not to him—yes Flint was gone, Harry and Eddie were dead, but Y/n wasn’t. No she was on her way to the hospital and will hopefully be out in a few days.

But why was Peter having a hard time thinking—and why he kept thinking about her frantic words. “Friday something happened, something unimaginable.”

Peter thought back to Friday night. It was horrible for him to think about, but he needed to for the sake of what he had read. He remembered how Eddie seemed pissed more so—and how he asked Peter, “Where’s your little cat friend? She was supposed to be here.” Honestly the anger he felt knowing Y/n had betrayed him like that blinded him for the rest the fight.

Eddie was really angry, telling Peter, “Once I’m done with you, I’m gonna find your little bitch. And I’m gonna show her what happens when you double cross me.” It was enough to make him assume Y/n had bailed. Going back on whatever word she had promised Eddie. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s pulled a stunt like that, but this article was making his brain foggy.

He then remembered the stack of papers he had put to the side. With shaky hands, Peter unfolded the remaining layer to have his eyes landed on familiar handwriting. It made his heart quicken, knowing damn well he didn’t write whatever it was in his hands. Then he saw the date and his head dropped with anguish.

It was dated November 26th, 2023. Seventeen years in the future in his own handwriting.

“He wanted me to give this to you,” Y/ns voice echoed in mind. She was talking about him—the future Peter. And if the article was true, which Peter now believed it had to have been, it meant the version of him who wrote the letter in his hands had witnessed Y/n die. He was the one in the picture on the front page.

Taking a moment to gather himself as the truth settled in, Peter took a deep breath before reading.

‘Peter,

I know this is going to seem crazy, but anything Y/n has managed to tell you before giving this letter to you is true. I didn’t know what to say—as you probably know it’s hard to come up with words on the spot, especially when you’ve thought about them for so long. I’m going to keep this as simple as I can because I don’t have much time. The other versions of ourself—you from other worlds, which yes the multiverse is real and I’m experiencing it first hand—anyway they are almost done with the cures for Osborn, Connors, and Flint. Once that’s done we’ll be heading to the location we’ve planned to ambush them in hopes of changing the trajectory of their future—so they have a second chance at life. This is going to cause new realities to form where their death didn’t happen.

Which brings me to someone you will get the pleasure of having in your new reality—someone I will never see again. Y/N.

You see, Peter, Y/n was killed in front of me on the night of March 10th, 2006.’ Peter had to wipe away a tear from his cheek, pausing for a moment before continuing, ‘Everything that happened to you involving the symbiote and Flint, happened to me too. The difference now is Y/n was there at the site as planned. You may be angry with her, and trust me I was too, but Y/n realized her mistake and did what she did to stop Eddie. When MJ fell from the taxi, Y/n was the one to catch her and bring her to safety. She also caused a water pipe to burst so Flint would be unable to get bigger in his sand form.

Then, she protected me. And I had to watch helplessly when Eddie stole Y/ns life from her. The last words she told me were she loved me.’ A sob left his mouth, and Peter cursed when a water droplet landed on the paper he had flipped over. There wasn’t much left and he was approaching the end.

‘I can never go back and stop that moment from happening, Peter. Not even with the magic this world has will I get to. And I’ve had to live everyday for the past seventeen years with fleeting regret and sadness knowing I failed Y/n. She wouldn’t want me to think that way—as you probably would know, but it didn’t stop those thoughts from clouding me since she left my life.

The words I said to her that last fight, I never got to tell her how much I regretted it. How I had the moment I kicked her out. God how I wish I never did that, and then seeing the scared look in her eye when Eddie was holding her will haunt me forever. Even if she tells me tonight if I see her to not blame myself, I still will. I didn’t even get to tell Y/n how much I loved her before she was taken from me. It’s not a feeling I want you to have. Not when you have this opportunity to fix what happened and keep her in your life.

There is so much love in friendship, people tend to forget that. Even if a relationship is not in the cards for you two, there’s still a chance at being in each other’s life for the better. And if something happens, then cherish it, Peter. Because it’s my biggest regret that I never got to tell Y/n how much she meant to me.

I still don’t know if I’ll even be able to say it if I see her. I’m honestly scared and it pains me knowing it will be the last time I’d ever get to. She’ll go home to your new reality, while I have to live in a world where my Black Cat is gone.’ The mans heart broke reading that line, feeling the grief through the letter of his future—now alternate future self.

‘You get to live in a world where she’s alive. Where she gets to live the life that was stolen from her. She’s going to need you after what she just went thought—the knowledge she has to live with now and the trauma from nearly dying at Osborns hands,’ there was a flare of anger in his veins as he read over the name. ‘Y/n fought like hell from what this worlds Peter told me. It’s going to take time for her to be her normal self after spending two days in another universe, being near past versions of Norman and Otto, fighting Norman as the Goblin, and not to mention the future version of Flint was the one who told her what happened.

Then there’s going to be the fact she will more than likely feel guilty after seeing me. I’m not the Peter she knows, you. Y/n will feel like she is to blame for everything and it’s your job to not make her feel that way. Eddie was the one who fed on her vulnerability and anger for you. She’ll feel sad about me blaming myself, but assure her I’m going to be okay. I’ll still miss her everyday, but seeing her alive tonight and getting closure will finally bring me peace.

Peter flipped to the final page, his entire face wet with moisture. With one last sniff he finished the final paragraph just as he realized the last paper stapled was actually a photo. One of Y/n he had taken a month ago, but had yet to develop, ‘I hope you’re able to do better than me, Peter. It’s what you both deserve. Take care of Y/n for me. Remind her everyday she’s safe and cared for. You’re support is going to get her though this. She loves you—remember that. And I know you love her. —Peter”

When the anesthesia wore off after several hours, Y/n felt her eyes flutter open but closed them at the harsh lights filling her vision. A whimper escaped, and it was then she felt movement to her side—realizing someone was holding her hand.

A figure hovered over her as the person squeezed her hand, Y/n opening her eyes only to be met with the gorgeous bright blue ones she had loved. “P-Peter?” She whispered, concern in her gaze when she saw the redness in eyes and dried tears. “You-you’re here.”

His lips were on her forehead, kissing the skin not covered by the bandage. It was then Y/n could see the papers peaking from his jacket pocket, his handwriting catching her attention. The woman letting out a gasp, seeing the knowing look on his face which indicated he had read them.

And he believed every word. Both from what she said and what his future self wrote him.

“Y-you—.” she tried, but the words couldn’t form when he brought her hand up to also press a kiss to her knuckles.

“Of course I’m here, darling.” He let his free hand caress her cheek, letting the tear fall in relief at seeing her awake. “I love you, Y/n. It’s gonna be okay—we’re going to get through this. Together.” She didn’t even realize she was crying until his finger brushed away the tear, his lips moving to her cheek with affection.

“Together,” Y/n repeated.

Content filled her as night took over and the day came to an close. Love and optimism replacing the fear and dread she had been feeling since the moment she left his arms. The universe truly worked in mysterious ways.

The Black Cat had went through hell and back—jumping across a Universal pond on the day her life was to come to an end. Fate had plans, but with the help of alternate versions of the man she loved, Y/n got a second chance. She wasn’t the only one. Five other lost souls in the cosmos were experiences the same thing.

And the vigilantes who helped them, got closure in their own way after what one would call, a spider studded reunion.

Out there in his universe, under a cold December breeze, Peter Parker stood in front of the headstone labeled ‘Y/n M/n L/n 🤍: 1983-2006–daughter & friend. ‘It seems so long ago how young and innocent we were.’

Kneeling down, he placed the white roses and sunflowers on the area below the engraving—adjusting it so it looked nice against the white marble. Peter had already visited his parents, Ben & May, then Harry, and saved his best girl for last.

The girl he knew was out there in another universe, with her version of him living the life he dreamed she’d have.

Bringing his lips to his mouth before setting them on her headstone, Peter whispered one final goodbye to his love. “Rest now, Y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

———————

Ya’ll bishes don’t understand, I am literally fucking sobbing in my chair as I write NWH!Peter and Y/n saying goodbye. Like I’m actually a mess. I already was tearing up at them seeing each other again, but I’m a train wreck writing the goodbye. Fuck when I get to the end I don’t know how Imma be. -> I finished and I’m even more of a mess. How fucking dare I end it like that.

…………………….

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teaboot · 2 years

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Top 5 characters from games like sims you've ever made/played as?

I see "games like Sims" and decide it includes D&D and any game with a sufficiently customizable character

1. Of the full house of giant 1970's disco women named after US presidents my best friend and I made on Sims 1 when we were in grade 3 together, the only one I can clearly remember was Nixon, a very tall women with huge hair who wore striped bell bottoms. She holds a special place in my heart. I think she survived when we disappeared the doors and toilets too

2. Drizzt, a character named from the Forgotton Realms books, who I created in middle school after I was like 7 books in when I was scared the real book Drizzt wouldn't get a happy ending. The closest I could get to the Canon description was a bobble-headed little Black dude with long white hair and purple kitty cat eyes. I leveled him up on this game until I could make him friends and design special clothes to look like his Canon armour. I never went back to the books and to this day I like to think he did get to be happy. Do not tell me otherwise.

3. Ruby! My most beautiful special darling princess baby girl. She's a bright red tiefling with full black eyes, wide sheep horns, burgundy hair tied up in double buns, and a nubby little stump tail. She's a lovely ball of sunshine and I love her so much. She's a chaotic good rogue ❤

4. Riot, my second fantastic perfect little muffin baby, also from a tabletop RPG. She's a young grungy goth kid with neon green hair who does crimes because she can NOT go back to food service. She's a sweetie with crap social skills and I love her so much. Chaotic neutral 💚💚💚

5. Ferros, a second D&D character I've had for a long time but never got to use- I styled him to be sort of like a classic gargoyle, with mottled grey hair, skin, horns, and eyes. I wanted to make him an earth-type Genasi, and his theme was built around flint and shale. A lawful good cleric, he was a long, lanky, soft-spoken and gentle fellow who wasn't really good at much of anything, but had good intentions. I hope to pull him out of storage some day :)

Thank you for the ask!!! I love talking about my darling children

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loverssfevers · 2 years

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bleeding hearts - adrian pucey (part three)

Description: Olive’s heart doesn’t only bleed for her brother Terence Higgs and their broken family life but also for Adrian Pucey who she’s been yearning for, for far too long. (Part Three of Three) Part one, two Word count: 6.4K Warnings: mentions of death and addiction, implied sex A/N: bleeding hearts is all yours now, enjoy. (and as always tell me what you think <3)

Miles pushes his index finger to his lips as he and Terence hold a heavy bucket of water. He points to you and then the curtain that separates Adrian's dorm room to the rest. You roll your eyes, stepping around them both and using your free hand to rip the curtain open. Adrian's spread out asleep sheets tangled and shirt ridden up a little exposing his stomach and you look away embarrassed. Without warning Miles and Terence scream “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and throw the bucket forward splashing Adrian.

Adrian flings up, water dripping from his messy bed hair and soaked pyjamas. “WHAT THE FUCK” he yells looking at them both before seeing you standing there awkwardly “Oh, Hey”

“Happy birthday” you smile weakly holding out a bag “That wasn't my idea by the way”

He takes it with a small thanks and tells you he’ll open it when he's not drenched and after he’s killed your brother and his best friend; who have now bolted out the dorm room. With that you quickly walk out and leave him to it. You don’t want to think about how cute he looked dazzled and sleepy. You don't want to think about the exposed skin that makes your cheeks heat up.

Later in the day Adrian comes to thank you for his gift and you beam at each other in excitement. It was an enchanted hologram of his favourite quidditch player flying around in the last championship, expensive but worth it. He tells you there's going to be a party in the common room Saturday night and you should come. You hated parties but you’d make an exception for him, so you agree.

Saturday night you're sitting on the Slytherin couch watching people around you dance. Terence was jokingly dancing around with Daphne, twirling her around. Face flushed red and she was laughing her smile so big you wondered if she could even see Terence through her happily squinted eyes. Adrian who's just finished talking to Flint at the drink table sees you on the couch.

“Hey” He sits next to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. He passes you a cup “Terence seems to be enjoying himself”

You take it and smile into the rim as you take a sip “He must like her a lot”

“Probably, I’ve never seen him act more like an idiot”

You both giggle high off the party atmosphere. You're leaning into each other to talk getting closer and closer blaming it on the music being too loud.

“So how's your birthday been?” you ask

He smiles, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. So close. “Could be better”

“How so?” You tease.

Very close now, noses bumping against each other and you can feel his breath on yours.

You hear everyone make a sudden commotion and rush towards the windows taking your attention away from the moment. You both look and the giant squid has decided to make an appearance at the party. It has one of its tentacles pressed against the window and its popping off each suction cup to create a beat. People laugh and point mesmerised. You leave a quick peck on Adrian's cheek and he immediately puts his attention back to you but you grab his hand and drag him over to the window to be closer to the entertainment. Of course even a giant squid thought Adrian was charming enough to say happy birthday.

The rest of the night goes well and most people drag Adrian away to dance or have a drink together. By the end Adrian is completely gone and so are most people including Fred who George is trying to lug out of the Slytherin common room by himself. You offer to help and George almost cries in thanks, deciding to take the top half of Fred while you take the bottom.

“Is this what it feels like to carry a dead person?’ he groans

You frown ‘I don't know but you’d probably need an accomplice to help with your crimes if you're struggling this bad’. George laughs and it takes a while but you somehow make it to the Gryffindor towers setting him into bed.

You and Adrian don’t mention the near kiss in potions the next week or the week after and you aren’t sure if he remembers. But his hand lingers on yours a bit longer than usual when he helps with something in class and you are somehow always near each other outside of it. It has you believing maybe just maybe this isn't Adrian being nice, it's him actually reciprocating the strong feelings you’ve had for him for so long. Had he been doing that the whole time?

Just before the start of February Graham pulled you aside to plan a day to study and you honestly had completely forgotten about it but you agree. One Thursday after dinner you meet him in the library right at the back away from everyone's view. “I’ll get less distracted” he claims but you have a slight suspicion it's because he doesn't want anyone to know he's getting tutored. But you ignore it, it's not your problem. You had been there for an hour before Graham's attention had shifted from herbology to you.

“Don't you get sick of it?” he questions tapping his fingers on the table.

“Sick of what?” You question back your eyes glued to the open book in front of you. If he was going to ignore his work you might as well get some of your own done instead.

“Liking one person for years and never getting anything back?”

Glancing at him from under your eyelashes for a moment before you push your chair out and stand up “I’m going to get you another book” you announce making it clear you did not want to talk about it. You walk away towards the herbology section, fingers lingering over the spines of books you’ve borrowed at some stage for light reading or class. How did he expect you to respond to that question and why was he even asking that? Adrian had given you something back though hadn't he? The night of his birthday party had given you reason to believe he was into you but then again you had both been drinking. Maybe it had just been the moment. You frown, stopping at the sound of girls talking on the other side of the bookcase. Taking a sneaky peak through the books to the other side you see three Slytherin girls probably a year younger gossiping amongst themselves.

“And then he kissed me” one girl giggles putting her fingers to her lips and you smile at her excitement.

“Who? Adrian?” the girl on her right gasps, putting her hand on her friend's arm. Suddenly you're not smiling anymore instead you lean closer into the conversation, forehead against the wood of the shelf above your head.

“Who else would I be talking about?” the first girl rolls her eyes.

You want to walk away, you shouldn't be hearing this, you shouldn't be eavesdropping but what does she mean Adrian kissed her?

“Sorry, what do you reckon it means?”

You slowly back away from the shelf not wanting to make yourself heard. You couldn't hear anymore. You were right from the beginning. Adrian was untouchable, he was too good for you. You almost want to laugh at your own delusion that he would like you.

But you don’t hear it was just a dream, already out of earshot.

Walking back to the table you sit down abruptly. Graham, who's head in his hand gazing at the windows probably wishing to be anywhere other than here, switches his attention to you.

“I am sick of it” your face is red hot.

He licks his teeth and grins at you “I can help you get your mind off him, If you want of course”

You think about it, not one to really get into anything like Graham is possibly suggesting but you’re embarrassed, Merlin are you embarrassed and part of you wants to feel wanted. Something that's been denied from you for a long time “What did you have in mind?”

Turns out Graham had a lot in mind and you were not opposed. The attraction you had for each other was purely physical and that was evident in the fact you spent more time in each others mouths than actually using them to speak. Every time you kissed him you felt like you had to purposely remind yourself who it was and who you should be thinking about. You try to push down the fact you wanted it to be Adrian and he tried his best to ignore the fact he knew you did. But it's safe to say Graham's herbology scores did not get any better because every study date had led to more than what you both anticipated.

Your little situationship had been kept private. He said he didn't want people to know, Terence in particular which made you laugh but when he told you he was dead set on it so you obliged. You agreed it would be a little weird if Terence knew you were sleeping around with someone he was friends with for so long anyways. Every meeting had been behind closed doors and in the shadows of hallways no one bothered to look. To everyone else you and Graham were only acquaintances.

Adrian notices the distance though. How you sit a bit further away and you try your best to keep to yourself which is something that was never an issue between you guys before. Your presence or lack of it was also alarming, he didn't want to pry but you’d disappear for ages only to reappear and act like it never happened. Adrian was smart but when it came to you he felt like a little kid again. Confused.

A month passes and you continue your little rendezvous with Graham. Miles is the only one in the know after accidentally walking in on something. He had screamed and cried telling you to burn his eyes but you made him promise he wouldn't tell. Given the way Graham was slightly intimidating he sighed and agreed. But he did give you awfully long stares whenever you walked past.

“You’re being an idiot” Miles had told you one day slamming his hands on the desk you sat on in the library. “Montague”

You shushed him grabbing his hand pulling him away from the crowd “Could you be anymore loud?”

“Montague?” He cries out in question “He’s like the furthest away from someone like Adrian, what happened?”

You don't really know what to say. He was right but you didn't have an answer for him. He lets you know he's not judging you, he's just confused and Adrian is too. You question what that means and he gives you “What do you think?” before walking away. You don't think you’ve thought properly since the day you heard Adrian kissed someone else.

At the end of March Slytherin had their last game against Ravenclaw before the final in June after exam season in May. If they win by a certain amount they are automatically in the finals. Usually you’d be in the stands rooting for Adrian. Except this time you’re trying to focus on literally anyone else but him. Which is questionably hard considering he is the main chaser scoring and making the game worthy of watching. However you try to keep your eye sight on Graham, who was still a good chaser just not making as many big shots. Graham is impulsive and reckless while Adrian's calculated and strategic. It makes you question why he isn't captain.

However they win and when you make your way down to the tent with Terence and Hannah to congratulate them you head straight for Graham. You glance quickly to Adrian who's standing with Miles and Hannah completely zoned out of their conversation observing you and Graham instead. His taking off his gear without even breaking focus on what's happening in front of him. You ignore it. Why was it any of his business anyways?

“You played well” you comment, taking a quick glimpse of Graham's torso as he reaches above his head to put a black hoodie on.

“I always do” he grins, noticing your gaze and being pleased with it.

You roll your eyes at him “You’re very cocky you know that?”

“Mhm, you like it though”

Did you?

“Come to Three Broomsticks tonight. We’re celebrating and I want you beside me”

You’re shocked, what happened to the secrecy? Graham saying he wanted you there with him was big. You swallow nervously but reply “I’ll be there”

It was still a little cold but you ignored it telling yourself you can just use a charm to heat yourself up just so you could wear this little black dress you’d been saving. When Graham comes past the common room to pick you up he almost doesn't want to go to the celebration anymore after seeing you, but you take him by the hand and drag him out the castle.

Tensions high considering it was your first time being out together publicly you stand in the bar orbiting around him as he enjoys himself. It was his team's party after all. When you look across the room Terence gives you a confused look “Did you come with Graham?” and he nods towards Adrian who's seated at the bar talking to someone else but part of his attention is on you too “What happened with him?”. You shrug, were you not allowed to move on? Terence doesn't look impressed but he knows better not to make a scene, especially when drunk people are around.

“My love” Graham’s hand is pressed against your back to get your attention and you turn around to face him. His cheeks are a little rosy from the cold and the drinks he's already had.

He pulls you closer, placing a kiss on your lips and you comply. He tasted sweet from the fire whiskey only making you want to kiss him more. When you finally pull away you can feel someone staring into your face and when you turn to look your smile immediately drops. Oh no.

Adrian is seething. At Graham but also you. Why would you kiss Graham right in front of him, well at all really. Was it not only a couple months ago he was close enough to taste the drink on your lips or was that all just a dream? No. Because he remembers going to bed every night since then thinking if that stupid squid didn't come at that very moment he would have kissed you. He would have you in his arms right now, but instead you're embraced in Grahams. Why, why, why. He feels the anger bubble inside of him and if he holds his cup a little tighter he thinks it might break. Glass cuts would probably hurt less than whatever this was.

He watched you move away from Graham, cheeks flushed but when you turned your head your eyes made contact with his. Your face drops and he doesn't know what to make of that. Did he look that angry or was it the fact he saw it happen that terrified you.

You’d never seen Adrian angry; he always kept his composure. Seeing him look at you like he was about to explode made your heart drop to your stomach. You let go of Graham immediately and tell him you're going to get some air.

Moments later Adrian's followed you out of three broomsticks. “What the fuck was that?” It comes out a little meaner than he wanted it to but he is so confused and angry he needs an answer “I thought- my-?”

“It was nothing” you say quickly.

“So my birthday, what, it was nothing?”

“Yeah”

“Yeah? Bullshit”

“Why are you acting like you want me?”

“What? Why wouldn't I want you?”

“Because… because I'm me and you’re”

“I’m what?” he cuts you off.

“You”

”What does that mean” jaw clenched and words dripping with anger. His eyes are flickering between both of yours like he’s trying to dive into your mind. He wants to understand but he can’t.

“I don't want to talk about this anymore” you turn and start walking away. You know it’s not his fault and why you were fighting him on it was beyond you.

Adrian scoffs ”No you don't get to walk away, we’re finishing this conversation whether you like it or not”

But you don’t stop because you don’t know what you could say to get yourself out of this situation. You weren’t going to tell him.

”Olive stop I don’t want to fight about this” He’s only just behind you.

”Then stop talking” you bite back and that does it. Adrian stops following and watches you disappear into the distance. When you get to your dorm you throw your pillow to the wall in frustration. What on earth were you thinking?

Potions that next week was horrible, you both sat there quiet. There weren't any subtle touches or playful nudges when you messed something up. He side eyed you instead and kept to his own cauldron. You missed him and he missed you.

When you spoke to Graham about it he told you it wasn't going to work out, he could tell how attached you were to someone else causing you to sigh in relief. You didn't know how much longer you could have pretended. He tells you a relationship is off the table but anything else is still very much there and he winks before walking away. It took you a few moments of standing there dumbfounded before you could move even though you wouldn't be taking up the offer.

Adrian would lie awake in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about it. He was so tired but his mind wouldn't stop. Putting his hands on his face in frustration, he throws off his sheets putting on his Slytherin robe and shoes before sneaking out of the dorm room. He walks the castle wand in pocket. He didn't need a light; he had done this walk multiple times on his prefect trips that it was engraved in his mind.

Maybe he took too long, maybe since his birthday your feelings had changed. He for sure thought you liked him just as much as he liked you but he didn't want to rush it. ‘I’m me and you are you’ clouds his head. What did that mean? Did you think he was better than you? Because he could fly a broom and had a little badge that would get him out of trouble if someone was to find him walking around at this hour? Adrian has his flaws too, he definitely wasn't perfect he was just able to hide them well. When your family is looked upon highly you grow to learn how to conceal the ugly parts of you. Adrian wasn't allowed to act like a child, he wasn't allowed to act out if he was angry, he interalised everything to keep this perfect family view.

Merlin, he had figured out how to stop taking dreamless potions after it clicked one day he was mildly addicted. A year into being chaser for the slytherin team he started having aggressive and repetitive nightmares. At the start he’s playing a match scoring goals and he can hear everyone cheering his name. Then all of a sudden the other team goes berserk. They're throwing his team mates off their brooms and they're falling like flies screaming for help. He can't help them though because he's next. One push is all it takes and he spirls to the ground at full speed. His eyes open right before he hits the ground. These nightmares would leave him in a sweat and he would feel stupid. It was just a dream. Why was he getting so upset over it? Why would he be scared to fly now? But he is. He started hesitating during practises to the point Marcus noticed telling him to fix it or get kicked from the team.

So he started taking these small potions to sleep peacefully at night and he got so scared that if he stopped they'd come back. But one day he had looked at the 20 bottles stacked in his wardrobe behind his clothes and realised ‘shit that's not normal is it?’. He couldn't tell anyone and he couldn't ask for help. It would ruin his image. His family's image. So he worked it out by himself. Adrian wasn't perfect and though he didn't show his struggles he did have them.

He wanted to work it out and he wanted to talk to you so desperately but instead you both make eye contact in crowded rooms wondering if it's killing you just like it's killing him.

The weather was getting increasingly warmer each day that passed and everyone began peeling off their robes in an attempt to escape the April heat. You sat across from Cedric and Hannah having a conversation about divination. “I mean last year she told me I was going to die young because the line on my palm was short” Cedric exclaims fork pointing at you in disbelief. You laugh and Hannah hugs him, rubbing his back “Poor baby”.

On the Slytherin table a letter drops into Terence's plate of rice and chicken. He groans, picking it up and shaking off the rice sticking to the paper. It's a letter from your mum. He debates whether he can be bothered opening it right now or if it can wait a few hours or maybe days. But he opens it and reads it anyway. He reads it over and over making sure he gets it right before suddenly standing up and walking over to your table "I need to talk to you"

You can see the urgency in his eyes and see his jaw is tight. “Okay, I’ll be back guys'. Plucking a strawberry from the bowl in the middle you quickly stand up and follow him outside and into the courtyard.

"Mum just sent this to me, um" his throat is dry and his hand shakes "Dad he’s uh" he winces, giving up just handing you the letter instead. Your eyes skim the page as you chew on your fruit. 'Dead’. You swallow and it's almost so comedic your lips are threatening to crack a smile.

"What?"

"I know"

“Oh” You both pause and it's like everything happens in slow motion but so quickly at the same time. He's dead. “But the last thing”. It’s stuck in your throat. It’s no longer comedic but bad, very bad. You shake your head, eyes frantically looking around in panic trying to put the words together “I told him he wasn't my father?”

Terence reaches out to you but you move away “I told him he wasn't my dad” you repeat and you feel sick. You think the strawberry you barely ingested is rising up the back of your throat and about to spew out at any minute.

‘Olive you didn’t know’ Terence says ‘We didn’t know’

There's a pain in your chest that won't budge. At the time you thought he deserved to hear it. He deserved to hear that you wanted nothing to do with him. That you didn’t need him. But that was only because you had the chance to have him there, now you have nothing. The man might be dead but your words stay alive.

Terence is breathing quickly. You can see that even though he hated the man he’s sad too. Because now that he's gone Terence isn't thinking about all the bad things, he’s thinking the good. He’s thinking about how his dad would ruffle his hair and squeeze his cheek lovingly. He remembers sitting in the nook of his arm and body looking up at him like he was the most important person in his life. He would run down the stairs and crash into his dad's legs when he got home. Does death redeem him for leaving? Does death suddenly make it okay? Terence doesn't know.

"What happens now?" You ask, desperate for an answer but Terence doesn't give you one, just as lost as you.

Time passes too quickly and you hear your classmates rush out the great hall to their next lesson. You watch them in jealousy and annoyance. Their day will move on like normal but yours is changed forever. Forever known as the anniversary of his death. Your dad's death. The more you think about it the more it hits you. There's no more chances for redemption now; for him or you.

Your eyes are blurry now but you see him clear as day. You start speed walking, running almost, accidently bumping shoulders with people walking in your direction. They give you confused and dirty looks but you ignore them, along with Terence calling your name. You rush towards Adrian crumbling into his arms squeezing against him. He holds you close confused hearing your quiet sobs. He takes both his hands to your face pulling you away to look at you. He is worried and shakes his head slightly. What's wrong?. You don't answer but push your forehead into his chest again. He looks at Terence who stands a distance away. Adrian doesn't know what's happened but he holds you and won't let go until you're ready to be let go of. Because even though you aren't speaking he cares for you, merlin he loves you and he would do anything for you in a heartbeat.

Later in the night the three of you sit in the Slytherin common room not saying a word. The tea in your hands is lukewarm. No one dared to utter a word of the events after lunch but the swollen eyes and raw skin around your nose is a painful reminder. The noise of conversations around you sizzles out as more people go to bed the later it gets. The ache in your head and eyes from crying forces your eyes closed. You drift off to sleep, head leaned on Adrian's shoulder.

"We should wake her, I'll walk her back to her dorm" Terence sits up straight rubbing his eyes and cheeks to wake himself up.

"It's okay, let her sleep a little longer. You head to bed"

Terence looks at Adrian with tired but sincere eyes "You know I'm okay with it right?"

Adrian asks him what he means but Terence gives him a soft smile looking between you and Adrian before bidding him a goodnight. He stays up as long as he can before he slowly repositions himself to be lying on the couch placing your body next to his. You groan sleeply wiggling around and putting one arm around him and Adrian smiles softly closing his eyes. Terence wakes up the next day to the picture of you both tangled in each other's arms.

Dumbledore gives you a week off to spend at home to look after your mum and spend time as a ‘family’. Terence carries masses of homework and revision notes onto the train while you don't even think about school. When you both walk through your home doors your mum is standing in the living room staring at the spot he last sat at. You drop your bag to the floor and slowly walk to her testing the waters. Last time you saw her she was angry, could barely look your way. But when she notices your presence she embraces you for the first time in years.

That week there was a funeral for a man who was barely known. No one was sitting in the aisles. No one prayed for the soul of a dead father. His name is not even written in the Farewell section of the Daily Prophet. It was almost like he was forgotten before he was gone.

And Terence doesn’t celebrate his birthday that year. For once he isn't waiting for an unexpected letter from his father. He knew for sure it was never coming.

When you get back to Hogwarts people tiptoe around you and Terence feels it too. People stare not knowing if it's appropriate to say something but in the process making you feel like an alien. Your friends held you a bit longer and squeezed your hand to express their condolences. At home you spent the week lying in bed staring at the glow in the dark stars stuck to your roof. You remember begging your Mum to get them for you despite her constantly saying no. Until one day your dad came home carrying a packet claiming ‘They need some normality in their lives no?’. You watched him stick them to your ceiling and later that night he laid on the floor beside you and Terence to watch them glow ‘Pretty neat don't you think?” There wasn't a day you didn't regret it. You wished you could take a time machine and change it but you can’t. Instead you tell yourself to never leave a fight unresolved. If you have the chance to change it, why wouldn't you?.

It's the middle of May and most people are crammed in the library slaving away at their practice exams and force feeding information into their overflowing brains. Terence included. You stop by at least once a day telling him to come for a walk so he stretches and Terence appreciates it. You tell him to teach you something he’s learning and he does it with ease. You didn't know why he freaked himself out so much.

Adrian unsurprisingly isn't in the library but on the quidditch pitch hovering in the air letting the wind brush through his hair. You sit in the stands and you're not sure how long you're there for but Adrian turns and sees you, landing his broom on the field and you meet him halfway.

“Hey, how long have you been here for? You could have yelled for me to come down”

“No, it's okay. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to say” Adrian looks at you confused so you continue “ That night at Three Broomsticks and the whole Graham thing…”

“I don't even care about that anymore” he sighs, running his hands through his hair.

“I know you do though and I don't want to leave that conversation unresolved” You swallow, here it goes “I was trying to get my mind off you because I was too scared to admit I liked you because...to me you’re everything I’m not. Your polished I’m scratched, your elegant and I trip over my own feet” you smile loosely “But I like you and I have liked you for sometime. I want you not anyone else… but I cant right now”

You feel like you can breathe clearer, a weight lifted off your chest. You both stare at each other and you want to hold his face in your hands. Run your fingers across his scar. You want to touch him.

“I get it” He pauses and holds out his hand for you to take if you want to and you do “But I’m far from perfect. I want to show you the parts of me that I can't show other people. I want you to know me and love me for them just as much as I love you for yours. I admire you for being who you are, the free, clumsy and scratched you”

Letting out a small laugh in a huff, you lower your eyes but Adrian bends down to meet them and you smile at each other.

“I waited 10 years for you. I think I can wait a little longer” he says softly, his other hand coming up to move away a loose strand of hair “Just let me know when you’re ready”

You squeeze his hand and your attention shifts to two butterflies behind him and you frown. He turns to catch where your gaze has fallen.

“That means-”

“They're mates, eternal love” you cut him off

“You remembered?”

“How could I forget”

In some ways you felt like those butterflies. You and Adrian, dancing around each other for years not really wanting to cross the line of friendship but knowing and hoping you both meant more to each other then what it was.

Whilst you walk back to the castle your hands stay intertwined and you talk about the quidditch finals that will be taking place the last week of school after exams. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. He tells you he's scared. He knows there's going to be recruiters in the crowd and even though he's not graduating this year they’ll still be watching him.

On the day you peek into the tent seeing Adrian start to put his gear on and you rush up to him avoiding the weird looks you get from Marcus.

“Hey I made you this, for good luck” you quickly say digging in your robe to pull out a threaded green bracelet. You grab his hand and he holds it out while you wrap it around his wrist.

“A bracelet?” He grins dangling it around while your still trying to tie it

“Stop before I retract my gift”

“Sorry”

As you finish you do a quick sweep of who's around with a particular eye for Terence. Not seeing him you stand on your tippy toes to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Oh?”

“Just for a little extra luck, hard game quidditch” you shrug slowly walking backwards to join the rest of the school in the stands “Oh and I think I’m ready”

Adrian stands there with a cheesy grin on his face and he wants to run up to you, spin you around and place that kiss he's been waiting for since January on your lips. But he hears his name being called by Flint and by the time he turns back around you’ve disappeared. Regardless Adrian thinks his luck just skyrocketed.

And he was right to think that because Malfoys caught the snitch and Terence has taken you by the shoulders shaking you and screaming in delight. Everyone around you in the Slytherin stands has started rushing out onto the field and Terence lets go of you to do the same. You stay where you are to watch and laugh. Most of the players are still flying around hands in the air cheering while the Gryffindor's are on the ground patting each other's backs. Better luck next time. You look up and your attention is on Adrian who's flying directly towards you.

"What are you doing?" you call out.

He looks at you, his smile bigger than you've ever seen and he hovers a few stairs below you before jumping off his broom and climbing up the seats.

"This"

He gently grabs the back of your head bringing your lips together. At first it was shocking but not unwelcome. He goes to pull away but you grab his uniform pulling him back. It's everything you thought it would be and so much better.

"Oh mate, how does it feel to see your best friend kiss your sister?" Miles asks, nudging Terence to look towards you and Adrian.

Terence smiles "It took them long enough"

You both pull away slightly bumping noses, smiling brightly like never before.

"Congrats on winning the trophy" you whisper looking into his eyes.

"I've won more than the trophy"

You meet in the middle this time wrapping your arms around his neck. He's still a bit sweaty and gross but you don't seem to care.

"Okay that's enough" Terence yells, taking Miles's knee pad and throwing it at Adrian's back and you pull away. "I'm cool with it but that's still my sister"

At graduation, which was held in the great hall, the class of 1998 gets called one by one. Each house roars as one of their own gets awarded. You sit at the Slytherin table anticipating Terence's turn. You can see him standing there picking at his nails once again and every so often rubbing his palms on his pants. You look at Adrian who sits next to you and grab his hand squeezing it in excitement.

"Terence Higgs"

You jump up along with everyone else cheering with thumbs up in the air so he can see. And he does. He looks over grinning from ear to ear as he shakes Dumbledore's hand. You wave excitedly. It was a nice sight seeing him that happy. Your heart beams with pride and love.

Three weeks into summer Terence is standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom, his side packed up and blank.

“You know I always wanted out of this house, I thought once I had enough money I’d be running without looking back” He says “But now I’m leaving and I realise that I can leave all of this behind but I can't leave you, I don't want to”

You shake your head “You have to leave. To grow and become the person you can't be under this roof. You need to look after yourself now. Not me, not mum, you”

Terence sighs embracing you “I’m going to miss this, I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too”

You hear Adrian yell from downstairs that the taxi’s here for Terence and as you walk down the stairs and out the front door helping him carry his things you rant to him. "Promise you'll owl me at least every few weeks. I'll probably owl you a lot, you don't need to reply every time... BUT ONCE IN A WHILE WOULD BE NICE" you exclaim knowing he was hopeless at letters.

He nods and promises he will and that he's not going forever, he will be travelling back and forth to visit. Technically you know that but when someone's there everyday for 20 years a week away feels like years. You don't want him to go but you're proud regardless.

One last tight hug from everyone and he's gone. Mum sniffles and walks back inside but you look at the spot he stood thinking if you blink enough maybe he'll be there again. But Adrian puts his arm around your waist and you look up at him.

"It's just us now,"

"Oh what will we ever do" he sighs jokingly moving a piece of hair from your face

"I know somethings we could do"

“Shut up” Adrian laughs dragging you back inside your house.

Taglist: @limerenze @lilyswh0re @ghostofscarley @siriuslydestiny @imma-too-many-fandoms @accio-samulet (lmk if you want to be added <3)

Longer A/N bec im a sap: Thank you all for reading and supporting this fic for the past 3 weeks. I cant begin to describe how much it means to have people read my writing (esp 3 parts of it!!) and actually like it?? Its just crazy. I am so thankful for all of your lovely comments and feedback and I'm so glad you guys loved reading it as much as i loved writing it. I really put my all into this so thank you truly. I am planning to write a terence fic in this same universe to show his life after he moves away, If ur keen lmk and stick around!! <3 thank you again arghghgh.!!!

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