#ive never seen anyone else mention it when i research it

[yossariansliverpain]

i think we should just use mandela effect to mean when ur brain extrapolates data to fill a knowledge gap and in doing so creates a false memory. bc thats what it actually is

[drchucktingle]

BIG thing i get teased about over the years (in playful ways, it is fine buckaroos, but a light tease none the less) is the DIRECTNESS of my titles. many who stumble upon my books will immediately comment 'the title is so long it just says what happens'. here are some of my thoughts on that...

as with a lot of things in the tingleverse, my unusual artistic choices end up being a sort of TROJAN HORSE, called unserious and mocked by many, but hopefully over the years revealing something to buckaroos who are not tied to the separation of ‘low brow’ or ‘high brow’ art

i feel understood by most, but for some who JUST NOW encounter the tingleverse there is an automatic apprehension, from outright to subliminal. things like scoffing ’im not going to try and find meaning in a chuck tingle book’ (real quote) or 'skeptical of the horror, ive seen his OTHER books'

i have written a LOT about how much of this, whether buds know it or not, is not just about the dinosaurs and the living objects. it is about a culture that is built to see queerness and neurodivergence and (drumroll) SEXUALITY as fundamentally unworthy of ‘real’ artistic merit. this trot runs deep

theres SOMETHING ELSE i dont talk on much however, which is directness of my writing style, both in titles and on page. why i do it is this: AS AN ARTIST it is never my intention to impress you. my books are not the 'ME show' theyre the 'US show’ so i simply want my sentences to express what happens

i wont dance circles around you, leading you through the story saying LOOK AT ME LOOK HOW GOOD I AM IM SO COOL. i want to walk BESIDE you. of course, writing to impress is also great and valid art too, just not MY preference. this is ARTISTIC choice, but i want to talk for a moment on politics of it

i tend to see buckaroos holding a sort of STRICT interpretation of what makes ‘good’ art. it is a training that has been pounded into their heads declaring ‘real art cannot just come out and say what it means.' a good example would be if someone was being critical by just saying 'its heavy handed'

the thing is, there is a huge difference between saying ‘it was blunt.’ and ‘it was TOO BLUNT for what it was trying to accomplish.’ TIME AND TIME AGAIN however, you will see folks simply deciding ‘this art just said what it meant on the surface’ and leaving it there, as if that is INHERENTLY WRONG.

and the question i am forced to ask myself is ‘WHY is this wrong?’ in the vast, infinite pantheon of WHAT ART CAN BE why are we so obsessed with hiding ourselves? obscuring our thoughts? removing our politics? there is certainly a time for subtly, but it seems there is NEVER a time for being blunt

some say this is because arts more DIFFICULT to craft when it is subliminal, but folks do not REACT that way. art that is both direct AND subliminal and layered will STILL get torn down for leaving things on the surface, even when technically speaking it is probably most impressive to juggle both

there is plenty for you to research on this regarding the CIA secretly funding abstract expressionist art during the cold war. it is still HOTLY DEBATED, but i will mention it here for anyone reading my thread who is interested in a deep dive. HERE, however, i will talk about it on a personal level

i think that culturally we are CONSTANTLY told to not take up space, especially in marginalized groups. there is decades and decades of programming telling us ‘you can express yourself, but in a CIVILIZED WAY, not too loud, not too direct. CERTAINLY not too political.' i flatly reject this

of all the places to do what you want and say what you want to say, ART IS THE PERFECT ARENA. your writing, your songs, your music can absolutely be as subtle as you want, but especially during times like this, dont let anyone tell you that youre too dang loud. lets trot buckaroos.

and since i spent all morning writing this is am going to leave a link for my new book LUCK DAY, which is LOUD AS HECK. now is a time to make art, and it is also a time to support the artists you love. give a preorder if you can. LOVE IS REAL

[im-sleepdeprived]

Seasonal • Pt. 5

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: inspired by the taylor swift song ‘peter’ where you and peter discover just how hard it is to hold on to something from your past, no mater how much you love each other

a/n: FINAL PARTTTT !!!!! im so sorry it took so long ive just been getting my ass kicked with life recently and ive been away from my laptop and stable wifi for tooooo long. for anyone who stuck it out till now, i literally can not put into words how much i love you. this series has been so much fun for me, and i put a lot of work and love into it so thank you sooo very much for reading, every last one of you <33333

warnings: cursing, james, peter’s such a cutie here, some chaos, an accident, fire, bodily injuries, mentions of blood, there’s a scene where they’re reading medical charts, I have no idea how accurate it is so let’s not dwell. she’s a long one, so buckle up, grab a snack, and I realllyyyy hope you enjoy <33

masterlist, read part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

You’d never asked Peter why he always called you ‘Ace’. The one time you remember asking anything he’d said ‘think it suits you, don’t you?’ And you’d just accepted it. Honestly, you loved it. It was special, it was yours. Something between you and him. Even after the two of you had broken up, he’d still used it, and you were thankful for that because you weren’t sure you could handle that being gone too. He’d never call anyone else by that name and no one else would call you by that except him. It was important to the both of you. 

And apparently, James could see that.

“I just don’t understand why he can’t call you by your fucking name.” He sneered, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. All in all, at the end of the day, it was just a nickname.

“James, I don’t really get what the big deal is here. So we used to be close, and he has a nickname for me, that’s not exactly rare. It’s just a thing people do.”

“Ace,” he said and immediately, you knew it was wrong. No one else was supposed to call you that, no one except Peter. And the way he’d said it ‘Ace’ like he was disgusted, like it was the worst syllable that could leave his mouth. The complete opposite of the way Peter said it. 

When Peter said it, it made you feel special, it made you feel seen in a way no one else had ever made you feel. It was said with care and wit, with charm and love. With love. Always with love. 

“I swear I haven’t heard your name come out his mouth once since we’ve been around him, it’s always ‘Ace, Ace, Ace’” James scoffed and the sound left a foul taste in your mouth. Things had been like this since Peter had transferred. At first, it was just a few questions here and there. But after the photography contest and Peter’s collage of you winning first place and being blasted everywhere, it had definitely gotten more heated.

You hadn’t told him about that morning in the park, as far as James was aware, you hadn’t seen Peter since the party. In truth, you hadn’t seen him since that morning, when he’d said all those things, and used your first name. You weren’t avoiding him, per se, just…trying your best to not be around him. Your article came out in a couple days. All your notes had been taken, and you’d already done your research, so it was easy to work from home so far. That couldn’t last forever.  

You didn’t know what to say to James, so you kept silent in hopes of avoiding angering him even more. You didn’t know what he wanted you to say, offer to ask Peter to cool it with the nickname? Maybe, probably. But you weren’t going to do that. You weren’t even sure Peter could stop, you couldn’t remember the last time he had said your name either (minus that morning in the park, that seemed like a special circumstance after all), but you preferred it that way with him.

Maybe the right thing to do in this situation would be to change this, talk with Peter and ask him politely to stop because it was making your boyfriend uncomfortable, and because you cared about him and how he felt (your boyfriend), you might try to politely arrange this so both parties didn’t hurt anymore. 

But there was another part of you, the dreamer, the hoper, the girl who used to sit on that hill with Peter and gaze at the stars, the girl who spent months sitting by the window with her lamp on, giving the love of her life every benefit of the doubt, every excuse in the book to cope with how he’d handled things. She didn’t want to do the right thing. She thought James was a dumbass who was being way too dramatic. 

God, you’d known Peter basically your whole life. Every childhood memory, you could spot him in the background somewhere. First day of school? You could see him walking through the doors, holding hands with his Aunt May. First field trip? You could spot him on the bus just a few seats ahead of you. High school graduation? Oh, he was definitely there.

And it isn’t like you actively sought him out either, he was just always…there. Since he came back, it was as if every force in the universe was trying to push the two of you together. That girl who sat by the window would’ve taken that as a clear sign, but not you. You just found it annoying.

Or at least…you thought you did.

You’d been a jumble of mixed, confused, and muddled thoughts since that morning in the park. Peter had said everything you’d once craved to hear from him. And yet, there was still so much you two needed to figure out if things were going to be normal between the two of you. What was normal between the two of you? Could you truly be just friends? After he’d told you he thought about you every day and dreamt about you every night? How does one suddenly go about ‘Oh yeah, that’s my ex. No, we never really resolved things and he just randomly popped back into my life after almost two years of not seeing each other, also, he practically admitted the reason he transferred colleges was because of me. It’s chill though.’ and be normal about it?

Since Peter had come back you’d been feeling a lot of guilt when it came to James. It was, after all, a difficult position to be put in. Your girlfriend’s ex randomly popping up out of nowhere and shoving himself into every aspect of her life? You weren’t an idiot, you knew that would be hard on any guy and you were trying to be so understanding, but it felt like he just wasn’t meeting you in the middle with this. And lately, that guilt had been tinged with something akin to irritation.

For instance, you were always trying to make up for everything going on with Peter. Always making sure to schedule some alone time, whether that be walking around campus or going over to each other’s apartments, sending extra sweet texts, and yet he never seemed to appreciate it. Either James ended up ignoring you, standing you up, or being an insecure moron. There was no need to talk about Peter right now when you were supposed to be spending quality time, and yet it was almost like he couldn’t help himself. Honestly, it was starting to piss you off. It seemed like he had no more interest in you and focused all his energy solely on your ex-boyfriend. He never seemed to appreciate anything anymore. It was almost as if he wanted to stay mad.  

You looked at his eyes, that pretty green shade that’d caught your attention when you’d first met him was long gone and replaced by a darker, stormier shade. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t recall the last time his eyes had looked that pretty.

“James, we’re supposed to be spending time together,” you tried lightly. “We don’t need to talk about him right now”

You watched as he rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?” You asked, irritation dripping in your voice. 

“Nothing,” he said as he shook his head and looked away, only further infuriating you. 

James picked up his phone, scrolling while you stare at him helplessly. “James,” you sigh, “if there’s something bothering you could please let me know instead of—”

His phone dinged. He didn’t even give you a second thought before standing up and pocketing the cellular device. “The boys are chilling at Logan’s, I’m gonna head over there.”

“James.” You called after him as he walked away. “James.” Nothing. A few seconds, then…the slam of the front door. 

You threw your head back on your pillow, letting out an enormous sigh. You didn’t know what to do anymore, you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but it seemed that’s all you were doing. James didn’t even seem to want to put in the effort to make things better, Peter…well you had no clue what was going on with Peter. 

A knock on your open bedroom door caused you to raise your head. Alyssa stood in the doorway holding a carton of ice cream and two spoons. 

“You heard?” You asked. 

She winced, moving across the room to sit beside you on you bed. “Sorry babe, thin walls.”

You hummed, grabbing one of the spoons from her and scooping out a chunk of ice cream into your mouth. “I don’t know what to do!” You mumbled.

She followed suit, “He’s acting like an unreasonable dick, I know.” The both of you nodded. “The only thing I can think of is to give him some time. To settle down, to adjust.”

“I thought that too, but it’s like every time he sees Peter again, all that progress resets! So what’s the answer?”

“Murder Peter?” Lyss suggested, scraping some ice cream onto her spoon. 

You clinked your spoon against hers, “Not funny.”

“You’re right.” She said while laughing, causing you to shove her shoulder lightly. That only made her laugh harder. “I don’t know girl,” she finally spoke once she’d calmed down a bit, “this is kind of a unique situation.”

“Ugh!” You groaned. “Tell me about it.”

“And…I have some news that might not help.”

You paused. “What kind of news?” You asked slowly. 

Alyssa cringed. “I kinda sorta might absolutely need you to come in tomorrow.” 

You gaped at her. She knew you were avoiding Peter. She had just listened to you talk about how terrible it was every time James and Peter were in the same room and now she was trying to get the three of you together?

“I know it’s shitty timing—”

“Shitty timing?!”

She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “And I wouldn’t do this to you unless I absolutely had to, believe me. But Rajesh, Sabrina, and Cora all called in sick and we still have so much work to do for the next issue so it’s all hands on deck and as your editor I know this is what needs to be done but as your friend…” she pouted at you, “I’m really, really, reallyyyyy sorry sweetie.”

You sighed. There was no choice. “So that’s what this was for?” You asked, motioning your spoon to the tub of ice cream sitting between the two of you. 

“No!” She shook her head in disbelief. “This was because your boyfriend is being stupid, your ex is being weird…and I wanted you to be eating something sweet when I told you about tomorrow.”

The two of you laughed. “Hey,” she said suddenly, throwing an arm over your shoulder, “I still mean what I said, I can fire him.”

“You just said ‘all hands on deck’!”

“Well, after we finish everything that needs to be done.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t, bother, he’ll get the hint eventually.”

You didn’t blame Lyss for asking you to come in. At all. 

The news room was a mess. She wasn’t lying when she’d said all hands on deck. In fact, you weren’t sure if all the hands you had would be enough.

“Stephanie, sweetie, that goes over to photography.” You said exasperatedly, trying to keep your composure. This had been the third time you’d directed her. 

“Oh!” she said as if it were the first time. “Got it, sorry Y/N.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, the ruckus of the newsroom and its staff was starting to get to you, but you couldn’t get overwhelmed yet, not with so much still yet to be done. 

Lyss had taken over one half of the room while you took the other. You managed and guided, made some comments here and there, gave tips to some other editors. Your piece was currently undergoing editing by one of them and you had to admit, you were a little anxious. You knew it was good, you had gotten Alyssa to proofread for you, you had also asked James, but he hadn’t gotten a chance. You’d worked your butt off on this piece, but you were afraid after all the…events that had taken place that night, you might have been a little off. 

Speaking of events, you were turning to sneak a look over at Elijah, who was currently working on your article, when you caught a glimpse of extremely familiar brown curls over by the other photographers. All hands on deck, you thought. Ducking your head, you tried to move discreetly to the side when someone stopped you. 

“Y/N! Can we get your opinion on the front page layout?” It was Ryan, one of the photographers. Beside him sat a girl you weren’t quite familiar with, a fresh addition, you supposed. Together, they were working on the layout for the next edition. 

“We weren’t sure whether the headline should go here,” says the girl as she moved a cut-out piece of paper, “or here.”

You froze. There, on the front page, the picture that would be accompanying your article, was you. Or you on that damn collage as Peter held the ribbon with the most forced smile you’d ever seen. Maybe no one else could tell, but you could. You could always tell. Those crinkles by his eyes that you used to love so much weren’t there, a telltale sign. 

Something in your heart broke at that moment, guilt pouring all over you. He had done this amazing thing, made an incredible piece of art, won a really tough competition, and he hadn’t gotten to enjoy it. Because of you. 

“Y/N?” Ryan asked, confused. 

“Sorry.” You snapped out of it. No time for that right now. “Um…” you stared at the layout for a moment before shifting the headline slightly to make it more centered and positioning the photo beneath it. “Does that work? And the article would go here,” you pointed to the bottom of the page where it was empty. 

You watched as Ryan and the girl nodded. “That was my first choice.” Ryan said as he shot the girl a look. You had a feeling they’d been on this for a while. “Oh whatever Ry,” she rolled her eyes, but you could see her fighting back a smile.

“Alright, if you need anything else, just let me know.” You informed them. They agreed, and you moved to make your way around your half of the room again to make sure everything was going as it should be. 

“Y/N!” Lyss came running at you with a panicked look on her face that makes your heart drop. 

“Oh no, what is it?” You asked, already bracing for what might come out of her mouth. 

“I have to go. I just got an email from one of my professors, I have a fucking paper due by tonight and it counts for…well I don’t know, but a good chunk of my final fucking grade.”

Your face fell and you looked at her as if she’d just told you Godzilla was attacking the city. “Lyss, you cannot be serious right now.”

“I know, I know,” Alyssa winced.

“Well, ask for an extension!” You said in disbelief.

“I did! I swear I did, but apparently I’ve already used up all my extensions for that class? I didn’t even know you could do that!”

“Alyssa,” you whined, rubbing at your temple. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can barely keep up with my half! There’s no way I could handle yours!”

“I’m so sorry, this is totally my fault, I just—” Alyssa was cut off by an all too familiar voice hat made you freeze in your spot. 

“Hey…Listen I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you talking and I thought I could—”

“No,” You turned towards Peter, shaking your head at him. But the same time you said ‘no’, Alyssa perked up beside you, nodding eagerly. “Lyss,” you murmured quietly, turning towards her and widening your eyes in warning.

“Oh Y/N, come on,” she whined. You were hyperaware of Peter watching everything going down between the two of you. “If he can help, let him! Get some use out of him other than his longing stares across the room.” You noticed Peter fighting a blush, and you tried not to react to her words.

“He wouldn’t have to help if somebody remembered she had a paper to do.” You said with a small huff. 

“I know, I know,” she winced again, “and I swear girl, when I walk that stage to get my degree, I’m gonna thank you in my speech.”

“You don’t get a speech.”

“It’s fine, I’ll steal the microphone.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you at her promise. Glancing at Peter, who was still waiting there patiently, you scrunched up your nose at Alyssa, “Does he have to?”

“I’m right here, Ace.” Peter said simply. 

The nickname took you back to your argument with James last night, and you hated it. “That’s kind of the problem, Parker.”

“Hey,” Alyssa spoke up, and she was using her ‘I’m the editor and I decide how things go around here’ voice, making you shut up. “Listen Y/N, I know this is less than ideal, but you wanna be a writer and work in journalism for real? You’re gonna have to learn how to deal with people you don’t exactly get along with. Be professional.”

“And you,” she turned toward Peter, giving him a scathing look. You saw him visibly gulp, which made you feel a little bit better. “As a photographer working at the paper I manage, you’re awesome. But as a person, walking into my best friend’s life and acting the way you do? You piss me off. But…” she held up her hands, “I’ve threatened to fire you and she’s stopped me, so here we are. So, as a member of the paper, and only as a member of this paper, I’m telling you yes, we would appreciate your help while we face this very difficult time with half our team being struck down by The Plague.”

You snorted, “The Plague?”

Alyssa scoffed and looked at you incredulously. “No, seriously! What else do you call three—no, actually, four because Bernice just called me earlier, but what do you call that? They’re all sick!”

“The flu?” Peter tried. 

“You hush,” Alyssa warned him, making you smile. “Now,” she looked between the two of you seriously, “I’m gonna go and try to salvage what I can of my grade, and you two need to play nice and get this issue ready for print and publishing.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said dryly, willing to do it but not willing to do it happily. Peter just nodded quickly, afraid to say anything that might actually get him kicked off the paper for good. 

Alyssa looked between the two of you again before giving you a look, and you knew she was promising to make up for this later at home. You just gave her a smile nod, a promise you’d be alright and she should just go. 

Be professional. You could do that. 

When Alyssa left, Peter turned to you. “Where do you want me Ace?”

“Over there.” You pointed to the half of the room Alyssa had been in charge of. “That was Alyssa’s half, you can take over now. There shouldn’t be much to do, articles are mostly written, things just need proofreading, editing, and we’re still figuring out the layout. If you have any questions, ask me, and if anyone’s being incompetent, they’re not kindergarteners. Don't be afraid to remind them of that.”

“Alright,” he nodded with a serious look on his face and you felt a little better knowing he was willing to be professional too. 

Peter scurried away, leaving you to tend to your half of the room. Your gaze fell to James’ empty desk beside yours. Alyssa had said she’d asked him to come in…was he really that pissed off? You contemplated sending him a text, telling him things were a little hectic and even if he was mad at you, he should still do his part as a member of this team. But that thought was quickly pushed away when Elijah approached you, your laptop in hand. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at you, handing you your laptop. 

You thanked him softly, looking at him with worried eyes. “So…how was it? I had Lyss proofread it before, but I’m scared she’s just being nice so—”

“No, no…” he shook his head with a small smile. “It was great, honestly. I don’t think you should change a thing, pretty sure you didn’t even make any grammar mistakes. I loved it, you made all the photos sound so beautiful. I think it’s really great, you know? You didn’t just write about the art, you understood it.”

Your heart melted a bit at his words. It was nice hearing that from someone who you didn’t split rent with, even if you did truly trust Alyssa’s judgment. “Thank you, Elijah. That means a lot.”

“Hey, no problem,” he shook his head, smiling at you. “Good luck with all of…” he glanced around the hectic newsroom, “this. And, truly, great paper Y/N.”

You laughed softly, “Thanks for both those things.”

Elijah just nodded before making his way back to his desk. You looked down at your laptop, biting your lip as you looked at the open word document. Your first front page. Looking up, you glanced around the room to see if anyone needed anything then, when you caught Peter’s eye. 

He strode over to you in a few steps, making you raise a brow. “Need something?”

Peter shook his head, looking a little sheepish, “No, um… is—is that the article?” He pointed to the laptop in your heads.

“Yes…” you spoke slowly, still not grasping his point. 

“Can I read it?”

“What? No,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, come on, Ace. Why not? That dude just said it was great! I just wanna see for myself, even though I know it’s amazing. “

You shook your head, looking at him as if he were insane. “No chance, Peter. Now get back to work.”

“Not even a peek?” He gave you those sad puppy dog eyes, the same ones he used to give you those nights you’d kick him off of your fire escape he was begging for just ‘five more minutes’.

You almost wanted to give in, once upon a time you would have, but not now. You wouldn’t. “Not even a peek. You can read it when it’s published, now shoo.”

He sighed dramatically, making you bite back a smile. “You’re so cruel sometimes, Ace.”

You laughed. “Well, suck it up. How’re things going on your side?” Civilized. Professional. It was what you were trying to be despite the underlying tension between you two caused by almost two years of no contact, his sudden arrival, and everything that had happened between the two of you. Most recent being that talk in the park. 

“Oh, it’s good, I think.” He shrugged casually, looking back at his half of the room. “They seem to have a hang on things.”

You held back a laugh, staring at him with a raised brow, “Are you even doing anything or just walking around?”

Peter laughed softly. He was glad he was getting to talk to you like this after everything that had happened. He’d gotten the sense you were avoiding him after that morning in the park. You hadn’t been in the newsroom and he hadn’t seen you walking your usual routes around campus. He knew things weren’t okay, not by a long shot, but this was still a welcome reprieve. 

“Walking around is doing something. If anyone needs help, they can just…holler?”

You do laugh this time. “Holler? Seriously, Peter?”

“Well, I don’t know,” he grinned at you, your laugh making his heart skip a beat. “No one’s asked for help yet, but I’m making myself available to them. That’s what I meant to say.” 

“Alright,” you nodded, still smiling. It still shocked you how the two of you could compartmentalize and work together so well when things were so weird between you. “Well, I should…”

“Actually, I did need your help picking out some photos,” he blurted. He’d felt the conversation coming to a lull, and he didn’t want to stop talking to you just yet. “Just…just wait here.”

Peter held up a finger to you before making his way across the room, grabbing his laptop, and coming back. He pressed a few buttons before holding it out to face you. “I have some photos I need you to choose from. Some from the competition, others just fillers for the other articles and pages.”

“Okay,” you looked at the laptop in his hands before laughing in disbelief. “Oh my god, Peter! You still have this thing? How is it still alive?”

Peter laughed as well. It was true, he’d had that laptop since high school, and it was old back then. The two of you used to watch videos for school together on it and you’d joke that it was on its last breath. He was glad you remembered that. “Hey, no hating on Rusty. He does his job, and he does it well.”

A voice sounded from Peter’s side of the room. “Peter!”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Still using that dumb name.”

“It is not dumb.”

“It sounds like something you’d name a dog.”

“If I had a dog, I’d name it something way cooler.”

“Peter!!”

You turned to see who it was, and you saw Ryan waving at the two of you. Your eyes drifted back to Peter. “Um, I think you’re needed.”

“Forget him,” Peter shakes his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn’t want to end his short time with you. “He’s annoying, that’s just his thing.”

“Penis Parker!! Yoohoo!”

You laughed in surprise, having not heard that nickname since high school. “You told him about that?” 

Peter held back a groan. “Shit, I’m sorry Ace. Here,” he handed you his laptop, “I already have it pulled up, you just need to pick out what you think works and I’ll deal with the rest. I’ll be right back.” Holding up a finger, he walked away, leaving you with his computer. A second later, you heard his voice a couple feet away, “What the hell was that man?”

You smiled to yourself and took his laptop to your desk, starting to scroll through the photos. You hadn’t seen Peter’s photography in a long time (the competition did not count) and it felt oddly intimate going through his USB drive.

You’d always been a fan of Peter’s photography, not just because you were together, but because it’d always felt like getting a chance of getting to see the world through his eyes. And what an interesting way to see things. Who wouldn’t want to see the world through the eyes of the love of their life—Previous love of their life? 

This was no different, Peter had an accumulation of photos to choose from, both from the competition and not. It seemed he hadn’t just been competing that day. 

Just as you were selecting a few that you’d liked most, his computer crashed out of the file you were in, sending you back to the homepage with a little ‘error:’ notification. 

“Stupid computer,” you mutter, trying to open it back up to no avail. This thing was a piece of junk, you had no idea how he still got any work done on it. 

But just when you were about to call Peter over to reprimand him about his worthless piece of metal he called a computer, your eyes caught sight of file sitting leisurely on his homepage. 

“Ace♠️”

What? You thought Peter only used that nickname for you…if he called other people that, other girls, you were going to be sick. 

Before you could stop yourself, you were clicking on it. 

What you definitely weren’t expecting to see was every article you’d ever written for The Spectator saved. From your first shitty Kent Hall bathroom opening, to your latest one.

Your heart stuttered and your breathing hitched. He didn’t…did he? You clicked on the files, desperate to see when these had all been saved. But they all had different dates. They were either saved close to or the exact date these pieces had been published. Peter had been reading your writing while he was away. 

Your mind briefly wandered to that time you’d run into him outside the photography building, right after he’d gotten back. You’d told him about you getting the front page for the article on the photography competition and he told you he thought all your writing belonged on the front page. When you’d said he hadn’t read any of it, he’d just shook his head and said that wasn’t true. 

You’d just brushed it off and assumed he’d meant when he used to read your essays and projects in high school, but now….

What the fuck did this mean?

“Hey Ace, I’ll be right there!” Peter’s voice snapped you out of your inner turmoil. You clicked out of the file, quickly pulling the photos back up as Peter walked back up to you, standing before your desk ask grinning large. 

“So?” He asked, looking down at you expectantly.

Gaping, you floundered for words. “Uhh…yeah, yeah, mhmm…” you handed him the laptop again, pointing the ones you liked. “I think those—those ones—they should be good.”

“Alright,” he nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Cool, thanks Ace. I’ll start working on those.”

“Mhmm, sure,” you said simply, hoping he’d just go. 

Peter’s eyes flicker up to you, a question in his eyes. “You good, ace?”

Fuck. “Yeah. Are you good, Parker?”

He faltered and made a face as if he were seriously thinking about your question, and it almost made you laugh. “Um…yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, great. Well, now that we’ve got that covered, you wanna go get those photos ready for publishing?”

“Sure, yeah. ‘Course,” he muttered, grabbing his laptop and turning away before he turned back to you again. “One last question, Ace.”

“Hmm?”

“When…when the paper comes out, where can I get a copy?”

“Umm…just about anywhere, really. Any of the libraries, the campus center, residence halls, they’re all over the place. And the digital version, of course…” He obviously knew about that one. 

“Right…okay, thanks.” He shot you an easy smile before walking back to the other side of the room. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to regain your composure. You’d been doing fine, you were focused on getting everything on track, fulfilling the job Alyssa had trusted you with, being professional. But of course, Peter Parker had to ruin that. 

Your eyes flickered back to James’ desk, and you felt a strange twinge in your heart. You had to check up on him, even if the two do you were in an argument. 

Pulling out your phone, you quickly pull up your text thread with him and sent a quick message asking how he was. It wasn’t really early in the day, so when you didn’t get a reply, well, you weren’t exactly worried, he was probably still upset with you and James was known to be petty, but you weren’t brushing it off either. 

So, you opened Instagram. Heading over to James’ profile specifically, you noticed he had something posted on his story. You clicked it and were shown a video of James in a crowded room lit up by strobe lights, chugging two beers at once. 

Of course. Here you were feeling guilty that he was so upset with you and what had happened between you two that he couldn’t bring himself to come in today. But no, in true James fashion, he’d just gotten wasted and was probably passed out in his apartment right now. While you were depending on him, while Alyssa was depending on him. 

You quickly shut off your phone and shoved in back in your bag. As soon as you were finished with your work here, you knew exactly where you were headed next.

You knocked strongly on the door, shifting on your feet as you waited for an answer. After a few moments, a disheveled looking James opened the door. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—just a pair of pajama shorts hung on his hips—and from the way he was rubbing his eyes, you were sure you’d just woken him up. 

“Hey babe,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy in a way that used to bring a smile to your face, but now it only served to irritate you. “What’s up?”

“Have you been asleep till now?” You asked. You tried to keep the irritation out of your voice, but it was hard. 

James only hummed in response, stretching out on his toes, lifting his arms above his head and letting out a soft groan. “Mmm…yeah, I went out with the boys last night. We got wrecked.”

The grin on his face made you scoff. Pushing past him, you stepped into his apartment. You peered through the doorway that led to the living room and saw a friend of his crashed on the couch, one whose name you couldn’t remember. You turned back towards James, who had shut the door and was standing there, as if waiting for you to finish whatever it was that brought you here so he could go back to sleep. 

“You have classes today, don’t you?”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’ll grab the notes from someone else or something.” He brushed you off with a wave of his hand. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I get to class?”

You might’ve laughed if he hadn’t looked so annoyed. “No, I came over to see why you didn’t come into the paper today.”

James made a face as if that were the most ridiculous thing you could’ve said. “The paper? Seriously, babe?”

“Yes, seriously James. The place was a mess today, we were down like five members and we could’ve really used your help! Alyssa said she asked you to come in.”

“I haven’t checked my phone,” he rolled his eyes, “and besides, I’m sure Lyss will understand—”

“It’s not about Lyss understanding, James. It’s about you being fucking responsible enough to be trusted to do your job. In a position you signed up for, no less.”

“The fuck is your problem Y/N,” he sneered in a way that made you see red. “So I didn’t come in today, whatever.”

“No, it’s not ‘whatever’, James. God…” you ran a hand through your hair and exhaled exasperatedly. Was this really something that warranted an argument? No, not to you. Because James should know his responsibilities, you shouldn’t have to remind him.

“You have responsibilities, James.” You said slowly. The last thing you needed was another argument. 

All you got from that were narrowed eyes in your direction. “Like I need my girlfriend reminding me what the fuck my responsibilities are.”

You didn’t know the word “girlfriend” could be made to sound so close to a slur. “Look James, I’m not trying to be controlling, or annoying—”

“Really?” He rolled his eyes, “well you’re sure succeeding.”

You bit your tongue. Raising your voice right now and arguing wouldn’t do either of you any good, and you wouldn’t be able to get your point across. But hell…you’d be lying if you said you weren’t even a little angry. Normally, you brushed off James’ partying and drinking, he was a college student after all, and just because you weren’t really into that didn’t mean you expected him to be the same. But when it affected his school work, his work on the paper, his relationship with you, and he was being this resilient to change, not even giving you a chance to speak. Yeah, now you had a right to be upset. 

“James, you know I never really care that you want to go party, more power to you. But it isn’t right when you let down the people who were counting on you, when you hurt others and yourself, too. How many times can you miss class before it starts to affect your grade? You just—”

“Oh my fucking god,” he grumbled under his breath, sighing deeply and running a hand through. “You fucking woke me up for this shit? To talk about my ‘grades’ and the fucking paper?”

“Why is it so bad that I wanted your help with something you signed up for?!” you asked in disbelief. 

James shook his head, his gaze fixed on the wall, refusing to meet your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to argue, wanting to push back, when you realize…you don’t have to. You didn’t have to constantly go through this with him, over and over, ending one argument just to start another. You didn’t have to roll over and accept the way he was speaking to you. 

A relationship should be a bonus—something that lifts you up, not weighs you down. A person who understood you, respected you, and leveled with you. 

Not… whatever this was. 

You’d been scared to admit it to yourself since Peter came into the picture, you worried how it might look if you chose to end things with James after your ex came back into town.

But the truth was even before Peter came back, there’d been things about James that hadn’t sat right with you. The way he blew off your plans so easily to go hang out with his friends, the way he seemed to want to be upset with you sometimes. It never really felt right, that time during winter break you’d specifically declined meeting his parents and him meeting yours, and he’d showed up at your house anyway, giving you no choice. Sometimes, he just brushed off your opinions or concerns as if your thoughts meant nothing to him. As if you meant nothing. 

Yeah, he’d been charming at first. Complimented your writing. Your looks. Said all the right things. But looking back, that was just it: he’d talked. And once he had you, the effort stopped.

He’d enjoyed the chase, you realized. You’d come to college not expecting, or even wanting, to date anyone after everything that had happened with Peter. And James loved a challenge. 

Well, you weren’t just someone to be caught and forgotten. 

“We’re done.” Not a waver or quiver in your voice.

He blinked. A flicker of confusion cracked his indifference.

“What’d you just say?”

Oh. You realized that he really hadn’t expected you to go there. 

“You heard me,” you said simply, shrugging your shoulder. “If you have anything at my place, I’ll bring it over or have Alyssa do it.” 

You had never really stayed over at his apartment. Strangers always crashing, red flags all over, it made you uncomfortable. You’d told him as much the one and only time he’d ask why you didn’t sleep over, and he’d done nothing to change it. With a small flicker of embarrassment for yourself, you realized you’d never expected him to. In all honesty, you’d never expected much from James at all. Which made the small moments you had, and he’d still managed to let you down all the more recognizable.

James shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. It almost made you laugh how confused he was. It really wasn’t that unbelievable. “You can’t just do that. You can’t just break up with me.”

“Um…yes I can.” You said simply, stepping back towards the door, your hand falling on the knob.

“Is this about that fucking Parker guy?” He asked, his eyes darkening. Gone was the shock.

But you just rolled your eyes. “No, James, believe it or not, I’m not breaking up with you to get back with Peter. I’m doing it because you’re kind of a piece of shit.” You opened the door. “So rest assured—there’s no ulterior motive. This one’s all on you.”

And with that, you left.

The shopping ban you and your father had bestowed upon your mom didn’t last very long, so it didn’t surprise you when you’d gotten a call from her on Friday telling you’d she’d gotten ‘a cute little bookshelf that would look perfect in your apartment’ and that you should come over to pick it up, and since you’d already be there, you may as well spend the weekend. 

Part of you wondered whether this was just a little scheme she’d conjured up to get you to spend more time at home, but you didn’t really mind. You wanted to get away for a bit.

You hadn’t told anyone about your breakup with James, not yet at least. The only person who knew about it so far was Alyssa. She’d told you that, while she’d absolutely been cheering for you two in the beginning, this was a decision she completely supported and understood.

“He’s been acting like a fucking idiot lately. Honestly, I think you held out too long, Y/N.”

“You’re still his friend too, Lyss.”

“Yeah right, the little fucker was only using me last year to get to you. But at least we got something useful out of him when he helped us move in. From now on, I’m just his editor. Unless…I can always fire him if you want.”

“Alyssa.”

You weren’t sure why exactly you brought it up to anyone. You just didn’t want it to be a big deal where people tiptoed around you and tried to get you to be sad. Because honestly…you weren’t upset, not at all. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, like you’d been blindfolded and put in a strange room, only for the blindfold to fall off and for you to realize you were just outside, walking in a clear, green, flower-filled park. 

Part of you felt bad for feeling so relieved. A bigger part of you couldn’t care less. 

You’d cared for James for a brief moment. There was a small window where he actually felt kind of like a boyfriend. But that didn’t last long, and it didn’t hit you how incompatible you were until you’d left his apartment the other day. James was never the kind of guy you saw yourself with in the long-run, and he wasn’t even that great of a short-run if you were being honest with yourself. 

It was alright the first time he’d come over to your place after a long night of getting wasted with his friends, but after that, it had just started to feel like a chore. You’d help him, but only because you felt obligated to. You were his girlfriend, after all. 

And while you didn’t have much experience in that department, you’d still felt it was kind of your responsibility. You’d helped Peter with plenty of things when the two of you were together. 

But it was different with him, you’d never felt like it was a job you had to fulfill when he’d come home after a particularly bad night, bruised and cut up and you’d bandage him. It didn’t annoy you when the two of you had gone to one of Flash’s house parties and Peter had gotten drunk for the very first time. 

It wasn’t an obligation to help him, to care for him, to love him. You just did. And you hadn’t really realized that not every relationship would be like that until you were with James. Even then, you hadn’t let yourself think that way or compare the two, but now you didn’t care.

You never loved James, not really. Not the way that you had loved Peter. And you knew James had never loved you, not the way Peter had loved you. 

Had.

The thought sent a pang of hurt through your chest.

And then there was the Peter Parker of it all…

You couldn’t deny the fact that part of why you were so reluctant to share the news of yours and James’ separation was because of him. You weren’t sure how he’d react. Or even worse, you had an inkling, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

That morning in the park Peter had more or less admitted that the reason for his transfer was you, and while once upon a time that would’ve thrown you over the moon, not anymore. You couldn’t deny the facts. 

He had left. He had made promises, and he had broken them. 

Him thinking that your breakup with James was the green light he’d been waiting for since he’d gotten there, and just forgetting all the pain and heartbreak he’d caused was something you didn’t want. Not yet, at least. He’d find out soon enough, but you’d cross that bridge when you got to it. 

So now you were back home, watching TV alone, when then was a knock at the door. Standing, you made your way over and opened it without checking the peephole, automatically thinking it was just your parents.

Wrong.

“Hey Ace, how’s it going?” Peter asked with a small smile. The door behind him, the one to his and May’s apartment, was pushed open and the scene, him standing here before you, calling you by that name, in this building where you two had connected, had loved, was so familiar it made everything down to your blood cells stutter in your body. 

How many times had you crossed over this small hallway and into that apartment, how many times had you opened the door to a greeting just like that one? Too many to count, before it had all abruptly come to a stop. 

“It’s going fine. What’s up with you, Parker? You need something?” Your tone is cool, collected, not letting on how hard the nostalgia had just hit you.

“No…no, I’m good, I think. May did ask me to tell you something, though.” Peter shifted on his feet. He was tempted to stick a foot in the doorway just to make sure you wouldn’t slam it in his face.

“Oh? And what's that?” You raised an inquisitive brow at him and watched him stutter. 

“W-well she just—you remember when I said she would love to have you over for dinner? She heard your parents were out and wanted me to ask if you wanted to come over.”

“Really? She wanted you to ask?”

“No…I mean yes! Yes,” he scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head and looking down, “I don’t know why I said that.”

You glanced down at the watch on your wrist. It was getting late and your parents weren’t back yet, you were sure they’d stop at some restaurant to grab their dinner. And you did miss May…

“I could just order takeout,” you said with a small shrug. “I don’t wanna bother you two or anything.”

Peter’s face fell. “No! No, please. We—I mean, May would really love to have you over. Please?” He added, a little quieter this time.

You shifted on your feet, your hand gripping the door a little tighter. Was this really a good idea?

“I’d have to change out of my pajamas,” you said quietly, gesturing down to yourself, clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He grinned at you as if that was exactly what he had been hoping you’d say. 

Fighting off a smile, you shut the door and made your way to your bedroom. A simple sweater and jeans would suffice, but you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Dinner with Peter and May. That was something you hadn’t had in years. You’d almost forgotten what it entailed. 

When you made your way across the hall, the door was already open a crack. You knocked anyway and heard the unmistakable sound of May Parker. “Come on in, sweetheart! Peter, I told you to leave it open, did you leave it—”

“I swear I left it open, May!”

“Are you sure?”

“He did,” you said softly, padding into their apartment. “I just…thought I’d knock anyway.”

May grinned at the sound of your voice, dropping the small pan in her hand onto the counter before bounding over to you and wrapping her arms around you tight. “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you.”

You grinned, holding her back just as tight, “I’ve missed you too.”

She pulled away, smiling happily, before she turned back toward Peter, who stood to the side, leaning against the counter. “Peter, honey, fridge. Now.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and you watched as Peter quickly grabbed a white square shaped box, and carried it to the fridge to store inside.

“Is that…dinner?” You asked, glancing up at May.

“Oh no, honey,” May laughed and placed a hand on your shoulder, leading you to the small table in the corner, one you ate at multiple times. But not for a while now. 

“Come on, take a seat. Peter and I will start bringing things over.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t let her cook!” Peter called from the other side of the kitchen. 

You brought your hand to your mouth to stifle your laugh, not wanting to hurt May’s feelings, though it was all in good fun and she knew it. 

May walked back into the kitchen, grabbed a towel off the counter and lightly flick it at Peter’s back. He let out an exaggerated yelp, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his hands up to cover his head. “Mercy! Mercy!”

May rolled her eyes and you let out a soft laugh. You watched them as they worked together, placing the takeout food on plates and bowls before placing them on the table before you. The familiarity was so intense, a longing fulfilled after so much time, it was almost unsettling.

It felt something like a dream when they both sat down at the table. Like a weird sense of déjà vu. But things were different now, Peter had spent two years away, you’d gone to Columbia, and you had a new boyfriend—

No, you didn’t. 

And they didn’t know that. 

You looked down at your plate, reaching for the cup of water they’d placed before you and taking a sip just to have something to do.

“Here honey,” May murmurs, scooping some food onto your plate, “we ordered from that Thai place you love.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “The one with the rice rolls?”

“And the green curry,” Peter finished with a nod. That had always been your order every time you two ate together. 

His eyes were on you, it seemed they had been since you’d set foot in their apartment. But for you, you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him for more than a few seconds before finding something else to look at. It was a little more difficult now that you and James had broken up. Even if Peter didn’t know. 

You had tried to tell yourself it meant nothing, that your breakup with James would’ve happened whether Peter was back or not…and maybe that was a true. It was probably true. But it didn’t change the fact that Peter had almost definitely sped up that process. 

“That’s…that’s, amazing you guys, thank you.” And although your words were intended for a group, your eyes and your smile were for May. 

‘Anytime, sweetheart,” she said with her own smile. “You’re welcome here anytime, you know that. Honestly, you should start coming over more, Peter here has been hounding me day and night to ask you to come ov—”

A loud, forced cough cut through the air and both you and May’s eyes fell on Peter, whose cheeks were turning a pretty shade of pink. 

You eyed him for a moment, watched as he gave May an exasperated look and a shake of his head. You wondered if he thought you wouldn’t notice. 

“Well…” you said softly, turning back to May, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Oh, anytime honey.” She said with a wide grin. Something told you she had no problem exposing Peter like she had. 

And so the dinner went on, Peter eventually reeling from his earlier embarrassment and joining in on the conversation. It was fun, not that you hadn’t thought it would be, but you hadn’t expected how easy it would be to fall back into old roles, old memories. 

Peter and May made you laugh, you made them laugh. Stories spilled, jokes were made, and you even found yourself joking around with Peter alone. 

It was natural. Too natural, maybe.

At one point, he bumped your foot under the table, and when you looked up, he gave you that crooked grin you hadn’t realized you remembered so well. It did something strange to your chest. Not painful exactly—just... familiar.

May excused herself to get dessert, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you again.

“You still eat like a kid,” you said, sipping your drink with a smirk.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“You do. Your side of the table is a mess, and don’t think I didn’t notice you picking out all the carrots on your plate.”

His face went red again. “Okay…I don’t like carrots. But you knew that already.”

It was true, you did know that. In fact, he’d used to pick them out onto your plate because you enjoyed them and you always got on him about being wasteful. 

He smiled, but the moment lingered longer than it should’ve, like they were both waiting for the next unspoken thing. Like they were still suspended in that strange space between what they’d had and whatever this was now.

And it scared you a little, how easy it would be to fall right back in.

“Okay! Peter, will you bring her to the living room?” May’s voice rang out through the apartment. 

“Come on,” Peter stood and held a hand out to you. To both your surprises, you took it. 

He led you to the living room where May stood beside the coffee table, hands clasped together as she grinned at you wide. She made a flourishing gesture with her hands and that was when your eyes fell to the table beside her. 

That white square shaped box you’d seen Peter carrying when you’d first arrived was sitting there, lid open. A cake that read “Congrats on the front page!” lay inside. 

Peter nudged your side. “Congrats, Ace.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes before looking over at May again. “Petey mentioned that your article on the photography competition was on the front page! And your first one ever! Of course, we had to celebrate our girl!”

You smiled at her, your heart absolutely melting at the sweetness of their actions, especially the term ‘our girl.’ You rushed over, pulling her into a hug, which she happily reciprocates. “Thank you,” you murmured softly, “this is so…so sweet. Thank you.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, it was—” she cuts herself off and you pull away just in time to see her eyes fixed over your shoulder before settling on you. “It was no problem, we’re—I’m so proud of you.”

“Where’s Peter’s cake?” You asked, turning back to look at Peter, who still stood where you’d left him, his hand that’d been holding yours briefly was now shoved in his pocket.

“What do you mean, Ace?”

“I mean, you’re the one who won the whole competition, that a pretty big deal. We should celebrate that too.”

You watched his expression soften before he shook his head, walking closer to you with that cocky grin on his face. “Maybe, but your article really brought my piece to life. Maybe you can do a live reading for us—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off, shaking your head quickly. 

“No? Well, that’s okay, I’m sure I can find the link for it online…” he trails off, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Oh. Well, he certainly has a knack for reading my articles online, you thought. 

“Nope,” you said simply, swiping his phone out of his hand before he could protest. 

“Oh, come on,” he said with an enormous grin. “May has been dying to read it, she was really hoping you’d read it aloud for us.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, you can just lend her one of many copies I’m sure you have in your room.” Or share the link he almost definitely had saved in that old rust bucket he still called a computer. 

Peter’s eyes widened just a fraction before they narrowed at you, and there was no mistaking the flush blooming on his cheeks. “You…I—I don’t have any.”

You look at him with an amused expression. “Peter,” you said slowly, “it was a joke.”

He seemed to let out a breath of relief, and a smile bloomed on his face. “Ha-ha, very funny, Ace.”

May, who’d been watching you both with a smile, thought it might be best if she excused herself for a bit. Just a little while. “Peter,” she gestured to the dessert, “be a dear and cut the girl some cake.”

Peter nodded, quickly moving to grab a plate from the ones she’d set out, and a cake knife. May turned to you with an apologetic smile, “I’m just gonna be one second, dear. I have to make a quick phone call for something to do with the community center, It’s kind of important. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you said with a smile, “go ahead. We’ll get your plate ready.”

She gave your cheek a quick peck, pulling away with a smile before heading into her bedroom. You sat back on the couch just as Peter approached with two plates of cake. 

“For the lady,” he murmured as he handed you your plate, falling deep into a bow before falling down beside you as you laughed.

As much as he had hurt you and as easy as it was for him to piss you off, it was becoming clearer and clearer to you since he’d returned; you could never truly hate Peter Parker. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a bite of cake. Your favorite flavor. Of course it was.

“‘Course,” he said simply, shoveling a large forkful of his own piece into his mouth. “You are an award-winning journalist, after all.”

“‘Award-winning?’” You asked with a laugh. “Since when? Do you know something I don’t, Parker?”

He looked at you seriously. “You mean, other than the fact that there is definitely a Pulitzer Prize in your future? No, no, I don’t think I do.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. Even now, he still had all this faith in you. “So I take it you liked the article?”

“Liked it? Ace, I loved it.”

The complete and utter sincerity was almost enough to bring you to tears, and you had to take another bite of cake to make sure that didn’t happen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His tone never wavered, and his eyes never left your face. “and I don’t just mean the part where you’re talking about me or my piece, I mean all of it. The way you described the photos, the art, the visions and messages all those people were trying to share…it was beautiful. I’ve never read anything like it and I think it’s so awesome that this is just the start of what’s going to be a very successful career.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, averting your gaze from his. It was just too intense, his words, the eye contact… 

“But, of course, my favorite part was where you spoke about my piece.” He said easily, eat another bite of cake. 

You couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped you. He always had a knack for comforting you whenever things felt like too much, whether directly or not. “I’m sure it was.”

The two of you fell into comfortable silence and you couldn’t help the small nagging voice in your head. Maybe you shouldn’t say anything…but you really wanted to know…

“Hey,” you said suddenly, bringing your feet up onto the couch and folding them under you as you adjusted your body to face him more, “you remember the other day when we were working on the paper, and you gave me your computer to pick some photos?”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, looking up at you as he shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth. Frosting coated his lips and the surrounding areas and it was surprisingly hard not to just lean in and kiss it clean. He was adorable. 

You swallowed and looked away, ridding the thought from your head. “Well, your ratchet, dusty old computer—”

“No hating on rusty.”

“—it crashed, and I…I found a file.”

Peter paused. Slowly, he lowered the plate to his lap, leaning over to grab a napkin from the table, wiping his face, before facing you again. “Oh? What kind of file?”

“Porn.” 

You shook your head as soon as the word left your mouth, you and Peter both falling into giggles. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, that was so lame, but it was right there.”

Peter shook his head, a large grin on his face. “No, totally fair. But I do think that if it were porn, you wouldn’t be bringing this up right now, hm?”

“No, I wouldn’t be,” you said softly, shaking your head.

“So…?”

“Well…the only reason I even clicked it was cause it had my name on it, literally, not some metaphorical bullshit, I just want you to know that.”

He knew, of course. “And?” He asked, still looking at you.

You paused for a moment, letting your eyes trace over his expression. He didn’t seem offended you’d been (not really, but really) snooping, he didn’t seem embarrassed to have been caught. He just looked…normal, as if to say, “what else did you expect?”

“And…you were keeping up with my writing? While you were away?”

“Is that a question, Ace? I thought you saw the file?”

“No…no, I saw. And I always saw that they were each downloaded pretty close to the day they were released.”

“Well, forgive me for keeping up with my favorite writer,” he teased, but his voice was soft. Sincere. 

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to that. So you inhaled through your nose and sat back against the couch, facing the TV. You could feel Peter beside you doing the same.

“It wasn’t that difficult finding them, you know. They’re one of the top searches when someone searches your name.”

“Oh…I didn’t know that.” You mused quietly. So he’d googled you.

“Did you ever…I don’t know, look me up?”

Easy answer. 

“No.” You said bluntly

The two of you turned at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes before bursting into laughs. 

When you’d calmed down a bit, you looked back over at him. “Why? What would I have found?”

“Oh, nothing worthwhile.” He’d answered too easily. And you knew that wasn’t true. It seemed you had plans for tonight. 

“Oh, I’m sure.” You said with a small eye roll, taking another bite of cake. 

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving your face. “You are my favorite writer.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I’m not sure you read enough for that claim to have any weight behind it.”

Peter just grinned, “Oh, but I mean it, Ace.”

Of course he did. 

“Thank you,” you murmured quietly. 

“You don’t need to thank me, I’ve always thought your writing was—”

“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about this,” you gestured to the cake, the frosting message that’d been written on it cut off due to the missing slices. “It was…really sweet of you, thank you.”

Peter was quiet for once, taking a moment before he spoke up again. “You…you already thanked May.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “but I didn’t thank you. And I know it was your idea.”

He paused, his eyes fixed on his lap, and this time, you were the one who kept your eyes on him. After a few moments, he looked up. “That obvious?”

You scrunched up your nose and nodded. “Little bit, yeah.”

He laughed softly. ���Well, you can’t blame me. It absolutely is worth celebrating. And you never mentioned having plans or something with James or Lyss, or anyone else, so I…”

You swallowed hard at the mention of James, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at his words. If anyone knew how much this meant to you, it was Peter. “Well, it means a lot, really.”

“You know, despite the fact that we aren’t…you know,” he swallowed hard, as if it physically hurt him to say that, “but we were friends first, and I remember. I know how hard you’ve worked for this, how much you’ve wanted it. And I’m glad to be here for it.”

“I’m…I’m glad you’re here too.” Barely a whisper, but so much more. The kindest words you’d given him since he’d return. Not forgiveness, no, it’d take a lot more to get there, but an acknowledgement. An appreciation of your friendship before everything, the connection you two shared, one you’d probably never find with anyone else. 

His gaze never faltered from yours and you could tell by the look on his face how much your words had effected him. His eyes were like two windows into that mind you used to know like the back of your hand. And, sometimes, you thought you still could. 

Which was why you leaned away and cleared your throat. Your eyes fell to the empty plate in his hands. “Um…do you want me to get you another slice?”

He looked down at the plate in his hands as if just realizing it was there. Shaking his head, he reached for your plate as well, “Don’t worry about it, you’re the guest of honor. I can get it.” 

As he leaned over to reach the cake, he caught sight of the untouched plate he’d gotten ready for his aunt. With furrowed brows, he looked back at you over his shoulder. “Hey, where’d May run off to?”

“Oh,” you waved a hand, “said she had to call someone or something for the community center. She went into her room.”

Peter gave you a quizzical look, making you raise a brow at him. “What?” You asked.

“Her phone’s right there, Ace.” He pointed to the edge of the coffee table where, sure enough, May’s phone sat tauntingly.

Your mouth fell open in disbelief and your eyes flicked to her closed bedroom door. That little…

“Liar,” you hissed, making Peter laugh. “She said it was important!”

“I’m sure she thinks whatever’s going on out here is more important.” He snickered. 

“Not funny, Peter!”

“You know,” he mused thoughtfully, “this might be the only time she’s ever happily left us alone.”

You flushed at the thought. It was true, when the two of you had been together, both your parents and May had made the rules about hanging out way stricter, and they’d always been lurking around, never leaving the two of you alone and out of sight for long.

“I wonder if she—”

The sound of a door opening cut Peter off, making both your heads turn. May stood there grinning widely. 

“Hey! Sorry, these people are so incompetent. I mean, how hard is it to understand where to leave an order, am I right? Did you save me some cake?”

You and Peter exchanged a glance before erupting into laughter. 

Contrary to popular belief, being Spider-Man was a stress reliever for Peter. Of course, it had its more than stressful moments. But often times when things were getting rough in his personal life he held onto the fact that he got to swing around the city (North Carolina was fine, but it was nothing compared to New York) and help the people who needed him. It felt good to be needed. 

Nothing quite beat the feeling he got when he returned a lost child to his terribly worried parents, or when he helped rescue a girl who was stuck in burning building, her father waiting for her eagerly down on the street. It often times made him wonder how he would feel if it were his loved ones in peril. If it were Ned, or MJ, or May. Or you. 

He never thought he’d have to find out. 

Until today. 

It was like any other day, and when he thought about that later it would make him sick to his stomach how something so terrible could happen and the world would go on. How there would be no signs. 

He had been swinging around downtown Manhattan. It was a peaceful afternoon in New York, full of people just bustling around as they enjoyed the nice weather, and Peter was still riding the high of dinner with you last night. How it’d felt like the two of you had really connected, like he might just have a shot at earning your forgiveness. He kept thinking about how good it felt to have you back at his place with him and May, how natural it was. 

Maybe he was too stuck in his head, daydreaming and reminiscing, and that was the problem.

Early evening traffic was just beginning, the roads and crosswalks full of people trying to get back to their homes. 

He should’ve been faster.

He should’ve noticed it sooner. Something. Anything.  

Shooting a web toward the nearest lamppost, Peter hauled himself onto a low, nearby roof and crouched on the edge. “So Karen, what’ve we got today?”

“There seems to be some commotion on the Brooklyn Bridge, cars are piling up. Cause of commotion is unknown.”

Peter’s brows furrowed and he was immediately springing into action. Bridges were a terrible place for accidents to take place, they were crowded, and far too many times he’d saved someone from sliding past the broken railings and into the waters. 

Sure enough, when he got there Peter could see that this was no exception. The bridge was packed, overflowing with vehicles and people rushing out of their cars. It was worse than the usually New York traffic. He swung down quickly, planting himself on the ground with the others and started ushering them out quickly.

“This way ma’am….It’s alright sir, just keep walking….Oh, buddy,” there was a kid cowering in an all too familiar way behind a car, so Peter reached out a hand, watching as the kid looking up at him, something like awe shining in his wide eyes. When he’d grabbed hold of Peter’s hand, he gently pulled him over and lifted him up onto his shoulders. “You see anyone you know?”

The little boy looked around, unsure, before his face lit up and he was pointing eagerly. “O-over there! My dad!”

“Alright,” Peter huffed, fighting his way through the crowd to the panicked looking man who was stock-still in the feverish crowd. 

“Dad! Dad!” The kid waved his arms frantically, and somehow over all the ruckus, the man heard him. Peter could see the relief flooding his face as he raced over to the two of them, reaching up and scooping the little boy into his arms. “Daddy! Spider-Man saved me!”

'Thank you so much,” the father’s voice was choked and Peter merely shook his head.

“It’s what I do, sir. And you, kiddo,” Peter leaned down to the little boy, “stick with your dad, yeah?”

The kid nodded quickly and Peter ruffled his hair before shooting a web and lifting himself onto the tower of the bridge, he still hadn’t seen what all the ruckus was about…

It was obvious what the ruckus was all about. There had been a pile up at the end of the bridge and from what he could see, it was bad. At least four cars were completely flipped over, another was on fire, and…no. 

No no no.

He knew that car, and worse, who was most definitely in it. He should’ve realized it sooner, the whole reason you were back in Queens for the weekend was to pick up some furniture to bring back to your apartment. You’d told him you were going to be driving back to school. He should’ve known, should’ve realized.

But now he was watching your car hang off the broken railing. The sight made every single cell in his body freeze for a split second. Were you still in it? Had you gotten out like some of the other civilians? He wasn’t going to wait around to find out. 

Peter flung out his wrist, hauling himself over as quickly as he could. He stopped beside the car and he could see you clearly through the window, your eyes shut, head laying on the steering wheel, blood dripping from your hairline. 

Peter was going to be sick. 

He had to get himself together. But just as he was snapping himself out of his fight, flight, or freeze (where he was currently frozen) moment, the car that had been up in flames blew up, sending your car flying off the rail, Peter close behind you.

“No!” He shot one web and caught himself before flinging his other hand towards your car, his web sticking to the bumper. He lifted himself up before bracing his feet on the concrete and pulling you up with every ounce of strength in his body. 

He was panting by the time he had your car planted back on the road, but he didn’t feel tired at all. The exact opposite. He rushed over to the drivers’ side and yanked the door open. You were still there, limp in the car seat, and the blood around your hairline was more than he remembered it, dripping down onto your cheek. He winced at the thought that he might’ve had something to do with that. 

“Ace, honey, can you hear me?” He leaned in, hovering over you, and patted your cheek. “Baby come on, open those pretty eyes for me.” It wasn’t until he went to wrap an arm around your waist so he could pull you out did he notice the awkward angle at which your arm was bent. 

Peter hissed at the sight. He hated seeing you so broken, so hurt. This wasn’t how you were supposed to be. You were supposed to be rolling your eyes at him, making fun of him for everything he did, not this. 

“C’mon Ace, just tell me you can hear. Give me something sweetheart.” He kept murmuring words in your ear as he slowly worked you out of your seatbelt and lifted you carefully, mindful of your injuries. 

“Hey!” Peter kept an arm around your waist as he waved the other around at the paramedics who were starting to flood the scene.

Two middle aged men rolled over a gurney and quickly got you out of Peter’s hold. He knew it was the right thing to do but it almost made him angry. He needed to hold you, to make sure you were there. But you needed help right now, and that was more important than anything. 

So he let you go, trailing after the two men. “She hit her head, pretty sure she’s got a concussion. Something’s wrong with her arm too.”

“Thank you for your help,” one of the medics said to him, “we’ll take it from here.”

But he didn’t go. Peter followed them as they rolled you into the ambulance, desperately wanting to just step in and stay by your side.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked quietly. 

The medic turned to look at him, as if surprised he was still there, and he knew why. If this were anyone else, Peter would’ve just trusted the medics and swung away to see where else he was needed. But this wasn’t just anyone. 

This was you. 

The love of his life. 

The first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing before he slept, and in all the in-between moments. The only person he saw a future with. The person whose forgiveness he still had to earn. And you were unconscious in the back of an ambulance. 

So he wasn’t leaving, not yet. Not until they slammed the doors in his face and drove off. 

“We’ll do what we can,” the man said to him seriously. Peter recognized it for what it was, a carefully worded non-answer. They still didn’t know the full extent of your injuries and they weren’t about to give him false hope. 

Peter stood there silently as the medic slammed the back doors of the ambulance shut, catching one more glimpse at your face. The ambulance drove off, sirens blaring, and it took him a few minutes to fully gather himself. 

He had to finish his job here, if anything, so he could make it back to you faster. 

The next hour or so was hell for Peter. He’d had to stick around and help sort out the mess on the bridge when all he really wanted to do was get in that ambulance with you and follow you to the hospital and everywhere after that. 

He’d never felt so obligated to help people before, it was just something he’d always done, something he was happy to do. But not now. Every person, every accident, was just something holding him back from finally rushing over to that hospital to see you. 

But finally, it was over. People were safe again, all the injured had been helped out or taken by paramedics if it was severe, police were trying to figure out how to clear the scene. His job as Spider-Man was over for now. He finally got to be Peter Parker. 

The trip to the hospital was a blur for him. He was swinging furiously, only stopping in a deserted alleyway to change out of his suit before he was running through those doors. He found a nurse who he begged pretty pathetically to let him see you. Fortunately, she was kind enough to look you up in the system. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see you just yet. 

So now, Peter was sitting anxiously in a waiting room, waiting for any news that might come of you. He’d called May and both your parents to tell them what had happened (leaving out the Spider-Man part when he was speaking to your parents). He’d even called Alyssa, whose number he’d had to get from one of the photographers from the paper. 

But it didn’t take long for him to finish off with the phone calls, leaving him alone with his thoughts. And so the spiral started. He didn’t know how badly you were hurt. What if it was worse than what he could see back on the bridge? What if you were permanently hurt? Or worse...

No. He couldn’t go down that road. That was never going to happen, he wouldn’t let it. He didn’t care what he had to do. Hell, he’d give you his heart if you needed it. Just as long as you were okay. 

There was still so much left unsaid between you two, so much he regretted. That morning in the park had barely scratched the surface of it all. He had to tell you about all the horrible parties his roommate had dragged him to, all the jokes and stories he’d made sure to try to remember just so he could share them with you the next time he saw you, all the new constellations he’d spent hours reading about just in hopes of sharing them with you when he saw you again. 

Peter had no clue how long he’d spent sitting in that waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down quickly. If you’d asked him, he would’ve said over ten hours, for sure. Realistically, he knew that wasn’t true. But that was how long it felt until that sweet old nurse was walking up to him again.

He stood as soon as he caught sight of her, anxiously wringing his hands. “How is she? Is she alright? Is she awake, can I see her?”

The nurse shot him a small smile, “She’s gonna be just fine. Poor thing’s a little beat up, but everything should heal over time. She’s not awake, she’s on a lot of medication, but you can see her if you’d like.”

Peter almost felt to the ground in relief. He nodded so quickly he was almost surprised his head didn’t snap off. “Yes, please. Where is she?”

“Just down there,” she pointed down the hall. “Second door on the right.”

He was walking off before she’d even finished talking. He didn’t want to be rude, truly, but all he cared about was seeing you. He reached the door to your room and slowly pushed it open. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell, the reek of antiseptic was so strong his nostrils burned. 

And then he saw you.

Maybe he should’ve waited a little longer. This…this was like a knife to the heart. 

He’d never seen you look so frail, so fragile. Your skin was so much paler than normal, missing that usual glow you always carried around, one he loved. A large white bandage covered your hairline where he’d seen all that blood earlier, and he could already see some redness where it was starting to seep through. The machines and tubes around you made you look smaller, the endless beeping of the heart monitor was both reassuring and taunting at the same time. 

Reassuring because he’d gotten to you in time, you were alive. 

Taunting because he couldn’t have stopped you from getting hurt in the first place. 

He could see your arm wrapped up in a cast and the sight broke his heart his heart all over again. Taking a step, he managed to get his legs working enough to make his way towards a seat beside your bed. 

“Hey Ace,” he murmured, taking your other hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. He knew of course that you couldn’t hear him, but that didn’t matter. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could’ve helped you sooner, that I could’ve gotten there sooner.” Peter bowed his head and sniffled. He hadn’t gotten a chance to take all of this in seriously. You could’ve died. 

“I’m sorry for everything, Ace. Not just today. Everything. I’ve been such an asshole but I swear to you, I promise that if you give me a chance, I’m gonna make it all up to you. Even if you have a boyfriend, I—”

“Who has a boyfriend?”

Peter’s head shot up in surprise when he heard your raspy voice. Your eyes were half-shut, squinting against the bright light of the hospital room. He sat up straighter and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Hey Ace, how ya feeling?”

You grimaced and shook your head. “Weird.”

He smiled at that. The nurse had told him you were on some heavy medication and he could clearly tell. “Yeah, I bet. You got in a little accident honey.”

Turning your head on the pillow, you looked over at him with wide, hazy eyes. He hadn’t realize just how exhausted you looked, but right then, it was all he could see. “It was s-so scary, Petey. T-there was a…a car, and it hit my car, then something else hit my car, a-and—“

“Shh,” he murmured softly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. His fingers lingered on your face, tracing the skin where he’d seen blood earlier. If he had to hear how scared you were he was scared he would vomit. “It’s alright, Ace. You’re okay and that’s all that matters right now. I got you out, you’re okay. The doctors are gonna help you, okay? And I’m gonna be right here the whole time.”

You shut your eyes and nodded, leaning into touch and he almost wanted to cry. He knew you would never be acting like this under any other circumstance, but god was he loving it, despite the horrible circumstances that brought you here. 

“Thank you Petey,” the nickname made his heart skip a beat, “and your boyfriend too.”

That made his brows furrow. “Sweetheart…what do you mean?”

“Your boyfriend,” you said simply, your eyes still shut. He watched the way your lashes brushed against your cheek. It reminded him of when you used to fall asleep during your study sessions, you always looked so peaceful he couldn’t never bring himself to wake you, something you always berated him on. “You were just talking about him.”

Oh. “I wasn’t talking about my boyfriend, Ace. I was talking about yours.”

You raised your eyebrows suspiciously and while the topic of James always brought a scowl to his face, he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your little attitude. Until you said something.

“You’re so silly Petey, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

The drugs must’ve really been getting to you. “Yeah, you do Ace. Tall, blonde, and annoying as hell. I believe he goes by James.” Peter couldn’t stop the little roll of his eyes. 

“Oh him,” you blew a raspberry and waved your hand as if you were trying to brush off the whole topic. “He’s a dummy.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh at your little proclamation. “Well, I can’t argue with that, sweetheart.”

“But he’s not my boyfriend.” You said with a small shrug, shifting on the bed.

Peter paused. What?

“I think you’re still feeling a little tired sweetheart, you had a long day. Why don’t you try to sleep some more-“

“Nuh uh,” you said defensively, your brows furrowing together in a way that made him wince considering your definitely-there-concussion. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Petey. M’not a liar!”

“I never said you are, Ace.” He assured you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you. Peter wasn’t a doctor or anything but he figured it probably wasn’t great to get you all worked up in this sort of state. “Don’t worry about it, darling. Forget I even brought it up, alright? I believe you. Just try to get some rest for now.”

That seems to please you and you nuzzle your head back into the pillow.

Now...he knows he should leave you. He knows that you’re hurt, that there’s so many drugs in your system to help you with the pain, pain and trauma that you haven’t even had time to process.

And yet…

“Hey Ace?” He asked gently, leaning forward in his chair a bit. He just felt this urge to be as close to you as possible. If it weren’t for all your injuries he’d already have crawled into the hospital bed and held you so close to his chest, you wouldn’t be able to tell where he began and where you ended. 

That had been the dream. Always. When he’d had you and every goddamn day since he’d lost you.

“Hmm?” You hummed so softly, so sweetly, that all he wanted to do was lean down, kiss your forehead and tell you to rest. And he absolutely would, but he just had one question. 

Peter was a curious man. It was part of what made him such a great scientist. “Is there…a reason you’re saying you don’t have a boyfriend, sweetheart? Did something happen between you and James?”

“Well duh,” you giggled softly and rolled your eyes as if you couldn’t believe he was even asking this. His curiosity was only piqued. 

“Y-yeah?” Peter shifted in his chair, spreading his legs as he leaned closer, his elbow digging into his knee as propped his chin on his fist. He really didn’t want to come off as eager as he felt but there was no hiding the happy glint in his eyes. “Like what?”

Your eyes shifted around as if searching for the answer. “I don’t know if can tell you…”

That made his brows furrow. “Well why not, Ace? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Right, but…” Now you were the confused one., “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“Did James tell you that? That you can’t tell me?”

“No…” you shook your head slowly. “Nope, not him. Me.”

“You…?” He asked quietly. He couldn’t lie, it hurt. Knowing that there was something you’d been purposefully hiding from him, so much so that you remembered you weren’t supposed to tell him, even in this state. Especially something concerning this. 

“Oh, don’t be sad Petey,” you said quickly when you noticed his downfallen expression. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you if you want!”

It was just like you of course, trying to cheer him up. He couldn’t imagine you’d be acting the same if you were completely sober, though. 

“I broke up with him.” And you said it so casually, your face completely relaxed, as if you had no idea how much those words meant to Peter. 

Now, he wasn’t naive enough to imagine that your breaking up with James meant he could be with you now. No, it didn’t work like that. But… this was a step. 

“Why’s that, Ace?” He had to be normal, he had to act like his heart wasn’t about to beat out of his chest, like his hands weren’t aching to be holding yours. 

“He’s a dummy,” you repeated as if it were obvious. And it was, Peter agreed of course. But there still had to be more. 

“Right, of course he is Ace, you’re so right. When did you… break up?” He couldn’t lie, he felt like at any second you’d snap of out this drug-happy-haze you were in, realize he was kind of sort of grilling for information on your (past?) relationship, and make him leave. But he just wanted to know a bit more. 

“Oh…pffft…” You laid back on the bed and blew a raspberry. “Like forever ago, Petey.”

What in the world? “Forever ago? Wow, that must be a long time ago, Ace.”

“Yeah,” you let out a heavy sigh and shut your eyes. “S’so long ago… that day we were running the paper.”

“What?!”

Oh. 

Oh.  

But that would mean… That day was over a week ago. He’d been you plenty of times since then. That dinner with him and May, all those small moments between you two… you were already single. 

“That…that long, Ace?” He was glad you weren’t fully aware, it meant you wouldn’t notice how choked he sounded. 

You didn’t really reply, just made some sort of soft, sighing noise as you lay back against the pillow and shut your head. Peter breathed deeply, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. 

He stayed there for a while, watching you sleep, his mind spinning from everything that had happened today. Last night had been amazing, the best time he’d had since he’d gotten back. Staring at you now, injured, drugged out, and laying in a hospital bed really put into perspective for him how quickly things could change. 

How much he needed you in his life. And not just as a friend. 

Peter was stuck there, stewing in his thoughts and doubts and everything ever when the door to your room was gently pushed open, revealed a worried-looking Alyssa. He stood, clearing his throat as she bounded in, eyes wide, hands clutching at her phone so tightly her knuckles were white. It seemed she’d been the closest of everyone he’d called.

“How is she?” She asked Peter worriedly, trying to keep her voice down for your sake.

“She’s…she’s gonna be okay.” Her sigh of relief resonated deeply with him. “But she is pretty banged up.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she murmured gently, her eyes traced over your figure with deep sympathy. Peter did the same, and every second felt like his own personal hell. 

Alyssa turned to him with a puzzled look. “How’d you know about the accident? And how’d you get here so quick?”

Shit. “Oh, umm…I commute, so I was on the bridge as well, but nowhere near the accident like she was. When I saw the paramedics wheeling her to the ambulance…I went with them.” Enough of the truth. 

She nodded, looking back down at you, her fingers gently brushing some hair out of your face. “Well it’s good she had someone with her, even if she didn’t know it. And even if it was you.”

Ouch. He tried not to take it to heart though, he knew she was just looking out for you. “Yeah,” he murmured, “my thoughts exactly.”

“Im sorry, Peter,” Alyssa sighed and turned toward him. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, really. I appreciate your help, and I’m sure she does too.”

He shook his head, waving off her apology. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

Alyssa just sighed again and started pacing the room. “She did not deserve this.” He couldn’t agree more. “Do you know all that’s wrong with her? What’d her doctors say?”

Peter shook his head again. “No, they made me wait in the waiting room, later on a nurse came and told me I could see her but she wasn’t conscious. Honestly, I thought I was lucky that they even let me in so I thought I’d just wait for her parents to get here and get the full story from them. I called them, they be be here any—”

That wasn’t enough for her, apparently. Peter watched as Alyssa completely ignored him and made her way to your bedside, grabbing at the clipboard there and scanning them. 

“I…didn’t know you were pre-med.”

“M’not,” she brushed him off with a wave of her hand, her eyes never leaving the piece of paper.

Peter paused. “Well then…what’re you doing.”

“I went out with this dude who was pre-med. A total bore and a total pain, but I did learn a few things.”

“Yeah?” He asked, stepping up closer to her and looking over her shoulder as if the medical jargon would suddenly start making sense to him as well. “What can you make out of that?”

“Broken arm, obviously…she’s got a concussion, some internal bleeding, and a fracture in her right rib.”

Peter winced as she went on, his heart aching at the thought of you going through all that pain. 

“You said you called her parents?” Alyssa asked quietly. And when Peter looked over at her, he noticed her nose was tinged red, and her eyes as well.

“I did, yeah. Right before I called you.”

She nodded, pursing her lips. Quietly, she made her way to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. “Is there…is there anything we can do?” She whispered. 

Peter wanted to tell her that if there was, he’d probably already done it by now. But he understood exactly what she meant and that wouldn’t help right now. “Be here. Help her. She still doesn’t fully understand what happened, I don’t think. She woke up a bit ago when I first came in, she was high as a kite so she probably won’t remember it. But she told me how scared she was, how scary the whole situation was.

“So…to answer your question, I think the best thing we can do for her is be there. Here in the hospital, and out there when she’s discharged.”

Alyssa nodded. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes, but he could almost see the spark behind them, the sheer determination to be there for her friend in every way she possibly could. 

Peter liked her. 

He looked back at you, unsure if the paleness of your skin was because of the bright, hospital fluorescents, or all the pain you’d been through today. 

“We’ll be there for her.” Alyssa said firmly and Peter appreciated the use of “we”.

“We will,” he nodded, his eyes never leaving your form. 

Thank you so much for helping, if you have any questions just let me know!

Alyssa’s text shone through Peter’s phone screen as he made his way around your apartment. It took everything in him to leave your side, but your parents had shown up and you needed some of your things. So he decided to make himself useful and also give your mom and dad the space to freak out about you. 

Your apartment was cozy, he thought as he walked around. It wasn’t that hard to find the small touches in the cramped space that were more you over Alyssa. Mugs with cute designs on them, a throw blanket that he recognized as the same one you used to take out with you on the fire escape and cuddle with as you waited for him to finish patrol. Sometimes you’d even take it with you when he used to swing you both to that old hill where you’d stargaze. He smiled to himself at the memory, there hadn’t been a day that went by since graduation where he hadn’t thought of those moments with you, or a night where he didn’t look up to the sky, stars visible or not, and missed you immeasurably. 

He realized that the reminiscing probably wasn’t the best thing to do right now while you were laying in the hospital waiting for him to get back with your things. He made his way to your bedroom, his heart melting even more as he stepped inside. If he thought the apartment was you, he wasn’t ready for your room. It was like stepping into a time machine and he was back with you at your old apartment, the two of you trying and failing to keep quiet so your parents don’t wake up to find you together in the middle of the night. There were papers, notebooks and pens strewn on the floor and he could practically see you hunched over, brows furrowed as you scribbled furiously, trying not to miss any thought. 

But there were some differences now. There were pictures, ones he didn’t recognize, pictures he wasn’t a part of anymore. Some of you and Alyssa, some with MJ, one on your nightstand with you and James that made him scoff quietly and roll his eyes. The thought of that guy alone was almost enough to make him physically gag. How could you ever think he was right for you? Well, you didn’t apparently, not anymore at least. He had to gauge more information from you about that, preferably when you weren’t drugged up or laying in a hospital bed. 

So he walked around your room slowly, trying to figure out what would be useful. He grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks, your phone charger, and your headphones. They doctor had said they weren’t sure how long they needed to keep you there just yet, but Peter wasn’t going to be unprepared or have you feeling anymore uncomfortable than you most likely already were. 

So he walked over to your closet, he wanted to grab a few things he knew you’d appreciate. He grabbed an empty tote bag of yours to fill up. He grabbed a few sweaters and cardigans because he knew you got cold easily and he imagined sterile hospital rooms didn’t help with that. He was rummaging around through the small shelf where you had your sweatpants, trying to decide which one seemed the comfiest when his hand pressed against something hard, making a small rustling sound. 

Confused, he pushed away the clothes covering whatever it was you had hidden in your closet, and he was met with a small, square-shaped gift. He would’ve left it, really, the last thing he wanted to do as he was gathering things to take back to the hospital where you lay injured was snoop in your room. But his eyes caught sight of something. The tag. 

Merry Christmas Petey ♡︎

Your familiar scrawl stared back at him tauntingly, making him wonder when you could’ve ever possibly gotten him a Christmas gift—

Winter break. That damned winter break where he was supposed to see you, but everything had gone wrong. He’d chickened out at the last minute. He knew he shouldn’t, knew he had no right to open this even if it had been originally bought for him. But Peter had always been too curious for his own good.

With his heart in his throat, he pulled the wrapping off slowly. He pulled out the box, a small smile on his lips when he saw the “LEGO” label on the top right corner. But his smile fell when he noticed what set you’d gotten for him. 

Map of Constellations. 

Oh. It was perfect. 

And he was the whole reason he’d never gotten it in the first place. 

Peter felt… well, he wasn’t really sure what he felt. Guilt, definitely. Touched, obviously. But regret. God, he could just picture you when you’d gotten that text from him two winters ago… of course you hated his guts. 

He realized he owed you an explanation. Whether you spit on his face and told him to never speak to you again, or you accepted it with that icy, close-off demeanor, he owed it to you. He’d left you in the dark for so long about what he was thinking, all the reasons and he’d conjured up. The two of you had never worked like that, especially him. No, you were always the one person he could trust, the one person who he turned to for every thing. 

Peter was a terrible secret keeping in general, but especially with you. Something in him just wanted to surrender to you, tell you everything little secret, every single thought. He hadn’t let that part of him win over in a while. 

Maybe it was finally time it did.

With his heart in his throat, he returned the Lego set to the back of your of your closet, the torn wrapping paper resting around it, its edges being held down by the box. But if you were to pick it up, it’d fall off, and you’d easily be able to tell someone had been there and opened it. 

Great, now not only did he feel guilty about letting you get hurt when he was literally the hero of the city, but he felt even more guilty for snooping. But you’d forgive him…right?

Maybe he could get even with you after finding that file on his laptop. But he wasn’t upset about that at all, actually. He loved that you knew he’d thought of you while he was away, that he kept up with your achievements and he cared about them. 

He closed your closet and packed a few more things before standing in your doorway, giving the room one final look, trying to decide if he’d forgotten anything. His eyes fell on the picture on your nightstand, the one that depicted you and James. You were both smiling wide, James’ long arm hovering over you and holding up the camera to capture the picture

In a few quick strides Peter was back in the room, grabbing the picture frame and lowering it face down onto the table. He didn’t think you’d appreciate coming home after everything you’d been through and having a photo of your ex great you as soon as you stepped into your room. 

Yeah…yeah, thats why he’d done it. For you. Duh. 

Pleased with himself, Peter stepped out of your room and out of the apartment altogether, a smile tugging at his lips and he carried your filled-to-the-brim tote bag. 

Walking through the bright-white hospital hallways, Peter could make out several different noises. A beep…beep…beep… of someone’s heart monitor, the squeaking of un-oiled cart wheels as they scraped along the tile floor, phones ringing at every nurse’s station that he passed, and chatter. Chatter from doctors and nurses alike as they moved in and out of patient’s rooms, chatter from others who were visitors just like him. Honestly, it would’ve been a little overwhelming for him, even though he had much better control over his senses than he did in high school, it was still a lot. 

But he was going to see you and you… well, you always had a way of calming him down. 

You’d been here for close to a week now, your recovery going extremely well, and Peter had come in every single day without fail. There no sign of James—or whether he knew you were injured or not—and you never mentioned him. There was some hushed conversation between you and Lyss a few days ago (he hadn’t been actively trying to eavesdrop, but he had sharp senses and it just happened) where he’d heard you tell her you were pretty sure you’d told him about the breakup while you were kind-of-sort-of out of it. Lyss had just laughed as if it totally checked. 

That was another thing that had sort of developed during your stay here. His (sort of) friendship with Alyssa. They’d bonded over their desire to help you and be there for you after everything you’d been through. She hadn’t once threatened to fire him from the paper, so all in all, Peter thought he was doing good.

He waved to a few of the nurses he’d become familiar with during your time here as he made his way to your room. So far, much to his eager excitement, you hadn’t kicked him out yet any of the times he’d come to visit. Sometimes he stayed in a chair beside you, old laptop in his lap while he pretended to be working on something for school or the paper. Of course, he wanted all his attention to be solely on you, but he had a feeling you’d respond to him better if he was (pretending) being productive. You didn’t really speak to him other than answering the same question he asked every day, “How’re you feeling, Ace?”, to which you would answer “Good”, despite laying injured in a hospital bed.

He figured now wasn’t the best time to be hounding you about talking about everything, not when you were still going through it. He could protest for details later. There was a silent agreement between the two of you. He never pushed, and you let him worry. Silently. Because let’s be honest, you both knew exactly why he was by your side every free second he could get and then some. But you never asked him to leave. Maybe that meant something. 

Or maybe not. 

When he reached your door, it was open, and the bed was empty. Huh… maybe you’d gone to get more tests done? 

That was exactly what he would’ve believed, and he would’ve sat in a chair waiting for you, if a nurse hadn’t seen him and taken some pity on him. 

“She’s not here anymore,” the voice was familiar, and when Peter whipped around, he recognized her as the same, short old lady who had spoken to him when he’d been a mess in the waiting room the same day you’d been admitted. 

“What do you mean?” Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Had they transferred you? But that wouldn’t make sense. 

“She checked herself out not too long ago, you just missed her, actually.” The nurse informed him with a sad smile. 

“Wait…” he shook his head quickly, his heart racing, “no, no. She can’t do that, she’s still hurt. She hasn’t been here long enough.”

She simply shrugged. “Her doctors cleared her, and she jumped at the chance to get out. She is definitely going to have some outpatient recovery, which we’ve already discussed. She was informed to take it easy, however. I trust you’ll be the one to make sure she sticks to that, hm?”

Peter was silent for a moment, his mind still reeling. In his opinion, you were nowhere near fit enough to be sent back home. You were still hurt, still in the thick of your healing process. He knew he wasn’t a doctor, but he didn’t trust you were alright to be sent away just yet. 

But you were gone, and knowing you, you’d probably try walking for at least half the trip. That’s what he had to worry about now. 

“Yeah, yeah you can,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. 

The nurse simply smiled at him. “You two make a cute couple.”

“Oh.. we’re not… no,” he shook his head quickly, but he’d be lying if he said her words didn’t make his heart skip a beat. So, other people saw it too.

“Uh huh,” she nodded, a sly smile playing on her lips. “That’s what they all say.”

Peter flushed. “I mean—I mean we were, but not…not anymore.”

“Your fault, I take it?” She asked with a raised brow, but Peter could tell it wasn’t really a question. 

“Um…yeah,” he murmured, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was.”

She let out an amused huff, as if she knew everything before Peter even said it to her. “Can I let you in on a little secret, young man?”

Peter lifted his head slightly, peeking up at her.

“Try,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Try, try, and keep trying. I saw you with her these past few days, and I saw her with you. Now I don’t know what happened, but from what I can see, there’s a chance for you two. You just have to want it enough.”

God, did he want it. He wanted it more than anything. 

“I do,” he whispered desperately. He wasn’t sure why he was confiding in a stranger like this, but…it felt right. “I just don’t know if she feels the same. It’s—it’s been a while and I wouldn’t blame her if…”

“Oh honey, she does,” the nurse said with a small chuckle, her eyes glinting as if she knew something Peter could never guess. “Or at the very least, she will. If you want it bad enough to work for it.”

He paused. He wanted to, of course he did. But when he’d come back, you’d had James. But now…

“You said she checked herself out? How long ago?” He asked suddenly, a spark of determination in his eyes that made the nurse look at him approvingly.

“Not long, just a little bit before you arrived. But I suggest you get going, young man.”

“Peter… it’s Peter, and thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me, go get your girl, Peter.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He was racing back down the hospital hallway the same way he’d come in, shooting a quick “thank you!” over his shoulder to the nurse. 

He was going to find you. And he was going to spend every second after that actively begging for your forgiveness.

The harsh wind hit him hard the second he stepped out of the hospital, whipping his hair back and giving his face a soft flush. But he didn’t care about any of that. He walked quickly, debating whether or not swinging would be more efficient, and making sure you got home properly. But he came to the conclusion that on foot would be better. He needed to speak to you, face to face. It was too risky, given all your injuries at the moment, he would never try something knowing there was even a chance you might get hurt. 

So he ran. He figured you wouldn’t really be able to get too far and, hopefully, you hadn’t hailed a cab just yet. He wondered whether you were planning to return to your apartment or your parents’ place. He hoped for the latter, at least then he’d be closer to you. 

It didn’t take him long to spot you, hair blowing wildly in the wind as you slowly made your way down the sidewalk. 

“Ace, wait up!”

He watched you pause, turn, meet his eyes, turn again and continue walking. He should’ve expected that, really. 

“Ace, sweetheart, please.” He was closer now, pushing through the others crowding the sidewalk. He didn’t care if anyone heard him, he didn’t care if he got weird looks. All he cared about was you.

You didn’t need to turn to know he was right behind you, you could just tell. Peter’s presence always had some sort of effect on you, a tug of some kind, as if your hearts held some sort of magnetic field only for each other, each one constantly seeking the other out. You were sure you could seek him out in a crowded room, blindfolded and deaf. 

But you didn’t turn. 

“Look Peter,” you whisper in a hoarse voice. You weren’t sure if it was from all the emotions coursing through you right now, from how rough the past couple of days had been, or if you were just tired. Maybe all one the above. “I really—really—appreciate everything you’ve done for me this past week. I’ve seen videos online of the accident and…” you inhaled deeply. It had been hard to see yourself like that. But people were set on capturing Spider-Man’s heroism on camera, you’d seen it plenty of times before. You’d just never been the victim. 

Peter winced, taking a couple long strides so he stood before you now, placing a hand on your shoulder which got you to, thankfully, stop for a second. But your gaze fell to the ground and he didn’t like that.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Ace.” He murmured gently, his voice like a soothing balm to every scar on your body, physical or not. And you hated it. “You know nothing good would come out of you seeing yourself like that.”

“It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t go looking for the videos. But…they were all over my feed and there’s nothing better to do in the hospital than scroll.”

You didn’t mention that your algorithm tended to favor Spider-Man related videos and articles, making sure they showed up first-click for you. 

Peter’s frown only deepened. “You shouldn’t have been scrolling in the first place, you had a concussion. Surely your doctors told you that.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course that thought had crossed his mind. “I turned my brightness all the way down, it was fine.”

He scoffed as if he were personally offended at the idea. “Fine? You thought turning your brightness down would make it—”

“Oh my god, Peter.” You stared at him in disbelief. “So not the time for that.”

Peter simply sighed before he lowered the hand on your shoulder to grip the bicep of your un-injured arm gently, leading you to a small alleyway between shops on the sidewalk where the two of you had stood. 

You frowned. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“We need to talk, Ace.” He didn’t let go even after he’d stopped walking. It was as if he knew you’d make a break for it the first second you got the chance. He could tell you were overwhelmed, of course you were, who wouldn’t be after everything you’d been through. And he knew what you did when you were overwhelmed. It was what you’d done that morning walking Central Park with him.

“About what?” You averted your gaze, looking to the side, trying to come off as uninterested as possible. This might’ve been the worst possible time to try to make conversation. 

“You know about what, Ace.” He whispered softly. 

You shook your head, refusing to meet his eyes. “No, no, I told you thank you. And I meant it, but other than that, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“What in the world are you thanking me for?”

“For saving me,” you said, as if it were obvious. 

Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever looked more horrified in his life. “Ace, sweetheart…baby, what? You never ever have to thank me for that. It’s my job.”

You tried not to react to the pet names falling so easily off his lips, but you could feel a burning in your eyes, and that horrible feeling of something stuck in your throat. “Oh please,” you tried to sound casual, but your voice was quiet in fear of it breaking into a million pieces on the alleyway floor if you raised it even a decibel, “people thank Spider-Man all the time, even if it is your job.”

“That’s not the job I was talking about,” he whispered, his voice soft as air, his grip on your arm tightening ever-so-slightly.

“Uh uh, no.” you pushed away from him, shaking your head quickly and finally looking up at him. A face so familiar, you were sure you’d remember every feature, even in death. 

Peter’s expression fell and he couldn’t help the unconscious step he took toward you, as if the two of you were in a dance, push and pull, wherever you went he followed. And god did he wish you would just let him fucking follow. 

He’d lost direction for a while, but now he was back and he needed you to lead him everywhere and then some. 

“You can’t just say shit like that as if it’s…as if it’s…” you looked away again, rubbing at your eyes as if you could just scrub all the tears, all the emotions right out. 

“As if it’s what, Ace? As if it’s normal? 'Cause it is. I may be Spider-Man, sweetheart, but my one real job, the only one I care about, the one I’d pick over everything and everyone, is protecting you. No matter how much you hate me, no matter how much you don’t want me around, I’m yours.”

You exhaled shakily, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You knew it, of course you did. You knew deep down, in every fiber of your being, even when he was five hundred miles away, even when he was back and you wouldn’t look twice in his direction, if you were ever in trouble, Peter wouldn’t hesitate to be there for you. 

It was why it wasn’t a shock at all when you’d opened your eyes in that cold hospital room and he had been the first face you’d seen. 

But it hurt. God, did it hurt. Every single time you remembered it was like a hand shoved its way in your chest, broken every bone and torn every muscle to grab your heart, squeezed it roughly, and ripped it out. 

“I’m not going to let you shut me out,” he whispered seriously, “especially after everything’s that’s happened to you. So forget about it.”

You wanted to forgive him, of course you did. That night he’d stopped by your fire escape not long after his return, the walk in the park the morning after the photography competition, working together in the newsroom, dinner with him and May, the way that night had been so perfect…you’d wanted to forgive him so badly. 

But the hand shoved, and tore, and squeezed, and ripped. 

And you wanted him to know how much you hurt. That you weren’t just being petty and difficult, but that you’d loved and loved and loved till it tore you in half.  

Your lip wobbled, but you fought to push through, to get the words out before you lost them forever, “I waited. I waited for you every night and every day I thought you would come back for me. I thought you’d try to fix things between us again, because how could you be okay with it? But that was the only way I pushed through, I told myself this was what you wanted, you didn’t want to be with me, for now at least, you needed to grow and you need your own space and I owed it to you because of how much I loved you.”

Sniffling, you wiped some tears off your face before continuing, “But I fucking waited, Peter, because I couldn’t give up on us. Every night I’d turn on my lamp and sit by the window and look for the stars and wonder if you were doing the same thing, if you were thinking of me when you saw them. If you were thinking of me at all.

“I was so excited when you asked to see me during winter break, I thought ‘this is it, we’re finally gong to fix things, but then you cancelled.”

“I’m so sorry Ace—”

“I know that you lied,” you breathed. You were silent for a minute, letting your words sink in for him. “I know that you lied to me about not being able to make it. I went home that night anyway, I was going to visit my parents and drop off your present with May, but when I turned the corner I saw you, walking and laughing and standing right there after you’d told me you couldn’t see me because your flight got cancelled.

“And what's even worse,” you let out a laugh that held no humor, “is that I still defended you! I still tried to reason it out because I didn’t want to believe that you would lie to me—”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Ace, please—”

“But you did!” You snapped. “And you’re doing it right now too, because I saw you, Peter! And I really just don’t understand why you would invite me in the first place just to cancel on me, is it some weird manipulation tactic or something?” Even as the words left your mouth, they felt wrong, and you felt a stab of regret when you saw the immediate flash of hurt that took over his features.

Peter Parker was a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.

“God, no. Never. Of course not, I—” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly, “I did want to see you, and my flight did get cancelled.”

“Then what happened, Pete?” Your voice was soft, quiet, sad. He felt like beating himself up but he owed you this, owed you this explanation because the thought of you spending over a year thinking he had done that to manipulate you? Or worse, because he didn’t want to see you at all, was killing him.

“I was going to tell you I booked another flight, but then I thought of seeing you,” a tear fell down his face. Then another. “I thought of actually seeing you and having to leave again, about not being able to stay, not being able to kiss you and hold you like I wanted—like I needed—and I couldn’t do it, Ace. I couldn’t handle it I’m sorry.”

You watched him cry, speechless, as your own tears fell silently down your face. So much time lost, so much hurt spread and felt. “I didn’t know you’d seen me,” he continued, “I had no clue Y/N.” He walked up to you and grabbed your hand in his, placing his other on the shoulder of your arm with the cast. “I would’ve fixed it or—or done something, fuck, I don’t know, but anything other than you thinking that I didn’t want to see you. I’m sorry I was so fucking scared.”

“MJ said you had a girlfriend,” you were staring at your shoes now. You weren’t quite sure why those words had left your mouth, you were nowhere near that topic, but…it was the only thing you could think.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His confusion made you confused, and you looked up to see his utterly lost expression. “You don’t have to lie Peter, she told me about the girl you were going out with and I get it, really, I’m not mad. Hell, that’s why I went out with James so—”

“Ace, baby, I never had a girlfriend. I never went out with anyone.”

You went silent. What? “But—but MJ said you went on a date?”

“Ace, I know I haven’t been Mr. Honesty in the past, we just covered that, but I’m telling you, I never went on a date. I mean, there was this one time where my roommate tried to set me up with someone, he did that thing where the three of us plan a hangout and the third person conveniently ‘bails’ at the last second, but I left as soon as I found out what was going on, like, right after he told me he wouldn't be making it. But I don’t possibly know how MJ could know about that.”

You shook your head, confusion growing more by the second. “That’s not what happened. MJ told me she was on the phone with you, and there was a girl, and you were getting dressed up, like date dressed up, and…” you trailed off, waiting for the punch to the gut when he told you that there was a mistake, that there was a date and he had just forgotten up until now. 

“I still don’t know what you mean—” You saw the realization dawning on his features. “Son of a bitch,” he murmured, shaking his head. 

“So you did go on a date,” you mumbled bitterly. 

“No! God, no,” he shook his head quickly, dismissing the words as soon as they left your mouth. “But…I was on FaceTime with her one day while I was getting ready—”

“For your date.”

“No, Ace. God, stop saying that. No…I was getting ready for some lame celebratory dinner with my physics team. There was this competition with other colleges, it’s sort of a big deal, it was in the paper and stuff, you probably would’ve written a killer article about it, but anyway we won, so we organized this dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate.”

Your burrows furrowed as you took in his words. A celebratory team dinner? But what about—

“And the girl? The girl was Amy, she was dating my roommate, she’s actually who introduced me to the team. Yeah, she was rushing me ‘cause I was late, and she was my ride. It was not a date, Ace. It was…it was just a bunch of nerds celebrating beating some other nerds.” 

He stepped even closer to you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “It wasn’t a date, Y/N. Please believe me.”

Your mind was reeling. So…the whole time he was away…since graduation…

“You never went out with anyone else?” Your voice was quiet, scared, as if this time, his answer would be different. 

“No, baby. Never.” He answered without hesitation. “I’ve never wanted anyone else, I’ve never thought about anyone else. It has only ever been you, Ace. It will only ever be you.”

Tears burned in your eyes and you could feel your face flushing with unshed emotions. But that meant everything you’d been imagining, everything that had set you off, your catalyst, it hadn’t been true. 

“B-but I thought…You were supposed to…”

“No,” he whispered softly, leaning down to be more face level with you. “I’m not supposed to do anything other than be with you. And I know—I know I’m the reason I lost you in the first place, but I swear on everything I am, Ace, I was doing it for you. Even if it was stupid and horrible for the both of us, my only intention was what would benefit you in the long run.

“This relationship—us—me and you… it’s never been fair to you, and that’s completely my fault. I know how much you used to worry about me when I was out being Spider-Man. You used to lie, to say you were staying up for some other reason, not to make sure I got home safe. But I could see through you every time.”

You shook your head followed, by a soft sniffle. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything, Ace. It wouldn’t have been fair to you, worrying about me every second I wasn’t on the other side of the phone, staying up just to hear from me, staying in and opting out from every event just get in a short call with me…It was too much, too much for me to ever willingly put you through.”

A part of you wanted to argue, to tell him you’d missed out on a good night’s sleep, on more parties and events than you could count because of the breakup. But another part of you knew that that wouldn’t have helped. The part that knew Peter Parker would do anything for you. Even if it meant making his life even harder than it already would’ve been after moving to a new city in a new state to attend a new school. 

“You know I would’ve put myself through that and worse for you,” you whispered brokenly. 

“I do know.” He lifted the hand that gripped just below your shoulder and brought it up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin, wiping away tears that you hadn’t even realized had fallen. And it felt so good to be held by him like this again, so right, so perfect. It was like every cell in your body was finally alive after being dormant for two years. 

“And that’s why I had to be the one to end things, because you never would’ve.”

It only took one shaky inhale before you crumbled, sobbing hard while Peter held you close, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest, being mindful of your broken arm. 

Your mind was a super cut of every moment the two of you shared up until now. Graduation, running into him that first day of spring semester, the photography competition, that conversation in the park the morning after…He was still Peter. Your Peter. He always had been. 

Pulling away, you sniffled, wiping your nose with your sleeve, looking up at him through tear heavy lashes. Peter didn’t waste a second before he was cupping your face between his hands, holding you reverently, and if you were the most precious thing in the world. And with the way he was looking at you right now, you almost believed it yourself. 

“You know,” you cleared your throat, your voice still watery and shaky from all your tears, “I still haven’t fully forgiven you, Pete. Even with good intentions, what you did…it gutted me.”

Peter’s eyes clenched shut with pain. But not for himself and your lack of forgiveness, no, but for you and what he’d put you through. Even if what he’d done had hurt him too, had hurt more than breaking every bone in his body, it hurt more that he’d caused you any sort of pain. 

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart, of course I don’t,” he murmured quietly, leaning down and pressing his forehead against your own. His heart skipped a beat when you didn’t pull away, when he realized you hadn’t pulled away from him at all tonight. “But I just have one thing to ask of you, Ace.”

You looked up at him, a question in your eyes. Peter takes a second to just relish in the moment, the feeling of your soft skin against the palms of his hands, those beautiful eyes that he’d dreamt about every night, brighter than any star in the galaxy, looking up at him…he enjoys every second and he thanks whatever god or angel may be listening for giving him this again. 

“Just…don’t decide to hate me just yet, alright? I know I have no right to ask you of this, and you have every right to hate me as much and as soon as possible. But can you just take a few days? Maybe three? Think about everything and then get back to me? And I promise you no more lies, no more big decisions without talking to you first…just…just me. And you.”

Your lips quirked up with a small smile as you leaned into his touch. “Three days?”

“Three days.”

“Deal.”

(3 months later)

“See that brighter star just below Orion’s belt?”

“Yes, she’s very pretty.”

“Well, I’m sure she appreciates the compliment, Ace. But I think it’s a dude.”

“What?” You frowned deeply at his words. “And why would that be?”

“That’s Sirius, the brightest star in Earth’s night sky.”

“Oh my god!” You flipped over and pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. “Like in Harry Potter!”

Peter laughed loudly, already expecting that same exact response from you. He grabbed at you and tugged you back down onto his chest. “Just wait, Ace, it gets better. Sirius is a part of a constellation called Canis Major, also known as the ‘Greater Dog’ constellation.”

“Dog! Just like in Harry Potter!”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, yeah. Just like in Harry Potter.”

Things had been going well for you two so far. The three days after that night had passed and you’d decided to forgive him, and give him another chance, if anything, for that girl who’d spent over a year sitting by the window, hoping and dreaming for another chance like this. It didn’t mean everything was okay, you’d been sure to remind him of that, and you’d told him to think of this as more of a pre-second chance. 

Honestly, you’d been teasing more than anything, but he’d accepted without a second thought. But it was a big help, slowly getting back into this. It felt so natural, it took little to no effort. And yet, every now and again he’d say something about a place on his old campus he thought you’d love, you’d introduce him to new places you’d found around the city and had thought of sharing with him since you’d first been there. 

It was eye-opening in its own way. Despite going through all that time not speaking or seeing each other, you were still with each other. Always. 

Wherever one of you went, the other followed, whether physically or not. It was made obvious in all the USBs Peter had filled with photos of things that had reminded him of you. It was made obvious in the box of handwritten letters you’d been writing for him since he’d left. 

It was a beautiful thing, to be so loved, despite everything that had come between you. Despite the silence, the distance, the hurt—you’d both still held on, just like he’d promised. You’d still carried each other, remembered each other in the quiet ways that mattered most. 

“Hey,” he spoke up softly, pointing up at the sky. That was another thing you’d discovered he’d done to keep you close during those darker times. Learn more star stuff to share with you. “See that one? The kind of dimmer one to Sirius’ right?”

“Mhm.”

“That one’s called Procyon, and it’s the principal star in the constellation Canis Major, which is the ‘Lesser Dog constellation.”

“Wait…” Peter bit back a laugh as you flipped over again to look down at him. He knew you couldn’t help yourself and he found it equally hilarious and adorable that every time you had something to say, you had to be looking at him to do so. 

“Yes, Ace?”

“There’s a “Greater Dog’ and Lesser Dog’ constellation? That’s so mean! Why’re we comparing them like that?”

Yup. Absolutely adorable. “I dunno, Ace, maybe the ancient stargazers had something against dogs.”

You scoffed and lay back down against his chest. “So…is Procyon the ‘lesser’ dog ‘cause she’s smaller?”

Peter smiled, his eyes no longer on the sky as you lay back down against his chest. “Yes, Procyon is the lesser dog because it’s not as bright as Sirius. But its name actually means ‘before the dog’ in Greek because it rises before Sirius, which y’know, they sometimes just call the ‘dog star.’”

You hummed softly taking in all his words. “You know what’s so crazy? This is the same sky people looked at thousands and thousands of years ago.”

Peter nodded, his gaze drifting back up to the stars. “That is crazy. Some of those things have been in the sky for millions of year, and people have been looking at them and making constellations out of them for thousands.”

“I wonder how old some of those are,” you mused quietly. 

“It varies, Peter answered simply, “Sirius, the one that we were just talking about? Yeah, it’s still a relatively young star, only about 500 million years old. Some others, like the ones in Orion’s Belt, are billions of years old. It depends on their size and what stage of life they’re in.”

“Imagine being 500 million years old and still being considered young.” You snorted in amusement. Flipping over once again, you smiled down at Peter. “You know a lot more star stuff than you used to.”

Peter grinned, glad he’d impressed you. “Yeah? Be honest, is it hot?”

You couldn’t stop the loud laugh that escaped you. “Hot? Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“Yeah, of course it is.” He was grinning widely now as he pushed himself onto his elbows. “So come on.”

Averting your gaze, you tried not to notice how good his biceps look today, or how his t-shirt had ridden up, revealing the faint line of his abs, just enough to make your thoughts wander. 

“Nope,” you said easily, shaking your head, “it isn’t hot.”

“You little…liar!” Peter lunged at you, tackling you to the ground and pinning you down as you let out a surprised laugh. 

Silence filled the small hilltop, your old place. It had been your first time coming back here since…everything, and you couldn’t have imagined it anymore perfect. 

Even if Peter was always a worrywart.

“Oh my god, Ace, I’m so sorry, did I hurt you—”

“Peter—Petey—relax, sweetie, I’m fine.” You assured him, gently placing a hand over his which was resting on the side of your ribcage. Also known as one of the places where you’d been injured previously. 

He gave you a look as if he didn’t quite believe you. “You always say that, but you were hurt—”

“And now I’m better,” you whispered, giving his hand a soft squeeze, “thanks to you.”

Peter never left you after that night in the alleyway. He’d taken you back to your parents’ apartment (which was conveniently right beside his) and he’d done everything he could to make you more comfortable and make sure you received the proper rest you were in dire need of. 

He had claimed this his actions during that time shouldn’t affect your judgment of his over the course of the three days he’d given you. But of course it had, how could it not? Peter Parker loved you, and you loved him. And despite all the things that you’d been through, you were here now. 

And that meant something. 

You used to wonder if you and Peter held any similarities to the seasonal constellations he’d told you all about. How, once, the two of you had been shining so brightly, and everyone could notice. 

And then came the darker times, when your stars were dimmer, the sky darker, and all you could do was think about what it would be like if you still had him. 

But now you were back, and shining better than ever.

And you had a good feeling that this time would last.

“Hey Ace,” he whispered with a large smile on his face.

“Yes, Peter?”

“I’m so in love with you.”

Yeah?” You grinned wide. “Tell me again.”

He laughed and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll tell you however many times you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

oh my goodness🥹💕 its over ahhh i loved writing them so much! if you ever want to see more of them, i’d love to write blurbs and dribbles for them so don’t be afraid to request anything!

thank you all so much for reading!!

‘seasonal’ taglist: @keira-kaz2y5 @imafangirlofeverything @lov3vivian

@miilesvsp @rkivesfilm @starshine145

@blondygwendy

[spacesymbol]

heyyyyy. crazy month and a half, am i right? 😅

my sincerest apologies for the truckload of reblogs.... plus even more sincere apologies if i reblogged a very old post of yours that you forgot about 😭

ive had those sitting in my drafts for a WHILE so that they wouldnt get drowned in my likes.... but i have some weird mental hangup about posting here without also posting a Life Update..... but i kept procrastinating actually writing a Life Update..... so here we are!!

anyways. that being said. LIFE UPDATE TIME!!!!! (no cut since theres actually some very important stuff in here)

first and somewhat foremost, i submitted SEVEN college applications exactly a month ago. for context, my entire applying list (as of right now) is only nine schools. and i procrastinated SO HARD on the application materials.... it was soooo bad. basically mid october to early november was the most stressed i have ever felt in recent memory 😁👍 and i coped with it soooo well, as i historically always do (sarcasm)

the fall play(s) also recently came and went!!! the rehearsal process wasnt that bad, it was moreso just anxiety provoking since i was constantly saying "yeah it (the show) will come together eventually" even when opening night was a few days away... but the show(s) did come together!! at least, my two scenes did. i honestly can't speak for anyone else, but my scenes both went fine during all three performances with minor errors, if any

although, the week of performances and the last few days of tech was so very brutal. i had to be in the theater until 8pm or later every single day of that week (november 18th to the 23rd), which meant i was in school for over twelve hours each school day. i had to put a lot of things on the backburner to focus on the show (and not losing my mind) that week, and schoolwork was one of them.... so i am currently once again in overdue assignments hell. my classes have been fine other than that though!!!

my mental, emotional, and physical health also definitely have been on the backburner for a WHILE now.... a wonderful example is how i havent seen my therapist in two months now, and for context, im supposed to see her once a week!!! so im clearly doing fine (sarcasm). its weird though, the play honestly wasnt that distressing for me, since i had already hit mental rock bottom earlier that month because of college applications

my physical health has also Not Been Good at all.... one of my scenes in the play (the gay one) involved a shit ton of stage falls.... and our stage is made of polished wood. we took all the necessary precautions to protect my bad knee (knee pads), but that didnt do much to prevent the ridiculous amount of bruising all over my body that i still have a week after the final show.....

eating has also been Bad. but i wont go into details about that 🫶 ive been able to keep having regular appointments with my dietitian, so genuinely dont worry about that. i will be fine!!

ive also been like. mentally checked out for a while, i guess. like i mentioned, ive been doing some research into dissociative disorders and symptoms to get more clarity on if im a system or not (which i do have an answer on btw), and i think the best term to describe it is depersonalization?

and uh. okay this is actually really important. about the system thing, i came to the conclusion after a LOT of research and self reflection that i do not think i am (or ever was) a plural system. i dont think i should post the entire esaay i wrote on how i came to this conclusion (because i dont think most of you want to read all that). but if any mutuals want, i am MORE than happy to dm the whole explanation, since i know it might raise some eyebrows that i suddenly dont identify that way anymore

however, the tldr is that im pretty sure i have dissociative amnesia instead, because i never once experienced amnesia between the personas that i thought were alters, and these personas were never really that separate from me, moreso extensions of me in terms of personality, if that makes sense. there were also some.... quirks of how my "system" operated that also made me suspicious, like how i was basically always frontstuck, and how my "frequent fronters" ALWAYS aligned with my interests at the time. i honestly think that i only arrived at the conclusion that i was a system in the first place because of the environment i was in at the time (the majority my friends at the time had the system realization and were talking about it), and the fact that no one ever really questioned me being one. which im NOT saying that i wish people had, since thats rightfully a very rude thing to do, but i definitely would have benefited from someone kindly calling all that into question, yknow?

the biggest takeaway though, should be that i didnt know until very recently. there is a world of difference between intentionally lying about being a system, and unknowingly being wrong about being a system. the MOMENT i started to suspect that i was wrong, i made it known here (in the previous Life Update) and on twitter, and i refrained from using any system terminology for myself until i came to a definitive conclusion, which i only did recently. additionally, i recently removed the system section from my pronouns dot cc, and my simplyplural account is still up, but obviously not in use

ummm. other personal updates.... im hopefully going to start legal and medical transition soon?? my stepsister (also trans) has been pushing my mom and stepdad for it as a result of the election, which sparks the conversation for me by extension

as you can probably tell by the majority of the recent reblogs, the release of season 2 reawakened my dormant arcane hyperfixation 😭 it somehow came back even stronger??? if any of you happen to remember my jayvik posting from november 2021, you deserve a spacesymbol elders discount....

what else..... oh um!!!! i had an awesome joe cool (snoopy) costume for halloween this year that i made extremely last minute :)

okay. okay!!!!!!! in terms of the future!!!! im on thanksgiving break right now until this tuesday and the break is Extremely welcome.... the spring musical (aka my final high school theater show) has already been announced, and its curtains, which should be exciting, but i dont have to think about that for a While....

in terms of like Immediately upcoming things, my schools robotics team has our first qualifier coming up so im gonna have to lock in on preparing for that soon.... for college stuff, i should be getting two decisions fairly soon (one from my early decision school and one from a rolling deadlines school), and i have two more applications for early january, but all i really have to do for them is finish writing their supplements..... so HOPEFULLY i should be slightly more active on here??? i feel like every time i say that i end up jinxing myself for inactivity, though. so honestly, who knows!!! but i dont really have as much of a Pressing Reason to not be active here, i guess

thats all.... jesus fuck i wrote a lot. my bad!!! no wonder i procrastinated writing this GODDAMN!!!!

[fagsex]

i had been too scared for years to check up on this really shitty thing from when i was a kid because his name his face the building they all made me nauseous and i knew if there was any justice at all it would be too little. i researched it today and turns out i was right. fucking scum got let go and all charges dropped for lack of competency. should that not speak more? when he was initially charged, it was on cnn, usatoday, cbc, covered so much that ive had friends ive made over the years in different states tell me they heard about him. ive found news articles in french about him. and yet not a word from any source outside of local about how he got fully away with it.

this is a weird thing for me to be randomly rambling about but sometimes it just hits me what happened. dr howard schneider of jacksonville florida, the only pediatric dentist to take medicaid in the largest city by area in the fucking continental united states, tortured, not exaggeration, tortured children for 30 years. at least.

when i say im afraid of dentists, im testy around dentistry, and teeth, and so much related things to it, everyone brushes it off easily as a common fear. which is naturally how he got away with it for so long. we were children physically restrained with leather straps. the doors were locked, parents werent allowed to come back, at a pediatric dentist. there were patients with teeth they just got being ripped out of their heads. i was either never given anesthetic, or, on more than one occasion, given so much i violently threw up, while lying down, restrained. i was seven years old tied strapped down choking on my own vomit with a bubblegum gas going in my nose. i can still smell it.

cold air still makes me nauseous. gas masks make me anxious. i couldnt lie down or feel relaxed anywhere that wasnt my bedroom for years. i would be sent to the nurses office as a kid, and refuse to lie down, because i felt like if i did, pain would begin. i would go in for a checkup and leave with too tight, too wrong crowns, covering my teeth. often, my teeth were not inspected or cleaned beforehand, just straight in with the drill. adult clamps in a childs mouth because i was being 'a whiny brat'.

have you ever been to a dentists office, or any medical office whatsoever, where an entire wall was a mirror? i could see myself held down and put through hell. i was too scared to put anything in my mouth at home, it repulsed me, not to mention my gums, my cheeks, the roof of my mouth, tongue, everything hurt so bad. i figured out later it wasnt normal, he was slicing them with a scalpel, with a pick, anything and everything. he put a hole in my sisters cheek. my baby sister walked, toddled out of there with a hole in her cheek after her first check up. we still went back, we couldnt afford anyone else, and he kept telling us how much work my mouth needed. he kept trying to convince my parents i may need braces, but i had the straightest teeth my parents had ever seen.

my heart still drops when i hear a drill, any drill. certain smells make me feel like i cant speak or breathe. my own mother screamed at me for being dramatic, for complaining so much. she said itd only hurt if i didnt listen, and he said the same. he said id be in trouble, big trouble if i told, and i remember it clear as day. he put on a movie on the ceiling tv he bought with the money medicaid gave him for ripping our milk teeth out, and it was the same movie everytime. some people dont understand that even the silliest, oddest thing can scare you if it sticks. he put his hands on my neck several times to restrain me and keep me from moving, and had me stare at the ceiling, and as fucking lame as it sounds, i could not listen to jerry seinfelds voice or participate in any bee movie jokes that became en vogue in 2016 or so, because i was legitimately terrified.

my own mother would mock my fears of putting things in my mouth to clean them, saying that if i was actually scared, i'd want to clean my teeth more so i'd see him less. it wouldn't matter what i did. and a scared 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 year old doesn't have that logic. i was just a lazy kid with disgusting teeth who was scared of the dentist, to everyone. in late 2019, the crowns he gave me all exploded, and took my teeth with them. four, five of my teeth were slowly destroyed and chipped out of my mouth. and every day i had to feel that scraping again, the cutting up of my mouth, how it filled with blooded. i couldnt talk or eat, but my family saw that as a positive, and i was too ashamed to tell them my teeth broke in my mouth. i knew they would see it as a sign of how disgusting i was. to be in my teens, and already have teeth abandoning me.

the state of florida forgave this. over 100 parents and children presented stories like mine, and he was still forgiven. i dont have a reason for sharing this, not now, not really. its not a special date, nor recent news. i dont even have some message behind this, other than oversharing. it was not just him either. it was every adult who did not listen or care, i suppose. it was the nurses there too. it was the state, it was his attorneys and lawyers that he could use his millions on that he made putting patients off anesthetics in papoose boards.

he was never even charged with child abuse, but fraud. the money was the most important thing the law found. i didnt smile with my teeth for years, my sisters speech was delayed for years, i had panic attacks in the middle of the day in middle school over a cartoon bee, ive had to remove 4 shattered teeth from my head and have several other teeth reconstructed where he broke and did not fix them,i was blamed for all the dental problems that suddenly appeared in my mouth when i began going to him, ive been belittled my entire life for such a childish 'fear', and that was never in question. just the fact he took my teeth to make money, that he put me and thousands of poor children, in both senses of the adjective, through hell to charge medicaid.

anyway what the fuck right. im sorry i dont know why im writing this all out right now but it just feels so stuck inside me that itll burst from my chest if i dont write it out. its actually relaxed me quite a lot. if you live in florida or georgia and you see some old bitch who looks like this just feel free to get him on sight 🤙

[sdv-confessions]

(In response to the ai discourse question mod posted)

Generally speaking, at least as far as I know from the art, writing/writing adjacent, and dev communities I’m in, it has to do with the following (from least important to most important imo) -

5. It’s lazy/low effort/etc. This tends to be a concern in creative and fan spaces for the most part, as many people find it to go against the whole kind of ‘drive’ of fandom; sharing things you’re genuinely passionate and care about and are willing to put in effort for about something you enjoy

4/3. It takes away work and opportunities from actual creators, be it programmers, designers, writers, musicians, etc. and instead steals work from unconsenting creators who’ve had their work skimmed by the AI or training algorithm

4/3. It’s harming the environment/water usage/etc. (Yes, so does most tech, but the extent of power and water Generative AI use is far more than essentially anything else. It also comes at a time where many countries, including my own, are in states of emergency regarding water shortages, heat waves, droughts, or contaminated waterways)

2. It cannot be held liable for crimes. Given the status of AI as non-living, it cannot be held responsible for harm it causes. This has led to everything from everyday people being placed into NSFW stuff and it ruining their lives to theft to near-murder (see the many mushroom incidents, chemical incidents, etc.)

1. AI is not an actual intelligence, meaning that nearly everything in it is stolen in some way or another. Be it artists getting their work skimmed, authors (both fanfic and officially published) getting their words, plots, and the like taken to be used without their consent, or even everyday people using Google Docs and having whatever they write be possibly used to train AI without their knowledge

The way this applies to SDV mods and the like is that -

A) It takes work away from artists, programmers, and writers (many of whom would probably even do it for free)

B) Shows often a seeming lack of commitment or interest in the content being put out, as well as seemingly like they don’t care about their customers (similar to when a celebrity does a ‘cash grab’ project where they sell absolute slop for like thousands of dollars to scam their fans that have supported them and who helped build the celebrity’s career)

C) Sends the message that they support the use of AI, or at the very least don’t see much of a problem with it’s usage which just reinforces the idea that they don’t value their customers or other creatives

Sorry if that’s a lot! AI politics can be fairly difficult to research at times and rather difficult to sort through so I wanted to list as much as possible for folks who haven’t had time to look super into it. Personally I’ve not had my work skimmed by AI (never gotten big enough for that) but I know people who have and there’s really nothing that can be done about it after it’s stolen. Generative AI is, and seemingly forever will be, founded on the violation of intellectual property rights, copyright, and human rights in regards to a safe planet and that shouldn’t be seen as okay.

- 🌾 anon (if anyone needs further clarification please ask!)

while i appreciate you typing out a detailed response, i was not asking about AI in the broad sense but specifically about chatbots based on sdv characters. so #4 and 2 aren't relevant. CA is working on a new game and wont be bringing any more major updates to sdv, there's no job opportunities here.

#5 - this is very subjective. personally i dont think that Being Lazy is strictly a bad thing. just part of being human.

#3 and #1 - this is why i mentioned specific sources in my original post. most of the articles ive seen are about chatgpt, im aware of its issues. idk anything about the programs used to make sdv chatbots. what are they called? how do they work? do they rely on chatgpt? are they using its databases? are they trained the same way? are they more or less harmful than chatgpt or an older program like cleverbot? thats the kind of info i was looking for. i did get some program names so ill read about them when i have time.

and lastly... i do not care about intellectual property rights. i am a communist. copyrights and patents are capitalist inventions that stifle creativity and progress.

[hoghtastic]

So what projects is his gf actually in? cos I think iv seen her advertise herself in half a dozen musicals these past few months or were they just promotions for 1 off events? Even her new musical Jersey Boys seems to only be running for a short time, is that how Musicals are in Denmark - they only run for a very short period? Whereas in London and New York shows run all year round with the same cast usually for a long time like a year or 2 contract then changing over. I thought she was doing a Cinderella show called Epcot or something? Then there was another 1 or 2 musicals she seemed to show in her stories but they never materialised then all of a sudden this Jersey Boys rehearsals and now the show but its only out for a few weeks it seems?

Re: the podcast, do we think she has filmed this very recently or was it filmed awhile back? Cos' other podcasts I listen to seem to be filmed and/or recorded weeks, sometimes months in advance before we can hear/watch them. It just seems she recorded the 1st ep with Soren then released it straighaway without actually thinking it through propery ie researching copyright of the songs she wants to sing, what platform to release it on, advertisements etc. Just because podcasts are very popular at the moment doesn't mean anyone can just start one and have it do well and get a big audience, even if you have famous bf from a worldwide popular famous TV drama.

Soren - she seems to do a lot of work with this guy, is Denmark a small pool of celebs?He has narcissistic vibes, but then so does she. They both seem very fake in that friendship - like they are both trying to outdo/outshine the other but not make it obvious. I don't know how Alex or anyone else can stand to be around 1 of them nevermind both of them together.

Thank you for your input, anon! 😊

Trying to answer your first question, "is that how Musicals are in Denmark - they only run for a very short period? Whereas in London and New York shows run all year round with the same cast usually for a long time" — Yes, I believe that might be the case in Denmark and other small countries, as this is also what happens where I live. Musicals and other theater plays are only in exhibition for a short period of time. They might return if they're successful, but they never run for years, as let's say "The Phantom of the Opera" in London. Maybe some countries have more of a musical/theater culture than others. 😊 And about her projects, other than "Jersey Boys", she has the "Call Me Dad" series, which is supposed to premiere later this month, another series called "Graverne", which is still in production, as well as a comedy movie (?), "Bedre Tider". [ Source ] The Cinderella musical, "Askepot" is due to premiere next year, in March.

About the podcast, I agree with you. She started working on it when she made that story from Alex's place, showing all the equipment, so it wasn't that long ago. And it surely seems that she/they were in a hurry to release the episode, so much that they didn't really pay attention to all the details you mentioned, nor did they plan their schedule very well, as I still believe it will be a long time between the 1st and 2nd episodes, which is not a very clever strategy to secure an audience. 🤷‍♀️

And about Søren, isn't there a saying, "Birds of a feather flock together"? So I believe they're very similar in their personalities and ambitions, and they know that, at the moment, they have something to gain in being each other's friends.

[sweetsimp]

Obey Me || Its Always Raining Now || Mammon x Reader

Mammon x Reader [Obey Me]

Summary: After your death, the members of the House of Lamentation are all falling apart-- especially Mammon.

!! Warning: mentions of death, eating, a lot of angst throughout the chapter, possible swearing idk, mentions of cancer, poor mental health, grieving, mentions of sex, mentions of events from ch. 16, etc. !!

Author's Note:

i didnt proofread this FORGET YOU oKAY

i had to write this so you have to read it and don't say i didn't warn you when i say that this is pretty fucking awful

also sidenote i feel like ive seen the first line somewhere so im sorry LOL i cant remember it was just echoing in my head when i started this

-----------------------------------

The brothers never knew how much and how loud a demon could cry until after you died.

Before you, all Mammon was seen as was a man of greed and grimm. Although that continued even after the two of you got together, he felt like for once in his life, he didn't have to deal with things alone anymore. He felt so warm and cozy whenever he was with you. He felt so safe and secure.

But then, you died.

Death is inevitable. Memento Mori, as they say.

The thought scared you, sure, but at one time you just grew to accept it. As time went on, you found it less and less scary. You never wanted to leave Mammon, but sooner or later you were going to have to deal with it whether you wanted to or not.

And for a time, that seemed fine. It was a topic left unmentioned, and the two of you never seemed to talk about it ever since you had that breakdown about your mortality and how it would affect your relationship with Mammon. He held it together for that night, but it destroyed him inside ever since. It was like a virus that had been born ever since the realization of your humanity and the average human lifespan hit him.

That virus was destroying him now.

Unlike the scientists in the human world, who were looking for cures for cancer and researching effective vaccines against the latest global pandemic, Mammon had to deal with this entirely on his own and had spent no time preparing for it.

This felt like the millionth night in a row that he spent sobbing and hugging a pillow that had one of your jackets on it. It smelled both like you and Mammon's agony. His crying echoed throughout the House of Lamentation, which haunted all of the other inhabitants at night. His brothers knew he needed comfort, but he also needed time alone to grieve.

They also needed healing, themselves.

Leviathan unsurprisingly became even more of a shut-in than before, if that was even possible. He became more antisocial, more unwilling to let anyone else in. He became more cold and self-critical. No one was here to tell him to stop, anymore. Even if there was, it wasn't the same. No one could ever match up to how close you and him were, and he never wanted that to change. He never wanted to risk it, even though there was no risk. No one could come into his room anymore-- not even Diavolo, or Simeon, or any of his brothers. He buried himself in his video games and sometimes trapped himself in them on purpose.

Satan trapped himself in his books. He seldom left the library or his room, which got even more cluttered with books. His room, at this point, looked like a forest. He goes out to pet cats when his eyes can't focus on the words on the pages anymore. Sometimes he just sits there, staring numbingly at the cat. His emotions are so overwhelming, so frustrating, so heartbreaking, so suffocating. It feels like he's always drowning.

Asmodeus kept focusing on his looks, but he never brought anyone home to the House of Lamentation. Not when it was like this. Not when people could destroy the only memories he had of you. Getting ready for bed or school seemed so much lonelier. His Devilgram posts could never be as perfect as the ones with you in them. No matter how hot his baths were, they were always too cold without you. His world was dull now, and not even sex made it as lively as his memories of you.

Beelzebub's appetite would never change, of course. At the end of the day, the brothers would always succumb to their sins-- but Beelzebub ate alone most of the time after your death. When Mammon was hit with overwhelming grief and stopped eating as much, Beelzebub knew he could never fight his hunger or the impulses he got to steal off his brother's plates. They needed to eat and care for themselves, but Beelzebub felt like he was in the way of that. Every game he won was for you. His team never faced another loss after you left.

Belphegor just slept more. It was the only thing he had to cling onto when you left, because at least then you'd be in his dreams. You could never do that in real life anymore. You could never nap with him the way you used to, but at least if he uses enough pillows, he could try to trick himself into believing you were there like Mammon did with your jacket. He'd stick himself in the attic other times and let his guilt eat away at him for not spending more time with you. For not being more selfish with you. For trying to kill you, and now you couldn't be there to comfort him anymore. His memories felt like they were almost slipping away, and it became easier to blame himself.

Lucifer rarely had time to grieve when all of his brothers were falling apart. He was falling apart inside too, but he knew he had to be there to help pick up the pieces, no matter how shattered he was. He tried so hard to prepare himself for your death, but most times he was barely able to keep himself from crying. His pride couldn't protect him from the aftermath of your death, and neither could his work for Diavolo. It all could only distract him for so long.

Lucifer knocked on his door gently before walking and making his way to the bed. Sitting on the edge, alongside Mammon, he put his hand gently on his brother's shoulder and began rubbing his arm and back while the man sobbed again.

It felt like such a simple concept when you said it out loud, but experiencing it was so much more different than anyone could've anticipated. It broke people in ways that could no longer be patched together.

"I-It..." Mammon said between sobs, "It hurts... I don't w-want to hurt a-anymore, Lucifer... Please- Please make it- please make it stop."

"I know," He hummed. "I'm here."

When was the last time Mammon said he loved you? When was the last time he told you he loved you more than anything else in the world? When was the last time he told you how beautiful he thought you were?

He could barely remember. All he remembered was how fucking stupid he acted. How he pushed you away so much. How he hurt you. How he got too embarrassed to do the things he always wanted to do and the things you always wanted to hear.

More brothers crept in, one by one. They couldn't take the crying anymore. They couldn't stand by and not do anything while they were all hurting alone. They joined the brothers on the bed and sobbed with Mammon next to Lucifer, who cried silently. They looked like a pile of broken mirrors with all the pieces mixing together in the middle.

It was always raining in the House of Lamentation, now.

[notabled-noodle]

So ive done some thinking about ADHD

And ik this isn't a diagnostic trait

But I've heard lots of psychologists and psychiatrists and even diagnosed people, mention how adhd people keep on making the same mistakes over and over again cuz they "forget" the outcome that they've witnessed every single time

At first when i started wondering whether i had ADHD or not, that didnt sound like me. Im an anxious person, I triple check whatever I'm gonna do before I do it . Odering food online?? I reread the ingredients and the order 4 times before pressing order. Going to use the bus? I check the time schedule over and over even tho ik i cant have seen the wrong timethe 5 times i checked and rechecked it. So basically I usually leave no room for myself to make mistakes and If i make one I take it hard and never ever make it...

Or so i thought.

The respective mistakes that I make dont affect others. Thats the difference. No one else can spot them other than me. Cuz they don't change anyone's day, mood etc

I think that some subtle mistakes that people with adhd could be repeating are:

Sleeping. Every single day, I promise myself to sleep early to atleast get 8 hours of sleep. And every single night I forget my promise and I just end up finding myself thrown in a crazy rabbit hole in the midst of the night and going to sleep real late and getting barely 5 hours of sleep. Do i understand that its a mistake? Yeah. But do I at the moment forget the outcome? Also yeah.

Doing chores such as laundry, the dishes etc. These tasks are the hell of a neurodivergent person whether its due to a sensory issue, procrastination, the task being too boring? Who knows depends on the person. Often times i find my laundry and dishes piling up and i find myself scared of begining. I make excuses, I give myself a hard time cuz if I have time for washing the dishes then I have time to work/study etc. And yet every single time when i get the motivation and energy to do the dishes...i finish quite fast?? And i always regret not washing them?? Like no matter how many times i do the dishes i always end up convincing myself its some huge hard mission that needs total focua and total lack of responsibiliies

Now Idk if all what i said makes sense. Ive barely known about adhd for a year now. I read up on it to understand a friend whom said they believed to have it..and oh god did i hesitate about it in the beginning. But I did a lot of research and ive related to lots of stuff before deciding on self diagnosing. The main problem was that my symptoms presented subtly and it was hard for me to distinguish them.

I'm sending you this long ask cuz I know how knowledgeable you are on this topic and also because I read all of your posts and find myself agreeing with them

Do you think that these traits could be associated with adhd? Also what other times do you believe people with ADHD end up forgetting about an experience they would have learned about quiet fast were they neurotypical?

yeah, this often comes down to impulsivity, short-term memory problems, and not necessarily being able to think about things in a “cause and effect” way.

the anxiety and the desire to check, double-check, and triple-check everything can come as a direct result of years of being punished for impulsivity. over time, people with ADHD can learn what actions have a negative effect on others, and alter their behaviour to suit. it can be a lot harder to do this when you’re the only one suffering the consequences — you need a lot more self-control as opposed to externally enforced rules and boundaries.

in my experience, people with ADHD seem to be fairly good at breaking things down into past self, present self, and future self. the problem is that we see the future self as a completely different person to the present self. i.e. thinking “I’ll be able to do this tomorrow”, despite having no evidence that you’ll magically be able to learn those skills in 24 hours time.

the examples you included were pretty good! other instances of this could be:

procrastinating hygiene related things, even if you have the energy to do them right now — giving your future self those responsibilities because you’d rather be doing something else right now

quitting a bad habit or starting up a new one — you may want to reduce your screen time, but right now you also really want to see that new YouTube video and oh well, might as well start being good about it tomorrow

generally building tasks up in your head to be harder than they actually are, which then causes the tasks to build up, which makes them even harder than they would’ve been if you’d just done it straight away (a vicious cycle)

in behavioural economics, you’d say that someone with ADHD has intense “future discounting”. that is, we predict that the suffering of tomorrow will be less than the suffering of today. and we also predict that the joy of today will be reduced if we saved that joy until tomorrow. it can be challenging for someone with ADHD to process the concept of “delayed gratification”, because we can’t accurately imagine the reality of our future selves.

I hope this answered your question, and that it helped!

[takalzuoom]

i’m procrastinating my noxus fic and more self aware arcane au cause i have 0 motivation 😺

and i also watched the ‘therapist reacts to viktor’ and just thought about singed and viktor’s relationship

cw: mentions of shimmer addictions, mentions of 0rgan trafficking, singed

so i give you:

apprentice! reader x viktor

obviously this is platonic

in zaun

it was one of his visits to zaun when he saw you. in nothing but rags sitting on the steps on what seemed to be a brothel

he never paid much attention to the kids in zaun, being one himself he knew there were groups that looked out for each other. that were your family

so he figured you were waiting for them to return with food.

but every time he’d visit singed, he’d note you that you were reading the same dusty covered book, that seemed more and more damaged as you read it.

occasionally he would catch your eye, noting your sunken face and discoloring, but the first time you ever talked was when he saw you hunched over a new book- books as you switched from ex hone one.

“what are you writing?”

as quickly as you were writing, you snatched the books from the stairway and hugged them to your chest. spare papers fluttering from them as you hastily picked them up.

he didn’t mind the panicked look on your face as he picked up a stray paper you were about to grab.

“that’s mine!”

“ i am merrily just give it a look over”

“give it here!”

his eyes lingered on a sentence before you ripped it from his fingers before stuffing it all the way against your chest.

you tried scurrying away before he called at you with your notes and papers

“tell me- why are you researching shimmer?”

“that’s none of your business, plitover” he though a conscious look was on his face, he smiled at your weak excuse of a insult and of the fact that you couldn’t even finish it

so as anyone would do, he ignored it

“why aren’t you playing with the others? ive seen an amount of them around.”

you stopped, kicking your dust as you looked at him form under your bangs

“…they don’t want to play with me…” you trailed of, looking to the side

“they say brainiacs like me won’t do anything for them for food… kick me out”

as you were a child, you wore your heart on your sleeve so he knew what was going on in your head…

“what about your parents? did they… perhaps get into shimmer”

“is that what you heard around? cause that isn’t true! it’s not! whoever you heard that from is a liar!”

“i see… tell me, how would you like to come with me?” he walked forward a step

“and get used for organ trafficking? no way. i may not be as fast as the other kids, i’m still fast, and i doubt you’ll be able to catch up-“

“i’m not here for that” he reassured

“i just know what it’s like to be alone due to your intellect” he took another step

turning around he looked back as he started walking. “i’m, from zaun too”

“and the research you did- ehh albeit a bit fundamental- but i see potential in what you do. and someone… i know told me ‘ the brightest minds are often the loneliest”

he left you alone after that, knowing that the unspoken offer was still on the table every time he saw you scribbling something down each time he visited singed

even though he never really looked at you, he always felt your beady eyes staring at his figure. and he found it amusing when he would purposely take different routes, only for you to go looking from him and peer at him from around a far corner

he noticed how you would sometimes follow him to singed’s lab. one time actually asking him where he was going. “come find out”

and there you were. finding comically behind the scientists. well- hard to hide when hehe side stepped to expose you to the ‘demon man’

viktor wasn’t… fond of the idea of you staying around with singed, as he remembered the horrors from his childhood. but he’s grown up now- understands now. and he’s fully aware that you don’t have anyone else.

your words as you’ve heard of the horrid experiments he’s done

“oh? and who might, this be?”

he had made an agreement with singed that you would study under him just like how viktor didn’t and in those few weeks, while he never gave you lodging, he did provide you new study materials and sometimes food.

he almost treated you like he would treat his own child. though that did take a while to get at that stage.

and when viktor came to visit you were mostly banned from the lab. albeit sometimes you were allowed to sit in and sometimes give input. but most of all it was a learning experience for you

and when you had expressed an interest of attending the university of zaun- viktor gave the option of attending the academy and staying in plitover. with him.

this was mostly a bit of plot… so i’ll get into the actual shenanigans in another post😼

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Why is no one talking about one of the most stupid things we've seen in this webtoon thus far? I'm talking about the fact that H&P deadass pull a "I nominate Hades as an attorney to defend me in this case uwu" and the mf accepts (clearly the had it planned) although he is part of the jury.

Now, I don't have fast pass but I really hope this whole thing is forbidded by Zeus in the next episodes. It makes no fucking sense! Hades is not a lawyer, and as a god is not associated with law/justice (him being a king doesn't excuse this, he is there to "judge" not to defend the accused).

This really proves that absolutely nothing works against Persephone ever. She is able to get away with murder and have zero consequences for her actions, all while the smurf plays daddy with her, spoils her and defends her in court WHICH SHOULD NOT BE EVEN POSSIBLE LMAO.

From OP: It’s allowed because ‘loophole’.

2. I would like to add to what that person said about the characters looking too stiff. Literally that panel towards the end of ep. 179 where P said "I nominate Hades" is the best example of this. Wtf is wrong with her hand? It looks like a wooden doll with her arm extended like that. The only explanation I have for this (aside from the fact that the art style sucks big time) is that she's trying to imitate the art style on the ancient Greek amphoras (amphorae?), but even the scenes depicted on them had signs of natural movement, with the bodies looking much less stiff of course.

3. Anyone else wanna mention the backgrounds are also just not there at this point? Like she was already bad with this in the beginning but at least there was some sketch up lines to give the impression they were in a real space, but now it’s literally just blank voids of color and that’s it, and often not good use of color either (why is the above land pink while the underworld is blue? It makes it hard too tell what’s going on). There aren’t even establishing shots to at least give the readers an idea where they are and then becoming abstract about it, it’s all abstract and flat, which doesn’t help when the characters also are so lacking in character design and aren’t really doing anything pose or action wise. The world around them don’t even seem like actual places, it just seems like a set, and a very cheap one at that. It just ends up looking so boring in all fronts.

4. I don't know why it's only happening now but Persephone's eyebrows have started to piss me off lately. Why are they pure black? And when did they become so thick? It doesn't fit in with the rest of her fair and hairless appearance, it just looks like her brow artist did a piss poor job on them.

5. it honestly makes me sad looking at the first few lo episodes. were they perfect? god no, but at least the art was unique and had some actual thought put in it, but by around episode 25 or so you begin to notice the style is becoming less and less, until you have what it is now which is completely different, and not for the better. i know styles change and all, but this is a case where it got so much worse, losing its unique factor to look so generic and lacking instead. it make me sad.

6. Ive noticed LO fans dont seem to enjoy any other greek myth works, only LO. for example there's a huge overlap in PJO fans liking Hades Games and BoZ, and Hadestown fans towards TSOA, and so on and so on, meanwhile LO overwhelmingly don't even read other HxP stuff like Punderworld and openly hate stuff like PJO. They tend to only consume LO while claiming to be "big myth fans". It reminds me of Potterheads who claim to be big book nerds when they've really only read the series and nothing else.

7. its truly a testament to how bad the writing is from RS in that she honestly thought it was a dramatic twist apollo and artemis of all people were children to zeus, despite looking exactly like him and not like their mother. also, tbh, the fact hera humiliated leto and treats the twins like garbage, it is any wonder theyre being depicted so negatively in LO? theyre only used to prop up hades and p's "friendships" to eros and daphne. artemis is even the "bad" maiden. it's all so stupid.

8. the thing to me is no retelling of myths will be perfect, how could they be? but LO takes the cake at claiming its so researched and is the actual truth and is 99%+ correct (both from rachel's words as well as by her fans) with both refusing to even admit to any mistakes and refusing any critique, especially from greeks themselves, that's where the issue is to me. you cannot claim to be so well researched only to be upset when people notice the many obvious inaccuracies. that's not how it works.

9. there's a part of me that wonders why LO has never featured any MLM romances like poseidon, zeus, or apollo's many male lovers, but then i remembered she doesn't care about poseidon and both zeus & apollo are both evil to her, her made up WLW romances are terrible, and all relationships that cant be used to prop up hades and persephone are made cruel and abusive, so maybe that's a blessing in disguise that she's so bad at even remembering LGBTQ+ relationships, much less depicting them.

-----FP Spoiler/Mention-----

10. The whole trial thing just puts into perspective how much plot points go off the rails. I was actually looking forward to finally hearing from Demeter that Persephone IS a fertility goddess and them having a argument before the trial, but then it just left on a Clift hanger. And then oh wow Hades is being her lawyer, which??, pretty sure that’s not how that works but okay whatever he’s going against his brothers. But he doesn’t even make an opening statement because the other side does instead. And then Hermes shows up and his backstory starts and everything gets so muddled. I’m not an expert on court cases but seeing the witness be called up right after and the other side just make a bunch of shi up instead of stating a pathos but accurate opening statement hurts my brain. Not to mention the jury and people just speaking out at random? Like can Rachel just write something serious for once? Or at least somewhat accurate? Legally blonde had a better comedy court case scene than whatever this is.

[mosquitogirl]

im an artist n i get so anxious thinkin abt when this aesthetic wave tht we're "in" (think pale avant archive fashion, liminal spaces, white ink tribal flame tattoos. it's all over tumblr and creeping onto ig u cant miss it) will end. i followed my own ideals without thinking abt if it was the zeitgeist or not to this point, trying to not look at contemporary influences. and now that i'm here i can sense it will be seen as corny and get co-opted very soon. idk just seeing if anyone else feels this way or advice? ig my advice to myself is just let go, stop coping, just research all over again to establish new ideals or whatever...

hiii thank you for your question!! i guess i should start by saying that i feel like im not really aware of any of these trends you mentioned?? i mean liminal spaces yeah but idk about the other two. but like maybe that just goes to show that everyone has their own “bubble” online (sorry i know thats trite but its also technically true lol) and trends can be hyper-concentrated on certain platforms and in certain communities. its possible that because im not on tiktok at all that i completely miss certain trends that everyone may be tired of at this point. with that said i do think with there are certain trends with tattooing now lol. the one ive noticed a lot lately are the symmetrical intricately-designed spiky gate things. or like black metal band logo style abstract designs

as far as making art goes, i really only know my own experience and what my friends have told me about their own processes. for my own purposes, i think my best work comes out when i am consciously not thinking about what im going to draw and just following wherever my brain takes me. most of the stuff ive made that was gimmicky or trendy (ex: buff garfield shirt if youve been following me for a while) ends up being something i regret down the road lol. as an artist it doesnt feel good to be tied to one thing till the end of time and especially if its something people will look back and cringe at like 2012 pizza pop punk shit.

having said that i do worry that the stuff im drawing right now is too much like things that are trendy, especially as im trying to get into tattooing and there are certain styles that are very popular. ultimately all you really can do is be true to your personal influences and never let anything youre doing be a cheap copy of just one of them. not that everything should be a pastiche, but rather your art should be a unique reflection of you and the blend of influences that only you could have, if that makes sense.

i hope this helps!! feel free to ask me follow ups anonymously or you can just dm me on here <3

[macgyvermedical]

Omg I know probably everyone has seen this by now but I just watched it for the first time and... it’s amazing. It is the most accurate to medical drama thing I have ever seen. I have watched it like 6 times now and I’m dying laughing.

So the non-med-people can enjoy this as much as I did:

“We have a 35 year old male- he was at the gym, he got hypertensive”

Hypertensive means high blood pressure. Most people at the gym are doing something strenuous and therefore have blood pressure that would be considered really, really high if they had it at rest. So unless this guy was having chest pain or a bad headache or confusion or some other symptom of hypertension that was causing damage, which in report they should have lead with, in other words... he’s totally fine.

“They were able to monitor everything on his apple watch” / “We’re just going to monitor everything right through the apple watch”

I know they’re referring to a very specific episode of a very specific show but I’m blanking right now on what it was (New Amsterdam, maybe?). Also the apple watch can monitor pulse, sense falls, and record a 1-lead EKG (with an app that can be downloaded separately) that can detect a heart rhythm called sinus rhythm (normal) and atrial fibrillation (generally not life threatening), but nothing else, meaning this does not explain literally anything they talk about in this video.

“He had a blood pulse that was really really high”

They’d just say something like “his heart rate was _____ bpm” which everyone in the room would know how to interpret. Also it’s just a pulse or heart rate, not a “blood pulse”.

“Can we go ahead and start fluids? Let’s go with Jevity 1.5 Cal” / “I’m just gonna run this straight through the IV pump”

Jevity 1.5 Cal is a type of tube feed (that has 1.5 calories per milliliter) that would go through a feeding tube. You cannot put this through an IV (it would kill the patient), and you can’t run it on an IV pump (none of the tubes or connectors can connect to each other as a safety feature... so you don’t accidentally run it through an IV and kill someone).

“We’re gonna need access to his cardiovascular system- I think I’m going to have to put in a peripheral IV right at the bedside since the ORs are busy.”

A peripheral IV is just what you think of as an IV. They’re almost always put in at the bedside (meaning they can be put in right in the patient’s room).

“Does someone want to call family and get consent?”

There’s no indication that this patient cannot give their own consent, and if he was unconscious and consent was implied (we assume you would want to be helped if you were in medical distress so bad you were unconscious), they wouldn’t waste time getting the family’s consent for something as small as an IV. Which was probably already put in by the paramedics on the way there.

“I’ll go ahead and get gowned up”

IVs are a “clean” but not “sterile” procedure, meaning that we don’t need to wear a gown for them (unless there’s another reason we should be wearing one, like contact precautions for infectious disease). Also he is wearing the gown backwards.

“I’m not seeing anything, he’s so hypertensive.”

HYPERtension (high blood pressure) generally does not make a difference in how difficult it is to find veins, in fact, it might make it a little easier. HYPOtension (low blood pressure) does make it harder to find veins to put IVs in.

“If I do this right there is going to be a flash”

A “flash” in the context of an IV start is a small amount of blood that pops into a window in the IV start device, which tells you the IV catheter is in the vein. It is not a literal flash of light. Little misinterpretations of things like this are everywhere in medical fiction.

“It is in the femoral artery, we now have access to his cardiovascular system”

The femoral artery is in the leg and it is not something you put a peripheral IV in. A central line maybe, but that actually would be done in an OR as a sterile procedure.

“The bladder scanner’s reading 0, we need to go ahead and place a foley”

A bladder scanner is used to determine if a patient is keeping urine in their bladder even after they urinate. A reading of 0 is ideal because that means there is no urine in the bladder. You would not place a foley (a catheter that goes in the bladder and continuously drains urine out) for this patient, because they’re voiding fine on their own. Medical dramas misinterpret test results like this all the time, or use tests that don’t make sense (like this guy’s bladder scan for hypertension).

*hooks up foley to suction*

Urine drains out of foleys to gravity, it does not need to be hooked up to suction. When you’re watching medical dramas they do a lot of “hook it up wherever, the audience won’t know the difference” which is what they’re poking fun at here.

“Patient’s still in tachycardia, I need to go ahead and begin mild compressions”

Tachycardia just means a heart rate above 100 (or 120 depending on your hospital). The only thing you’d do for this (assuming sinus tach) is figure out what’s causing it (dehydration, anxiety, pain, fever, etc...) and correct that. If it’s something called supraventricular tachycardia, you might give a drug called adenosine or try having the patient bear down, but you would never start compressions for tachycardia unless the patient’s heart was beating so fast they lost a pulse. And there’s no such thing as “mild compressions”- it’s compressions or no compressions. There’s nothing in between.

“This is Blake on 4b, we’re calling a supercode.”

The term “megacode” is sometimes used (especially in training) to refer to a code where you’re using the whole algorithm for a cardiac arrest to work the patient. There is nothing called a “supercode”, though a lot of times they’ll say random words with Code attached to sound medical in medical dramas but that don’t mean anything.

“We just got an alert he’s in V-fib, we can stop compressions”

V-fib, or ventricular fibrillation, is a pulseless rhythm, and that’s when you would START compressions typically. Also, an apple watch cannot sense v-fib.

“The patient’s desatting- he’s not tolerating room air oxygenation”

This would actually be said “the patient’s desatting (the percentage of the patient’s hemoglobin molecules that have oxygen attached to them are dropping), he’s not tolerating room air” So there’s just a few extra words here that make the character look like he’s never been in a hospital before.

“I think we need to go ahead and intubate with a bag mask”

Intubation (putting a tube down a person’s throat to deliver air/O2 directly into their lungs) is a different thing than oxygenating with a bag valve mask (basically just pushing air into the patient’s lungs without a tube). Then he goes ahead and puts a non-rebreather (type of oxygen mask that doesn’t have anything to do with either of the two things he just mentioned) on the patient upside down. He then hooks the oxygen tubing up to the same suction he attached the foley to earlier.

“The bag’s not inflating all the way- I think I’m going to have to go in manually”

Squeezing the bag on a non-rebreather does nothing useful. Swearsies.

“Good news- his oxygen is coming down and his BP’s going up”

He’s here for... hypertension, right? Like, we want the opposite of that to happen.

*on the phone with x-ray* “The blood in his body is going clockwise???”

This is both not a result you can get, and also not a result you’d get from x-ray anyway, which is something that happens all the time in medical fiction. Random results that don’t make sense from departments they wouldn’t have come from.

“Team- everything we learned in school- throw it out the window, we’ve gotta save this guy!”

No one is that dramatic irl. You’d get laughed out of the room.

“His potassium level is 10.8- we’re gonna go ahead and we’re gonna need more potassium!”

10.8 is an absurdly lethally high amount of potassium. No wonder that guy is in v-fib. You would not put more potassium in this guy. You would be getting the insulin and D50 out of the Pyxis (med machine) and frantically paging anyone with an MD or DO after their name for an order to give it to bring the potassium down.

“Someone get me a banana” *spikes the banana like it’s an IV bag* “I know they didn’t teach us this in school, but it’s all we have”

I feel like that’s referencing the scene in Off the Map where they spike the coconut. Which, turns out, actually a thing. Unlike the banana.

Also they’re in a hospital. There are many forms of potassium in a hospital, which is a misconception you also see a lot in medical fiction- improvisation when it’s completely unnecessary.

“Sir, this may burn a little bit”

Oh, hey, something they got right! Potassium does burn given IV! Just like in medical fiction, they’ll get one little thing bizzarly correct in the midst of all that.

“The apple watch is dying! Does anyone have a charger??”

Another moment of “we definitely don’t need to be improvising this... we’re in a hospital” which I could totally see them doing in a medical drama.

“I think we have to open up his airway- we need an incentive spirometer chest tube”

Like when they were talking about intubating him with the “bag mask” he’s talking about two completely different things. A chest tube is a tube that goes into the chest and drains air or fluid so the lungs can expand fully. An incentive spirometer is a device used to encourage deep breathing in patients (which prevents fluid from building up in the lungs). What’s shown in the video is an incentive spirometer that’s apparently been hooked up to the chest tube. Which is another excellent misinterpretation that I could totally see being made from google research.

“I’m going to go ahead and check for PERRLA” *looks in mouth*

PERRLA is an acronym for an assessment of the pupils and how they react to light and accommodate distance. While you might want to check it in a code, you would not look in the mouth...

“We can cancel the supercode, also there’s no need for the MRSA nasal swab”

In the context of transferring him to the floor instead of the ICU, you genuinely wouldn’t do the nasal swab for MRSA (more necessary in an ICU setting, and many ICUs require one (and put anyone who comes up positive in isolation) to prevent spread of antibiotic resistant infection). HOWEVER, this is another thing that hospital shows do where they misunderstand the importance of certain things, or what would be deliberately ordered versus be a part of a routine order set that wouldn’t even really get mentioned. Like the MRSA swab for the ICU.

Nurse Blake really hit the nail on the head with this. I love it to pieces!

[gaveherhearttotheliontattoo]

Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part IX)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2474

Warnings: Very brief mention of self-harm

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: Holy moly has this been a long time coming! I hope y’all enjoy it, a lot of work went into this with the assistance of a beta reader. I’m not caught up on Season 13 yet so that’s why it’s not keeping up with the show. Hope you enjoy.

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here, Part VIII Here)

--

“She’s still in her room,” JoAnn had said the minute she opened the door.

“Sam, can you stay with JoAnn while I go check in with Allison?”

After Sam led JoAnn towards the living room you found your way up the stairs and to the only closed door. You knocked but heard nothing. You tried the door handle and it turned slowly in your grip. As you pushed the door open you took in the view. The sun crept through the closed blinds, offering the only form of light in the dark room. You saw a shape on the bed and realized JoAnn might have overreacted. Perhaps Allison hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep and was knocked out cold. You pulled your phone out, turning the flashlight on to get a better look around.

You walked around the room and everything seemed in place. No clothes on the floor, no crooked papers, not even a single strand of hair in the brush. You kept turning until you got near the bed but you straightened when you saw the shape was no longer laying there. You moved towards the door, intending to escape, but the lights flicked on and the shape from the bed was standing in front of you in the shape of Allison Waters. Her eyes looked hollow and dark, her skin pale. She reminded you of-

“Well, well, aren’t you pretty. She’d like you.”

“Who would?” Your skin was crawling. Allison just continued to stare at you. “Allison, can you tell me what happened?”

Allison turned and left her room. What had just happened? Where was Allison going? Shaking yourself of those thoughts you followed Allison. You watched her walk out the back door towards the woods. You stopped at the edge of the woods. Your dream came back to you, and so did your past.

“(Y/N)!” You turned and found Sam running towards you. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

“Allison’s gone, she walked out in the woods. She looked sick.” You glanced back at the woods and then started walking back to the house with Sam. “Sam, remember how I said something about this case feels familiar and you basically shot me down?” Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but you held up your hand. “This isn’t an ‘I told you so’ moment but the way Allison looked, there was something about her appearance that struck me as something I’ve seen before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go talk with JoAnn and then head back to the motel.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sam, just, not now.”

------

Twenty minutes later Dean found you curled up on the bed facing the wall. He sat across from Sam who was scrolling through his computer.

“What happened?”

“We might have a lead but she’s been off since she watched Allison walk into the woods.” Sam closed his laptop. “She told me about her dream and everything that happened this morning. Nice bruise by the way.”

“She’s tough.” Dean pushed himself up and sat down behind you on the bed. “(Y/N), will you talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“(Y/S/N).”

Sam jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed kneeling in front of you. “What did you say?”

You looked at Sam, recognition flashed through his eyes. “She looked just like (Y/S/N). Sam it was like reliving the past.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

“(Y/S/N)-”

“(Y/S/N) was my sister.” You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest. “She was sixteen when she disappeared. I was only twelve but I knew what was going on. She was gone for a week and when she came back she wasn’t (Y/S/N) anymore. She hid in her room, stayed quiet, would disappear for hours before coming home and hiding in her room again. She was my big sister so I tried to spend time with her but she ignored me.

“One day I came home from school and found the house open, dark, and quiet. I don’t know what made me do it but I walked through the house. There wasn’t anything out of place so I thought someone just forgot to shut the door all the way but then I heard muffled crying coming from my parents’ room. I pushed the door open and found my sister standing over my father and my mother cradling his head in her lap. As my sister turned to look at my intrusion her eyes were dark and her mouth was covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath as the images of your father laying on the floor covered in blood and your mother crying over his lifeless body resurfaced. As you fought the tears you hugged your knees tighter and dropped your chin. You looked between the brothers and your heart constricted. The look of pain in their eyes nearly made you stop but you knew this was important to resolving this case.

“She killed him and then she used this extra long finger nail to slice my mother’s throat. I should have run but as I watched her kill our mother I snapped. I grabbed the item closest to me, which happened to be the candlesticks my parents got when they got married. When I hit my sister with it she hissed.” You laughed and shook your head. “She actually hissed. When she wrapped her hand around it to take it away she screamed and pulled her hand away, it was burned. I had no idea what the candlestick was made of. I had guessed steel or iron so I hit her again with it and ran. I went to the kitchen and grabbed whatever knife I thought I could use.”

“It’s like you were born to be a hunter,” Dean said.

You turned your eyes on him. “I never wanted this. I had no choice.”

“Sweetheart, none of us choose this life.” Dean chalked this up to just another thing the two of you had in common.

“I killed her.” You paused. “I killed my sister and then my mother because my sister turned her into whatever she was. I took off, ended up with Jody Mills, until I was eighteen. I tried to avoid the hunting scene but I couldn’t do it. For years I tried to find the bitch who turned my sister but I never could. I have a fear we’ve just found another one of her victims.”

“You never said how you came across Sam?”

“Jody.” You ruffled Sam’s long hair, smiling when he frowned. “Jody called me after everything happened with her family and she found the two of you. Somewhere down the road, when the two of you took your break, she connected us.”

“Do you know what this creature is?”

“I had initially given up but after meeting Sam I decided to pick up the research again. We thought it was a vampire, that’s where I got stuck initially, but it’s not. It’s like this cousin to the vampire, a Baobhan Sith. It’s a Scottish Folklore. Supposedly they only come out once a year to feed and only at night but I haven’t heard about anything that resembles her antics since everything happened with my sister. Well, until now that is.”

“What else do we know about this thing.”

“Men find the woman to be very attractive and she keeps them interested by asking them to dance. After that she goes for the kill. She kills women too but when she does that they become one. She prefers hunters. I’m sure that means animal hunters not us but it’s true. I didn’t see the beauty, but maybe that’s because I’m a woman. Finally, we can kill them with iron.”

“Great,” Dean said, happy to finally be getting some sort of lead. “What’s next?”

“I use myself as bait to lure her out.” 

Dean jumped up and glared at you. “Are you crazy?” Recognizing those weren’t the best choice of words he crossed his arms and looked at Sam, then you. “There is no way we can let you do that. You could get yourself killed!”

“I already talked to Sam about it, and besides it is neither of your choice to make.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Sam stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You looked between the brothers. “This is my fight and I’ll do it with or without your support.”

You walked out of the motel. There was a park only a few minutes down the road and you figured you could find a comfortable place to think without the sulking Winchester Brothers around. Who were they to tell you what you could or couldn’t do with your life? This was your battle. You were the only one of the three with a real connection to this case.

When you got to the park you took a seat on a bench and pulled out your phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing since you walked out of the motel room. You shut it down and surveyed your surroundings. You saw kids being pushed on the swings, the giggles filled the air around you. You watched parents running with their kids, holding their infants close. The world kept turning. None of them knew of the monsters lurking in the shadows, the monsters hiding in the forests, and you wish you didn’t know either.

------

Dean tossed his phone at the wall, turning as it shattered. What did he need it for, it’s not like you were actually going to answer his calls.

“That was stupid,” Sam mutters.

Dean turns to him, arms crossed over his chest. “No this plan is stupid!” Dean raked his fingers through his hair. If he pulled any harder he would be bald before he went to bed. “I’m going out there.”

Sam stepped in front of the door, using what little extra height he had to try and intimidate Dean. “And doing what?”

“I can’t just let her go out there alone. Jesus, Sammy, she’s… I… She means a lot to me. If anything happens to her I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, ever.”

“Go get her, tell her we support her, but that we want to work this out first before anyone does anything rash.” Sam stepped away from the door. “Then maybe when we kill this thing you two can stop dancing around each other.”

Dean shrugged his jacket on, pocketed his wallet, and snatched his keys off the end table. Shit. “I shattered my phone, she turned hers off, how am I supposed to find her?”

“Look for the nearest park first.”

Dean didn’t bother asking why, instead he left the motel, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d told you he liked you but he was falling fast and deep. You’d only known each other for a couple of weeks but it didn’t seem to stop him from hoping for more, a lot more.

------

You kicked your legs out, back, out. The swing rose higher. But no matter how high you got  you always came back down, and right there was the forest. It was like it was calling to you every time you stared at it.

“If you swing any higher you’re going to fall on your head.”

You drag your feet through the gravel, stopping the swing. “How’d you find me?”

Dean dropped onto the swing next to you, twisting to look at you. “Sammy suggested the park.”

“Kid’s been around me too long.”

“If you’re going to do this-”

“There’s no if, Dean.”

“Would you just let me finish?” Dean stared at you, waiting for you to answer. After you gave a slight nod he continued. “If you’re going to do this, we’ll support you, but we’re going to do this as a team.”

You’d been prepared for a fight. They’d both been so upset when you left, but here Dean was, trusting you. Your heart fluttered and you resisted the urge to place a hand over it, instead reaching out for Dean’s hand. “This means a lot to me.”

Dean looked at your hand. The act had been so simple, yet intimate. His heart kicked up a notch and he wasn’t sure how to handle that response so he stood up, pulling you with him. “We should get back before Sammy starts to worry, but before we get back I need to make a pit stop for a burner.”

“What happened to your phone?”

“I may have gotten a little angry.”

“I was in a dark place, for a long time.” You hesitated. Glancing up you found Dean’s emerald eyes soft, welcoming. “When I couldn’t find the person responsible for all of this I started to blame myself so I turned to self-harm. One day Jody caught me struggling to bandage myself up, but rather than ask me questions and judge me she finished bandaging me up and gave me a hug. I started to see someone who knew the world and helped me start working through some stuff. I met Sam only after a few sessions and I thought I was okay, but researching again reopened the wound and I got in my head. Sam found me one night on the bathroom floor and took me to the hospital to get bandaged up. Sam made sure I went back to my therapist, but since all of this has started I haven’t been able to go see them. I could always call or text but it’s been busy.”

Dean stared at you. He’d always considered you tough, strong, but he found your resiliency even brighter now. His hands were reaching for you before he knew what he was doing. He pulled you into his arms and sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. Dean whispered, “You’re stronger than you know.”

You pulled back, putting your hands in his. “Thank you. Not something I like to bring attention to.”

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Sighing, you held onto Dean’s hand as you walked to the closest store and picked up a new burner as well as a few snacks. You continued hand in hand to the motel room, Dean squeezing tight as you walked into the room and found Sammy scowling at his computer. 

“I’m going to lose my mind over this case. (Y/N), I need more information on this,” Sam paused and stared at the screen, “Baobhan Sith. Whatever else you can give me that you found in the past or remember because based off of what I’m finding, this creature shouldn’t be around for another 70 or so years.”

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter IV

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

A new chapter! I tried my best to develop further the self insert character and clarify more its backstory and clan! I have somethings planned I hope you’ll enjoy. Thank you so much for all you support and I thank you for reading!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter V  soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 307

TW: None!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything in life has a continuation. Kurapika and (Y/n)'s relationship is also subject to this law. An undeniable detail was that the lives of both subjects were terribly busy and loaded. Notably, the activities that Kurapika was involved in were lightened. (Y/n) held their word to assist him in his cause, as their work turned out to be advantageous. Primarily when it came to retrieving scarlet eyes. Kurapika even recovered two more pairs not long after by the dint of their research.

Another point in common was that the two were- Or at least when they wanted- very organized. The majority of encounters took place after they departed their jobs with the Nostrade. Consisting most frequently in small walks in nearby parks, have coffee or read together. Accommodating conversations that permitted them to know each other.

"What is the reason behind your decision to study psychiatry?" It occurred to Kurapika to bid during a walk. The situation was atypical; people with profitable prior careers didn't take the Hunter exam, not to mention how extremely young (Y/n) was, being just a year younger than him. But knowing the introversion of his partner, he decided to go little by little.

"My grandad was one. I aspired to be similar to him.

He had a treasury full of medicine and psychiatry titles I loved to read, I also sneaked into his conversations on the subject!" -(Y/n) gloated, with a tiny rocking and a smile.-"I find the functioning of the brain stimulating! And I like to help, it makes me feel useful. One of his acquaintances invited me to be his apprentice several times ago. I just accepted." 

It was not rare for them to get together in the same room for each to work on their matters. They spent time in each other's presence. It was what mattered to them. 

~

In the beginning, (Y / n) was the one that expressed questions the most. Especially details that many would judge insignificant.-"What is your preferred flavor of ice cream?" "Your favorite color? Mine is (Fav .color)" What musical genre do you prefer? I like (Fav. genre), I'm particularly a David Bowie fan." The answers to those questions were vanilla, light gray, and jazz. (Y/n) liked to accumulate all the possible details about Kurapika. More than once he was surprised that the (hair/colored) remembered, like what candy he preferred from the local store, that he liked his water slightly cooler than room-temperature or they reminded him to take a break from using his contact lenses. (Y/n) was also very vocal, consciously or not, with what they liked about Kurapika. They made him blush more than once with "you look pretty today", "you are kind, thank you" or "I love your eyes, they are blue dog's eyes". He had no clue what the latter meant or where were their origins, but (Y/n) said it so lovingly that he couldn't help feeling like it was the greatest of compliments.

Kurapika relied most on studying (Y/n) body language to approach them. He soon realized that while their face was not very expressive, the rest of their body tended to be. When they were waiting for something that excited them, they tapped the table with their long nails. They used to hold the door for the person behind them and him. And the two things that Kurapika found the most adorable of all, they tilted their head when they thought of something and flapped their hands when they were excited-even if they tried to suppress it on occasions. Something that Kurapika was not anticipating at all, particularly considering its dexterity and exactness from the time they fought, was (Y/n) clumsiness. They took bad or silly postures and never tied their shoes- Kurapika suspected them to not know how-.

He loved to tease (Y/n) with it. Expressly when they caught a light pole in the road, for not paying attention while they talked.

(Y/n) reminded him so much of Pairo, shy, a tad playful, and caring.

Pairo...

He would have liked to meet Yorknew. Observe everything Kurapika had seen. He sure would have liked the cinnamon rolls and the city lights. It was cruel and wicked. 

"Kurapika"- a quiet voice took him away from his thoughts. His head stung.

"Here's your tea, sunshine"-(Y/n) placed a cup full of steaming cinnamon tea in front of him, and proceeded to sit down.-"Are you fine?"

"Yes, I was just... just thinking."- Kurapika mumbled and looked at his cup.

 "I see. It is not wrong to miss someone. It simply signifies you love them, and they're important to you."-They mumbled, also looking down at the tea, as if they were capable of reading his mind. They certainly didn't read minds. Just missed someone too.-"If we don't remember them no one else will."- (Y/n) muttered as if the statement was also for them. They wanted nothing more than to comfort him. In one effort they dubiously lifted their hand and started to gently rub his back.

Kurapika turned to see them.-"You call me sunshine now?" He wanted to tease them. It didn't work.

(Y/n) nooned with pride.-"Because of your hair, the color evokes a ray of sunshine. Without sunlight, the flowers do not grow, therefore it is important. You are valuable to me."-Completely overlooking the other man's intentions. Kurapika covered his face with his hands and started laughing. He felt better.

"You are sickly sweet!"- he exclaimed, shaking his head. 

"I am. And you're sneakier than you seem." (Y/n) similarly joked. They rested their heads on the hand, drinking tea. They maybe were sappy, but in the end, Kurapika loved it. He had someone to comfort him and with whom he could play. How he had missed this!

"Your piano is nearly the only furniture you have in your living room, and I haven't seen you play it yet."-continued taking a sip of his tea. He didn't know if (Y/n) played the piano, but they certainly prepared good tea.

"I am not very skilled. I am incapable of composing anything, and I haven't played for a long time. I was taught how to play some melodies, and that's what I play."

"May I see?"-Kurapika requested, for (Y/n) to approach the grand piano. They opened the tone's cover and he started to play. Sol-Fa Re Si-Fa Re Si ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f81rM4BKODw ). It sounded like a child's song, sweet and simple.

"My grandad was better. Verily, the instruments make me nostalgic, I have them essentially for that." They babbled once finished.

"You're not awful either." The blonde assured-"Did he teach you?" 

(Y/n) agreed with a smile. "We fancied dancing and singing. My people liked artistic activities, we were somewhat hippies." they joked with a melancholic undertone.

"And the Kurta?"-their interests were genuine

Kurapika was surprised, it was the first time anyone had asked him. He couldn't help but respond excitedly.- "Well, I traveled with a friend, his name was Pairo. We transported ourselves on the backs of huge birds called Pikos! It was really fun... did you had something similar to travel?"

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, tilting their head "We were the animals...", to them, the answer was a bit obvious. Why would they mount animals for transportation if they could transform themselves into animals?

"That seems lawful... I quite omitted that detail." Kurapika notified. I forgot that people like (Y/n) were part beast. They hardly ever mentioned him and he hadn't seen them in their other form either.

(Y/n) Laughed-"And we used normal cars. Uniliums didn't live very detached from humans. Our community was like 40 away from the city and most adults worked in it. We just maintained our animal figure in private. Most humans didn't have a clue they were fraternizing with us." They were delighted to talk about their peers. Like when you talk about a family member you haven't seen in a long time.

"What kind of animals were they?"-.Kurapika's curiosity about the group only increased. Besides if he knew more about them he would also know more about his (Y/n).

They hummed, -"Well... we were all mammals. Most were preys, for each predator, there was an average of 13 preys. Of 126 members, we were 10. There were mice, rabbits, deers. But no one was sure how to determine which animal would be an offspring."- They cheerfully explained, general information. But nothing about themselves. 

Kurapika would have to question directly.-"And you?"

"I am the cat. But I was raised by wolves, like Romulus and Remus. Who knows? I might establish my own empire!"-(Y/n) played.

It was the first time they mentioned it. But now that he reflected, (Y/n) resembled a cat. They had particularly long fangs and claws.

"I didn't know your parents were wolves!" Kurapika felt he was finally learning a little more about his lover's past. But the reaction received was not the one he expected. An ordinary person, he included, would be glad to remember his parents.

(Y/n) quitted smiling and leaned their head into their folded arms. The atmosphere in the room had changed.-"They are average humans. As we mix with humans, it was not uncommon for some to marry them. My grandfather's mother and my grandfather, who were Uniliums, married humans. My mother was human and married another human."- they mumbled. Kurapika felt that the topic was not very pleasant for them, and considered it appropriate to stop that conversation.

"I comprehend..."-and changed the topic-"Kurtas were further separated. It was difficult to get outward of our village. This to guard us. Controlling the scarlet eyes and our emotions was not easy. Many panicked when they saw them."

(Y/n) seemed to quickly forget the preceding topic and willingly listened to their beloved again.-"I understand that. Some humans were also afraid of us, they believed we were demons or beasts. The funny thing is that the deluded wouldn't recognize us."-they mocked-"Sentiments could also influence our appearance. But our parents taught us to be cautious since cubs." 

(Y/n) had seen Kurapika with his scarlet eyes, but he hadn't seen them in their beast form. The most he had seen was that night when they saw him straight in the eye, and their pupils were contracted, like a cat's, and the (e/c) had almost fully spread.

"You have never revealed your cat form to me. I bet you're adorable!"- He expressed in an attempt to satiate his curiosity. 

They sure weren't anticipating that request, following a moment of hesitation, they lilted "I presume I get accustomed to wearing this shape."

Kurapika wanted (Y/n) to have confidence in him. He understood the concern in showing foreigners such aspects. After all, they had both been marginalized and punished for their looks.-"It's not going to be unpleasant to me. I like cats." he offered them a sweet smile. 

At the moment he blinked and reopened his eyes, (Y/n) had a pair of fuzzy (color) cat ears, the right one with a tiny darker spot on the tip, a fluffy tail, and their hair was slightingly fuzzed up. Maybe the most remarkable thing was their feet, long and standing on the tip.

 Their eyes changed again, and their hands were slightly larger with wider claws; to ultimately have the appearance of a cat-humanoid. They didn't look so different and they were still (Y/n). 

Kurapika didn't see anything devilish about the person in front of him. Rather, he saw an exotic beauty, like fantastic creatures from magical books. He felt lucky to be able to witness something of that bearing and have that experience. What was so special to him was that this being was his partner.

"You certainly are a kitten. That's something you can do in that form?"-Kurapika interrogated.

(Y/n) took a minute to consider, head tilted as usual- the only difference is that their ears moved delicately-. They raised their open hands, showing some very pink set to digital pads, advanced towards him wagging his tail, and cupping his face with a cute smile.

"Your hands are very soft, darling."-Kurapika giggled at the silly idea. (Y/n)'s grin grew wider, closed its eyes, and in complete pride said "I have paws, honey!" That was true. Not many could say they had paws. Especially a so soft and warm pair. (Y/n) appeared happy and relieved, as if they had been discharged from a weight or they were finally doing something they had repressed.

"And you also have marshmallow cheeks. Can you do something particular under that form?"-As Kurapika enjoyed the softness of the caring touch, his question was not precisely answered.

(Y/n) separated their paws from his face, and showed its claws. "I have retractile claws, like, well, a cat. Under this form my strength and speed increase. My bite force equals that of a Jaguar. Ultimately I'm capable of using a more potent nen's technique since my aura flow grows. Although, you know I'm a pacifist. I tend to be softer..."

"You look like a big plush doll. Yet, this appearance may be tricky. You absolutely are a cat."- Kurapika could recognize why (Y/n)'s clan was killed to extermination. Many collectors would be filled with sick and devious pride to have such a creature. He was happy that at least (Y/n) survived. For the first time, he was happy that he too survived.

[presumenothing]

observer effect (it’s not rocket science)

yet more cos fic, this time caused specifically by @anthropwashere twice over: firstly because my brain looked at “ed and alfons having a nice day OR a story about the man in the tan jacket” and decided it’d take 2/3 of that, and secondly for egging me on this trainwreck.

(no wtnv knowledge required, but this is otherwise cos canon compliant so like. you know what happens to alfons)

AO3

i.

“I told you they wouldn’t remember me. What, did you think I was lying about that?” Edward asks, bemused, like curiosity is really the only weight in those words.

If there’s a sensible or even sane way to answer that, Alfons doesn’t know it, and anyway that’s beside the point. “But people shouldn’t be able to just… forget you completely, the second you’re not standing in front of them. That’s just impossible.”

“As impossible as a world with alchemy?” The retort is even more offhand than before but any lightness is gone now.

It always comes back to this, and for once Alfons doesn’t have a blithely cheerful rejoinder about how alchemy is unscientific and Edward should know better.

It’s all impossible. Edward is impossible.

“Look, I don’t know why you’re so concerned about this, but I already said I’d split the rent and you know I don’t go back on my word.” Edward pushes his chair back and grabs his coat before Alfons can say anything about how he really doesn’t know that, no matter how baselessly certain Edward seems convinced of the opposite. “I’m going out for some fresh air, don’t wait up.”

.

ii.

The man in the brown overcoat.

That’s all anyone ever seems able to recall of Edward, from Miss Gracia to their colleagues in the research group to everyone else – except, apparently, Alfons himself.

Alfons had chalked it up to everything circumstantial at first, had assumed that people simply didn’t remember Edward well enough because of how he steers clear of most conversation like he’s allergic to it, but eventually even he’d had to accept that as inaccurate.

It’s not that people don’t remember Edward; it’s that they can’t.

He’d verified it himself on multiple occasions, disparate enough that it couldn’t possibly be a practical joke Edward was pulling on him (not that he’d seemed likely to bother), and no one had been able to give more than the vaguest description even if they did know who Alfons was talking about.

Almost as if Edward is some forgettable bit part in a twelve-act performance, but the thing is that’s wrong. Edward is memorable, has been ever since they first met in that lab in Romania (and in retrospect it makes sense now why Dr. Oberth had been so uncharacteristically unspecific in describing who he was bringing Alfons to meet until they were already there).

So he always comes back to the same two questions – why can’t anyone else remember Edward, and why is he the only exception?

(And a third question, but Alfons already knows the answer to that one: it’s a bane about as often as it is a boon, to look away from Edward and still remember him.)

.

iii.

Noah is the first person he hears mentioning Edward by name when he’s nowhere around, and it doesn’t strike Alfons how completely strange it is until then, his attention snapping up and away from the newspaper he’d been idly glancing through.

“You look surprised.” Noah’s words run contrary to the knowing in her expression.

Alfons rewinds the last minute of conversation in his head – and there, yes, she’d definitely mentioned Edward in far less vague terms than he’s ever heard from anyone besides himself. “No one else remembers him. I mean, they remember someone, sure, but…”

“Just not Ed,” Noah concludes over Alfons’ floundering, and he nods.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever heard mentioning him specifically when he’s out of sight.”

Noah takes her time with answering, returning the folded linens to the cupboard. “I wondered. I saw some of it, you see, when Miss Gracia was lending me her clothes.”

Saw–? Ah, Alfons realises before he can ask. The clairvoyance thing.

Is that why she can properly perceive Edward? Perhaps it takes one unscientific thing to undo another, but Alfons isn’t ready to discard logic just yet. “What did you see?” he asks, as neutrally as he can.

“As you said. There’s an outline of a person there, it’s just… not occupied.” Noah sits back down at the table, folding her hands together. “What does Ed think about this?”

Alfons can’t help the bitter twist to his words. “Oh, believe me, he’s not even bothered about it.”

.

iv.

Here’s the other thing: anyone else, even Alfons himself, might’ve done mischief with the knowledge that they’d be invisible to anyone trying to remember them.

The person Edward speaks of in his stories – the person he is in his stories – would surely have.

But here and now?

Alfons looks at the way Edward just grins and waves it off when one of the others forgets to buy his share for lunch again, the way his eyes only ever light up these days when talking about his damned world, the way his attention just skims over them all, and thinks to himself have you ever considered that maybe the world – my world, this world that could be yours – is only returning in full measure your utter disinterest in it?

.

v.

Even Eckhart, for all her obsession with Shamballa, doesn’t seem immune to the effect of Edward’s existence because she forgets him the moment he falls out of her sight, shot and sending Alfons’ pulse racing despite himself until he sees the bullet lodged in the prosthetic arm.

And that… that just says it all, doesn’t it? If the Thule Society can’t remember Edward even after opening a door to the other world, to Edward’s world, then why can Alfons?

It’s an answer he suspects Edward has – possibly has always had, but he’d never asked before and he doesn’t ask now either, only says don’t forget and means both that and I will remember you if only because I have to.

Then the bullet hits, because the rocket had still gone up even if no one but Noah will be able to remember who was in it.

But there’s more confusion than there would’ve been, otherwise, long enough that in between one breath and the next Alfons knows when Edward must’ve arrived back in his world because every memory of him suddenly flashes from faded to full colour, like lifting away a smog he hadn’t known was there before.

He wonders if this means everyone else will be able to remember Edward now, too. Hopes the answer is yes because it’s all impossible anyway but at least there can be this, because it hadn’t been Edward’s choice to leave after all but Alfons won’t be around to remember him much longer.

You keep your word, don’t you? Then don’t forget, Alfons thinks, sharp as the newly-seen catch of sunlight on Edward’s hair, and dies remembering.