#win does not currently have a tumblr

[kaaaaaaarf]

EVERYONE LOOK AT THIS MURDER HUSBANDS DRAWING AND SCREAM ABOUT IT WITH ME!! 🥰🥰 I'm obsessed with it.

It was drawn for me by my very good friend Win. Please don't post elsewhere.

fic's government name on ao3 is The Killing Time (unwillingly mine) art posted with Win's permission

#win does not currently have a tumblr #win tag #REMUS LOOKS SO HAPPY #his little dance with the blood splatter 🥰🥰🥰 #practicing for his next ticky-tock #sirius is like THATS MY MAN!!! #fic: murder husbands #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

Listen up you idiot zoomers who think people can still make meaningful queer art past the year 2000. We all need to sit around and read USamerican comic strips from the 90s because those are pretty much the only true capture of the universal gay experience now and forever, and anything past that is unimportant schlock. And like pinkwashing I think. We have to learn queer history, thats why we need to all ignore that what Im talking about is joke comic strips from the 90s and instead revere them as the most important work created, with nothing capable of surpassing it. Anyway

#Sorry this stuff is driving me insane I am literally so sick of this shit. I know Ive complained about it before. #Maybe I dont want to spend the rest of my life only watching shit from the 70s/80s/90s by people who are old enough to be my grandparents! #Maybe I want to see shit being made in the present day! Fuck! #Why should we all try to recapture the Bygone Glory of the NYC Gay Scene Of The 80s. #Knowing history is important but you know we also have the current reality of now to deal with. ok anyway. #also on what this is about I hate h/ome/st/uck so much its unreal but people getting really mad about a tumblr poll result #and like it winning over dykes to watch out for which like is comic strips. like #as someone who read h/ome/stuck all the way through. it is queer. Like it did say some resonant stuff. #It does feature a bunch of teenagers realizing theyre gay. #ANYWAY

[sreegs]

the post-automattic tumblr employees (automatticians, iirc) that are publicly posting as staff and trying to argue with tumblr users who vehemently hate the site are so adorable. this is how it's always been. users pretty much hate staff. this is why, in the old days, it was discouraged to identify as staff unless you had the stomach to put up with a bunch of hate mail and arguments.

you're also not going to win over any users by describing tumblrinas as ungrateful for the site's existence, or unreasonably angry over recent changes. you're just gonna look like a 30+ year old engineer taking pot shots at teenagers.

tumblr's current owner (automattic) got some trust back early in the acquisition when they greenlit some changes users had wanted, and ad-free went over mostly smoothly, but any trust you had was shattered with Tumblr Live. The snarky posts from automatticians are making it worse, the worst offender being the person you have running emporium.

this is how tumblr users have always acted before automattic came in and bought tumblr. this is not new. this is why users say things like "staff is out of touch".

y'all need to understand this before you try to snap back at angry users, or before you make vagueposts insinuating the tumblrinas are ungrateful.

maybe examine why tumblr users are angry, what they're angry with, accept they're valid reasons to be angry, and question why these business decisions are being made. like, "hey yeah why is tumblr live still there if everyone hates it?" or "why does moderation seem worse these days?".

then maybe if you understand what's causing the anger when users say "fuck staff" and you'll know not to take it personally. maybe you can take the urge to post snarky replies and redirect it to questioning your bosses' decisions to go ahead with these features that are universally hated

learn, adapt, overcome.

read, comprehend, post.

or just stop posting

#tumblr #automattic #seriously someone please take the keyboard away from emporium

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Gonna be honest it's legitimately depressing that AI art discourse made it socially acceptable to openly, vocally support stricter copyright laws even among people in fandom spaces that have spent decades using past victories against copyright law overreach to prop fandom up as a bastion of creative freedom.

Like. People can act glib and treat it as a "lesser of two evils" "bite each other's dicks off" "i don't want copyright to win I just want AI art to lose" kind of thing all they want, but the fact is you just have to take a look at the state of copyright law in the music world to see that the cure you're asking for is deadlier than the disease. A lot of people are operating under the fantasy that any strenghtening of copyright law is gonna be used against AI data scraping and nothing else, but it very obviously won't, and the sad truth is that if you're someone who primarily does fanarts and/or fanfic (which is the vast majority of artists here on tumblr), giving media companies the chance to make copyright law stricter is gonna do way more damage to you as an artist than AI art currently does.

[sunrizef1]

What happens in Vegas pt 1.5

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Authors Note: had to write this twice because tumblr deleted it lol. Not sure how to tag this so I’m just tagging my general tags. Proofread but not well.

Warnings: Blood, cursing

Summary: When the drivers found Max cheating

Masterlist

—————————————————

“Dannyyyyyy” your voice rings out through the noise of the crowded club, your words catching the attention of the Australian in question.

The Aussie turns his head, a grin on his face as he holds up a bottle of champagne he seemed to have convinced the bartender to hand over. You laugh at his state, drunkenness clear in the way he sways as he staggers over to you. You wrap an arm around his tall shoulder, leaning on him in order to sort out your own less-than-sober state.

Lights flash brightly around the two of you, fellow drivers and F1 employees spread throughout the club, not including anyone from Red Bull for some reason.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, vodka practically running through your veins as you celebrated your win. You had won your home race and you were surrounded by your friends. The absence of some people you didn’t really like didn’t bother you all too much.

“Have you seen Logan?” You look up toward the Aussie again, eyes darting quickly around the club for your friend. You had been with the blond practically the whole night but as soon as you had gone looking for Danny, he had disappeared from your side.

Luckily, you didn’t have to search for long as another arm comes and wraps around your shoulder suddenly. You turn your head to find Logan, a dopey smile on his face and, weirdly, sunglasses.

He had been drinking just as much as the rest of you had, even downing about half a bottle of vodka in under twenty minutes. Better than you would’ve done considering you thought vodka tasted like shit. Good for shots though.

You reach up and fix the glasses that had gone sideways on his face. His hand follows yours, still clutching a drink as he follows your lead in fixing the random glasses.

“Why’d you have glasses on?” You have to yell slightly as you say it, prompting Danny to glance over from where he’d been watching Lando convince the current DJ to let him have a go. You’d have to give it to him, the man’s pretty convincing when he’s drunk.

“Someone gave them to me, not sure when, don’t really care. They’re sick though, right?” Logan leans back slightly to give you both a full look at him and you laugh as he sways a bit. His blond hair is ruffled and he’s acquired someone’s paddock pass throughout the night, along with the glasses and he’s looking like he came straight from the race itself.

“Yeah! You look great, mate!” Danny’s laughing behind you and Logan grins while he leans back into the little huddle you’ve created, patting Danny on the back as he does.

“Where are we heading then, gang?” Logan slurs, downing the rest of his drink and slamming it down on a nearby table and then turning his entire form toward the two of you.

You walk forward a bit, dragging the two drivers with you, both of their arms falling off your shoulders, “I was gonna go back to my room but I can't find max.”

You had already been dealing with Max’s absence since, well, yesterday at that point and it definitely contributed to about 5 of the shots you had taken. By now it was about 1 am, you had been in the club for hours, you were hungry and drunk and just really wanted to go to bed. But you couldn't do that because you couldn't find max and something in your drunken mind said you had to find him before you could go to bed. Something about not going to bed angry after a fight.

A fight that, truly, you didn't really have a part in. It wasn't your fault that Max had lost. I mean, it technically was but you shouldn't have been expected to let him win. Red Bull had practically been asking you to lose to him all season and you win once and suddenly Max is yelling about how inconsiderate you are.

“Come on,” Danny starts to walk toward the exit, leading you and Logan behind him as he does. The three of you stagger through the crowd, many people stopping you go congratulate you and chat as you do. By the time you've reached the strip, you've completely forgotten about Max and instead, you're only thinking about the hunger in your stomach.

“Im starving,” you mumble as you lay your head on Logan who smiles down at you, once again wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You pay no mind to the cameras flashing as the three of you walk out or the stares that come your way. You’re more concerned about where the nearest restaurant is.

Logan moves away from you to dig through his pocket and you take the opportunity to adjust your dress, the fabric suddenly too tight on your heated body. You also wish you could take off the shoes that were causing your feet to ache. Danny takes a swig from the bottle that he, surprisingly, had been allowed to take from the club. Hair sticks to your foreheads and clothes sit rumbled and wrong. The spitting image of three elite athletes.

Logan moves back toward you to hand you the phone he had just pulled from his pocket. You had honestly forgotten you had given it to him to hold considering your dress didn’t have pockets.

“Thank you,” you nod gratefully, unlocking it to an influx of messages from friends and family congratulating you on your win or sending pictures from the club.

You clutch the device tightly as you cross your arms in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold Vegas air.

When a particularly cold chill runs through your body, you’re suddenly moving down the sidewalk, heels clicking as you try not to sway. The boys behind you follow in suit, seemingly trusting the, for the purposes of this race, Vegas native.

“Where we going, then?” Logan asks, a yawn escaping him as he readjusts the sunglasses perched on his nose.

“There’s a shake shack at New York New York,” you follow suit in yawning, pointing slightly ahead at the Empire State shaped hotel in front of you.

Daniel hums, “I want a burger.”

You laugh slightly, leading both of them toward the restaurant.

You three get there pretty quickly, ordering random greasy food that your trainers would probably disapprove of. When you sit down, you pull out your phone and send a quick series of text to Max to ask where he was. He hadn’t been there the whole night and you had finally started to miss him. He reads the messages but doesn’t reply, leaving you with a sick feeling in your stomach.

You bite into a fry to try and cover the nausea, opening your text chain with Charles and texting him instead. He actually replies this time and soon enough, Charles is on his way to you three from wherever he had gone to sober up earlier in the night.

“Charles is on his way,” you say through another yawn, eating a fry.

Daniel scarfs down a few bites of his burger, swallowing a full gulps of his drink right after, “For what?”

“Gonna help me find Max probably. We’re all too drunk to do anything by ourselves anyway.”

“Not too drunk to order food by ourselves,” Logan says, probably louder than he needs to, leaning back in his chair, glasses still on and a drink in his mouth, “Let’s fucking goooooooo.”

He follows Daniel’s lead and starts to munch on his food quickly, food you’d paid for by the way, when you turned out to be the only one who could get their Apple Pay to work.

You take a couple more bites of your food while the boys scavenge their food as if they hadn’t eaten in years.

“Hey guys!” You look up to see a particularly sober Charles Leclerc strolling through the shake shack door. You perk up when you see him, a small smiling making it through the exhaustion you were feeling.

“Hey Cha,” you say, standing up to give him a small hug, staggering a bit on your heels as you do. He leans back as you release him and steadies you, holding something up to you as he does.

Your eyes widen as he holds up a pair of converse in your eyesight and you gasp happily, quickly sitting back down in your chair and starting to fumble with the clasps on your heels.

Your fingers shake with exhaustion and alcohol and the clasp escapes your hands more than a couple times.

“Here, let me do it,” Charles offers as he sets the shoes down on the ground next to you before kneeling in front of your chair and grasping your ankle lightly.

You don’t look across the table to see Daniel and Logan making kissy faces at each other as they both stuff their faces with greasy food and soda. But you can hear their mocking kiss noises and you roll your eyes as you finally look their way, glaring as you do. They both shut up and go back to the phones in their hands.

Charles makes quick work of the clasps on both shoes, sliding the heels off your feet and untying the converse before handing them to you. You slide the shoes on and stand up, wrapping up your excess shake shack as you do.

Logan makes a noise of protest as you move to throw the food away and you sigh before sliding it across the table back to him. He makes quick work of the food, with help from Daniel reaching over his shoulder to grab food in between Logan’s bites.

You and Charles wait quietly for the two of them to finish. You eventually open your mouth to ask him a question but he seems to beat you there.

“Do you know where Max is?” He says quietly, eyes staring kindly at your tired state.

“No, he hasn’t answered my texts,” you mumble sadly, head falling to rest against your hand on the table. Charles moves slightly closer to let you rest your head on his shoulder and your eyes start to flutter closed. You were just nodding off when a loud band comes from across you and your eyes open to see Logan slamming his empty drink on the table just before Daniel does as well.

They both move from the table quickly and you and Charles rush to follow them as they bound out of the restaurant in their drunken stupor.

“Let’s go find max!” Daniel yells out swinging an arm around the blond man’s shoulders.

“To finding max!” Logan responds swinging his own arm around Daniel.

You and Charles share a look at the two of them. You had been just as drunk as them but you seemed to be sobering up quicker than both of them.

You glance down to see your heels clutched in Charles hand and pull out your phone to take a picture while he’s busy looking over your shoulder at the two drunk formula one driver some yards away.

“Come back here, losers!” Charles called out to the two of them and they both turn back to you and stumble over, seemingly dancing to music that wasn’t playing.

“We’re going to Omnia,” Charles says to the three of you and that’s all the boys need to turn around and wander toward a building they don’t know the location of.

You roll your eyes at them but follow quickly after, trying to make sure they don't wander too far away. Charles is quick to walk beside you.

The walk isn't too far, your drunkenness slowly decreasing throughout the stroll. Luckily for you and Charles, by the time you all get to the club, Daniel and Logan have sobered enough to at least walk in a straight line.

Omnia is nestled inside of Caesars Palace so it wasn't hard to find but Daniel and Logan do both try and walk past the hotel. You and Charles have to call them back and drag them into the lobby of the hotel.

The four of you wander over to the club, glancing around but when your efforts seem fruitless, you decide to wander around the area instead of just looking at the club.

The four of you wander around aimlessly, looking for any signs of your boyfriend. You glance up to see Charles with his eyes set forward, still clutching your heels in his hands. Logan and Danny fall in line next to the two of you, seemingly sobered enough to be helpful now.

Eventually you round a corner and come face to face with a surprisingly empty area, not a soul in sight. The silence almost echoes off the vaulted ceiling, making the sound of your four sets of shoes seem almost loud in comparison.

You don’t see anything in the room and go to turn around when Logan catches your elbow, “Is that him?”

You turn back around to follow Logan’s point, eyes locking on a brunette man. Of course, Logan has just been extremely inebriated so his judgement probably wasn’t the best but you decide to listen to him anyway.

You move to take a step toward the man when he stumbles backward, letting you see that it is, in fact, your boyfriend. But what causes your eyebrows to furrow is the familiar girl hanging off of him, lips practically attacking his own.

You can’t move. Your eyes are locked on the couple and your feet are solidly rooted to the marble floor. You think you might be crying, you wouldn’t be able to tell. The only thing that pulls you out of it is the feeling of a pair of heels being shoved into your arms. You glance up just in time to see Charles reeling his fist back.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of a nose breaking under a fist. Of course, it’s quiet so that probably helped a lot.

They’re screaming at each other and your brain, once again, tunes it out. You stare blankly ahead, trying to make sense of whatever the fuck you just saw. You’re pretty sure Charles’ girlfriend flees. Probably for the best. Logan swings a tanned hand in front of your eyes and suddenly the volume in the room is back once again, the screaming slowly filtering into your head.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Charles yells, blood dripping down his arm as he shoves Max in the middle of his chest.

“What’s my problem!? What’s your problem!? You’re already fucking my girlfriend, I was just evening the score,” Max spits, blood splattering against Charles’ white shirt as he shoves the man’s wrist away.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do shit, man!”

“You proved it by showing up with her,” Logan inches forward as Max’s eyes land on you for the first time that night, seemingly ready to defend your honor. Or whatever.

“Taking her to help her find her boyfriend who turned out to be cheating on her with my girlfriend. Yeah seems really romantic mate,” Charles rolls his eyes. You can tell from his stance he’s ready to throw another punch in a heartbeat.

“Fuck you, Charles.”

“Fuck you, Max.”

There it is, the second punch flies and the two start to brawl. Rich idiot brawling, of course, no real form or anything. You reckon Max could throw a pretty good punch if he was in a better state. In the moment you’re just glad he isn’t. For Charles’ sake.

You suddenly realize that the area might not have been as secluded as you had thought. When you glance up you’re met by the literal strip, bright lights streaming in from the outside. Even at the ripe hour of 3 am. People start to gather at the commotion. Usually you’d care a lot about this kind of stuff but your brain is unfortunately too preoccupied to care.

One of these people that takes it upon themselves to insert themselves in the fight is none other than Checo Perez. The man on the grid who you could stand the least. Or at least he used to have that title, that might belong to Max now.

Upon the sound of more yelling, you tune him out. Daniel’s the one who moves in his path, causing the man to turn the argument onto Daniel. 5 foot 10 Daniel who’s been itching to throw a punch since this fight started. Daniel who was, until quite recently, black out drunk. Daniel who you knew, deep down, didn’t want to punch Max so this was a perfect solution.

You don’t end up remembering how it happens, your brain fogged with alcohol and emotions but one second, Checo and Danny are arguing and the next second, Logan’s landed a punch.

Honestly, he has a killer right hook. Especially for a drunk man. This spurs another fight and you can’t do anything but stand still in the middle of it all, tear stains running down your cheeks and high-heels clutched tightly in your arms.

It feels like an eternity later, but what probably only 5 minutes, when a figure comes up behind you and wraps an arms around your shoulders. You glance up to see a wild Oscar, pulling you away from the scene. He drops your shoulder to move back and pull Logan out of the fight, now with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. You’re not sure how much fighting he did and how much of it was just him hitting random surfaces. Again, drunk.

You turn toward Charles and see a now unoccupied Checo walking with an arm around Max’s shoulder and a now quite sober Lando pulling Charles the other way. Danny’s made his own way out of the area, quickly pulling you away with him. You don’t argue as he does, grateful for the escape. Sound comes back to you as you re-enter the casino floor, slot machines and black-jack spread out around you.

You realize how crazy you all probably look, all six of you covered in blood in some way. Whether it be your own or a friends. You all stagger out of the hotel quickly and at some point, you lose Charles and now it’s just you, Daniel and Logan, just like how you had started the night.

Once the air hits your face you realize the reality of everything that’s just happened. Your three year relationship was now over. Your teammate and boyfriend just cheated on you. This had to be some sort of HR violation.

For the first time since you entered the quiet area, you feel yourself cry. Tears run down your cheeks as sobs rack your body. Logan is quick to get you somewhere to sit down and he lays an arm around your shoulder comfortingly, not even thinking about the fact he’s now smearing even more blood on your clothes. You get distracted form your crying when you glance up and see the blood streaming from his nose. If you could help it, you’d get his name the farthest away from this. He didn’t need this right now.

For a moment you’re too worried about Logan’s future to cry but then you glance back down at the blood on your own hands and the waterworks start again. You, of course, hadn’t punched anyone but the blood was a reminder that somebody had because of you.

You eventually get the sobs to go away, standing up with a slight wobble, leaning on Daniel as he catches you.

You have no idea where the rest of your friend had gone or even where you were gonna sleep tonight. So you text the one person you had complete faith in during this situation.

“Can I stay with you?”

————————————————

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #scheduled #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader

[ineffable-suffering]

The meaning of "I forgive you"

Alright, hello again, I involuntarily dipped for a bit because real life outside of this lovely Tumblr Good Omens bubble got a little bit stressful, but! I'm back for a quick little post to say that I'm currently reading the script book for Season 1 and seeing this line again, spelled out on paper, just shone some more light on the whole „I forgive you“-scene of Season 2 for me again.

Because really, this first time Az says it to Crowley in front of the bookshop tells us exactly what the second time during the Final Fifteen means.

Aziraphale is not forgiving Crowley for kissing him. Or for using this moment to confess and make things explicit between them.

No, Aziraphale is forgiving Crowley for not trusting and believing (in) him.

Let's shove the Final Fifteen to the side for a second and look at this scene from Season 1 under the cut.

The situation at hand: The World is ending, with utmost certainty. In addition, Crowley is absolutely f*cked and Hell is out to get him. He tries to apologise for their Bandstand fallout and explain the other two things to Az (poorly, but he tries). Because to Crowley, Armageddon is a done deal already. Wherever the actual Antichrist is, he's gonna come into his power and the World will be wiped out for Heaven and Hell to wage their war on. Also, Hastur is coming to kick his demon ass. Time to dip!

And yet, Aziraphale doesn't want to come with him. He is adamant that he will be able to reach the Almighty, talk to Her and turn this around. Because if Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, thinks there's even the slightest, tiniest morsel of a chance that he can turn things around the right way, he will do it. Even if it sounds ridiculous. Even if it's a lost cause to everyone else. Even if all the other angels gang up on him and (literally) beat him up.

Even if Crowley calls him stupid.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

Because this is what he does. This is what a Guardian does. He stays and protects to ward off the intrusion, until the very last second.

Now listen, I'm the last person to blame Crowley for intrinsically wanting to choose Flight over Fight in this very situation, because Lord knows (literally) what happened to him back when he chose Fight and lost.

But at the same time we have to keep in mind that despite his last name, Aziraphale never Fell. He never made the horrible experience of being chucked away by the one who made you to love Her because you chose to question her ways. And yes, in so many ways this choice of his, to still believe that he can change something by questioning and suggesting (both here and in S2), is utterly maddening and hurtful to Crowley. Because it's a mirror of what Crowley himself did and a reminder of just how big the price he had to pay was. Aziraphale seemingly not realizing or understanding this stings. It does.

And yet.

Yet Aziraphale's choice to not take no for an answer, to not let a punch to the gut derail him from his plan, to not let even the most definitive thing such as Armageddon keep him from fighting back, is the one thing that ends up saving the World.

Because even when it all seems impossible and completely hopeless and bloody Satan himself is erupting from the pits of Hell, ...

... Aziraphale picks up his sword and fights back.

And he wins.

Not without help, of course. But might I remind you of what got Crowley to cooperate and not simply surrender like he'd almost done that second?

You might not see it at first, but tucked in between all the posh hedonism, hidden away underneath that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his, Aziraphale is a fighter. And a good one at that. I mean, for Someone's sake, he got discorporated, beamed himself down back to Earth, found Crowley somehow, possessed a psychic prostitute (love you, Madame Tracy), rode a scooter all the way to Taddfield and fought off Lucifer with sheer willpower (and a bit of emotional coercion).

Aziraphale can fight. Smart and hard. And not only that: He can win, too. And he knows it. Because he believes, truly, firmly and wholly, that he can make things right. It's the only thing he will settle for. This, ladies and gents, this is how he ends up saving the World, together with Crowley, Adam and the rest.

Because he didn't accept no as an answer. He didn't look at the impossible and accept it as such. Even when Crowley thought him to be an idiot for trying and even after his initial attempt at talking to God had failed, Aziraphale still found a way to stop The Big Bad Thing from happening.

Which is exactly what his plan is when he ends up being forced to come back to Heaven by the Metatron. (If you still believe this was a voluntary choice, read here). And which is exactly why he is so hurt and still ends up forgiving Crowley for the fact that Crowley doesn't end up coming with him. Doesn't end up understanding, trusting and believing (in) him, just like all the way back at the end of the World in Season 1.

Aziraphale decides not to be offended by this.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #gos2 #good omens 2 #i forgive you #*saunters onto your feed* i'm BACK #the final fifteen #aziraphale is a fighter #and he will always win #my own meta

[steviewashere]

I love you guys, so for WIP Wednesday, you get the first two and a half pages of my unnamed, but currently named "Steve Makes Eddie Apologize to Lucas for Not Postponing Hellfire for the Championship Game" fic. Uh, I don't think there's any warnings, but here we go.

You can read it here on Tumblr

Or you can read it here on AO3

——— “So, you and Eddie, huh?”

Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he's been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.

“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.

“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”

Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”

For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.

“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.

There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.

“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.

Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.

“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.

Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.

Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.

After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.

“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.

———

#stranger things #Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair #steddie #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #mentioned eddie munson #eventual angst and hurt/comfort #angst and hurt/comfort

[cosmicdream222]

What is “the state of wish fulfilled” or “feeling the wish fulfilled”?

(Explained in my own words cuz states tumblr is a shitshow)

When I was in HS, I was obsessed with Japan and wanted to visit, and eventually move there.

My dream life = living in Japan, doing the things I wanted to do

My life at the time = living in America, not being able to do the things I wanted to do

Was I sitting around feeling sorry for myself and whining “boo hoo poor me, I wish I was in Japan. Why did I have to be born here? It’s not fair I’m missing out on so much.” HELL NO!! That = the state of lack

Instead, I was excited. I didn’t see going to Japan as such a big deal, it’s not like I wanted to go to outer space! All I had to do was save up some money and buy a plane ticket. It was totally realistic in my mind, why couldn’t I do it?

Sure I wasn’t there now, but I KNEW I could go there eventually. So I spent my time studying & practicing Japanese, enjoying my hobbies from afar, researching & planning my future visits. That = the state of wish fulfilled.

(And yes, I did end up visiting many times and eventually lived there for 5 years.)

Here’s another scenario:

Imagine right now that you won the lottery for an extremely large amount of money - let’s say 1 billion dollars. You have the winning ticket in your hand and you’re at the lotto office right now. They tell you it’s gonna be a few weeks of processing and paperwork before you actually receive the money, but it is yours. It is done.

It doesn’t matter if you’re currently broke, in debt, hate your job, hate your living situation or have any other unfortunate circumstances. In a few weeks, you will have more money than you will ever be able to spend. You will never have to work again. You will never have to worry about money again.

You might not currently know what it “feels like” to be a billionaire, but you know that your current circumstances don’t matter anymore because everything is gonna change soon.

Now, if you are reading this, you have learned about loa/void/shifting - and that is even better than any lottery you could ever win. You found out the truth, my dudes! Reality is an illusion and you can have anything you want. ANYTHING anything, not just materialistic earth things!

Yes we have been programmed with opposite beliefs our whole lives. It might be hard to wrap your head around at first. It might be hard to let go of all the victim-based thinking that society encourages. It might take a week or a month or longer to manifest your desires - but does it matter? Time is an illusion, and you WILL succeed eventually. You didn’t find out about the truth only to fail.

Sitting around on tumblr scrolling for more methods, asking every blogger the same questions, complaining that you don’t have your desires yet = the state of lack

Knowing that you WILL have your desires NO MATTER WHAT and not letting your current circumstances affect you = the state of wish fulfilled.

Have patience and persist! I have faith in you, so have a little faith in yourselves! ILY all and want you to live your best life ❤️

#manifesting #loa #law of assumption #states loa

[olderthannetfic]

At the time of writing this, Audrey R. has already resigned from running for OTW board, and the way people have acted about her candidacy the past few days has been disturbing, but also sadly unsurprising. Please, to anyone who may read this- I know those immediate gut reactions of shock, horror, disgust, I personally find that I can't stand Republicans and conservatives, I generally hate their views and what they stand for.

But please, don't just blindly spread misinformation and fear. I know there's little nuance to be found on tumblr, but people were misrepresenting her and her policies and unnecessarily riled each other up to the point where people took it upon themselves to go after her and her employer under false beliefs.

She's a Republican, yes. But how many people have taken the time to actually look her up? She's run as an independent before, her policies aren't the conservative bs people are making it out to be, and quite frankly, in her district, there is no realistic chance for a Democrat or an independent candidate to win elections.

In one of her Q&As, she had this to say:

"One of the most important things I learned on the campaign trail was this: it does not matter how loud your voice is if you don’t have a seat at the table. My advice to #EOTWR is recruit and/or run so they can get a seat, and find ways to involve the people currently in the positions to make change."

Combining her locale, statements, and platform, she's at worst a centrist who's running with the Republicans for a chance to win and actually try to change things within the system in which she's contained.

There's no evidence of her being pro-censorship. There are legitimate concerns about the effects of social media, screens, and the internet on youths, especially because they're so relatively recent in our history. People saw her party, her organization, other people's reactions, and assumed the worst.

If people actually did research and came to their own conclusions or simply decided that a republican affiliation in and of itself was an automatic deal breaker, I completely understand that. I personally wouldn't have voted for her either way. It's understandable that candidates will be discussed and criticised, but don't make things up to make her worse than she actually is.

--

[73ghosts]

I'm sure many of you are already aware of this, but in case I have any newer tumblr users, pet bill donation scams are very common on this site. If someone DMs or sends you an ask asking you to reblog some sort of donation post for a sick/injured pet, it is most likely a scam.

Below the cut, I have included tips to spotting a scam, and why I believe the post by 507-on-queue is a scam. @kyra45 runs an excellent tumblr scam awareness blog, and has more information and tips here about spotting pet scams. I have archived the scam post in question on my side blog here.

Here's some ways to spot these scams:

Age of the blog - most scam blogs are a week old or younger, they are often under a day old

Similar urls being used for multiple blogs - scam blogs are typically blocked/deleted rapidly, and the OP makes a new account with almost the same name

The blog bio/pfp are not unique

You can only access the dashboard view of the blog so the post archive cannot be accessed (for example, my dashboard view is this, but you can also visit my webpage view and see my 9 years of post history via /archive lol)

The blog has never interacted with you before

The blog follows you and immediately sends a DM/ask

The DM/ask is overly polite and guilt trips (they often ask you to reply privately to reduce digital footprint)

Images of pets can be found via reverse image search

OP's story is inconsistent or unrealistic

The Paypal link does not match the supposed country OP lives in

Most recently, a scam post has been going around about a sphynx cat named Draven. This has been done using multiple urls, including:

meer-lion (deactivated)

507-on-queue (deactivated)

507onqueue (deactivated)

507-onqueue (current as of Jan 13th, 2024)

Here's how this blog meets our scam watch criteria:

The current blog (507-onqueue) is less than a day old (19 hours at the time of this post). The oldest post:

As listed above, OP uses multiple, similar URLs.

The bio of 507-onqueue is taken almost directly from another user (said user). Due to the same bio being used in previous scams, I suspect this is the same or related person to kappa-tundra/kappatundra (about this scam).

Scam blog:

Copied blog:

Only dashboard view is available.

The blog follows and immediately DMs/sends and ask. From my account:

The ask from the account is very polite, guilt trips, and asks me to answer to the post privately. The goal of being so polite is to win your trust and lower your defenses. This isn't the worst guilt trip I've been in a scam (that goes to the child support scam from several years ago). By asking me to reply privately, they're attempting to reduce their digital footprint (making them harder to google) and disguise how much they are spamming asks.

The information in that post was taken from a private Facebook account (source). I found the Facebook account in question and confirmed that the information was taken from there. I do not want to share the page because I view that as a further violation of the Facebook OP's privacy. For transparency, the images of Draven are not on Facebook OP's page any longer, but there are several other identifiable pieces of information that make it more than likely that the claims of her information being stolen are true.

The ask is inconsistent itself with the name of the cat (Draven vs Indie). This is also nearly identical to another scam ask from user captbridges. This user was using a real GoFundMe for a sick cat to scam.

The medical paperwork in OP's post is for a veterinary hospital in Wisconsin. However, OP's PayPal is based in the Philippines. The country.x= part of the url indicate the country of origin of the account; PH is the Philippines. The local.x= part of the url shows that the link was localized to the United States (making the donation currency USD). (PayPal's information page about country codes).

Stay safe out there and remain vigilant, everyone. If you don't already know them, try to pick up some boolean operators to refine your google searches when checking for scams. The tumblr search function sucks, so this is your best bet of finding information about scams like these online.

#meer-lion #507-on-queue #507-onqueue #507onqueue #scam alert #scam #You all can feel free to reblog this if you want #I normally make posts like this when a scam comes my way #But I haven't actually seen one in a while lol

[littlejuicebox]

Shoutout Sunday

Here I am again with another recommendation list! This one is a bit different from the last, in that these recs are all fics written in third person rather than second person POV. Listed in no particular order. I wanted to include some smaller writers and newer pieces that may have not gained much traction yet!

I know I write a lot of second person POV, and I also enjoy reading this POV. BUT, I do want to encourage people to consider reading both first and third person work as well. 

Some of these pieces are THE most compelling things I’ve ever read. Especially when someone’s OC is involved. Creators put A LOT of love into their OC work. If you like a creator’s second person stuff, I strongly encourage you to read their things written in other POVS… there’s a high chance it’s even better than their second person work, tbh.

All recommendations are below the cut. Happy Reading!

Thrice Before Dawn by @cursedhaglette- This is a smut piece set in Act 1. I promise you all that I thought about this fic for days after I read it. Physically made me blush. Top tier banter and the ending is chef’s kiss. It’s sort of a One Shot but I believe it’s also an ongoing collection/series. 

Starlit Skirts by @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate - This One Shot is the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. This piece made me tear up. Every piece of Emi’s is divine. Astarion is working on creating Tav’s wedding dress and has been for months. The issue is, it’s requiring constant altering.

Blood in the Mortar by @bardic-inspo (tumblr) / bardic_inspo (AO3) - An AA One Shot that is beautifully written and exceptionally compelling, based on the concept of AA’s love interest being a vampire bride. Her OC Naomi is fantastic! OP hasn’t written smut in over a year and yet she does well, as if it’s her day job. 

Memories of Us by @tallymonster - I maintain this is the only AU longfic I currently read and I adore it. There are a few chapters I am dying to catch up on. This version of Astarion is so interesting, I really like how she works with the concept of a vampire outliving all of his prior friends/contacts. 

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by @tragedybunny - Bunny is an OG, I’m certain most of you are familiar with her One Shots. She has a huge Masterlist, and surely you can throw a dart and any title it hits will be a win. But this AA series is a new longfic work of hers and I cannot wait to see where she takes it. 

Loose the Arrow by pentuppen (AO3 only, unsure if the tumblr blog is the same person?) - This is the first BG3/Ascended Astarion longfic ever read and I was hooked. It inspired me to start writing myself! This storyline is compelling and the perfect blend of angst/comfort/smut.  I’m not going to give away the plot, but the author’s summary itself is intriguing. Here’s a bit: “One night every year. She is always there waiting and he will always come.”

#READ THIRD PERSON POV DONT BE SCARED #littlejuiceboxrecs #astarion fic writers #fanfic recommendation #astarion fanfic recs #astarion fanfic recommendations #astarion fic #astarion fanfic

[zarvasace]

The last, and probably my current favorites of the bunch: Prince and Mirage, dark Warriors and dark Legend! I keep trying to put the images side-by-side so they don't take up as much room but Tumblr HATES that. Sorry.

My document with all these boys' descriptions on it is over 7k words. Holy heck. Hope you like them. XD Masterpost

More information and art beneath the cut yayyy

Prince

Prince is dark Warriors. 

Cia gave Warriors a lot of unwanted attention, which he spurned. Prince, on the other hand, wouldn't just accept the attention, but would have welcomed it. He wasn't entirely autonomous when he was summoned, but he remembers everything. He knows that he never wants to not be in control of himself ever again.

Instead of championing freedom, however, Prince makes a point of controlling others. If he controls them, they can't control him. Shackle is similar, but they have different methods. While Shackle prefers physical subjugation to be sure they're in his power, Prince uses manipulation. He pretends to be your friend, all the while gaining your trust. His job is made all the easier by his own special talent: Charm. 

Prince’s Charm is a supernatural ability to influence people. Where Madness takes over bodies, Prince sways the mind. His Charm is something he can turn on and off at will, at different intensities. It doesn't work well on any being with too much light, but it does work on criminals or people with guilt and secrets. The other Darks are susceptible to it, though after… an incident… Prince doesn't do it to them. Usually. 

It works like this: Prince identifies his target, which can be an individual or an entire crowd. He turns his Charm on intentionally, and depending on how hard he pushes, his target’s attention is drawn to his face. Because he does not look human, he then has to quickly begin talking, to pour even more Charm on. If he does it right (it does require skill and charisma), the target forgets his appearance is anything out of the ordinary. He needs a minute or two of conversation and rakish smiles to dig his claws deep enough that they don't remember anything unusual once they stop looking right at him. Prince uses his Charm to get information, favors, and generally spread his anti-Link agenda. The riskier or weirder his request is, the more Charm he has to layer on, and some people just straight up won't do some things. The Charm wears off after a while, depending on the target and how long they were exposed to it, which takes anywhere from a few minutes to a few weeks, averaging out at a day or two. 

Prince has to choose his targets wisely, which can be difficult to do because he does not look human and does not have any kind of magical disguise. That last point is a sore spot. He doesn't want a disguise, he just wants people to stop looking at him like he's going to burn their house down, thank you very much. He only has their best interests at heart. Prince is bitter and extremely envious about Warriors winning hearts so easily thanks to his good looks and natural charisma, so Prince does his best to do the same without them. His Charm is better anyway. 

…It's a good thing he hasn't actually been let loose on a population yet. 

(Warriors is a bit of a flirt, but not too badly. Prince makes a game out of trying to make people fall in romantic love with him as fast as he can. (Author’s note: I'm not touching sex. That is not the sort of story I want to tell here.))

Prince doesn't need food, and he doesn't need to breathe, but he does need to use his Charm. Because he magically learns a bit of information about his targets when he's focused on them, his theory is that he leeches from their emotions, or their identities, or something of that sort. He hasn't shared the theory with anyone, but the Dark Chain does know that Prince needs to use his Charm or he starts to get very, very hangry. It's a physical need for him. Of course, pushing too hard or trying to Charm too many people at once gives him migraines. 

Prince considers himself a leader, and it rankles him a bit that Depth is the one in charge. He contents himself with sitting back and letting Depth do all the hard things, though he has Charmed Depth several times into going along with what Prince wants to do. Prince sees Shackle as a sort of protege in the ways of manipulation, and occasionally provides pointers about how to subtly get under people’s skin. Prince and Madness end up working together a lot, since Prince can Charm Madness’s thralls into forgetting they ever lost time, or he can make up memories for them. Sometimes the two of them get migraines at the same time, which spells out lots of “fun” for everyone else. He fights a lot with Mirage and is always trying to catch Agony off-guard to give him a good scrubbing. He's the only reason that Nothing or Dire get baths, too. 

Prince is arrogant and ambitious, yes. He's proud of his appearance and does his best to stay clean and orderly—he doesn't mind the memories of military training that he gets from Warriors, since those routines help him to be efficient. He wears a copy of Warriors’s outfit, but fancier, with a fluffy shirt and a corset on top, and his tunic is purple because (1) it's opposite green on some color wheels and (2) it's the color of royalty. His silvery hair is a little longer than Warriors’s is, and he wears a luxurious red cape.

Sometimes he puts a little too much flair into his moves, but he's proficient with as many weapons as Warriors is, if less practiced. He talks a lot, boasts a lot, and casually jabs where it hurts. He holds a lot of jealousy and hate in his heart, and if he gets a little drunk, he'll go on and on about how much he dislikes Warriors, specifically. 

Prince’s ultimate ambition is to rule his Hyrule as undisputed, beloved emperor. He wants to do that by winning the hearts of every soldier, every servant, every noble. He wants to steal Warriors’s relationships right out from under him without him noticing. Prince knows that he can't rely on his temporary Charm to do that, though, so his plan is to ally with the organizations of traitors throughout Hyrule and add his persuasive charm and Charm to their efforts, eventually rising to become their leader. 

Prince’s best dreams involve him standing over a defeated Warriors on the balcony of the castle, a crown on his head and a queen on his arm (or king. He just thinks stealing Artemis or Impa would make it all the sweeter), with crowds below cheering for him. He has plans to keep the aging Warriors as an honored “guest” in the castle for as long as he lives, doomed to watch his beloved, darkened kingdom flourish under Prince’s ruby eyes. Someday, Prince will change his name to Link, stealing that from Warriors, too. 

Prince Link. Wait, no. King Link. No, even better… Emperor Link. 

Actually, he doesn't like the sound of Emperor. He’ll workshop that title.  

Mirage

Mirage is dark Legend, patterned after the Nightmares that Legend fought on Koholint. He knows Legend will know that immediately. 

Mirage is truly shape-fluid. His form is extremely malleable, though he can't keep up looking perfectly like a human for more than half an hour or so—he starts to melt and revert back to his most comfortable state, which is a close copy of Legend, his matter constantly shifting and dripping and melting. (Most comfortable state, not his true form. Does he have a true form? He doesn't know what it is if he does.) He is best at mimicking nonspecific human forms and small reptiles. He pretended to be a bush once, but wasn't very convincing. 

Mirage’s gooey flesh doesn't have many pain or touch receptors, and he doesn't need any kind of structure beneath the goo to stand up. He's very good at energy dispersion, so punching him means that you're either punching a brick wall or that your fist is getting absorbed. His goo is as warm as flesh and very slightly acidic, so touching him for too long can burn. He doesn't need to breathe, but he does digest organic material or minerals to build on his mass. He's weak against energy-type attacks, like acid or fire or ice, but it doesn't hurt him in the traditional sense and he can always build himself back up. He can drop entirely flat and easily squeezes through small gaps. 

Most traditional dungeon traps do absolutely nothing to Mirage: spike traps don't hurt him, as holes in his form mean nothing; he doesn't really take fall damage, just splatters a bit until he can pull himself together; giant axes that cleave him in two don't actually hurt him, either. There is one small part of Mirage’s matter that is his core. If he gets cut into pieces, the rest of him will shrivel up and evaporate in an hour or two, but his core stays alive and can regrow in a matter of days. If he gets to any cut-off piece before it evaporates, he can reassimilate it. He often messes with his form to take on any physical challenge: looking around corners with an eye on a hand; growing taller to see over a wall; spreading out his feet and legs to float on water; squeezing into cracks in an ice block and expanding in the right spot to make it all shatter. 

Mirage doesn't speak often, preferring to keep quiet. His voice is soft and slithering, with hissing Ss and a pitch that ranges from whispery to shrill. It's the worst voice in the group after Depth’s. He isn't the smartest of the Darks, but he is quite observant and if he does speak up, there's something important to pay attention to. Mirage often just goes with the group decisions, performing whatever role they require, though privately he absolutely resents having to work with anyone else, because Mirage works alone. He doesn't need companions, friends, shopkeepers, or family; he doesn't need vehicles, mounts, money, magic items, or even weapons. When he means alone, he means Very Alone. 

The thing about Legend—despite the masks and attitude he puts on—is that he cares, so so much. He cares about people being happy and safe, he bonds with everyone nice he meets whether he knows it or not, he is self-sacrificing and always working for a better world, even when people don't ask for it. Mirage does not care about much of anything except himself. He would be most content wandering around a mountain, causing a bit of chaos in a nearby town, and using his abilities to traverse impossible paths, especially through caves, just because he can. He doesn't care about the other Darks (that's a bit more of a lie than he thinks it is), he doesn't care about Legend, he doesn't care about covering the world in darkness. He’s just dragged around and knows that they have to finish this stupid mission thing before he can be left in peace. 

Mirage is somewhat fascinated with the way humans work. He's closer to an octopus or other eldritch sea creature himself, and mimics reptilian forms, but the more he learns about humans, the better he can mimic them. He might not care much about many things, but he's curious. He likes to investigate corpses (especially if he can eat them—the Dark Chain’s favorite way of “disappearing” people) and find out new things about their anatomy and chemical compositions, things he knows about and can memorize to reproduce in his own gooey flesh later. As such, he sometimes annoys the other Darks by poking at them or “testing” their senses or limits. 

He gets along best with Lost, who doesn't care much, either, and doesn't get mad at his questions or testing. Mirage responds by taking Lost babysitting duty more than his fair share. (His apathy means he's really patient with Lost and Nothing and Madness.) He makes a good team with Agony, who he sees as very similar to himself, except Agony is clearly more driven. Agony is the quick and sharp counterpart to Mirage’s slow and inevitable destruction. (And it doesn't hurt that Agony is the electricity wielder among them, so if Agony sort of likes Mirage, then all the better.) 

In a normal fight, Mirage is all but indestructible, walking through battle without problems. He doesn't bother attacking until someone hurts him, usually with fire or something similar. Then Mirage will focus to get rid of the threat—and he’s aware that the others expect him to target and take out Legend, so he does that if he has to. He's all but impossible to fight without elemental aid, and while he isn't too quick, he hits HARD and has a lot of tricks up his metaphorical sleeves. 

Still, the fact remains that if you manage to hurt him, you hurt him a lot. Mirage isn't complicated, but he's very flexible and can do things nobody is prepared for. 

(sorry for the low contrast. But hey, my goo-drawing skills are finally relevant! Look at that hat! And the foot!)

#my art #linked universe #lu z darks au

[shiftylinguini]

Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:

@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:

Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?

Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me. 

Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):

Write anything 

This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!). 

Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works. 

Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you 

Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin. 

And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up. 

(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)

Cheat on your OTP 

Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway. 

(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)

In a similar vein:

Engage in media 

This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole. 

Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts. 

It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity. 

Ask yourself, what would Astolat do? 

No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.  

Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it. 

Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it. 

It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)

Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice". 

It's good advice. 

Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here

Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it. 

And lastly: 

FUCK STATS! 

I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.

Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work. 

Good luck, fellow travelers!!

#thank you for this ask #this turned into projected cathrsis but i hope this helps if you are possibly feeling in a slump!! #on fic #writing #writing advice #our lord and saviour astolat #shifty turns an innocent ask into a therapy session #also is there a fucking name for the flashing space bar line on a word doc LMFAO there has to be right?? i do not know what it is

[psychoticallytrans]

Why, when, and how voting abstention can be effective- and when it isn't.

There's a lot of talk on this website lately about the effectiveness, or lack thereof, of voting abstention. There are two main times it is effective:

Voter participation is typically high enough that it will be immediately noticed if a large portion of the voter base refuses to vote. The current election mainly being discussed is the 2024 US presidential election. This criteria is completely inapplicable. The majority of USAmericans do not vote. It will not be noticed if someone abstains, unless-

You are loud about why you do not intend to vote, and about what would get you to vote. Being loud about it does not mean confining it to Tumblr. Vanishingly few political campaigns will be checking Tumblr. Twitter, YouTube, and Facebook, in that approximate order, are the best social medias to broadcast on. Even better is calling up the campaigns you want to effect, and telling them exactly why you will not vote, and what they can do to earn your vote. That last part is a huge key missing from a lot of "I'm not going to vote." plans. If the campaign doesn't know that you would vote for them if they changed, then they are not going to change- they will just write off your vote as a loss, and continue courting people who do intend to vote. There are too many nonvoters for them to spend their time trying to win you when they don't even know what would win you. If you do not intend to vote regardless of what changes are made, and/or you don't spread why you won't vote, then your abstention is not something any politician cares about, and it will not be a politically effective tool or send any kind of message. You're certainly free not to anyways, but do not be fooled into thinking you are making a difference.

What voter abstention can do:

Push a current candidate towards policies you prefer

What voter abstention cannot do:

Pick a different candidate (Instead, consider volunteering for a campaign you support or donating, or even running yourself, as well as voting in primaries if available for the election in consideration)

Cause radical change that will disrupt the status quo (Instead, consider organizing with your neighbors and going to protests)

The status quo in the US is not voting. Not voting is clearly not a solution to the status quo. If you want to make your abstention count, you have to do more than just not vote.

#us politics

[summerlinenss]

out of curiosity, if Max doesn’t release its metrics, then what metrics are you actually using to make these statements about the show’s popularity? what does “it’s currently in the 99.7th percentile of the comedy genre, meaning it’s in higher demand than 99.7% of all comedy series in the u.s.” even mean? How are you measuring what’s “in demand” - by who? Where? It’s bold to claim that this show was wildly popular (despite the fact that I never hear about it outside of tumblr, tho that’s a personal anecdote) but cancelled just for being queer, so I would be really interested to know where you’re getting all these numbers from. Thanks!

hey anon! first of all i am so sorry for the delayed response. i started typing something up and then i got distracted with something else and totally forgot about this in my drafts.

sure, i have no problem citing sources. i probably should’ve linked some in my original post, that’s absolutely fair.

this ended up way longer than i planned so bear with me, but a quick overview of what i’ll be going over:

1) what are the stats/where did they come from?

2) how is the show so popular?

3) was it really cancelled for being queer?

(also just a disclaimer that this will contain spoilers for the show)

1) first, the numbers

you’re right that hbo doesn’t release metrics to the public. in fact, ceo casey bloys tried to justify the cancellation to the hollywood reporter by saying “the numbers weren’t there,” despite refusing to say what exactly those numbers were or where they came from.

however, there are websites dedicated to researching/analyzing the data of different media. one of those is parrot analytics, who focus on industry insights like audience demand, competitive analysis, and content valuations. they’re trusted as a reliable source by forbes, the new york times, reuters, the wall street journal, and more.

this is what we can learn from them about our flag means death from a basic google search (note that all of this data is relevant to the last 30 days as of january 26 2024):

audience demand for our flag means death is now 33.6x greater than the average tv series in the united states. as explained in the “about demand distribution” section, this means it’s one of only 0.2% of all u.s. shows to fall in the “exceptional” performance range compared to the “average” demand benchmark of 64.1%.

the change in demand for ofmd in the u.s. has increased by 7.5% compared to the average tv series.

ofmd now actually ranks at the 99.8th percentile in the comedy genre in the u.s. i’m not a math person, but in basic terms, this is like a scale of measuring and comparing performances to create an average score. essentially, ofmd is performing at the very top of all comedy series in the u.s.

ofmd has 100% home market travelability. as it says above, the market of origin is always 100%, so in fairness i included the graph of international markets for comparison. some of these aren't super high, however (as explained by parrot analytics themselves) one of the key issues with the international market is accessibility to content, which has been an ongoing struggle for international fans. many people (i guess fittingly) have resorted to pirating ofmd because they don’t have access to max or affiliate streaming services in their country.

there are more stats i could have and wanted to go more in-depth into but it would make this even longer than it already is, so i’ll just leave some links you can check out if you’re interested and move on:

• comparison of ofmd's success to shows like ted lasso, euphoria, and peacemaker

• ofmd's placement as #1 most in-demand breakout series in the u.s. for 8 weeks

• ofmd's impressive 94% critics score and 95% audience score on rotten tomatoes

• how ofmd evolved from sleeper hit to a flagship series at max

• a list of ofmd's past and present award nominations/wins

• praise and recognition from news/entertainment sites: the atlantic (2022); the new york times (2023); tv guide (2023); vulture (2023); forbes (2023); the los angeles times (2022); vanity fair (2023)

2) so why haven’t you (or others) really heard of the show outside of tumblr despite all this success? likely because max did a terrible job marketing it.

ofmd first aired on hbo max (pre-merger before it was “max”) in march 2022. the entire season aired over one month, every thursday at 12am pst. season 2 followed a similar release schedule in october 2023.

season 1’s marketing was almost non-existent, pretty much relying on taika waititi’s name being attached. there was one teaser and one full-length trailer, as well as a few clips on youtube of taika and rhys darby answering pirate-themed trivia, all painting the show as a “silly pirate workplace/buddy comedy.” but hbo max didn’t put any real effort in because they didn’t care. david zaslav and the other higher-ups had no faith in the show and expected it to fail.

most people weren’t aware it was actually a romance due to the poor marketing, and although there were many romantically charged scenes between them, many were still wary to believe it wasn’t queerbaiting until ed & stede confessed their feelings and kissed.

showrunner david jenkins has said in interviews that he had no idea how deeply queerbaiting had hurt audiences and impacted their ability to trust what’s on screen without feeling like they’re being ridiculed, despite the fact that he was calling it a love story the whole time. it wasn’t until people realized they weren’t being queerbaited and that it was a funny, sincere show with a compelling plot that word-of-mouth began to spread. by the time the season 1 finale aired, there was a decent-sized fandom that continued to grow as it received more praise.

it was a fight to even get the show renewed for season 2, and david jenkins and the cast have majorly credited that renewal to the unexpected and massive fan response to the show, which basically forced hbo’s hand.

max didn’t bother trying to properly promote the series until season 2, when they begrudgingly accepted that it was one of their most profitable and successful shows. ofmd had huge billboards in times square, downtown los angeles, and on the side of hbo headquarters. they started accurately marketing the show as not just a workplace comedy at sea, but a heartfelt romcom. max began selling long-demanded merch (which became best sellers) and spent money on an FYC campaign.

i will emphasize, whether they liked it or not, they knew ofmd was their new moneymaker (especially with the recent end of succession, which was obviously a cash cow for hbo).

photo credit: @/bookishtheo

3) now if it was that successful, was it really cancelled just for being queer?

i mean, i can’t say that definitively. no one can. there are several potential factors at play that we may never know, and there have been a lot of rumours and speculation (many of which i don’t feel comfortable discussing in case they aren’t true) since the cancellation.

but do i believe the fact that it’s a queer romcom was one of those factors, especially since max has a history of cancelling and scrapping its most diverse projects? absolutely.

first and foremost, i can’t stress enough that this isn’t just a show with a few characters thrown in for token representation. ofmd is built on a diverse, intersectional cast and narratives, including:

• lgbtq+ representation: 5 main couples are explicitly queer (including mlm, wlw, nblm, and nblw relationships). multiple characters are implied to be poly, and there’s a polycule forming in season 2 that was hinted to be developed more in season 3. beyond relationships, it’s confirmed that (similarly to the way wwdits depicts all vampires as being pansexual) all of the pirates are somewhere on the queer spectrum.

• bipoc representation: the majority of the main cast are people of colour. this includes david fane, joel fry, leslie jones, samson kayo, vico ortiz, anapela polataivao, madeleine sami, samba schutte, ruibo qian, and taika waititi, as well as many guest actors (like rachel house, simone kessell, and maaka pohatu) and extras.

• disability representation: multiple characters have physical disabilities, most notably amputated/prosthetic limbs and visual impairment. a lot (actually most) of the characters also deal with mental health issues, particularly coping with severe trauma and suicidal ideation/behaviour.

• the show has been praised for addressing difficult and serious themes like toxic masculinity, colonialism, and self-discovery, all while still managing to be a witty comedy and not come across as “preachy.”

• the diversity also extends off-screen, with a team of directors, writers, and additional crew comprised of numerous bipoc, women, queer people, and trans/non-binary people.

my point isn’t just the quantity of representation, but the quality. they take great care and respect into every marginalized group depicted on-screen. the actors would often be consulted about their characters’ costumes, hair, tattoos, and the kind of language they use. it’s not a world where discrimination magically doesn’t exist, they just have zero tolerance for it. if a character does something homophobic or racist, you can guarantee they’ll quickly (and often violently) be punished.

so okay, sure, it’s got great representation. what does that have to do max cancelling it?

because they’ve been interfering with production from the start.

i already mentioned the marketing issues so i won’t get into that. it was also revealed in interviews with david jenkins after season 2 that hbo cut their budget by 40%, which is why they had to do everything they could to save money. this included letting go of some of the original cast (and even still having episodes where some of them don’t appear at all) and moving the entire production to AoNZ. the budget cuts also meant two less episodes, so they had to rush to fit an entire season’s worth of plot into eight half-hour long episodes.

but one of the biggest frustrations is hbo’s (alleged) censorship of the show. samba schutte revealed that the entire plot of episode 2x06 was completely different in the original script. before it was rewritten as “calypso’s birthday,” the episode took place during lucius & pete’s wedding and focused on the crew getting sick of the sexual tension between ed & stede and trying to get them to hook up (this aligned with lucius & pete getting engaged and ed & stede deciding to take things slow in the previous episode).

vico ortiz and writer jes tom have also commented that many scenes between jim, oluwande, and archie establishing them as a polycule were cut, including one of the three of them emerging from a bedroom in their underwear. jes has mentioned other elements of season 2 that had to be cut out or rewritten, like the implication of other poly dynamics between the crew and more sexually explicit scenarios and jokes.

considering that ofmd is an extremely sex-positive show that isn’t afraid to be raunchy or taboo, it’s clear that either higher-ups at hbo forced them to cut these things out or they had no choice but to cut them out due to tight budget/time restraints.

in addition to this, a recent article citing an “anonymous insider” has alleged that hbo was uncomfortable with and was unsure how to market the “shock violence” in the show (the same network that aired game of thrones), which david jenkins outright called out as being bullshit. ofmd is rated TV-MA and the posters and trailers all show the audience that it contains violent content. there is literally nothing more graphic in ofmd than any other pirate show — it’s probably a lot tamer than most of them, actually.

violence on the show is most frequently used in a comedic context, in the sense that it’s not meant to be seen as scary or taken seriously. the few instances of serious graphic imagery on the show are meant to invoke a mood shift, like ed’s transformation into the kraken or ned low’s murder. it should also be noted that some of the most graphic deaths are reserved for bigots, like ed snapping the neck of a colonizer who was ridiculing stede’s love letter.

it’s also most often used in a sexual context — not sexual violence, but violence as a sexual metaphor. more specifically the act of stabbing as a metaphor for penetration, as seen with both ed & stede and anne & mary. bearing all this in mind, it seems like the real issue here isn’t executives struggling to market explicit violence to a mainstream audience, but rather explicit gay content.

as much as we joke and affectionately call it the “gay pirate show,” ofmd has always been nothing more than an opportunity for rainbow capitalism for hbo (e.g. the fact that they waited three months to announce season 2 just so they could do it on the first day of pride month). like other cancelled queer media, ofmd was a way for hbo executives to show how “inclusive” and “accepting” they are when it was convenient (aka profitable) for them, but they never actually respected the show or us as a community.

it’s impossible to be certain of what the exact reasoning for cancellation was, especially when they won’t give us a clear answer themselves. and maybe it had nothing to do with ofmd being a queer romcom at all. maybe that’s all a horrible coincidence. but for hbo/max to axe a critically acclaimed and beautifully inclusive show that’s successful by every metric, with an extremely devoted fanbase, especially after casey bloys just had the nerve to ask “gay twitter” to hype up the gilded age? it doesn’t exactly put them in the best light regardless.

in summary, i’ll leave you with this editorial, which details how the campaign to save ofmd isn’t just about one show, but a fight to save the future of all queer art.

#asks #anon #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #renew as a crew #fuck david zaslav #queer media

[webslingingslasher]

Tells Me We're Not Done

Part 2 to Something in the Orange.

this is so long tumblr is making me put it in two parts, adding part 3 after this!

Genre: Angst/Fluffy

Warnings: depictions of sex, stay safe, kiddos!

Word Count: 15k between here and part 3

Summary: Peter does his best to win you back after he dumps you.

The Parker household could be eerily quiet. 

Funny how you never noticed it before, usually the giggles escaping your mouth as Peter pinched lightly anywhere he could reach would fill the empty spaces. Or you could hear the whisper of Mays TV in her room, maybe even Peter as he danced around in the kitchen making grilled cheeses or grabbing you stashed soda. 

But right now in Peter’s room all you hear is the hum of the AC, and the drips coming from his bathroom sink, he needs to turn it off all the way. You hear the slow whoosh of cars passing by several floors down, you hear Peter’s fingers tapping on the kitchen counter, you can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s looking for something or he’s trying to think of something to say, anything to break the silence. 

You hadn’t looked at Peter since you got here, you didn’t even speak to him. 

“Hey! I’m glad you could still find the place.” He tried to joke. Tried. 

You nodded your head and swerved around him into his room, you set your bag higher on your shoulders, and then you felt very aware of your surroundings. It’s been a while since you’ve been in his room, it was almost comedic, this was always where you felt the most safe but you have never been more on edge than right now. 

Where did you sit? 

On his bed? Too many memories, the way he fit over your body perfectly. The bed where he made you feel loved and protected and safe and treasured? No, you can’t sit there. 

At his desk? The same one you would sit across his lap on, the one that you had begged a time or two to get off his game so he could get on you? The same desk he’s bent you over? No, you can’t sit there. 

Peter watches you move your head around his space before your shoulders slump with defeat and you throw your backpack off and drop to the floor sitting crisscross. 

The floor was safe, nothing happened on the floor. 

“Want anything to eat? Something to drink?” 

The carefulness in his voice, the comforting gesture made the hair on your neck raise, you didn’t say a word. 

You didn’t want to be here, that was well known. 

Peter sighed and made himself absent, it didn’t feel good to him either. Knowing that this is your worst nightmare and you were currently experiencing it made him feel pretty shitty, it doesn’t help that you won’t give him anything to work with either. 

You stared at the carpet long enough to see swirls and shapes, tracing with your hands. Your brain made a pattern with the sink drips, pause, pause, pause, drip. Pause, pause, pause, drip. It began moving in sync with Peter’s finger tapping in the kitchen, pause, pause, pause, drip, tap. Pause, pause, pause, drip, tap. 

What deity did you piss off to put you in this position? 

The words echo as your hand pushes the carpet one way, darker, the other way, lighter. 

“Y/N and Peter. Y/N and Peter. Y/N and Peter.” 

It happened Wednesday, and now it was Saturday. 

“I have some news. We are breaking down points in history and colliding them with story acts. You have all been assigned a partner and will have two weeks to complete it. We finish next Wednesday, but you’ll be getting your partners today and you can start working on it now. Get an idea, I’ll be passing out sheets with different points in history you can pull from.” 

She rolled her eyes when the class groaned, “Yeah, yeah. If you want to let the creativity flow feel free to pull a moment on your own. I’m letting you guys take the rein on this, have fun! Express yourselves!” 

You blew a heavy breath, you haven’t paid attention in months and now you were being thrown into a massive assignment. Mrs. Bender approached the front of the room and grabbed a stack of papers. “Y/N, Tonya, please pass these out to your classmates.” 

The stack was split and she handed you each one and you both went to separate sides of the room. You started in front and worked towards the back, the fourth table was MJ and Peter. You gave one to MJ and met her eyes, “Hi.” She smiled back, “Hey.” 

You let one fall to the middle of the desk, the paper sweeping the air before sliding across the slick black table and falling to the ground. You shrugged at the paper on the floor and shrugged, “Oops.” You stepped on the front of the page and made your way to the table behind them. 

Peter watched MJ smirk, he turned his gaze to the ground and picked up his paper stamped with your shoe print. 

“These will be your partners, no exchanges or substitutions allowed. Tonya and Brent. MJ and Kate. Yousif and Rusty. Drea and Drake. Cory and Becca. Y/N and Peter.” 

Your eyes shot up to the room, your heart was racing. This couldn’t be happening, not him. Not your ex, you literally begged him to hook up and he left. You told him everything was a front, that you still lo- No. Don’t think about that. 

This was a nightmare. Your cheeks burst with heat, your heart hit your rib cage with each thump, your palms become sweaty on the tabletop. You had to keep swallowing the saliva building in your mouth, scared that you’d puke if you stopped. 

The teacher just kept going like she didn’t end your world. 

“Dustin and Vanessa. Forrest an-“ You cut her off and shoved a hand in the air before speaking. 

“No! No, No, Absolutely not!” Peter’s head shot to yours. The other students were already moving around matching up with their partners. 

“What was that?” The teacher stopped her rambles. 

“Please. Anyone else, I’ll do anything. I’ll clean your car, I’ll do Saturday school until the end of year! I’ll even stay late and grade your last classes work! Please, anything!” You pleaded. 

“No exceptions, it’s not fair to everyone else.” She shrugged her shoulders and tried to continue. 

“What if I work alone?” You stood at your desk. 

“No.” She flipped her grade book. 

You huffed and swore under your breath. 

“Fine! I won’t do it then!” You threatened no one but yourself. 

“Ms. Y/N do I need to remind you of your circumstance? You don’t do this project, you’re out of here. Permanently.” She raised an eyebrow and taunted you, she wanted to see how you would react. 

You threw your hands up and slumped back on your seat. “Yeah! I know! I know!” 

Even being paired with Peter wouldn’t make you talk to him, and bless his heart for trying. He’s tried cornering you in school, he’s tried calling (and was ignored immediately), he even showed up at your window but all he received was an unwavering middle finger until he slowly crept away. 

His last ditch was a text, ‘Hey. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but we need to get this done. Come to mine tonight?’ 

He wasn’t expecting a response, and you didn’t give one. You just showed up. 

“Water?” 

He held out a bottle and you sniffed, dragging your knee to your chin you turned the other way. Peter placed it next to you anyways. 

“You sure you don’t wanna sit up here?” Peter tapped the space next to him on the bed. 

“I’m fine where I am.” The first words you spoke to him all week and they were just as distant and cold as when you told him you hated him. He never really believed that, but now he was. 

“I can pull my desk chair over, or I can get one from the kitchen-” 

“I said I’m fine.” You cut him off and listened to the empty space, you relied on the drips like a metronome. Then the hum of the AC, and new to the mix was Peter breathing. It wasn’t loud but it was steady, something to build off of. If you tried really, really hard maybe you could hear the blood pumping in and out of his heart. 

“What do you smell right now?” The carpet was leaving an almost itchy feeling on your fingertip but you kept swirling it, scared if you stopped they would shake. 

“Uh, I don’t know. I can smell your perfume, and I think Mr. Denison next door is making cookies or banana bread.” Confused. He was confused. 

“Not like that. Me.” 

Peter’s eyes widened.  It was very rare for you to ask him to use his senses on you, it’s not like he had a choice, it would happen regardless. But he respected that you didn’t want to know, or didn’t care to, so unless you asked he never brought it up. 

He breathed out slowly and took an inhale at the same rate, he looked at you and frowned slightly. You wouldn’t look at him still, you were turned from him and curled inwards trying to get as far away from him as possible. 

“Scared. Nervous. Anxious. Upset. Sad. Hurt.” 

You let out a small laugh. 

“Was that Spidey, or was that your intuition?” 

“A little of both.” 

Drip, pause, pause, pause, drip. 

“I’m sorry, by the way. I don’t think I ever told you that, but I am.” 

You looked at him for the first time in a week, you actually recognized him as a human. 

“For what?” 

“Hurting you. Breaking up with you, making you hate me. Fuck, I don’t know, Y/N. Can I just give you an umbrella apology?” 

You nodded at him. 

Drip. 

“How would we move past this?” 

“What do you mean?” Peter can’t help his spirits get slightly lifted at that. 

“I don’t know how to look at you and not be overwhelmed with sadness, Peter. You were my entire fucking life and it was smashed in one night. And I know you’re trying to fix it, and I really want you to. I want to go back like nothing ever happened but it did. It did happen, and you really, really hurt me. So how do we get past this?” 

“How can I give you that kind of power again?” You added with a whisper, you laid a cheek on your knee and closed your eyes. 

Drip. Pause, pause, pause. Drip. 

Peter breathes once, twice, three times, drip. Peter rubs his pant leg against the bed, the comforter ruffles, he breathes, drip, drip, drip. 

You can’t stand it anymore, now you understand why Chinese water torture is mind exploding. 

“I don’t know, but it’s not up to me anymore.” Peter’s turn to keep his sight from you. 

“What does that mean?” You nearly wince at your voice. Why did you sound so sad? 

Peter looks you in the eye, it wasn’t his decision anymore. That much was clear. 

“I hurt you, I broke your trust. I did the worst thing to you I could’ve ever done. It’s up to you now, what do you want? Do you want to be friends, never speak to me again, or maybe somewhere in the middle?” 

You chew your bottom lip and look his face over. 

Drip. 

You think of each time you’ve kissed his cheeks, each time you’ve counted his freckles while he’s slept, each time you traced over his features, every moment of him being yours came in a flash. 

Drip. 

More than anything in the world, you missed loving him like you could lose him. There was nothing so delicate and private in the world. 

Drip. 

“I know what I want.” The words were a whisper, scared to say them aloud, scared to whisper them into admission. 

“Tell me.” His tone matched yours, he was just as scared to hear it as you were to say it. 

Drip. 

“I want you to win me back.” 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Peter smile like that, not since he was yours. 

His teeth sunk into his bottom lip failing to catch the growing grin. 

“I can do that.” He nods. 

 “I can do that.” 

—-------------------

Flowers everyday. 

That’s how it started. 

On Monday they were purple Hyacinths, left outside your front door with a small handwritten note: Sorrow, please forgive me. 

You’re reminded of every time Peter’s tried to get your attention with a wave or a smile or even tried to offer an olive branch by walking you home. 

Tuesday they were red Tulips with a similar note attached: Believe me, my feelings are true. 

You know he’s sorry, he’s made that much clear. 

Wednesday they were Violets: I’ll always be there.

Even when you haven’t wanted him. 

Before the presentation in class Hydrangeas were left in your locker: Good luck and fortune.

Thursday were mixed Zinnias: Thinking in memory of an absent friend and lasting affection.

He’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. 

Friday was a Gladioli: Give me a break, I am really sincere.

He’s asking you to trust him one more time. 

Saturday morning there were several flowers and notes outside of your window. 

A Coreopsis: Always cheerful.

You’ve made him so happy.

A Lily of the Valley: A return to happiness, you’ve made my life complete. 

You give him something to look forward to.

A Dandelion: Faithfulness and happiness.

Something he can rely on. 

A Lavender stem: Admiration. 

He doesn’t know how someone could be so perfect.

A red Carnation: My heart aches for you. 

He hasn’t ever known pain that ebbs so deep into him.

A Sweet-Pea: Thank you for a lovely time. 

You gave him a true meaning in life, not Spider-Man, Peter. You gave Peter a meaning.

A Forget-Me-Not: True love and memories. 

It really was true love, there was nothing more pure about it.

A Narcissus: Stay as sweet as you are. 

He can only hope he hasn’t damaged that.

A Petunia: Your presence soothes me. 

You have a presence that calms him, it’s a talent only you and Aunt May possess. 

A Camellia: I’m longing for you. 

He’s thought of you everyday since he ended it. 

A Daffodil: You’re the only one, the sun is only shining when I’m with you. 

Everything's better when you’re around.

Finally a Primrose: I can’t live without you. 

Because he really can’t.

On Sunday you caught him in the act. 

Dressed in dark tan khakis, a blue plaid button down and a dark gray jacket. His Nike shoes matched the hints of dark blues in his shirt, his hair looked extra fluffy today. You always begged him to grow it longer, sometimes he would appease you and wait an extra week or two before he chopped it but the past month he’s let it grow, long curls framed his face and all you wanted to do was tangle them around your fingers. 

“Careful, another bouquet and I’ll have to start my own nursery.” You chided him and grinned when his cheeks flushed briefly after he slightly jumped unaware of your lurking presence. 

“Were you waiting for me?” His hand was behind his back, you were eager to see the flower of the day. 

“Maybe. It’s impressive how you’ve dropped them all week without me seeing you. Are you using your stealth secrets on me?” 

“I could be, It’s better to see your reaction when I’m not in front of you. It seems more authentic.” 

“Oh, when you’re not in front of me? Does that mean you’re lurking around watching me like some kind of stalker?” You grinned at his caught look, he didn’t mean to let that slip, but he was going to lean into it. 

“I just want to make sure you get them, I don’t want some sorry guy coming by stealing my tactics.” 

“Have you watched me before? Cause I swear I’ve got the feeling someone is just out of sight on a roof I can’t see.” You hinted at his alter ego and watched him nonchalantly shrug. 

“Sometimes. Mostly at night when you were alone, I used to walk you home, you know. What if some guy from Ryker's got out and thought you were an ex that locked them up and you got stabbed to death?” 

Your eyes widened. “Is that the stuff you worried about when we broke up?” 

We. No, ‘when you’, it was we. 

“Like a mantra.” 

A frown crossed your face. “Here I was worried you weren’t going to know how to put your own band-aids on, nice to know you are still obsessed over me.” 

“Always have, always will.” He smiled and remembered why he was here. 

“I have something for you.” 

You grinned and made grabby hands, “Lemme see it!” 

“It’s not a flower.” 

You pouted and booed. 

“Let me give you mine first then.” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised, “You have something for me?” 

“Yeah, hold on.” You dipped back into your room for a moment and emerged with a small pot, three short green stalks were bunched together. You held it out for him to grab, one hand was kept behind his back. 

He looked at you and waited for the explanation. 

“It’s a lucky bamboo. It symbolizes growth and renewal, something for a new life stage. I thought it was fitting.” 

He hugged it tight to his chest, “Thank you. I love it, I am gonna nurture the fuck out of this. His name is gonna be Groot, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You both just smiled at each other for a moment too long, almost forgetting why you were both here. You think Peter lent in for a second before jumping slightly, he remembered why he came. 

“Here’s yours.” 

Peter passed you a folded up paper, you looked confused but grabbed it from him. You looked up to catch him grinning at his branches and he whispered something to the green before nodding at you to unfold the paper. 

Inside were two printed tickets to the Planetarium, you gasped and dropped your jaw. You looked towards him and he was already smiling at your reaction. 

“Oh my god, Peter!” 

You rushed forward with a squeal and crushed him in a hug, both of your arms wrapped around his, he let out a ‘oof’ and pulled one arm from under yours to wrap it around you. You pushed forward just a little closer, resting your cheek against his chest, he felt warm and sturdy. No matter how much time passed you missed this the most, just feeling him, and feeling like nothing could harm you. 

“Did I do good?” His words felt like vibrations in your cheek. 

“Amazing!” You grinned up at him and pushed yourself to your tiptoes to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

He paused for a second, shock in his system. You kissed him. Well, not a full on kiss, but it was a hint of one. 

“Well then, would you like to go on a date with me?” 

You smiled so wide you bit your bottom lip trying to rein it in. 

“I would love to.” 

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

A date it was. 

Peter pulled out all the stops, he took you to a nice dinner, one where they had a candle on the table and ketchup wasn’t available. He even looked over the menu beforehand and let you know what he thinks you would like, not that you can’t make your own choices but new restaurants always give you a little anxiety. You were unsure what you would like and felt like you were wasting time looking over the menu rereading the same summaries hoping one would jump out at you. 

Then after dinner he gave you his jacket, walking down the street you were confused when he didn’t call for a taxi but followed him anyway. You looked down at his hand next to yours and grabbed it, then he intertwined them and pulled you to the side of a building. You looked up at the sign and then him. 

“Chocolatier?” 

He pulled an eyebrow up, “You didn’t think I forgot about dessert did you? 

“I’m getting two slices of cake.” You moved to pull him inside, he followed behind and you both paused at the door inhaling the sweet scent blowing in your faces. 

“As long as I can get a bite.” 

“We’ll see.” 

After dessert he took you to the planetarium and you gazed up in awe at the constellations. The seats were recliners and lent all the way back so you had undivided attention at the ceiling. 

“Which one is that?” You pointed up at a stack of stars, they almost made the shape of a person. Peter followed your finger up, “That one?” He pointed at the same star, you nod. 

“Andromeda. A Greek princess.” 

“Ooh. Wait, where is the big bear and little bear?” You moved your head but couldn’t place it, those were your favorites. 

Peter grabbed your hand and pointed up at them, he traced the stars with your finger, “Big bear,” then lowered your hand, moved it slightly and traced again, “Little bear.” A soft smile crossed your face, you always thought of those as you and Peter, you followed him around mimicking his antidotes and sidekicking every bit of the way. 

You moved in closer to Peter and turned halfway to rest your head on his shoulder, looking up at him from your eyes you shuffled in deeper. 

“Tell me all about the ones you know.” 

And he did, he took you through each one slowly, sometimes picking your hand up to point at them and trace the lines so you knew exactly what he was talking about. Peter spoke quietly and calmly, you were the only ones in the room but it still felt extremely private, this was a moment for you and him only. 

“This one is Apus, the bird of paradise. This one is supposed to be the beak, and this one is the tail. And this one is Ara, it’s an altar that was used by Gods before battle with the Titans to vow their allegiance.” He traced the outline and you stared in awe. 

“And this one here is Aquila,” 

“It looks like an eagle.” 

“It is! Look at you, smartie.” 

“He was the retriever of Zeus’s thunderbolts.” 

“Oh! And look at this one here, this one is really cool. It’s Antlia, and it’s my favorite because it literally translates to-” 

You stopped him with a kiss. 

It was slow, you moved against each other for a minute or two. You weren’t all over each other, it wasn’t full of passion and heat. It was a kiss that meant more than that, it was trust, it was giving, it was kind. It was love, you both felt it. 

“Air pump. It translates to air pump.” 

His first words when you broke away, his eyes blinked open slowly and he looked towards you. You couldn’t help yourself and lent in for one more, it was shorter. Just a little longer than a peck. 

“What was that for?” Peter was breathless, he wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting anything like that for a while. 

“Because I think you’re lovely.” 

“That's funny, because I think you’re lovelier.” 

You frowned for a moment, you didn’t feel lovely. 

The past week you’ve done a lot of reflecting. You hadn’t been kind, or nice, or patient with Peter like he’s been with you. Instead you’ve been bitter, mean, and miserable. It wasn’t right, if you love someone you don’t treat them like that. 

“I’m not. Or at least I haven’t been. And, I’m sorry too, by the way.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“Being the worst. I was so caught up in being hurt and mad at you I forgot you were hurting too. I think I forgot that even though you might have ended it, it hurt you too. And I’m sure I made it worse for you because I took all my hurt and anger out on you, I never should’ve said all those things. I should’ve never said I hate you, that was low and dirty of me. I don’t hate you, at all. I don’t think I ever could, actually. I just wanted to make you hurt like I did, but it made me feel worse because you didn’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.” 

You blinked back tears, it was a good night so far and you didn’t want to ruin it with waterworks. 

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Peter held you into him and kissed the top of your head. 

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it, and it sucked but I get why you did it. You just wanted to make it even, doesn’t make it right but you needed to work through it. Just promise me you’ll never say it again, I don’t know if I can handle that again.” He pinched at your side and smiled when he made you giggle. 

“Deal.” You kissed his cheek and breathed in his neck, you missed his smell. 

“I missed you calling me that.” Your words were muffled, a vulnerable admission. 

“What, baby?” You nodded in his neck. 

“I can start doing it again, it’s yours anyways.” 

“I’d like that, Petey.” You smile pulling away.

Peter slapped a hand over his chest. “Be still, my heart.” 

“I thought you hated that nickname?” 

“I did. Until I didn’t hear it for four months.” 

You giggled and looked at the stars once more. It was a perfect night, but you couldn’t help but think about how many nights like this you’ve missed out on since things ended. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Peter picked your hand up and kissed the back of it. 

“Anything.” 

“Why did you end it?” 

Lips froze on your hand. It was obvious he wasn’t expecting that. 

“Baby, listen to me. Tonight was a good night, right?” 

You nodded. “The best.” 

“I don’t want to ruin tonight, and I’m not saying you are. I would be. We’ll talk about it, I promise. But I don’t want to tonight, is that okay?” 

“You would ruin the night?” 

“It’s hard for me to talk about it. No one knows the full story, and you’ll be the only one who gets it. I just don’t want to open that door tonight. Is that okay?” 

You wanted to ask why it was hard for him to talk about it, and why he never told anyone the real reason, but that would defeat the purpose of him not wanting to talk about it. 

“That’s okay. We’ve got nothing but time.” 

Peter looked at you for a second soaking your words in. 

“You sure?” 

You kissed him once more, a promise. 

“Positive. Now tell me which one that is.”

—————————————————

The next two weeks went by slowly, you never did get that reasoning. It wasn't an omission on Peter’s part but you’ve both been busy doing other things and it hasn’t really crossed your mind, and the times it did it didn’t feel like the right time to bring it up again. 

You slowly started to integrate your life back with Peter’s. 

It started with sitting with him, Ned and MJ at lunch, Betty too when she wasn’t in the TV room piecing together her next segment for the morning announcements. Then Peter started walking to class with you holding your books or backpack when it got too heavy, and then finally you let him sit next to you in shared classes again. 

“Psst. Peter.” 

He kept his eyes on the board trying to copy down the words from the slide before they disappeared, this teacher changed slides too quickly. You were trying to copy the last slide from his paper but his arm blocked off part of what you needed. 

“Peter.” You whispered again but he kept going, to be fair he did have a headphone in. He was having a bad sense day, everything was just a bit too much for him, which is why he’s been clinging to you all day. For whatever reason you always calmed it down for him, sometimes you made it worse when things were getting a bit too physical, but usually you calmed him. 

“Babe?” 

His head whipped to yours, that's the first time you’ve dropped that line on him. 

“Yes?” 

You pointed at your sheet where it dropped off and pouted, “Help.” 

He immediately moved his arm and pushed his paper towards you a bit more and watched as you scratched down his notes, someone coughed and his ears rang, then again, and again. He started to shake his leg, then someone started to sniffle, it felt like it was in his head. Without pausing you wrapped your left arm around his elbow and scribbled a bit faster, if he was focusing on something it made it a little easier. His foot stopped instantly, and the noises became more muffled. 

“All done. Thanks.” You pushed it back his way but kept your arm around his, he wouldn’t ask for it but you knew he needed it. 

“Anytime.” You know he means it. 

After the bell rang he stood pushing things in his backpack, you did the same and lingered for a moment, he grabbed your hand and walked with you out the classroom. 

“Would you like to go on a date tonight?” 

It was a Friday and last week he had taken you to the Zoo, it was becoming a weekly habit. Part of him trying to win you back, not that you would tell him but you think he already has. The point of this was to take it slow, you both know how this is going to end so there’s no rush. 

“What are you thinking?” 

“I don’t know, I was thinking I’d leave it up to you. Your turn to choose.” 

“Your house? We can have a sleepover and do movies, maybe you’ll let me do a face mask with you to put you back in my good graces.” You teased him lightly, he always gave pushback when you tried to do spa nights, but he would always give in without much of a fight. 

“Shh, be quiet. I don’t need people thinking I’m a softie doing spa nights with my girl.” He teased back, as if he would care if people thought he was softie. He was the biggest softie around you and that’s one of the things you loved most. 

“Your girl? Who, me?” You looked around and smiled when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tucked you into his side. 

“Of course, you. Who else could I want?” 

Later that evening you found yourself at the Parker household but it wasn’t so quiet this time, May was humming in the kitchen and upon you walking in she screamed and pushed Peter to the side. 

“Hugs, hugs! Peter move, let me at her!” 

May wrapped her arms around you in a vice grip scared you’d run away if she let go, she missed having you around the house. Peter had a pep in his step when he was with you but since things ended he’s been more melancholy and quiet, it doesn’t help that May has been berating him too. 

When he walked in after ended it with you she knew immediately something was wrong. She asked him outright, “What happened? What did you do, Peter? Please don’t tell me you did something stupid.” He did. He did do something stupid and admitted to it after sobbing into his aunt's arm for an hour.  

She waited two weeks before she started in on him, like at the store, “I have a feeling I need to get strawberry ice cream, but I can’t remember who for. Was it that girl that came around before you broke her heart?” And Peter would heavily sigh, “Yes, May. That’s her.” 

She just missed having you around, and seeing Peter so happy. 

“What are you doing here? Oh my gosh!” May was beaming looking between you and her nephew. 

“Well,” You looked to Peter and rested your hand on your stomach.

May let out a gasp, “Peter, I swear to god if you got her pregnant!” Even though Peter knows that's not the case he takes a step back for extra measure. 

“Ew! God no. I wouldn’t let him touch me like that, May. He’s gross.” 

“Hey!” A whine.

“We were paired for a project at school and started hanging out again.” You smiled at May, you missed her as much as she did you. 

“And you’re hanging out here?” May pointed at the floor, she can’t believe after a school project things were fine. 

You nod. “Yes. Peter is trying to win me back, it’s date night. He let me choose and I wanted to have a sleepover, I even talked him into a spa night!” 

Peter’s eyes lit up, you were letting him put the pieces back into place.

“Date night? Since when is there a designated date night?” May was sputtering. 

You look at Peter and think back, his face helping you form an answer. “Three weeks?” 

Peter nods. 

May’s jaw dropped, her nephew mentioned nothing of this. At all. 

“Peter! What the fuck!” 

He jumped, “What?” 

“What is right! You’ve been taking her out without me knowing? Why?!” May was in shock, she knows Peter knows how much she’s missed you, she bullies him every chance she gets. 

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged but did know why, and May knew that too. She just stared at him with that mom look and he looked at the ground and continued before looking at you. 

“I know you missed her, May. I wasn’t sure how this would go, I still don’t. It’s not my decision at the end, I didn’t want to get you all excited just to tell you I failed.” 

‘Peter.’ You mouthed the words, he shook his head subtly. You caught it, it meant ‘not now.’

May let out a breath and slapped her hands on her pants. “Okay, that’s fair. You should’ve given me a warning before you let her in though, I nearly had a heart attack.” 

“And you my dear,” She spun to you and wiggled in joy once more, still amazed you were truly in the room, here for a rekindling. 

“Are more than welcome to stay the night! Do you have dinner plans, or any plans at all? I’m about to leave for work, is there anything either of you need?” 

“Thanks, May! Peter’s cooking for me tonight, he said he got a new recipe.” 

Peter cut off May’s impressed look, “It’s just a restaurant copycat, May. I’ve just never made it for her before.” 

“Is that why you got so many tomatoes at the store? Are you making your own tomato sauce!” 

“Oh my god, Peter.” You whined out at him, he cut his gaze towards you and grinned. He was down bad. 

“You’re making homemade sauce? That is so cute, c’mere.” You tugged at him for a side hug, not missing the way May’s eyes gleamed. 

“Well, I just cleaned the kitchen so it’s up to the chef now.” She throws a wink at her nephew, “It is so nice having some sunshine back in the apartment, I’ll see you both in the morning. Good night!” May placed a kiss to each of your foreheads and made a final goodbye at the door, you heard the click where she locked it on the outside. 

You were alone and excited, you didn’t plan on anything happening tonight and sure, you definitely missed Peter in that way, but seeing him so domestic you wanted to lay him down flat and make him a mess. 

He had changed into sweatpants, baby yoda printed socks poked out, and his white tee. You think he did it on purpose, he didn’t act like he did but he has to know what he’s doing. It seemed just a bit too tight, like he hadn’t worn it in a while and it just came out the dryer, it was snug across his chest and constricted around his biceps that flexed at every subtle movement of him mixing a pot of red. 

“I regret my choice for date night.” 

“Oh?” He looked sad, “We can do something else, what did you have in mind?” 

“Oh no, I am very much enjoying what I’m seeing. That’s the issue, Mr. Parker.” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of an issue to me, dear.” 

His back was turned to you again, he spoke a little louder to make up for his echo towards the stove. You were sitting on the kitchen counter next to the sink, feet swaying and slightly kicking the cabinet, if it was a few months ago Peter would scold you for kicking them. He would tell you May would beat you up and then he would have to beat May up for doing so, and then he would grab at your knees and stop them while he squeezed and you would laugh trying to peel his hands off. 

Tonight he was letting you get away with it, he’s been letting you do that recently. Small things that would’ve pushed him in the past didn’t get to him, or he was allowing it to happen so he didn’t push you too far with scolding. You chewed your bottom lip and watched him, he had a white rag thrown over his shoulder. You peered down to your right and saw the cheese grater and plate, he even was grating fresh cheese, he was going all out for you tonight. 

“I think it needs more oregano, or pepper. It’s missing something, what do you think?” He licked the corner of his mouth for any extra tomato sauce, his face scrunched in concentration. Peter held his hand under the wooden spoon lightly blowing on it before raising it to your mouth, you smacked your lips a few times getting a taste, “Add a little salt, then let me try again.” 

He nodded and you watched him add more of the flaked salt, then returned with another cooled mouthful. “Mm, I think you were right. It’s really yummy though.” Peter smiled and patted your knee, “Thank you, baby.” Your heart gushed and you yearned for a kiss, the rules were weird. You weren’t together yet, choosing to really make sure you can trust him. But, you also weren’t not together, he was taking you on dates, and doting, and really, really trying. 

You were dating, that was clear. And people who go on regular dates kiss, right? Not to mention you were dating for almost two years, you’ve kissed before. It wouldn’t be weird at all, and it hasn’t been. Each peck you’ve given had a hidden layer of lust, each time you met it was harder to pull away. Part of you was nervous for tonight, you were scared you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. 

Especially when sharing a bed.

Gathering courage you slid to your feet feather light, you stood behind him for a moment before leaning in, sticking your nose in the crease of his armpit. “Hi,” He turned his neck to glance at you for a moment before turning his head back, “Hi, baby.” You moved to lay your cheek on his shoulder blade, hands coming around his chest and pressing into him, “You’re warm,” your words were slightly muffled from a squished cheek. 

“You light a fire in me, what can I say?” 

“Gross, you’re cheesy.” You moved to pull away but he caught your hands and held his against yours to hold them there, he was asking for an extra cuddle. You gave in, bear hugging his back, you squeezed tight, “Can we go out for ice cream after dinner?” 

“Anything you want.” 

“Anything I want, huh?” 

He hummed. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

“Kiss?” 

Peter turned in your hold, “Pretty girl, you never have to ask for a kiss. Now, c’mere.” 

He leant to kiss you, his thumb rubbing at your cheek made you dizzy. It was luring you into a trap, you didn’t care. Peter broke first, “Good?” You blinked your eyes open slowly, “Another,” He gave you one more, you held on for a moment longer, he broke away again, he leaned away trying to find space, he needed to stir his sauce, it was almost at a simmer. 

You followed his mouth, a peck, “Baby,” another peck, “I gotta stir,” another, “Baby,” he laughed and drew his head back, you kissed his chin. “One more for good measure,” He rolled his eyes, but did it regardless, both hands cupping your face he squashed your lips in a playful kiss, pulling back with an animated pucker sound. 

“Now get back, menace.” 

Peter was finally able to focus on the main part of the dish, he flattened the protein with a tenderizer and started to grate the cheese. You wondered if it would be the wrong time to bring it up again, the ‘why’ question. 

“Is it a bad time to bring it up?” 

He paused for a split second, his focus reminded on the sharp grater. You watched the parmesan fall like snow. 

“You won’t be my girlfriend until I tell you.” 

It wasn’t a question, it was rhetorical. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” It was a sad smile. 

“The thing I’m scared of is,” He rolled the wrapping on the cheese down a bit further then started to grate again, “ that you won’t want to be my girlfriend once I tell you.” 

“Will I be mad?” 

“I think it’s more disappointment.” 

“Is it worse than breaking up with me?” 

“I,” He paused and knocked the extra cheese off the grater and leveled the bowl. He started once more, “I don’t know.” He looked at you and sighed. “I don’t want you to hate me.” 

“Is it that bad?” You can’t think of something that extreme, something only you and him would share. It was obviously extremely personal. 

Peter stopped and moved to his left to stand between your thighs, one hand resting above your knee. He tapped his thumb and thought of his words, how he would tell the story looking at you. 

“I uh, I got in a fight?”

He sounded unsure, you don’t think it was a lie but you question the choice of words.  

“When?” 

“A week before I ended it.” 

“Why?” A whisper. 

Peter bent his bottom lip with a nibble, he looked to the side and you saw moisture prick at the edges of his eyes. He shrugged, his voice cracked when he looked back at you. 

“You.” 

“Me?” 

“I, uh. It was, well I don’t. I just, I can’t right now. I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

You knew it was a bad time, and you get what he meant at the planetarium, it was a mood killer.  

“We don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight, Petey. Let’s drop it and forget it for now, we can unpack this later. Right now I just want to eat your yummy dinner and cuddle on the couch with a movie, is that alright with you?” 

“You sure?” 

“Positive. Give me a kiss, chef.” 

After dinner, which was delicious, you even ate scraps off Peter’s plate and then shoved yours into his chest and requested seconds that had him hopping to his own beat to the kitchen. Then dessert, which ended up with both of you choosing to swap ice cream for homemade cookies. 

Then you forced him to lay his head back into your lap while you applied a goopy paste that covered his face gray. 

“It’s cold” He whined  

“Cold is good, it shrinks your pores.” 

“My what?” 

You rolled your eyes, “it makes you look younger.” 

“I’m already baby faced, get it off!” 

When his phone timer went off you both tread into his bathroom to remove it, the space was slightly too small for two, both of you constantly bumping hips. 

“Get away from me, stinky.” Peter pulled into the corner while giving his chin circular motions after you scolded him for dragging his skin down. 

“If you want to shower with me just say so.” You winked at him in the mirror, you patted a towel on your face to remove any leftover moisture then waited to hand it off to Peter once he rinsed his own off.  

“That’s gross.” He still tore it from your hands and patted his own, softer after you screamed “Gentle!” 

“What is, the face mask?” 

“No, sharing a towel.” 

You pulled a neutral face, “Wait until you find out about all the other things we���ve shared.” 

“Is that a sexual innuendo? I’m calling HR.” 

A yawn exchange was currently in place, you started it. Then Peter gave one, then you copied, and because you yawned he did, you opened your mouth to rinse and repeat when he pushed your face to the side with his hand. 

“Stop it, go to bed.” His voice was teasing, “You stuffed me! I’m being lulled to sleep in the comfort of your arms.” 

You had both started on opposite sides of the couch, then you shifted to the middle, then stretched your legs out on his lap and he lightly scratched at your shins. Then halfway through the first movie you swapped so his fingers were scratching at your scalp. And somewhere between a bathroom break and the start of the second movie you sauntered back over to the couch but on Peter’s half. 

“Open sesame.” You made a parting motion at his crossed arms. 

He opened and dropped his arms like dead weight and watched as you pulled them in whatever position you liked, you finally settled on laying with your butt against his hip, one arm was crossed under your head as a pillow and the other was thrown over your chest. 

“Finished fluffing me?” 

“This pillow talks too much.” 

You both stayed like that for a movie and a half, Peter had to pee so bad his eyes were watering but he refused to break the cuddles. He never, ever wanted to leave your side again. 

“Go to bed, it’s okay.” He watched you wiggle up with a stretch. You picked up the soft throw blanket to follow in with you, you blinked at Peter and waited for him to rise. When he didn’t move you poked his shin with a toe, “Are you coming or staying up?” His eyebrows stretched, “You want me to come? I was prepared to crash in May’s.” 

“You think I chose a sleepover to sleep alone? Rude.” 

“No! I just didn’t expect to share a bed. I know we’re in this inbetween stage, I didn’t want to rush anything.” 

“Well, I want to share a bed. So, share a bed we may.” 

Peter rose in an instant, clicking the TV off with the remote, darkness enveloped the room, you blinked to adjust Peter’s frame. He rested a hand on your lower back to guide you into his room. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He sunk into bed and reset the pillows, his jaw dropped when you raised your shirt above your head and ripped off a sports bra. 

“Oh my god, boobs.” 

“What? These old things?” 

“Boobs. I see boobs right now.” 

You giggled and gave your chest a little shake, his head darted back and forth with the movement. It was like shaking a treat at a dog. 

“Last time you saw them you wanted nothing to do with em!” 

He shook his head, “That’s because you were drunk, someone had to make a good decision.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk, I still remember that whole night and gag when I think about it.” 

Peter kept trying to go between your face and chest, he was doing his best at looking at you, but you saw the subtle drop down and back up. 

“Wanna touch them?” 

He gasped and his face lit up. 

“For real?” 

“For real.” 

Peter made grabby hands, and kissing sounds. You laughed at his childish demeanor and kneeled on his bed, chest in his face. 

“This is so much better than Christmas.” 

He chewed his bottom lip. 

“I’m gonna touch them.” 

“Go ahead.” You pushed your chest forward. 

“Like right now.” 

“I’m wondering why you haven’t.” 

“I’m waiting for you to say, “just kidding, you’re a perv.””

“Not gonna happen.” 

“Okay then, I’m grabbing them yiddies.” 

And he did, he grabbed one in each hand and jiggled, then giggled when they danced in his face.

You slapped his hands away, “oh my god, I didn’t think you would actually do it, you perv!” 

His face dropped with his hands, until he saw your smile. “Menace.” He grabbed them again, then couldn’t help himself. 

Mesmerized, his words were filled with filth despite the innocence of his words.

“So pretty, baby.” So soft, so quiet. 

Only for your ears.  

“Says you, handsome.” Just as private as his, he shook his head, almost disappointed that you didn’t get it. 

“Are you sure you wanna cover these back up?” He moved his hands to watch them bounce one more time before you slapped them off, pushing off the bed to slide your shirt back over.

Crawling back into bed next to him you moved to cuddle him, leg thrown over his hip, hand tracing his chest while your head rested on his quick heartbeat. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Uh oh.” He twirled his finger around your hair. 

“It’s nothing bad! I swear.” 

This is pillowtalk. Peter loves and misses pillowtalk. 

“Alright, run it by me.” 

“Sex. Thoughts, opinions, ideology?” 

“Sex good.” 

“So insightful, that will be quoted in years to come.” 

“Why are you asking me about sex?” 

“This isn’t asking me things, time, it’s me asking you things, time.” 

He stayed silent, he wouldn’t respond to you without an answer. When he acted dominating it was always a rush. 

“Uh! I guess I mean, ya know.” 

He truly didn’t know, but if he knows you, and he does, he had to take a guess. 

“You want to know if I want to have sex with you?” 

“You don’t have to say it like that.” You muffled the words in his shirt. 

Why were you so coy? 

He laughed, “Baby, I don’t think there’s another way to say that.” 

You waited, he didn’t answer. 

“Well?” 

“Hm.” He poked your side, “You first.” 

You turned to his face with an open mouth, “No way! I asked you first.” 

He rolled his eyes. “No you didn’t, I had to guess what you were trying to ask.” 

“Same thing! You always know what I mean, that’s why you’re my boyfriend!” 

A pause, no one moved or said anything. 

“I mean, before you totally ruined everything and dumped me and now caused yourself to be in this period of space and time due to the choices you’ve made up to this point in life, which is why you are not my current boyfriend, but you were in a past timeline and a possible future timeline. Speaking of which, when you told May getting back together may fail what did you mean by that? You think I may not take you back, or this will end with us officially, officially ending it?”

Peter blinked slowly, that was so much at once.

“That was so much at once.” 

You looked around the room, word vomit was always a bad habit of yours. And usually with Peter, he had a way of getting you to spill your guts. 

“I appreciate the clarification on the boyfriend status, but you didn’t have to be so brutal, damn.” He took a breath, “Second, I am trying to win you back, not the other way around. You already have me, so when I say this may fail, I mean it. At the end of the day, you have final say and I really may have ruined this for real.” 

“I panicked.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh.

“I know you did.” 

“I know what I can say back to that.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You’re not my boyfriend.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” 

“Yet.” 

“Oh, word?” He held up his hand for a fist bump.

“Word.” You tapped knuckles. 

“Now, what was that about wanting to rattle my bones?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god, just say fuck.” 

“I have never said fuck in that context, it’s dirty.” 

“Peter! Sex is dirty, and that’s okay. Just say it, c’mon.” 

“Not happening, it makes me feel weird. I feel like I got a pass from my parents to cuss one time, and it doesn’t feel right.” 

“Peter if you don’t say you want to fuck me right now, I will give you a purple nurple.” 

“I would love to, fu- Nope, not happening, it’s wrong.” 

“Of course it’s wrong, don’t be nice!” 

“I am nice! That's all I have, unlike you! Menace.” 

“That’s toxic, now say it with your chest. “I wanna fuck you.” Just like that.” 

“I wanna… you.” He turned his head and mumbled the middle part.

“You wanna do what?”

“Fu..” He mumbled the rest and coughed in his fist, cheeks pink. 

“One more time, I know you’ve got it in you.” 

He groaned and tugged at his curls, “Nope, moment is over. Not happening, not my fault you couldn’t hear me.” 

“Ugh, fine.” You pulled away from him to get one last bathroom trip in, then jumped into bed and laughed when Peter held his arms out like he could steady the bed. 

That’s something he would’ve scolded you for, he stayed silent. 

On the brink of total slumber Peter whispered in your ear, he was currently holding you from behind, his arms wrapped around you and he was pressed against you. 

“Can I be little spoon?” 

You throw his arm off you and turn around, his face right in yours. 

“Of course I can jetpack!” 

Then you press a chaste kiss to his mouth, you pull back before he can register. 

“Goodnight, Petey.” 

—---------------------------------------------

Why was everyone looking at you?

It felt like a movie, walking into school everyone had turned their head and watched you. 

It was a dream, it had to be. Maybe you forgot pants, nope, you have pants on. Maybe someone buzzed your hair off, nope, every hair was still there. Maybe it was someone behind you, nope, just you. 

You were beginning to feel self conscious, the pressure was on for no reason. 

Why was everyone looking at you? 

Oh. That’s why. 

Every single locker in the senior hall had a post it note.

Each square is a different color. 

Each had the same words. 

“Peter loves Y/N.” 

You slowly walked the halls in awe, looping around to see that he had actually put one on each cage of blue metal. 

Every locker had his declaration of his love, except for yours. 

No, your’s was an entire collage, canary yellow post its covered the entire thing, only your combination lock was visabile. In bright red, boldly written across, “I LOVE YOU.” Over, and over, and over again. 

MJ approached your locker and nodded her head impressed, she always told Peter actions speak louder than words, looks like he finally listened. 

Unable to break your gaze away for more than two seconds you glance at her and look back at what you consider an art piece. 

“Be honest,” You look at her once more, “Do you think he loves me?” 

And she laughs, a rare full body shake laugh. You can’t help but laugh with MJ, it was contagious. 

“If he does, he doesn't show it well.” 

You sigh and look around the hallway once more. 

“Yeah, it’s really hard to tell.” 

———————————————

“There’s my little artist!” You kiss your fingers at Peter. 

“Is that a short joke? You know I’m sensitive.” 

“And you know you’re a short king.” 

You set your backpack on the lunch table before sitting next to him, and stare in awe. It was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever experienced, you would be reliving this moment forever. 

How could you not make him yours right now? 

“So you noticed?” 

You laugh, “I’m pretty sure everyone did. I think Mrs. Bender was jealous.” 

“Okay, you need to stop with the Mrs. Bender isn’t getting laid.” 

“Well, she shouldn’t act like she’s not getting dick.” 

“But it’s okay when you do?” 

“That is so mean, you have no idea, you are so toxic to me.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

“Yes! I get dick!” 

“Oh yeah, from where?”

“I have hoes!” 

“Name five.” 

“Well, I have you.” 

Peter makes a buzz noise, “It’s been almost five months, plus that was when we were dating. I can’t be a hoe if we’re dating.” 

“You can absolutely be a hoe while dating.” 

“Sure. Four more names, I’m waiting.” 

“I mean, there was this one guy.” You look to the side, oh, you were being truthful. 

Peter thinks it was that guy you talked about at the party with your friends. 

“Nathan?” 

“How did you know?” You look back at his face, nothing really happened and you felt the need to tell him that. Even though you were broken up you didn’t want him to think of you like that. 

“Lucky guess.” He winked. 

If he was bothered he was playing it off good. 

“It wasn’t what you think.” 

“What do you think, I think?” 

“That I fucked him.” 

Peter winced, he hated the word. So vulgar.

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Would it bother you if I did?” 

Why did you want him to be bothered by that? 

“I don’t know, which is why I don’t think about it. We were broken up, I can’t hold that over your head. But it doesn’t feel nice knowing someone else got to see and feel the same parts I did.” 

“Have you hooked up with someone else?” Sure, try and level the playing field. 

“Nope. I am untainted, I was a good little boy.” He grinned at you proudly. 

“Can I tell you about it? It isn’t super bad, but I will throw in a PG-13 warning, depictions of sex.” 

Peter grumbled. 

“If you gotta.” 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m a whore.” You nibbled on your lip. 

“Pause. I would never, and if that’s why you want to tell me, don’t. If you want to tell me to share that information with me, because you want to, then please do.” 

“He sucked. I swear.” 

Peter nods, but it still feels like you’re trying to make him feel better. 

“I was a little too drunk and he was all over me, and I really missed you and he was there. He didn’t even kiss me, he asked me to suck him off and I refused, then he said he would go down on me so I would suck his dick, then I don’t know what he was doing down there but I swear he was just pretending, Peter. I felt nothing.” 

“Then what?” He waited for you to continue after he took a bite from his turkey and wheat.

“I got up and left. I was so pissed at my friends for letting me go into that room with him.” 

“I should get you an ‘I survived’ medal.” 

You laughed and rested your forehead on his shoulder, nodding before looking at him. 

“Question?” 

“Whatcha what?” 

You blinked and looked at his mouth. He deserved a kiss, he made you the school’s star for the day, every one knew how much Peter Parker loved you. 

“Kissy?” 

He shook his head lightly. 

“What did I say about asking?” 

You shrug, innocence taking front place. You always got so shy when you confessed something to him. 

“I like it, it feels special.” 

“Okay then, ask me anytime you want a kiss.” 

“I want a kiss.” 

“Well, that’s more of a statement than a question, but I appreciate the enthusiasm, so come closer.” 

And you did, where he met you with a kiss. This one felt normal, it felt like home. It felt like every kiss you had before the break up, it was beginning to feel like it never happened and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

It sure did feel like a good thing though. 

“Hi cuties! Are we dating yet or still feeling it out?” Betty Brant broke up the kiss, Ned trailing in behind her with two lunch trays. 

“That line was so long, I am never doing Friday fish tacos again.” Ned sat down and wiped fake sweat from his forehead, his girlfriend sank next to him and pouted, “But I love Friday fish tacos.” 

Ned nods sternly. “I will be doing Friday fish tacos again.” 

Betty smiles and straightens her posture. 

“Dating?” 

Ned nods to you two turned into each other. 

“You look like a couple.” 

You wrap your hand around Peter’s arm. 

“Yeah, a couple of besties!” 

“Not the friendzone.” Peter’s voice is panicked. 

“Not dating?” Betty frowns, she is more invested in this than you thought. 

You smile at her for caring. “Not yet. I’m waiting for Peter to ask.” You bump your shoulder with his. 

Peter raises his head from his carrots, he crunches on one. 

“I don’t think I will.” You think he’s joking, but you quickly realize he’s not. 

“What do you mean?” 

He shrugs, “I think it would make more sense for you to ask me. I’m the one trying to win you back.” 

“Then ask?” You’re confused. 

“I feel like I already have, I’m just waiting on the yes.” 

Betty looks between you two frantically, Ned is busy assembling tacos. He’s used to these conversations between you two, he’s seen more than he can count. 

“But you haven’t asked since we started this.” 

“Okay, if I asked now would you say yes?” 

You chewed your lip. 

“I don’t know.” 

Peter raised his hand. 

“That is exactly why you should ask me.” 

“But that’s scary!” 

“You can do it, I believe in you.” 

“How about I tell you when I want you to ask me.” 

It’s almost the same thing. 

“No, I want you to ask me. I asked the first time.” 

“I don’t know how to ask you!” 

“Find a way, make it your way. There is no wrong or right way, just make sure you’re clear.” 

“Do you mean don’t accidentally say it like last weekend?” 

“There was a hint, yes.” 

You looked at Betty and winked. 

“What if I get down on one knee and ask?” 

“Okay. There is one wrong way.” 

“Super public too, maybe I’ll slide a twenty to the jumbotron camera guy at the Mets.” 

“Nightmare fuel.” Peter shuddered. 

Both you and Betty cracked up. 

—————————————-

May was shocked to see your face, yet again Peter has yet to fail to announce your presence. 

“Hi! What a surprise to see you again!” 

You melted into a hug, you spoke into her neck. 

“It’s a surprise for Peter too, I’m hoping for a surprise sleepover, I missed him a little too much tonight.” You whispered the last part, a little too much confession. 

“Always. Always, always welcome.” She placed a kiss on your temple and pulled you in. 

“Peter! Your girlfriends here!” 

“Yeah, Peter! Your girlfriends here!” You mimicked May’s words and shared a giggle. 

Peter emerged from his room, tugging up the zipper on his hoodie. His face went from shock to excitement, bouncing over to you. 

“Hi, handsome!” You held your hands out for a hug, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing tight, he rocked you back and forth. You weren’t the only one missing him more than usual. 

He pulled back and tilted his head, before he could ask a question you beat him to the punch. May watched in silence, happy to see the moment take place. The moment you fell back in love, truly and fully. 

“Kiss?” You puckered and waited. 

“Course.” He leant in, you settled for the quick pecks. 

Peter looked over your outfit and put the pieces together.

“Sleepover?”

You nod with a grin, “Sleepover!” 

Your eyes widened, you whipped your head at May. 

“Please, please tell me you got more popcorn.” 

“Ultimate butter. And, strawberry ice cream.” She smiled at your immediate grin. 

“I’m home,” you wipe a fake tear from under your eye.

You turned your head back to Peter with a puppy dog look, batting your eyelashes and clasped your hands and twisted.  

“Petey,” You drew out the name. 

“Baby,” He tilted his tone. 

“Can you please make me some popcorn, pretty please.” 

“Be honest, did you come here for the popcorn?” It was supposed to be a joke. 

You scoff, “Don’t be ridiculous, I only came for you. I missed you, best friend.” 

“That’s cute.” Peter grinned at you and looked towards May who was currently melting. 

“You’re cute,” You turned your head to May, “Close your eyes, May. Peter’s gonna lay one on me.” 

You made grabby hands for his neck to bring him closer, “It better be a juicy one, May isn’t looking.” And she wasn't, she chose to walk away for a moment, leaving you both for a joyful reunion, even if it’s only been a few hours. 

You asked, Peter delivered. His kiss left your head spinning, you always wondered if he felt the same. He sometimes would leave you in such a head high you felt like you were in a daze. 

“Do you feel like that after a kiss?” You were so loopy you forgot to share what you were thinking.

“Like there’s nothing else like that feeling, it feels so warm and comforting. Like, it really feels like total love, and I swear you make me feel high sometimes, it’s like time stops.” 

“I know what you mean, it’s like no one else but us matters.” 

“You are the only thing that exists for me in that moment, and there is nowhere else I’d ever want to be.” 

Peter groaned, “Come on now, how am I supposed to follow that one up?” 

You grinned, “You can start with making me some popcorn.” 

—————————————

It was only a matter of time. 

Peter was already yours, all you had to do was ask. The only thing holding you back was the why. 

It had to happen soon, you would slip and you swore to yourself you wouldn’t be his girlfriend again until he tells you why you have to ask him to be yours once more. 

Winter break was taking place, and you were currently on Peter Parker's lap grinding down on fleece pajama pants while he was gripping at a breast kissing down your neck while you groaned and tug at his hair. 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with sharing personal wants with a person you desire. 

“Is that what you say to make yourself feel better about sucking my dick?”  

“Oh, so you can say that but not ‘I want to fuck you?’” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my god, Peter.” 

Sex started a week or two after that last sleepover, it was getting cold and you begged for more warmth even when tucked into his side, and so you backed up into him, butt against his groin, that was normal. 

Except his hand was squashed down in the middle, so you dug one hand behind you trying to lift it out the way as you scooch, back, and back, and back, and oh, there it was. 

It was pressing harder into your back, you wondered if you should pull away, wake Peter up or see how far it would go if you fell into it casually. 

You rub, you grind, you feel Peter’s hand grab tightly at your hip to hold it steady. 

“Baby?” It was warning, his voice was dull and rough, you were the first thing out his mouth. 

“Yes?” It was a whisper, you knew what you were doing. He could hear that too. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” His grip faltered under a hard pressed grind, he groaned and pressed your hip away. 

“Yes.” You grabbed at the hand on your waist and pulled it up your shirt, his cool hand sent chills up your chest. 

“You want me to take care of you?” The switch, from innocence to dominant, playful to serious. This was your Peter. 

“Please,” It was a whimper. 

“Just lay right there, I know what you want.” 

He started to press kisses down your neck disappearing below the sheets, kisses never stopped. 

And he did know what you wanted, he always did. 

Always, always, always. 

At that moment you only had one question. 

‘What’s the point of asking? He’s already mine anyways.’ 

Now, it was bleeding into day three of living at the Parkers, it had been like this accidently since winter break started. May had gone away for a work trip and Peter’s place became a crash pad, it was just one night, and then one more and it’s probably going to be one more tonight too. 

“Peter…” You sighed off the words, his kisses coming to a stop. 

He grinned up at you, and as lovely as this was you didn’t want to miss the parade down a couple blocks. 

“I want you to do something for me.”

His eyes widened, his voice in a soft hush. 

“Anything.” 

“Say, say you wanna fuck me,” 

Peter groaned and tossed you off his lap. 

“You could’ve just said you didn’t want to be late to the parade, but no.” 

“God you are so in tune with me, it’s such a turn on.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Butter me up now so I’ll give in and spend twelve bucks on a churro for you.” He waved you off and stood swapping pajamas for denim. 

“But they’re filled with chocolate, Peter!” 

“You’re lucky I love you.” He kissed your forehead and moved past you to look for a warmer jacket, his words lit a fire in you. 

It’s obvious he loves you and while you haven’t said the words back you know he knows you do too. He’s been more giving with the words of affection, each time felt like a secret. Like, of course he does but, he doesn’t have to share that with you. 

“Again,” He turns and tilts his head. 

“Kiss?” He approaches to peck at your forehead, you go to step back but let him place one more. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“Again.” You repeat the words. 

“Kiss?” You step back this time, “No, again.” 

His eyes brighten, “Oh, I love you.” 

You bite your bottom lip, “One more time?” 

“I love you!” He cheers the words and pulls a beanie on. 

“Peter,” You pause, you weren’t sure what he thought it would mean if you said it back. 

“I know, I know you do.” 

—--------------------------------

The parade was packed, there were rows of people pressed into the barricade. 

Mostly families, moms and dads and grandmas had babies and toddlers rested on shoulders or a hip so they could get a good glance at Santa when he rode by. Rows of streets were blocked off, each street off the main parade route was filled with food trucks and popup booths of home-made crafts. 

Peter and you strode hand in hand down each street, on one he bought you hot chocolate, which you shared. The next you got your churro, which you shared. One of the streets you passed a small canopy with homemade christmas tree ornaments, there was one in decorated ceramic. A delicate Lily of the Valley decorated the front and the year was painted in black and circled. 

It felt like the breath was knocked from you, you remembered the meaning when Peter gave you one, a return to happiness. There was no clearer message from the universe. 

“Babe?” You called out for your other half, who had slipped away looking for anything May would find special. 

“Yeah?” He was calling from the otherside, his head was stuck in a bin shuffling through miniature stuffed bears.

“C’mere. I found something.” 

You felt his hand press against your lower back, his chin sunk to your shoulder. 

“Look.” You raised the string and watched as it slowly twisted in the wind, his eyes staring until they lit with recognition. 

“Holy shit!” Peter reached his hand out to grab it, he had to feel it. It was real. 

“We have to get it, right?” Both of you spoke at the same time. 

You flushed pink, Peter grinned and poked your side. 

“Hey, man! How much is this one?” 

You watched and played with Peter’s gloves while he interacted with the man. He approached with a proud smile and a small black bag, he waved the receipt in his hand and stuck his hand out to yours. 

“Can I ask a question?” 

“You know, one of these days I’m going to ask that back.” 

“And I’ll answer just like you do.” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Can I have a kiss?” 

“Oh, you.” He grumbled and pulled you in regardless, his nose was cold on your cheek, when you pulled away you rubbed your face against it to help warm it up some. 

“Can I tell you something?” 

“Anything,” He was walking you forward, looking for the best view that didn’t take away from any kid's sight. You were enthralled with his hand in yours, scooting you by other strangers. 

“I know how I’m going to ask.” 

He turned his head back at you in question, pulling you to the side after checking it was a good spot. 

“Ask what, baby?” 

“How I’m going to ask you to be my boyfriend.” 

“If it includes you getting on one knee I’m gonna say no.” 

“What if I get on both?” 

Peter pointed to the church both of your backs were resting against, your grin dropped shyfully. 

“I didn’t mean it,” You mumbled to the building. 

“Yes she did.” Peter whispered back, you slapped him on the arm. 

“Okay then, how?” 

“I can’t tell you that!” You sputtered at him, it was like telling him his birthday present. 

“What? Then why would you tell me that?” 

“Because I wanted to let you know I knew how I was going to do it.” 

“Oh I see, you were too excited to keep it a true surprise but you also want it to be surprising enough you won’t give me any true details.” 

“Remember what I said about what a big turn on that is?” 

Peter looked back at the church and rolled his eyes. 

“Told you she wasn’t kidding.” 

—------------------------------------

“Okay, let’s get it out of the way so this can really get started.” 

Peter looked around confused, your voice came from nowhere. Where were you? 

“Over here, nerd.” 

You poked your head out from behind a street sign, and watched as Peter threw his head left and right until he spotted you, the whites on his mask widening then dropping, you knew he was full of smiles. 

“Hi, baby!” Peter looked behind him once more before dropping to the ground below him, you ran into an alleyway behind him, and checked to see him slowly creep in behind you. 

“Kiss?” When he finally approached, he turned his head to check behind him and shook his head solemnly. 

“I don’t think so, baby.” 

You frown. Peter never refused a kiss request, in the suit or out. And, if you were far from the street, a quick kiss wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

“Why not? My lips are so cold, I forgot my boyfriend’s jacket.” You winked then corrected yourself, “I mean, my friend that is a boy.” 

“I, uh,” He looked around once more then quickly stepped up to you, he pulled his mask just barely above his nose then leaned in. You were unable to even press back into the kiss before he stepped away and returned his mask to a normal position, then he looked above him quickly. 

“Is everything okay?” You follow his eyesight and look around with him. 

“Yeah! Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay, are you sure you’re okay?” 

You watched as he kept looking around, he was almost acting like he was about to get caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“Are you cheating on me?” He missed the tilt in your voice, just teasing. 

Peter whipped his head back at you, he started to pull at his mask but stopped himself and sunk it tightly back on his face. 

“What? No, not at all.” 

“You look like you’re about to get caught with me,” You poke at his chest and he steps back some, he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt in your eyes. 

This was the first time you’ve approached him as Spider-Man since the break up, Peter has tried everything possible to keep you away as the masked hero, and you hadn't noticed. Until now, because now you begin to wonder if this was why. 

Peter was acting awkward, and he never did around you. Around you, Peter was methodical, confident, suave and in love. Right now it seemed like he wanted you gone. 

“I mean, maybe. You never know who’s watching, I don’t need the media on the case of Spider-Man’s secret girlfriend.” 

You frown once more, you can’t press on it now. He would try and back himself into a corner where nothing was wrong, then that would cause him anxiety because he’s lying and you know how much he hates backtracking after a lie. 

“Do you want me to leave? We can talk later.” You question him and go to place your hands around his biceps but pull back halfway through, you caught the hint, he didn’t want you all over him right now. 

Peter caught your hands and pulled him then to rest on his chest. 

“You can touch me, baby.” He chuckled slightly, but you caught the nerves in his voice. 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll leave?” You blinked at your boy, he shook his head lightly. 

“You said you wanted to talk about something, what’s up?” 

“It’s okay, it doesn’t seem like you want me here right now.” Really, it was okay.

You know Peter is frowning behind his mask. 

“Of course I want you here, tell me what’s going on?” 

You moved your hands to his shoulders and gave a squeeze, then moved your head to look around. You didn’t get why he was on edge, but you respected it. 

Upon realizing no one was in the area you stepped in for a hug, immediately filled with warmth the shocking breeze seemed to dull outside. Winter break was ending soon and coming back to school with ‘I got a boyfriend for Christmas, what about you?’ seemed like the biggest flex imaginable. 

Instantly, Peter had his hands wrapped around your back. You felt the slight groove of his gloves running up and down your back, he leant his head into yours and you know if his mask was off he would be pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

After squeezing tightly one last time you pulled away and smiled brightly at him. 

“How much longer will you be out here?” 

“Probably a few more hours, I’ll be home around dinner.” He starts to slightly scratch down your arms. 

“Wanna go out?” 

You hum, “We can, I wanna talk to you first, though.” 

“Everything good?” He was asking if he was in trouble. 

“Yeah! Kiss?” 

“Tell me what’s up first.” He was bartering, he was on edge now. 

“Hm, nope. I’ll see you later, babe. Kiss?” 

“Are you mad?” He meant because you caught onto him not wanting you here. 

“Not at all, if it’s okay with you I was gonna head to yours and get a nap in before I see you later.” 

“Course it is. Need a key?” You gave yours back after the break up. 

“May’s not home still?” 

He shook his head, “Weather pushed back the flight, because of the ice she’s not sure when she’ll be back.” 

“Boo, key please.” You held out your hand and opened and closed it quickly, begging for the key. 

“Hold on, baby.” Peter stepped away and jumped halfway up the wall peeling off his backpack from behind a ledge, then turned to make sure you were looking. He started to lightly swing it your way letting you know he was about to toss it down, you readed your hands and yelled “Hut!” before he dropped it at you. 

You caught it with a grunt, then unzipped the small outer pocket and stuck your hand in searching for the key, startled you kept your hand in the same position as it was before Peter, quite literally ripped it from your hands. 

“Sorry! I have something in here you can’t see yet.”

He pushed the key in your hand and closed your fist around it. 

“Here, sorry again, baby.” 

You narrowed your eyes, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

“You’re cuter, otherwise I wouldn’t put up with that attitude.” You caught a wink through the mask. 

“Toxic. Give me a kiss, and make it a real one.” 

“As opposed to a fake one?” 

“You didn’t give me a good kiss earlier and you know it.” 

“Every kiss with you is a good kiss.” 

You whine at his flirting. 

“Please, Petey.” You pout, you know you’ve got him cornered. 

“Alright, c’mere.” He calls you closer with his hands and turns with his back to the street. 

“You wanna lift it or me?” 

You stare in awe, you missed pulling the mask off. 

“Me!” You tug it up past his lips, then roll it over his nose. But, at this point you might as well just take the whole thing off, right? Worth a try at least, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. His own hands wrap around your waist and pull you in tighter, you pull back slightly. 

“It’s rubbing my nose, hold on.” You tug it higher, and place one more kiss. 

Then you pull back again and slowly push it up, he tightens his grip but says nothing. 

This was one of those moments where he would scold you but was letting you get away with it, at this point you know it’s because he doesn’t want to mess anything up. You can’t help but wonder how long you can drag this out. 

In one movement you tug the entire thing off, “Hi, handsome.” 

“Hi,” He whispers. 

His curls framed his forehead nicely, you’ve been begging every week for him not to cut it. Your requests would soon be ignored, you knew Peter could only handle it so long before he chopped it. If you took a guess he would get it cut before school restarted, you only had one more week of his long hair. 

“I love your curls so much, please never cut them.” 

“I will absolutely cut them.” 

“One more week?” 

“You’re pushing it.” 

“For me?” 

“In that case, one more week.” 

“Thank you, babe.” 

You press a delicate kiss to his cheek and shiver slightly. 

“Can I have a kiss before I go?” 

He gives in, and it’s a nice kiss. You both lean in for a while before a sharp chill runs up your spine, you then decide it’s time to curl under his sheets and wait for him to come warm you up entirely. 

“I’m leaving, it’s cold.” 

You press his mask into his chest and lean in for one more kiss. 

“See you later.” 

“Wait! Can you take my bag?” He holds it out with a pleading smile, you tug it into your chest and contemplate tugging out his jacket and wrapping it around you. You could take the subway but despite the nips of cold you felt like walking, maybe so Peter knows you’ve gotten home safe. 

“Can I open it for your coat?” 

He said there was something in it you weren’t supposed to see yet, you would respect that. 

“Yeah, just please don’t go poking around the outside zipper.” 

“Got it, see you later!” 

You turned to leave, he called after you. 

“Bye, baby! Love you.” 

You didn’t think, it was automatic.

“Love you too!” 

You didn’t process what you said, it felt like second nature. 

Peter felt like he couldn’t breathe, he felt warm from inside out. From this point on nothing would get him down, the girl he loved with all his heart, the same girl that was hurt by him still loves him. He assumes he’s done it right, he finally thinks he may have won you back. 

You told Peter you wanted to talk, then said you loved him. 

Peter thinks he’s going to be a boyfriend before midnight hits. 

—------------------------

Time was ticking, you and Peter had been getting back into normal behavior, it felt as real as it did before the break up. And honestly, you kind of see it as a blessing. You don’t think you would’ve realized how much you mean to yourself if that’s all you didn’t have after he ended it. 

It hurt, alot. No one talks about how physical break ups can feel, you feel them in your gut. Stomach twisting at every end, like a small man is twisting knots in your intestines.  Then in your chest, the worst kind of heartburn alive eats at you, red searing hot pain that bleeds down through your body. It feels like every heart string is being pulled and snapped with each release. It affects your senses too, nothing sounds or tastes good anymore, at least not when Peter didn’t make or suggest it. Your eyes felt like there was nothing to focus on, your ears felt clogged, no one's words meant anything unless they were coming from Peter. You felt numb to the touch, so cold all the time, no one to warm you.

Heartbreak is something you would truly never wish on your worst enemy. 

But now, everything tastes just a little bit better. And your heart still hurts some, but it’s because it beats a bit faster when Peter’s around. And your stomach wasn’t filled with knots but flutters, not nerves but excitement. Your ears came attuned to listen for Peter’s hums or muffled songs under his breath, you listen for his late night whispers about what the writer’s should’ve done for that episode, or you listen to him lightly snore in the quiet hum of his room in the middle of the night because he’s there, and you’re there. And you’re not so cold anymore, chills still happen but it’s no longer a to the bone chill. It’s a, this is chilly, but I have someone to warm me backup at home. 

Peter felt like a constant hug. 

You’re pretty sure that’s love.

And if you loved him he should be your boyfriend, but to be your boyfriend again he needs to explain why it ended. You were slowly breaking down that wall, you’ve asked yourself for weeks now if it was that important, but you know it is. Because, why else have you held out so long?  

You don’t think in your heart everything could be forgiven without the why. 

That’s why you were here tonight. 

Peter came in around eight, for a moment you think he forgot you were here. He entered through the window, because you had his key. Then immediately ripped his mask off, slammed the button on his chest and kicked the suit away before groaning and stretched to the ceiling. 

“Hello, Clarise.” 

He jumped then smiled, “Hi, baby!” 

Peter looked over at you swaddled in his bed, now sitting his dark blue comforter swarming your body. Cheeks tinted due to the warmth but you refused to move, choosing to instead take sips of water from the bottle on his nightstand. 

“Good nap?” 

You hum and copy his stretch, “So good, did I get you those boxers?” You think they were a just thinking of you gift, they had little calculators on them. 

He looks down, “I think so, what did you do today, little miss?” 

You yawn, still blinking the sleep away. “I used your laptop for Netflix.” 

“Please don’t tell me you used my account.” 

“Of course I did, what’s yours is mine.” 

“You always mess up my recommendations, I just got it off of reality tv.” 

“And now it’s back.” 

Peter just blinked blankly at you. 

“I think it’s cute that you still had the passcode set to my birthday.” 

“Of course I did, they’re the only numbers burned into my brain.” 

“If you changed it I think I would’ve lost it, I mean full blown cry.” 

“Nope, if I got a new girlfriend I would have to come up with some cover story for that.” 

“You would let other girls use your Netflix?” You pout and wobble your lip. 

“I let you, don’t I?” Peter walks around the room and grabs his towel hanging on the other side of his closet door. 

“Well, yeah. But I’m special.” 

“If it makes you feel better, you would always be the one that got away. No girl could live up to that.” He shrugs and throws his towel over his shoulder. 

“And you would have to die alone?” 

“I would have to die alone.” 

“No other option?” 

“None.” 

You turn your head and nod, he’s great at winning the boyfriend tests. 

“Shower?” You nod at the towel, he starts to make his way to the bedroom door. 

“We can get food after, you decide.” 

“Cook, take out, or dine in?” 

“You choose.” He grins at you and turns to head to the bathroom.

“My choice?” You call after. 

“Yours.” 

You wait until you hear the shower start, then throw off the blankets and race down the hallway.

“I’m choosing a shower with Peter!” 

—-------------------------------------------

I wish it didn't make me cut it off here, don't worry, final part is coming!

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