soulmate (noun) - a person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet; a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before.
What does time mean to an immortal being?
Mundanes have a limited amount of it. Aware of the final line, they try to live out every fantasy before their hourglasses run clean. They plan out the years, goals to be achieved, memories to be made in the right order. They dream of being remembered after their years have rushed by, whether for something worthy of fame or just simple photographs set in frames on homely mantelpieces.
Sometimes, Magnus hears people say ‘We haven’t seen each other for so long!’ when it’s been a year or five, and it makes him smile. He’s always felt stationary, almost solid against the waves of time; for Magnus, there’s no end line in sight, no set rules, no bracket to keep him contained.
Immortality doesn’t mean invincibility - Magnus has learned that the hard way - but there is a specific sense of freedom in not having to count your years.
He turns the shower lever and waits until steam rises from the stream of water, then steps in.
Premise: Although the Infinity War drags on and is far from over, Peter Parker is no longer able to fight against Thanos and his forces. As he lays on the ground, exhausted and now at the end of his life, he makes sure he dies without regrets.
[This is an AU, obviously. I made up some extra features on Peter’s suit too!!]
Warnings: Descriptions of violence, blood, & death. This story was created for entertainment purposes only & I do not own any of the characters mentioned besides the reader insert.
Author’s note: Heyyy it’s Sachi. This is my first fic/ drabble type thing so I would love some feedback in my askbox!!! Love u all, I will be writing more ^^
And tell me if you want a part 2 to this story. *evil laughter*
Chaos. It was the only word that could describe the madness that was ensuing all around him.
Lying on his back in an unfamiliar terrain, on a planet he had never known had existed until hours ago, Peter felt a rush of anguish flare up inside of him as he realized that no matter how many times he tried to gather strength and get up again, he just couldn’t.
He heard Tony’s unmistakable footsteps pounding into the dry land behind him, stopping next to his strained body.
“Tony, I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” Peter quavered. He didn’t know what else to say. He had failed Mr. Stark.
“Kid.. you lived up to everything I thought you could be and more. In the end, it was my own damn fault for bringing you into this shit show. Don’t be sorry… and… don’t hold on to any regrets.” It was all Tony could say. He choked up, knowing that would be the last piece of advice he would ever utter to the boy. The few years he spent mentoring Peter and silently rooting for him suddenly felt so short-lived, and he regretted not cherishing the time more.
He wished there was something he could do, but the growing pool of fresh blood under Peter told Tony that although he had all the money in the world and unmatched influence, there was a limit to his capabilities. He couldn’t stop time; he couldn’t stop the universe from taking those it decided to take.
Stark’s thoughts were cut short as a blinding purple blast created a crater only a few yards away from him. In hopes of extending Peter’s final moments, he ran away from his body and toward the source of the blasts.
Tony’s final words echoed in Peter’s mind. He knew Mr. Stark was right. He couldn’t stand to die like this.
“Karen. Call Y/N. Make it a video call.” Peter muttered. He groaned as he lifted his hand to try and wipe the blood splattered on his left cheek. The spider emblem detached from his suit, luckily still intact, and hovered over him. It cast out a hologram screen and scanned below to detect Peter’s face.
After four attempts to reach Earth, his call finally went through.
You ran to your computer as soon as you heard it alert you that your boyfriend was calling. Your heart pounded in your chest. He told you that he was going to be away for a while, a long while, and that he wouldn’t be able to contact you. So why now, only a few days into his mission?
Nervously, you accepted his call.
You saw him lying on ochre colored dirt, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his face once he saw you. His hair was matted with reddish-brown blood, bright red blood underneath him. A layer of the dirt sat on his face and coated his eyelashes, and you could see faint traces of blood that he had tried to wipe away.
It was obvious nothing had gone well. Tears threatened to fall as your eyes started watering.
“Y/N, I love you.”
Peter had to say the most important things first. He didn’t know how much time he had left, and wanted
— no, needed
— to make sure he said it one last time. He took a deep breath and continued.
“You stuck around when no one else wanted to. You were there for me before I was Spider-man, and when I got these crazy powers you loved me just as much as before. The one person I could trust with everything and anything has always been you, and only you. I love you so, so much.”
Tears spilled down your cheeks and dripped onto your keyboard, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. There was no way he would be saying those words looking like that unless something was tragically wrong. And you knew just what that something was.
“Peter, stop. Please, no. You can’t — you won’t —,” you croaked amongst sobs.
Peter’s eyes began to gloss over. He could feel himself struggling to stay conscious. The blood loss was affecting his vision; he felt cold and dull.
Only one thing was giving him the will to muster the strength to speak and move despite his agony: you.
“C’mon, Spidey, get it together. Just a little while longer…” he thought.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you… but I won’t truly be gone. I’ll be in May’s heart, and Ned’s, and probably even MJ’s… and yours. You’ll be okay. You’re strong.”
You clutched your mouth with both hands as loud, breathy sobs escaped your mouth. The world was turning bleak, both for you and Peter. Desperately you tried to control your breathing enough to be able to speak. Taking deep, hiccuping breaths you were able to utter a few words.
“I love you, Peter. Forever.”
You saw him smile, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“I’m never gonna forget you, I promise I won’t… there’s no way I could ever. And no one will ever forget Spider-man… you sacrificed yourself. For everyone.”
Hearing those words from you, a beautiful feeling of peace overcame him. The moment seemed to last an eternity. His eyes closed, for the last time.
Panic overcame your body and you were shaking uncontrollably. How could this be the end?
“Peter? Peter? No, please, Peter, say something, Peter please
The video call disconnected. You desperately tried to call back over and over again, to no avail. Your hands gripped your thighs, wet with tears.
My new try on James Vega. Was using only three colors (red ochre, Berlin blue, dark green) as a challenge. Not fully satisfyed: new paper played a trick with me, that’s why I’ve planted unnecessary contrast at the nose bridge and at the cheek.
Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.
Word Count: 4.5k+
AN: hAPPy fOURTH you guys (to whoever celebrates it, that is.) i hope you all have a good day today, disregarding of the holiday. i hope you enjoy this part and get it to 100 notes so we can flip out over 7. take care, stay safe, and be rad xx
“Why am I doing this?” You groaned, despising the agreement you had made with Luke.
You were outside the venue, L8, with the girls waiting with you. Of course it wasn’t a school night, so you allowed yourself to be just a little exposed. Your torso was hugged lovingly by a tube top, flaunting your cleavage as well as the evident collarbones by your neck. Over it was a denim jacket with wisps of wide from scratches and rips. Your legs were covered by gray leggings with converse swallowing your feet.
The Pallas’ cat (Otocolobus manul) is a small wildcat known for its unusual, and adorable, look: a flattened and rounded face, stocky build, and super fluffiness make it appear stout and plush. They live throughout central Asia, from western Iran to western China. Within this range, Pallas’ cats prefer the cold and arid environments of rocky steppes and grasslands at elevations up to about 15,000 feet.
Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.
Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.
“Okay, that’s good,” Munhee lets go of my hand, taking a step back. “Now just keep pulling energy toward the center of your palm and the flame will continue to-”
A howl resonates in my bones and interrupts the conversation, causing my attention to flick toward the surrounding dilapidated village houses which are made grainy by a light morning mist. The sound isn’t so haunting anymore as it is instead anxiety inducing. Werewolves don’t howl often.
“That was Namjoon,” Munhee’s voice is quiet, less concerned than contemplative. “We should go.”
Maybe it’s just years of practice that lead to such fine tuned hearing as it’s been almost a month and a half and I still can’t tell the difference between any of their howls. I follow Munhee as she weaves through the crumbling buildings with the graceful ease of familiarity. She doesn’t look back to check on me. I think it’s nice that she has faith in my ability to keep up.
I pause mid step when I feel it, the complete stillness. No wind, no breeze, the very breath that leaves my lips seems to go against nature. My ears perk up, suddenly straining to hear something. No birds. It’s an eerie silence that makes my quiet heartbeat sound like the beating of a drum. Demon.