#got my caramel latte and a banana

[study-lizard]

ready to lock in 😤

was feeling down on friday and spent my weekend fixing things up at my coop, so gotta get back on the grind today!

[vainvenus]

꒰ The Café ꒱

Hello! Well to Vainvenus' Café! I'll be your host, Vee. Make sure to order a nice beverage to go with any desserts you end up choosing, don't be scared to ask for a little something extra on top of that dessert or in your drink!

The current fandoms that I'm writing for and that you can request characters from are: Formula one, OBX, PJO, TBOSAS, Hunger Games, Harry Potter, The Black phone, The Outsiders, Marvel and DC. You can request characters from other fandoms, these are just my favorites/what I'm familiar with!

Make sure that when you're requesting you include the Driver/character, who you want saying the quote and which pronouns/gender you would prefer for the reader! Do not request smut/lime for minors or drivers ( I just don't feel comfortable with it lol ) and don't request anything extremely weird! I will not write pedophillia, incest, dubcon or any extremely weird/illegal kinks!

꒰ Beverages ꒱

Hot Chocolate: Fluff

Cold Brew: Slow-burn

Black Coffee: Angst

Chamomile Tea: Hurt + Comfort

Latte: Lime

Coffee Cocktail: Smut

Amaretto: Royalty Au

Cappuccino: College/University Au

Chocolate Milk: Soulmate Au

Lemonade: Fantasy Au

Water: Au of your choice

Americano: Strangers to Lovers

Espresso: Enemies to lovers

Frappuccino: Friends to lover

Latte Macchiato: Opposites attract

Flat White: Fake dating

Earl Grey Tea: Secret Relationship

Green Tea: Unrequited Love

Mocha: Dark!Driver/Character

꒰ Desserts ꒱

Chocolate soufflé: "I trusted you. How could you?"

Blueberry muffin: "Just tell me the truth."

Banana nut muffin: "Are you breaking up with me?"

Strawberry-nutella crepe: "I'm sorr-" "I don't want your apology."

Strawberry cheesecake: "You don't mean that."

Strawberry shortcake: "I don't wanna say goodbye. Not now."

Raspberry cheesecake: "Shhh. It's okay, I'm here."

Classic cheesecake: "Look me in the eyes and tell me it meant nothing."

Strawberry rhubarb cake: "We're not friends anymore."

Molten lava cake: "Can we still be friends?"

Coffee cake: "You promised."

Caramel cake: "Just leave."

Blueberry bundt cake: "Are you...crying?"

Angel food cake: "Don't look at me like that." "Like you love me."

Carrot cake: "I wish you could see yourself like how I see you."

Red velvet cake: "Did you ever mean it when you told me you loved me?"

Chocolate cake: "I can't lose you."

Tiramisu cake: "I wish we never met."

Fruitcake: "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

Pumpkin pie: "Can I...hold your hand?"

Cherry pie: "Please don't say you love me."

Apple pie: "Don’t. Don’t promise me anything. It’s not like you keep them anyway."

Pecan pie: "You still love me?" "I never stopped."

Key-lime pie: "Shhh don't apologize."

Lemon meringue pie: "Stop pushing everyone away!"

Coconut creampie: "You're dead to me."

Tres leches: "You liked me this entire time!?"

Parfait: "Staring is rude." "I'm just admiring."

Macaroons: "I could be a better boyfriend/girlfriend than them."

Cinnamon rolls: "Do you want me to stay?"

Oatmeal cookies: "Please don't leave me alone."

Chocolate chip cookies: "For someone who hates me you're not pulling away."

Snickerdoodle cookies: "Stop looking at me like that..it's hurting my feelings."

Gingersnaps: "I love you so much, do you know that?"

Chocolate donuts: "How long has it been since someone hugged you?"

Hazelnut donuts: "Please don't be scared. I won't hurt you, I swear. I'm here to help."

Pancakes: "Breathe, just breathe."

Butterscotch pudding: "Are you sure you're fine?"

Brownies: "Do you hate me or something?"

Blondies: "Does somebody have a crush on me?"

Vanilla ice cream: "You're my priority."

Chocolate ice cream: "I'm not crying, I have allergies."

Strawberry ice cream: "But I don't want them! I want you!"

Neapolitan ice cream: "I got you cherry perfume!" "They like vanilla."

Cookies n cream ice cream: "You're cute when you get angry."

Mint chocolate chip ice cream: "Me? Jealous? Don't make me laugh."

Churros: "I'm gonna fuck you until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

French toast: "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl/boy."

Cream puffs: "You look so pretty like this."

Lemon bars: "Oh c'mon you can give me one more."

Nanaimo bars: "Uh, uh, look at me."

Scones: "Use your words."

Biscotti: "On your knees. Now."

Belgian waffles: "Please, I need you."

Banana pudding: "You'd sound so good begging for me."

Banana bread: "Go on, fuck yourself on my cock."

Banana split: "Is this okay?" "Yeah, that—more than okay. Please—keep going."

Chocolate truffles: "Relax, I've got you."

Chocolate covered strawberries: "Don't do that, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you make."

Puff pastry: "I can't-” “Yes you can."

Baklava: "You're such a fucking slut."

Chouquette: "You either get off on my thigh or nothing."

Creme brûlée: "You're so in for it when we get home."

Flan: "Swallow. All of it."

Chocolate eclair: "That's so fucking hot."

Beignets: "Let's put that mouth to better use."

Chocolate mousse: "So noisy tonight, do I need to gag you?"

Chocolate croissant: "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good."

Croissant: "You're mine. All mine. Say it."

Strawberry tart: "Please stop teasing me."

Peach Cobbler: "Look at you. Taking me so well."

Madeines: "Oh c'mon you can be louder than that can't you?"

꒰ EXTRA ꒱

Espresso: Rough Sex

Creamer: Gentle Sex

Whipped Cream: Possessive/Obsessive behaviour

Chocolate Chips: Cockwarming

Strawberries: Dumbification:

Coconut shavings: Semi/public sex

Hazelnut drizzle: Dirty talk

Caramel drizzle: Praise

Strawberry drizzle: Degradation

Vanilla drizzle: Edging

Chocolate Drizzle: Overstimulation

Nutella: Kink of your choice

[citruswriter]

Food For The Soul

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Tcest (you have been warned!), Tcest x Character, The Bale AU, Fluffy Goodness, Polyamory.

Tcestween Prompt: Food

Pairings: Mikey x The Bale

If there was anything that Mikey enjoyed more than eating food it was making food, especially for his loved ones. It was a sort of love language for him. He adored making foods for people that held special places in his heart, keeping them well fed with good, home-cooked food that he made. Scratched the turtle instincts just right.

And that's exactly what he was doing right now. Waking up early and cooking food for his bale. Mikey didn't used to be such an early riser but as years got on he found himself enjoying the quiet of the mornings more and more, his only company being the sizzling of whatever food he was cooking and the soft lofi beats that gently played through his bluetooth speaker.

This morning he was making scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, fresh fruit salad, and fresh morning batches of tea and coffee. The spatula scraped against the pan as he made the large batch of scrambled eggs, throwing in different kinds of cheeses and spices. The bacon sizzled until it was perfect and crispy before he gently dished it up on the paper towel clad plate. Regular and chocolate chip pancakes were made and set on a platter. The sound of his cutting knife on the board as he made the fruit salad filled the air next as he tossed watermelon, strawberries, kiwi, banana, and blackberries together.

Everybody would be waking up soon, time to make beverages. Raph liked green tea with honey, Donnie would want his expensive coffee with french vanilla creamer and whipped cream, Leo would want his caramel latte with double espresso, Casey simply enjoyed cheap black coffee, and April would take a shot of espresso and a glass of orange juice.

Speaking of April... He could hear her pad in with Raph as he made his own oolong tea. "Morning, my loves." Mikey said cheerily and he was rewarded with a soft good morning from April and a kiss from Raph. Mikey handed them their drinks, Raph sipping his tea with an approving hum before he loaded his plate with pancakes and bacon.

Mikey giggled as April downed her espresso shot with a scrunch of her nose before chasing it down with a gulp of orange juice before snagging some scrambled eggs, bacon, and fruit. "Thanks so much, baby." She said sleepily, kissing his cheek.

Shuffling could be heard before Leo and Casey were seen, talking softly to each other as they got food and their drinks. "This looks so good." Casey said, digging into his food. "Smells just as good." Leo mumbled, popping some bacon and fruit in his mouth.

"Where's Donnie?" Mikey questioned and Leo looked up and blinked. "Asleep in his lab, I think. He was up pretty late." Leo said and Mikey sighed, making his way up to Donnie's lab to drag the purple banded terrapin down for breakfast.

"Donnie?" Mikey called out, walking into the lab until he found his mate. He could help but chuckle softly as he found his older brother hunched over and asleep on his lap table. Gentle fingers reached up to pry his battle shell off, tracing his sensitive shell and messaging it gently, causing him to stir.

"Morning, dearest." Donnie groaned out and Mikey bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, babes. I made breakfast. Lets get some food and coffee in you." He said softly. Donnie groaned softly and stretched before standing up, allowing Mikey to drag him to the kitchen.

"He lives!" Leo said as Donnie sat at the table, earning a snap from Donnie before he nuzzled into his twin, earning him a kiss. Mikey piled up Donnie's plate before handing his food and coffee to him. "Here you go, baby." Mikey said softly before getting up to get his own food and drink.

As the bale sat around the table, waking up and murmuring softly to each other, Mikey couldn't help but feel his heart warm. Everybody ate and drank, scrapping their plates clean and slurping down the last of their drinks, thanking Mikey before loading their dishes in the dishwasher.

As they walked away with bellies full of good food, Mikey couldn't help but sigh lovingly. What a good morning it was today...

Mikey is such a little chef so I found it only fitting that I would center this prompt around Mikey. Ik it's kind of bad but I still think it's uber cute.

Taglist: @cherrytreatsart @yallshantfindme

[princesspumpkinseed]

A daily review with a twinkle of optimism and softness is exactly what I need right now. As occurs often, I had a beautiful day and yet my brows are still furrowed in disapproval of myself, which I disallow. In fact, as soon as I began typing, my facial muscles relaxed and so I deduce that I am exactly where I need to be.

Last night, I cooked a Mexican feast for two friends and I think that it went tremendously. I feel quite humbled to spend time with these two people because they’re so funny, kind, and intelligent so I was particularly pleased to see that they were impressed by the dinner I made for them. I got some ginger ale and filled the glasses with fresh mint and lime wedges; I made a two bean chilli, my classic red onion and mint salsa, some rice and tortillas and salad, guacamole, and avocado (of course). There was just enough to feed me today as well and my friends seemed satisfied. In fact, one friend praised the evening to another friend this afternoon... so yes, I’m blushing.

This morning’s breakfast was perfect in every domain but one: I don’t have any avocado left to make it again tomorrow. This morning I did a yoga flow with Allie Van Fossen which was powerful enough to satisfy my morning restlessness; I had my wake-up treat of a double espresso with some warmed soya milk; I showered and put on a sleek dark-academic outfit (complete with heeled boots, light face-powder, and some perfume which I perceive to be a ‘clean’ scent). I felt good, and my booty was looking pretty good when I left the shower, too.

From 9am until noon, I was in the library and I was impressed with my productivity. I found a space which had the perfect temperature and level of noise and completed the Functional Analysis homework and a problems sheet.

After that, I returned home and chatted with my housemate Bethan in the kitchen, She really does light up my days and she was making a satisfying breakfast while I assembled some leftover [fajitas] from last night. Good for her.

In the early afternoon, I got my exam notesheet done for Number Theory, despite the beautiful sunshine tempting me outside, I finished just in time to meet with my friend and his friend to go for a walk and grab a matcha coconut latte. I’d like to be a matcha-drinking individual but the first matcha I ever tasted was incredibly bitter and this one just tasted of sweet coconut with a complementary bitter undertone so I don’t know what to believe.

I talked with my friend a lot during our walk and I just hope that he and his friend were entertained by my conversation. I hope that they felt they were listened to and treated with kindness and encouragement. I loved the walk we had and I feel slightly selfish for having taken their afternoons but it made me very happy. This is the root of my self-criticism this evening, I believe.

Getting home, I made a simple yet tasty meal of leftover rice with basa and veggies. The peas and sweetcorn makes me think this dish is quite childish but there’s nothing childish about ensuring your 5 a day and preventing foodwaste.

This evening, I wrote up half of my functional analysis homework and hope to do the rest first thing tomorrow. I concluded this task with a phd salted caramel protein shake (which would have been better if I’d had blended a banana into it as well) and one of Yoga with Kassandra’s evening sequences. Now, I will treat myself to a biopic before bed :) I look forward to good weather tomorrow and to seeing my parents.

[healeroflightanddark]

Serendipity, Chapter 7: Coffee

The next morning Zarc woke up to the sound of his phone text notifications going off. He groggily checked the texts, then smiled when he read them. It was Yuri in the group chat, reminding Yuto about the coffee promise and making his request. It seemed the cabbage-head had a serious sweet tooth, as he requested a coconut frappuccino with extra cream and sugar, seven shots of vanilla syrup, seven shots of chocolate syrup, topped with whipped cream and drizzled with caramel.

Yuto: Lol, tooth-rotting cavity-inducing sweetness, got it! Anyone else want some coffee? My treat!

Yugo: Ooh! Me! Me! Can I have an iced caramel frappuccino with banana whipped cream?

Yuto: Sure thing, Yugo! What about you guys, Yuya, Zarc?

Yuya: I’d like something as dark and bitter as my soul :3

Zarc: Based on the texts between you and Kairi, I’m guessing that means a vanilla bean latte with extra cream and sugar?

Yuya: How did you know? I’ve never told Kairi about my coffee preferences! :O

Zarc: No, but judging by your texts, your soul is as pure as snow and sweeter than candy

Yuya: Oh

Yuto: Yeah, we only met you yesterday, and I can already tell you’re very sweet and innocent, so a very sweet coffee with lots of cream was the first thing I thought of when you said that lol

Yuto: What about you, Zarc? What kind of coffee would you like?

Zarc: Oh, well, how about an espresso with a bit of brown sugar and oat milk?

Yuto: You got it! I’ll have it delivered to your business in about an hour, since I don’t have time to bring it to you myself before my classes start. I can bring the rest of you guys your coffees myself, unless you want to stop by the coffee shop to pick them up.

Yuri: I have time, I can stop by

Yugo: My classes start at noon, so I can come to the coffee shop too.

Yuya: My classes start in about fifteen minutes, so I can’t make it to the shop and still make it to the theater in time

Yuto: Alright, I’ll stop by the theater and bring you your coffee, Yuya

Yuya: Thanks! You’re the best! :D

[plasmasimagination]

You guys.

I was actually planning on posting something but I checked and

WE GOT 200 FOLLOWERS?? I'm so grateful I cannot even express tumblr is my comfort app and I enjoy posting so much, big thanks to everyone whos part of my journey <3

Enough of that haha...you're all here for the special right??

Alright so for 200 followers I'm opening the sugar restoraunt

How does it work?

You make a order based on the information from bellow ^^

for example:

A big shaken sweet tea , hot with milk and a crossiant (kaeya and tighnari) (pls specify the character/s you're requesting for )

- -

Big - male character (max per request is 5)

Small - female character (max per request is 5) {I dont usually write for females so it might not be the best but I'll try my best!}

Milk - fluff

Cream - comfort

Flavored syrup - angst

Crossiant - gender neutral reader

Muffin - male reader {haven't written but again I'll try my best}

Egg bites - female reader

Ice - plantonic

Hot - romantic

And here are our prompts

- matcha - snowy day spent with them

-hot chocolate - caught up in a storm

-ice passion tango tea - clothes sharing

-shaken sweet tea - cooking together

- iced latte - matching outfits

- iced green tea latte - sick reader

- iced chocolate white mocha- coffee shop date

-caramel machato - cuddles

- raspberry caramel macchiato - jelousy suits you

-red velvet frappuccino - love letter (from character to reader you choose what you want them to say in the letter)

-chocolate banana mocha frappuccino - kisses ?

-butterbeer frappuccino - star gazing

-chai tea - picnic date

-strawberries and creme - meeting your parents

-iced flat white - raining day spent at home

-

[myf00djournal]

Hi hi hi

Back to it this week

Did a light gym sesh this morning. Got another chiro appointment tomorrow to see when I can do upper body again.

Had caramel popcorn protein

Two eggs on toast w bagel seasoning

Homemade latte

Strawberry protein pudding

An apple

Two chicken tenders with tabouli on two mini wraps

Small bag of popcorn

Two slices of toast w pb honey and half a banana 🍌

Sitting at about 1600cal for the day and off to 2 hours of netball training tonight. Will have an up and go or something digestible afterwards and save my dinner for lunch tomorrow 👌🏻

[procalpal]

4 September 2024 | Wednesday

Start: 4:30AM | Weighing: 53kg

Breakfast (6:30AM)

Usual banana (115g) pancakes, with an egg, a teaspoon of cinnamon, protein powder (15g) and tried some fruits for today. So some blueberries (47g) and mandarin (112g)

Cal: 350 | Protein: 24.6g

Thoughts: tried some fruits for this breakfast. also this is the second time i have posted this day's calorie intake. for some reason it didn't post so now i don't know what my thoughts were.

Snack (7:20AM)

Medium chai latte with soy milk

Cal: 130 | Protein: 10g

Thoughts: The chai latte was not as appetising as expected. Rather it was quite bland, probably required more chai powder. I was unable to finish the full drink though.

Break (10:15AM)

Chocolate coconut protein bar and a cup of black tea with full cream milk (20ml)

Cal: 212 | Protein: 18.6

Thoughts: I'm pretty sure I was rather hungry at this point, and so could not wait for my lunch.

Lunch (12:15PM)

A great salad with tomato (104g), cucumber (42g), mushroom (34g), leaf salad mix (30g) and tuna in spring water (48g)

For taste I added some lemon juice (7ml)

I also had a cup of caramel latte (98% sugar free) (nestle sachet)

Cal: 148 | Protein: 15.4g

Thoughts: I can't remember what i thought at this meal time.

Snack (4:20PM)

2 jatz crackers

Cal: 38 | Protein: 0.6g

Thoughts: I got quite hungry at this point and due to the fact that my colleagues leave so much food behind, I decided that I'd have a little snack. I really did feel a little bit lightheaded. So I knew my lunch needed to be better tomorrow.

Dinner (6:30PM)

My gosh, this soup was amazing it had veggie frozen mix (195g), some soy sauce (9ml), and a packet of spring vegetable cup-a-soup.

On the side I had also had two slices of rice cakes with a spread of high protein cottage cheese (23g), tuna in spring water and some pepper.

Cal: 202 | Protein: 14.9g

Snack (7:30PM)

I still had plenty of calories to go so therefore I had a bowl of kimchi (102g) and a bowl of frozen mangoes (100g)

Cal: 75 | Protein: 1.7g

Total calories: 1175 (Goal 1200)

Total protein: 83g

Thoughts: more for lunch tomorrow.

Sleep: 8:30PM

[hinumdom]

august 4, 2024

it's my nephew's birthday!

we went to wildflour to celebrate. i wasn't able to take pictures of everything but we ordered A LOT. my personal favorites would be the squid ink pasta, kimchi fried rice, steak fried rice, matcha raspberry bundt cake (less the raspberry fruit, it tasted horrible), and banana coffee caramel smoothie. then we went to festival mall after to burn the food we ate. i also got iced burnt vanilla latte from dot coffee for clout—just kidding! i can't seem to go about my day without coffee and also, drinking coffee after a meal makes me forget the feeling of being too full from eating too much.

[itsjeicelleswayblog]

Random Questions -

So yeah! since I am not busy at work today. I would like to write something in here, but whenever I started penning, I've got nothing on my mind. So, I decided to just answer some random questions I found in google.. Hoping that few years from now, when I get to look back on this blog post, i will still have the same answers. lol

1. If you could vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be? - Well I have a lot of places in my mind, but realistic wise I would choose Georgia, because that is one my dream destination, I would like to experience their spring season. I'm so desperately craving for some vacation with my husband. 2. What is your go-to board game? - It's actually not a board game, it's a card game called in-between. This game is very memorable for me because I used to play it with my cousins and whenever we do, there's an endless laughter and it's super fun. We get to bond and play at the same time. I feel very emotional, because we aren't the same as before. Time fuckinly passed so fast that we're all grown ups now and have our own personal lives to live and so we don't get to bond as before.

3. What are two things still on your bucket list? - To visit Jerusalem, because as a christian, ofcours our goal is to atleast visit Jesus' grave and where he was born. I know it will be very epic! Russell and I have been planning to visit Israel soon! another one will be Petra in Jordan. What sports did you play growing up? - I don't do any sports growing up hahaha, not sporty here.. But I remember playing volley ball in HS as taga pulot ng bola. Do you currently live in the same place where you were born? - No, I was borin in PH and I am currently living and working in Dubai, UAE. Where is your favorite place in the world? - Cliche but my fave place in the world is anywhere na andon yung husband ko hahaha.. I'm a husband girl so kahit san sya andon ako and that's my favorite place. If you are cooking for only yourself - what is your favorite dish to make? - egg. Whenever I cook myself for my self it will be 2 omellette eggs and 1 sunny side up plus half bottle of banana ketchup. What are two things you never leave the house without? - Phone. In dubai it's my transpo card, my wallet, my data, my everything. HAHAHA Which snacks are your must-haves for a road trip? - I don't usually eat during roadtrips but I must have some caffein, Iced Caramel macchiatto or Spanish Latte or any Iced coffee lol. What is your most valuable possession? - I don't have any haha. I a cheap girl. chariz. Do you often remember your dreams? - Yes! Idk but I always remember my dreams. Sometimes I also dream in my dreams lol haha. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? - When I was a child, I want to be a Computer Engr. HAHAHA I thought that was cool back then. But growing up during entrance exam for college, I was told that I can choose any course but IT and Comp.Engr. funny. What does your ideal day look like? - I want to stay home and someday just take care of my own little fam.

This post is from my drafts from 2023

[shaineinin]

From Cursed to Heart Burst

reaction to a personal narrative

Bea Cassandra De Leon is a friend who always gives her heart when it comes to helping others, being brave in a circumstance, or battling with her everyday life. However, what a friend could’ve imagined is that she thinks that the day where she began to see the world, was also the day she hated the most back then. Despite that, when her 13th birthday came, all of that “cursed thinking” washed up all at once. On the 30th of November 2018, she was surprised by her family that they were going to visit a very special place, the Sky Ranch. With that news, her heart skipped, and got excited to her family’s surprise.

To sum it up, they had fun. And Bea’s heart was so full that it could burst with happiness. They rode a roller coaster, ate in a fine restaurant, her father surprised her with a big banana stuffed toy that he won, and they created a lot of memories in their joyride, way back home.

Bea’s personal narrative feels like a home. A home where you can spend your not-so-good days or the happiest days on earth. Every word feels like an embracing arms because she used chronological order to arrange her story properly. She also putted a lot of literary elements that combined with her story like chameleon blending onto its environment. It complimented her narrative. She also included transitional devices to better execute the message of the story that she is trying to pass to her readers.

Her grammatical strategy was not just to impress other people or her readers but to make them feel like they are inside her story, watching her celebrate her happiest birthday with her lovely family. It was a balance of dark, sweet, and a little funny, like a caramel latte that just hits the spot when you wanted to reward yourself with something.

In conclusion, her narrative gave a glimpse of her life like a spark of fire trying to build a flame. She introduced herself in not just a creative way, but fun like how they one day adventure for her brithday lasted. Simple, yet memorable. A day she thought, was a curse, was also the day where her heart burst with so much happiness.

[thehungrykat1]

Boudica Café Bar Offers Local and British Comfort Food All Day Long

There’s a new restaurant in Ortigas that serves as a lovely café by day and turns into an energetic restobar by night. Aside from its local and British comfort food plus delightful beverages, I also heard that it offers my favorite authentic Fish and Chips from CargoFish! Those magic words were enough for me to head over to Ortigas to pay this new charming venue a visit.

Boudica Café Bar is located inside the City Golf Plaza along Julia Vargas Avenue in Ortigas, Pasig. This new restaurant is from the same owners of CargoFish which I believe sells the most authentic Fish and Chips in Metro Manila. That’s why when The Hungry Kat was invited last week for lunch at Boudica, I was more than excited to bring out my British accent once again and enjoy all the wonderful dishes they had prepared for us.

Boudica Café Bar is not just your typical restobar because you can enjoy coming here in the daytime and all the way until late evening. The spacious dining hall in divided into distinct areas, each with its own charming personality. This area near the entrance comes with plush sofas where you can relax with a drink and some afternoon snacks.

On the other hand, the fireplace setup further inside the main dining hall has a more energetic vibe to it. This is better suited for big lunch or dinner groups who plan on ordering a lot of food.

Just beside it is the main bar which you can choose for those happy hour drinks and get togethers with friends. It also gives you a closer look at the baristas and how they prepare all the lovely beverages.

Then there’s the semi al fresco area right outside overlooking the busy Julia Vargas Avenue. The murals and colorful designs all around the restaurant really make it so Instagrammable.

I started lunch by ordering their Boudica Smoothie (P385). This healthy and refreshing beverage has no sugar added and comes with greek yogurt, strawberry blend, banana, avocado, mango, cucumber, and melon.

Try some of their Coffee Creations such as the Almond Butterscoth Latte (P100), Vanilla Hazelnut Latte, Ice Blended Cappuccino, Butterscoth Cheesecake Latte, or the Affogato Al Cafe. They also have plenty of other juices, milkshakes, and sodas on the menu.

Aside from their Classic Cocktails, they also offer Signature Craft Cocktails like Kiss Me (P365), a drink that definitely lives up to its unique name. This has a combination of Johnny Walker Black whiskey, cointreau, angostura bitters, raspberry, passion fruit and schnapps.

If you are dining with a large group, go order The Boudica (P1950). This humongous appetizer platter offers a wide variety of meats and cheese, It comes with four kinds of cheese, four selections of charcuterie, chicken liver pate, pickled grapes, olives, mixed nuts, gherkins, breads, with garlic butter, onion jam, and spiced honey.

Salad lovers also have plenty of options like the Blue Cheese and Walnut Salad (P460) which comes with bacon, chicken, mixed greens, blue cheese, parmesan blue cheese dressing, croutons, and caramelized walnuts. There’s also the House Salad (P315) with mixed greens, cucumber, carrots, cherry tomatoes, parmigiano-reggiano, balsamic vinegar and olive oil.

My favorite here is definitely the Classic Fish and Chips by CargoFish. This very crispy fish is served with your choice of proper British-style chips or sweet potato chips, plus tartar sauce, mushy peas, and chip shop curry. I remember always eating Fish and Chips during my summer school stay in London, and this is exactly how they serve it there. It’s also rare to find authentic mushy peas here in Manila so I’m happy that they offer it at Boudica.

The Fish and Chips comes with your choice of beer-battered fish, whether you want it to be prepared with Dory (P325), Cod (P665), or Salmon (P720). I always prefer the cod fish because I think it’s the best fish for deep frying, but I also got to try the salmon this time which has its own unique flavor. There’s also an option to have Chicken and Chips (P335) so maybe I will try that out next time.

For pasta lovers, there’s the Italian Carbonara (P445) with spaghetti, smoked bacon, egg yolk, parmigiano-reggiano, breads. On the other hand, the Tartufo (P485) comes with tagliatelle, truffle cream, button mushroom, prosciutto breads.

There’s also authentic Neapolitan pizzas like the Truffle El Funghi (P720) with porcini, fresh button mushroom, truffle cream, and parmigiano-reggiano. Other pizza flavors to choose from include Margherita, Smoked Bacon, Italian Sausage, Prosciutto and Burratina, and more.

It’s not just international dishes on display at Boudica Café because they also feature local comfort food favorites. One of them is the Pork and Chicken Isaw (P335) from Burnt Bamboo, their sister restaurant offering grilled barbecue specialties. This order comes with six big sticks of chicken isaw and pork isaw in their signature glaze and served spectacularly over smoking ashes. It also comes with in-house vinegar for a real street side experience. There’s also an option to get Chicken Isaw (P305) only or Pork Isaw (P365) only.

The Paella Negra (P580) is another classic dish on the menu. This has a combination of arborio rice, shrimps, mussels, squid rings, and roasted garlic. Best to share this with the entire table.

I really love the brunch options at Boudica Café Bar. These are the best to have on a lazy weekend or after waking up from a very late and busy evening. The Smoked Bacon Slab (P485) is a pretty plate that comes with two slabs of smoked bacon, garlic rice, atchara, and two eggs cooked your way.

Better yet, get the Full English (P585) which is a typical British breakfast with everything on it. This supersized breakfast platter has English banger, bacon, proper chips, grilled tomato, fresh button mushroom, baked beans, fried bread, and two eggs cooked your way. You can also have it with Black Pudding (+P100), a type of blood sausage popular in the United Kingdom.

We would like to thank Boudica owners Chef Matthew Hornsby-Bates and Chef Matthew Lim for hosting our group and showing us all their specialties. Boudica Café Bar is a great hangout spot in the city, whether you’re looking for a cozy lunch break or planning a boozy night out with friends. I’ll definitely be back here really soon for more of their spectacular fish and chips.

Boudica Café Bar

Unit C106-107 City Golf Plaza, Doña Julia Vargas, Pasig

(0916) 237-5668

www.facebook.com/boudicacafebarph

[mihotose]

they were recommended akagami no shirayukihime in a letter and neither had heard of it before so maybe theyll watch it together

kaho had recommended kimetsu no yaiba to megumi and now shes halfway through it ("jougen no kozu")

kaho has seen bocchi the rock but megumi hasnt

megumi: kozue's weak and sleeping right now, so this is a chance! kaho: no! megumi-senpai, no!! kozue-senpai is resting right now!!

megumi: ah, megu-chan-senpai is a cute thing to call me!

what megumi finds cute about kaho is that shes small but her movements are big. she feels she could find her anywhere

what kaho finds cute about megumi is how she smiles when shes drawing pictures for everyone. but its not like theres a specific part of her that's cute! (megumi: its all of me. my existence)

kaho's favourite fruit are apples and megumi's been into kiwis lately since her mom sent her some

if they were going into space megumi would take microphones since theyd definitely need those if they were doing a live in space. and galaxy inspired outfits! (kaho reading comments) and they'd need oxygen too, smart! kaho wants to bring kozue-senpai too!

they get a letter asking what their favourite gelato flavour is and it turns out they dont know what the difference between ice cream and gelato is. why did they start talking about sorbet and sherbet

megumi's favourite baskin robbins flavour is orange sorbet and kaho's is caramel ribbon. kaho likes banana and strawberry too

(finding out gelato is italian) megumi: ah! bonjour! kaho: i think that french? megumi: ive been tricked!!! well, at least i can introduce myself in france now

a letter asks kaho to recommend megumi some books and kaho is worried since megumi isnt good at reading but she says she'll do it if kaho recommends it. as kozue says she's not bad at it she's "in the process of getting good"

kaho asks if she likes picture books and she does. she liked guri to gura and bus-kun

kaho recommends her bamu to kero and tells her about a picture book she liked called ohisama pan

kaho recommended sayaka a mystery book called aru tozasareta yuki no sansou de the other day

after practice today they went to starbucks and got matching matcha tea lattes (and were drinking them all throughout this with×meets)

theyve been wanting to go shopping but havent yet. kaho wants megumi to help pick out some clothes for her and megumi says shes found a place perfect for kaho ("dress up doll kaho")

megumi asks if kozue will be jealous and kaho says kozue-senpai was the first person to make matching clothes for her!!! and she wants them to match regular clothes too. megumi says she does want to see kaho wearing kozue's style and kaho says she wants to see kozue wear cute clothes

megumi suggests a clothes swap and kaho tells kozue when she's better they can do it!

if they had to swap places with someone else in the club megumi would pick tsuzuri so she can have naps and eat sayaka's food and be tall. but she's worried what tsuzuri would do as megumi but kaho says she'll probably be fine

kaho wants to be kozue because she has a beautiful way of moving her body and when they do stretches together she's super flexible so she wants to experience that for herself. maybe when she dances as kozue she'll have her abilities too

megumi is a takenoko no sato enjoyer while kaho is a kinoko no yama enjoyer. they try to propagandise for their favourite but end up agreeing theyre both good

they give chocolate to their friends for valentine's every year. this year kaho will probably give them to ena and her other classmates

this hour long stream was pretty tiring but its nothing compared to the eight hour one they did earlier! megumi learned the term "runner's high" recently so this is like a "streamer's high"

kaho likes macross frontier. she likes ranka and says kozue is like sheryl

megumi likes violet evergarden

megumi likes mei mei from jujutsu kaisen

chat brings up oshi no ko and megumi says kaho is her oshi no ko. kaho calls megumi her oshi no ko (after kozue)

[dancer4813]

Have you really lived on the edge until you've worked as a cashier at a Panera that ran out of most of their bread, all their bagels, noodle bowls, and lettuce?

[wellsayhelloaagin]

Worth It

Summary: You were sure you'd never work up the courage to talk to the cute girl at the coffeeshop. But could a misunderstanding be the start of something new?

Pairing: Wanda x reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: none, this is just the fluffiest of fluff

AN: A cute little idea that I had floating around the old brain that I finally managed to get into words. Hope you all enjoy it.

You tugged the edges of your beanie to fight the chill of the air around you as you walked along the familiar path to your favourite coffee shop. Winter was just around the corner and the days were already starting to get shorter, the bitter cold bringing the night with it earlier than you would have liked.

You spy your reprieve from the cold up ahead, the small family owned business that had become such a regular part of your day. The bell jingles above the door to signal your arrival, the noise catching the attention of the barista at the counter and she welcomes you with a kind smile.

“I think I should start setting my watch by your arrival, always so punctual,” she jokes and you just roll your eyes as you slip your coat from your shoulders.

“I’m not that predictable, am I?” you reply as you approach the counter, already feeling the warmth of the shop spread throughout your body.

You inhale; the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries chasing away the stress of your day as you fish around your bag for your card.

“Hmmm, let’s see. Large caramel latte made with skim milk and a slice of banana bread toasted. Then in about an hour, you’ll want another latte brought over to your table by the back corner because you get distracted if you sit near the window.” She laughs at your shocked expression, her red hair bouncing around her face with her chuckles.

“Okay, okay,” you concede, “maybe I am predictable. But I just know how I like things.”

You crack a smile as you swipe your card to pay for your items, before stashing your wallet back into your bag.

“I’ll bring it over to your table when it’s ready,” you hear as you zip up your bag and you look back at the green eyes behind the counter before replying.

“Thanks, Nat,” she waves in acknowledgment as another customer steps up to the counter and you make your way over to the table in the corner, as predicted.

You rolled your eyes at yourself and how predictable you were but you couldn't help it. You liked your routine. You would come to this coffee shop every afternoon once classes had finished, preferring it to the louder and more densely packed franchise down the street.

You found the coffee tasted better here and you enjoyed the personal service. It was tucked away between a bookstore and a Thai restaurant, its unassuming store frontage had most people overlooking it.

You didn’t mind though. It meant you always got to sit where you liked and you could work on your school work without being interrupted. You had even started to make friends with the staff, the casual banter between Natasha and yourself was slowly transforming into a friendship.

She was a sophomore like yourself and while you didn’t share any classes, you knew that she understood the demands of college which meant she left you alone for the most part as you studied.

You sat down at the table, pulling your laptop from your bag as you slipped your headphones into your ears. The buds nestled securely under your beanie as you connected them to your phone via bluetooth, music filling your ears as you settled into your seat.

Your drink and food are brought over while you work, looking through your notes from your lecture earlier that day and starting on your next essay. You have about a hundred tabs open and a solid outline written before you look up, almost as if you could sense it.

You see the door open, a few leaves blowing into the store as someone walks in.

Except it wasn’t just someone. It was her.

The girl who had begun to haunt your dreams and slip casually into your waking thoughts.

Her auburn hair is scattered around her face from the wind as she closes the door, hiding her face from your view. Although you had already memorised every inch of it.

She approaches the counter and you admire her from afar, the bright smile on her lips, the flush of her cheeks from the wind outside, the way her eyes sparkle, even from across the shop. She was simply the most beautiful person you had ever seen and you knew there was no way you would ever have a chance with someone as gorgeous as her.

She came in most days, about an hour after your usual time. She always sat at the same table across from you and it took everything in you not to stare at her the entire time. She had caught you looking a few times but you always looked away quickly, pretending to focus on your work as your cheeks flamed in embarrassment.

After she ordered, the girl made her way to her usual table. She removes her own beanie and shakes her hair out and you’re hit with the scent of peaches. You try not to inhale too obviously, the sweet scent intoxicating even from a distance.

She grabs her things from her bag, glancing your way quickly and offering you a soft smile. You return it before looking back at your own laptop, not wanting to scare her off by drooling over her.

You see Natasha approach out of the corner of your eye, dropping off the mystery girl's drink before placing your second coffee down in front of you. You smile up in thanks at her, your music still thrumming in your ears.

She makes an encouraging gesture with her hands, pointing in the direction of the girl behind her. Natasha knew about your crush on her and often encouraged you to go talk to her but you were too much of a chicken to even attempt it.

You make a shooing motion with your hands, trying to get rid of your almost friend before your mystery girl notices the silent conversation happening between the two of you. Natasha throws her hands up in defeat before leaving, throwing a wink at you over her shoulder as she walks off.

You glare at her back before chancing a glance at the girl, hoping to find her nose buried in her textbook. To your utter horror, she was looking right at you, a confused look on her face. You’re sure she just witnessed your conversation with Natasha and you were thankful that Natasha’s back was to her so she would have only seen your half of the conversation.

You offer her a sheepish smile and she blinks a few times before she smiles back, a determined look in her eyes. She goes back to her work and you go back to yours, the afternoon passing quickly.

She leaves before you do, as she always does. The sun is beginning to set outside as she exits through the front door and you sigh wistfully, following her with your eyes until she is out of sight.

You pack up your own things not long after, wanting to make it back to your dorm before it’s completely dark outside. Natasha walks over to clear your table, a knowing grin on her face.

“I still think you should talk to her,” she offers as she picks up your empty plate and mug, balancing them in one hand as she wipes your table down.

“Shut up,” you mumble as you stand, swinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Natasha just laughs at you before replying.

“I’m just saying, you clearly like her. What’s stopping you?”

“Well,” you sigh deeply, turning to face Natasha, “in my experience someone like that is never interested in someone like me.”

Natasha just rolls her eyes, walking back towards the counter to drop off the dirty dishes.

“In my experience and professional expertise,” she tells you, “I think you’re wrong.”

You don’t reply to her statement, saying goodbye to her before you exit the shop.

There was no way she was telling the truth, you told yourself as you began to walk home, she was just being optimistic.

Right?

//

Your days don’t change much over the next month.

Winter has set in now, snow covering the buildings most days as you make your familiar trek to the coffee shop.

You still haven’t talked to your mystery girl, Natasha growing more insistent every day that you should start a conversation with her. You ignore her every time, content to admire her from afar.

You had guessed that, like you, she was a business major based on the textbooks that littered her table often. Judging by the titles she was a junior, taking the classes that you would be attempting next year.

Her hair was growing longer and you loved the days she wore it down. It always looked so soft and you longed to run your hands through the auburn locks. You knew that when she was stressed she would order a sweet treat with her coffee, usually a chocolate donut. She would chew on the end of her pen when she was concentrating and she would always savour her first sip of coffee each day, closing her eyes briefly as she swallowed.

She always looked so calm at that moment and you wished that you could take a picture of it to remember it forever.

It’s only a week until Winter break and you’re at your usual table, trying to finish off an essay that was due after the break. You wanted to get it done before you left to go back home to visit your family, knowing that you wouldn’t have time to get it done with the chaos of the holidays.

A gust of wind catches your attention and you look up to see her walking through the door, looking as beautiful as ever. You watch her from the corner of your eye as she searches the shop instead of walking to the counter like she normally does.

She spots you in the corner and begins to make her way over to you, that same determined look on her face that you had seen a month ago. You can feel your hands start to shake, maybe she was coming over to you to tell you to stop staring at her every day.

She stops in front of you and you look up at her, noticing just how entrancing her eyes were up close. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and if you didn’t know any better you’d think she was nervous.

She raises her hands and makes a gesture with them. You stare at her confused and she makes the same gesture, slower this time.

You’re still staring at her blankly, wondering what on earth she was doing. She makes the same movement with her hands, looking at you expectantly as if waiting for something to click.

And then it did.

You reach up to take out one of your headphones, watching her face turn from confused to mortified.

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “I don’t know sign language.”

She clamps her hands over her face, mumbling something you can’t quite hear. You make out the words idiot and embarrassing before she groans loudly into her hands.

You can’t help the small chuckle that escapes your lips and she lowers her hands, her cheeks adorably pink as she chews on her lower lip.

“Why did you think I knew sign language?” you ask, curious to know the answer.

“Uhhhhh,” she begins to answer, before shaking her head slightly. “It’s stupid, don’t worry.”

“C’mon,” you implore, captivated by her soft voice. “You can tell me.”

She just shakes her head again, her cheeks reddening further and just intriguing you more.

“Please,” you try again, pouting at her and seeing her resolve finally break.

“Okay, fine,” she concedes, taking the seat across from you. “But you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Scouts honour,” you reply quickly, holding up your fingers and earning a small smile.

“Okay, well,” she starts, looking at her hands clasped on the table in front of her. “I uh, I noticed you the first time I came here and I thought you were kinda cute so I kept coming back in the hopes that you would be here. And you were, but I was too scared to talk to you. But then Natasha encouraged me to try, and I did a few times but you never replied so I just assumed you weren’t interested.”

You blink slowly, trying to process what she was telling you. She thought you were cute? She had tried to talk to you?

You frown, not remembering a time that you had ever heard her voice before now. Then you remembered that you always had your headphones in, often hidden behind your beanie or your hair so she probably thought you were just ignoring her.

“Then one day,” she continues, still staring at her hands, “I saw you and Natasha have a conversation. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but you looked annoyed and you were waving your hands at her. So I thought that maybe you were using sign language to talk to her and that you might be deaf. Which hurt my ego a lot less than you just ignoring me when I tried to talk to you.”

You remember that incident and you realise what it must have looked like to her. You decide that you want to murder Natasha, she knew that you were both interested in each other but decided to leave that vital piece of information out of her matchmaking scheme.

“So,” she looks up now, her eyes locking on yours, “I decided that I really wanted to get to know you. You seem really kind, you always tip more than you need to. You tidy your table up to make it easier on the workers. You’re studying business too, something we have in common, so I know that you’re smart as well as cute. Your eyebrows scrunch together when you're typing and I just want to reach over and smooth them out. You have really neat handwriting and you always look super adorable in your beanie.”

She stops herself, eyes going wide when she realises that she’s been rambling. Her cheeks are glowing red again and you want to comfort her, to assure her that you were just as into her but you were pretty sure your brain stopped working the first time she called you cute.

“So anyway,” she shrugs, looking back down at the table, “I was determined to talk to you, no matter what. So I’ve been learning sign language on the internet for the past few weeks. I’m not very good at it yet but I was too impatient to wait any longer, plus I had the basics down so I figured we could work something out.”

“Wait,” you finally find your voice, “let me get this straight. You learnt sign language just to be able to talk to me?”

She nods, nervously looking at you as you process that information.

“No one has ever done something like that for me before.” You sound as stunned as you feel.

This beautiful, intelligent, kind woman wanted to talk to you so badly that she decided to learn a whole new language just to be able to communicate with you. You wanted to pinch yourself, sure that you were dreaming.

“Well, I think you’re worth it,” she tells you with a smile and you return it easily, your heart beating furiously in your chest.

“I’m Wanda, by the way,” she informs you, holding out her hand for you to shake.

You tell her your name as you grasp her hand, feeling the warm weight in your own. Her hand just felt right in yours and you didn’t want to let go.

“So,” you begin, smiling at her like a giddy high schooler.

“So,” she repeats, her smile just as wide.

“What now?” you ask, anticipation rushing through you.

“How about you buy me a coffee and we can get to know each other?” Her reply makes your heart stop. Buying her coffee sounded very much like a date and there was nothing more you wanted.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply.

You get up and walk to the counter, glancing back over to Wanda as you wait in line. She's still watching you, smiling every time you catch her eye.

When it’s your turn to order, you look up to find Natasha behind the counter, a smug expression on her face.

“Told you so,” she comments and you resist the urge to poke your tongue out at her.

You order quickly before making your way back to Wanda, ready to start what you hoped would be the last first date of your life.

Taglist: @olsensnpm @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @marrymemcgrath @yeetus-thyself @royalityofmultifandom @reminiscingtonight @madamevirgo @lucydiibi @fazebaconneggs @when-wolves-howl @lostandsearching @bentleywolf29 @peabrain112 @imasimpfornatashamaximoff @chaekhan @chelleztjs18 @vancityfire13 @xxromanoffxx @tthucydidess @dandelions4us @natslittlebunny @pixiedustandpetals @stealth-kittyy @b-5by5 @catasha @thought-of-you-and-me @abimess @justbelova @atlas-nex @avery-romanoff @onetruwhore @peter3iscool @eilarch @rightwereyouleftme @themultiimagines @didujustcallmedumb @wandaslittlewhore @meliq

[liz-allyn]

heat of the moment, pt 4 - it's a wonderful (horrible) life [tasm!peter x reader x groundhog day au]

summary: the five stages of grief, times infinity. angst; fluff; humor; final destination vibes; and yes this is in tribute to my favorite episode of television ever written - "mystery spot"

words: 7.6k

warnings: death. a lot of it. repeatedly. in this chapter: tw gore, blood, burns, smut (but not really graphic), references to drug and alcohol abuse, references to sex, body horror, s*lf h*rm, su*c*de

a/n - I know I promised this would be done in 4 parts, but once I hit this word count I decided that we needed a break. whooops sorry.

STRONG CONTENT WARNING: SELF H*RM - SEE END OF CHAPTER FOR DETAILS.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

“You’re in what now?”

“A time loop.”

Peter sat slack-jawed across from you at a diner booth. The restaurant was humming with the hustle and bustle of the breakfast crowd, filled with chatter from diner patrons and the smell of freshly roasted coffee. You pitched your fork into a short stack of peanut butter and chocolate chip banana pancakes, topped with whipped cream. And birthday sprinkles, because why not. 

Scooping the sugary chunk into your mouth (which really resembled a cake at this point), you moaned a noise that would’ve normally gone to a primal part of Peter’s brain. Instead, he was distracted by the side dishes of strawberry and mascarpone French toast, a “breakfast burger” featuring Portuguese linguisa sausage and muenster cheese, and a “Tuesday special” skillet of bacon mac and cheese featuring two over-easy eggs and thick-cut pork belly slices marinated with paprika and brown sugar.

You reached over to take a sip of your caramel-drizzled, iced coconut latte, then waived your fork to signal your waitress. The plump, red-haired woman wearing a traditional diner dress and apron approached your table with a cheery smile.

“How’s everything, darlin’?” she grinned warmly. She had a “friendly aunt'' vibe about her that you adored. At least that’s what you told Peter when you insisted on coming here for breakfast. Or whatever this “feast” was called.

“Oh, it’s sublime, Doris,” you gushed with a charming flutter of your lashes. 

Peter considered for a moment that he hadn’t heard the waitress mention her name before. 

You add with a singsong voice, “But I think my boyfriend and I would like to try something refreshing. Something fizzy...” You pick up the menu and scan over it quickly, although you already knew it by heart. “How ‘bout a beer?” You glanced at Peter. “I could go for a beer, how about you? With orange juice, maybe? A beer-mosa?”

He lifted his brows in surprise, stumbling over his response. “Uh... it’s... like... nine in the morning?”

“Ah, of course,” you respond sheepishly, then flick your eyes back to Doris. “I’ll take a Bloody Mary, then.”

The waitress nodded, somewhat impressed with your bold, Tuesday morning audacity, but said nothing as she turned to leave.

“Wait!” you called after her. “Actually, make that a Bloody Maria. Jalapeño-infused tequila. Top shelf. Please.” You punctuated your sentence with an endearing wink, and Doris might’ve respected you even more as she headed for the bar.

Now left alone, Peter surveyed the table incredulously, masking his concern. He glanced down at his plate, thinking he was overindulging himself by ordering the $21 avocado toast. As if you could read his mind, you pushed the plate of pancakes towards him.

“Have a bite of this,” you insisted, before slamming back the iced latte and emptying the glass. “I’ve got another short stack of pineapple upside-down pancakes coming.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “I thought you were allergic to pineapple?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, licking whipped creme off your fingers. “Not the worst way to go.”

“Wait a sec. Can we just— rewind it back... to the—”

“Time loop,” you supplied. You scooped a bite of the cheesy macaroni onto your fork and leaned across the table, directing the fork towards his mouth. “Open,” you said— an endearing order.

With a blush, Peter opened his mouth as you fed him the bite. “Soi’m jus’ confoosed...” he mumbled through the gooey food, “s’you’re sayn moo’ve w’ived ‘dis day mef’fore?”

“Yes, we’ve had this conversation before. Don’t talk with your mouth full,” you gently admonished. “It’s a dumb way to die.” You reached over and took a massive bite of your burger, chewing thoroughly.

“A time loop,” Peter repeated, thoughtfully. You could hear the sound of his signature skeptical smirk, usually right before he makes a reference to... 

“Like in—?”

“Groundhog Day,” you finished. You then added, pointedly, “Which—frustratingly, doesn’t even bother to explain why Bill Murray’s in a time loop in the first place! I mean, how stupid! How can you just not have an explanation like that? Is it a gypsy curse? Is it aliens? Is it the goddamn groundhog? Who knows! Complete bullshit.”

He batted his head from side to side, considering your perspective. “Um, well, I mean...  it’s... not a documentary?”

“Well, it did have some good pointers,” you replied, signaling to the buffet spread across the table. “Like—it doesn’t really matter what I eat,” you stated with a bit of pride. “I don’t need to exercise. Ever.” You picked up a slice of French toast and shoved it in your mouth, savoring the creamy mascarpone. “I don’t even need to brush my teeth. Or floss. It doesn’t matter how much sugar I eat. I’ll never get a cavity.” You took a strawberry in your fingers and sucked the delectable mascarpone from the fruit before popping it in your mouth. “I don’t even remember the last time I shaved.” You couldn’t help but sound giddy in your nonchalance. “The other day I even tattooed my face. It was awful. But then I woke up and it was like it never happened!”

“Wait, when?” Peter blinked at you, overwhelmed with confusion.

You rolled your eyes. He wasn’t getting it. He’s not getting it.

You turn to Doris as she brings a highball glass with a Tajin-seasoned rim, filled with red liquid and ice. “You’re an angel, Doris,” you fawned over the glass, raising it towards her in a toast. “We’re going to need some boxes. Like ten of them. Please?”

Doris nodded dutifully and was off again. You glanced at the tall glass, removing the straw (a choking hazard, at this point), and brought the rim to your lips, tilting your head back. Peter gawked as he watched you gulp down the tequila cocktail in mere seconds. You exhaled a spicy breath, your tongue burning, the acid surely searing the lining of your stomach. It would kill you, eventually. But not today. Probably.

“We gotta run,” you told Peter, who was still struggling.

“I agree,” he replied with a more serious tone. “I know I’m supposed to be paying attention right now, but honestly—”

You took your index finger, swiping it through the whipped cream on your plate, and dragged the digit through your lips. You locked your eyes on him, teasing him as he absorbed the lewd gesture with an open mouth. 

“You’re realizing that watching me shove stuff in my mouth gets you hard?” The finger slips out of your mouth with a loud pop. 

He blinked. His face turned pink. Brain shorts out. “Uh.. how did you—?”

“The same way I know that I can make you lose your mind beneath this table before she comes back with the boxes,” you wink at him fiendishly. 

He blinked again. Several times.

“But not today,” you cheekily wink. 

You moved briskly down the sidewalk as the sounds of the city rang out around you. Peter watched as he followed, hurriedly, with a stack of takeout boxes piled up to his chin. He noted that you were swift, but not rushed. You moved down the street like a dancer, every step choreographed. You seemed to know where you were going, although he didn’t have the slightest clue. When he asked, you’d only speak in riddles.

He noticed you slow down as you approached an alleyway, glancing the side of the buildings up and down. You carefully jump over a crack in the sidewalk, surveying the uneven surface, and avoid crossing beneath the ladder of a fire escape, before coming to a stop near a dumpster. 

Peter spotted an elderly woman, hair in disarray, wearing a tattered, stained overcoat several sizes too big. Her once-pink fuzzy slippers were caked with months of mud. She held the lid of a garbage dumpster open, peering down at the options inside.

“Morning, Gina,” you greeted her pleasantly as if you’d known her for years. The woman was startled as she turned towards you. You took one of the styrofoam takeaway boxes off of Peter’s hands and offered it to her. “Here you go, still nice and warm. I asked them to put clean utensils inside, and one of those little hand sanitizer wipeys. Bon appetit!” 

The woman took the box of hot food with a cautious expression but was quickly entranced by the delicious smell.

With a kind wave, you were off again. Perplexed, Peter glanced back and forth between you and the woman, leaving her with a kind smile and nod, then promptly returned to your side.

“Nice lady,” you remarked, continuing on your path down the sidewalk. Your eyes darted from corner to corner, thoroughly scanning the busy street. “You know she used to be a concert pianist?”

“Okay, slow down—you’re not giving me all the details here,” Peter anxiously pleaded, confused by your actions all morning. “Why does it seem like you know... everything?”

“I’ve been down this road before,” you sigh. “Figuratively and literally.”

Before Peter can respond, you place a protective hand on his shoulder, slowing him to a stop. Your eyes lifted towards the sky as you stopped near an active construction site. He glanced over at you, your eyes fixed warily on the scaffolding of the half-built tower. He heard you groan with frustration. In an instant, you took off in a different direction towards the front gate of the construction site. Peter followed you, watching carefully, as you march towards the foreman.

“Excuse me!” you harshly shouted as you approached. The foreman, who was in mid-phone conversation, glanced over at you, baffled and annoyed at your interruption. You reached up and took the phone right from his hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you snapped, pulling his phone away. Eyes widening with alarm, Peter hurried towards your side immediately, placing himself between you and the foreman.

The foreman sized you up from head to toe indignantly. “What the hell—?”

“No phones on the lot when heavy machinery is in motion!” you admonished, pointing to the cherry picker parked nearby. 

The foreman glanced over at the hydraulic crane and its operators, then sneered at you with a side-eye. He shifted on his feet, planting his hands on his hips, fixing you with a ‘now-look-here-little-lady’ look. He sighed deeply, “Ma’am—”

“Don’t ma’am me,” you sneered, putting a finger in his face. “My name is OSHA and I’m your worst fucking nightmare, ‘kay? And where’s your hard hat, asshole? What is this? Amateur hour?” 

The man’s face began to flush, with either anger or embarrassment—Peter wasn’t sure. 

You pointed up towards the scaffolding, continuing your rant. “You got one guy up there not wearing his harness the right way, not to mention the toolbox next to the leading edge! You need a tape measure or something? Three feet is three feet!”

The foreman took a step backwards, glancing around with embarrassment as your tirade drew snickers from his crew and curious eyes from pedestrians. Peter held his tongue uncomfortably as you shoved the phone into the foreman’s chest.

“Here’s your phone back,” you spat. “You might wanna call somebody in who knows how to run a goddamn construction site. Maybe Bob the Builder.” You took Peter by the elbow and marched away, leaving your stunned, thoroughly-eviscerated victim behind. 

(You hadn’t an ounce of sympathy for him. You’d been eviscerated. Fuck his fragile masculinity.) 

Peter followed your lead, letting himself be pulled by you. And for the first time in his life, perhaps—experienced what it felt like to feel dumb. 

He stuttered incredulously, “What in the—?”

“Did you know a penny dropped from a high enough distance can lodge through your skull?”

“I... am... so confused right now.”

“It’s okay, it’s hard to understand, I know,” you explained. “You’ll get it.” Peter turned towards the bright yap of a corgi pulling on his leash towards you. “Don’t make eye contact,” you gravely warned. 

“What?”

“Eyes on me,” you ordered, alarmed dread in your voice. “Don’t engage. Don’t make eye contact. Gouda can’t see you if you don’t move.”

With a quirked brow, Peter followed your instructions, despite how baffling they were. The both of you stood motionless, staring at each other, and avoiding looking at the dog as it dragged his owner down the street. Once it was safe—whatever that meant—you moved towards the sidewalk curb, pausing for a five second count, then proceeded to walk across the street.

“Bug, you’re really starting to freak me out,” he called after you, trailing behind you in more ways than one. “Now if what you’re saying was even possible, which it isn’t, because it would break every law and notion of what we perceive as physical time that’s ever been theorized—”

Your eyes narrowed on a tall, stone-chinned, moderately-handsome young man with gelled-over hairplugs, wearing an expensive camel wool coat over a finely-tailored suit. He marched forward in the opposite direction, as he approached you and Peter on the sidewalk. 

“Uh huh....” you replied, only half-listening.

“I mean, science fiction aside, time loops don’t just happen, because that would suggest that time is a linear construct anyway, when it’s actually more of a fifth-dimensional, state of reality—”

Your wealthy target held the latest smartphone device outwards in his hand, while wearing a bluetooth earbud in his ear, while simultaneously shouting into the speakerphone for everyone to hear, “—swear to fuckin’ god, you can tell McKinsey to shove it up her cunt. Tell her I said that! Tell her she can shove the whole SEC up in her cunt and get fucked! She wants a hostile fuckin’ takeover, then we'll go to war—”

Idly, you sidestepped and slammed into his shoulder as he passed. Despite the bump and the overwhelming stench of cologne and sweat, you kept walking without making eye contact. From your periphery, you saw him spin on the heel of his leather soles and hiss in your direction. “Fuckin’ watch where you’re goin’, yeah?!” he bellowed, with an aggressive tone that was enough to make Peter puff up his chest. 

You saw your boyfriend begin to engage and you calmly intervened. “Don’t bother,” you shrugged.

“Tough guy, eh?” Peter called after the man. “He’s a prick!” His voice echoed and was loud enough to be heard by the offender. It didn’t matter, as the stranger was already marching along to concern himself with more important things.

When Peter turned back to you, you were holding a thick wad of hundred dollar bills. Proudly, you pocketed the cash. 

“Did you just steal that?” Peter exclaimed, scandalized.

“No...?” you replied, somewhat offended by the completely accurate description of events.

You thought he’d break his neck by how taken aback he was. “Really?”

“You gonna arrest me?” you snickered deviously. Peter stared at you, open mouthed. “Now’s your chance!” you added playfully. 

He watched as you sprinted ahead of him, bounding towards two uniformed, New York City police officers strolling out of a bakery. Lost in their own world, in the middle of a lively conversation, they were on their way towards their parked police cruiser when you called out to them.

“Oh, my god, Officers! Officers!” you breathlessly wailed as you rushed towards them. The hairs on Peter’s neck stood up as he witnessed your dramatic performance. You looked flushed, with tears coming to your eyes, chest heaving and breathless. The two cops—the rookie Officer Cage and the more senior Officer Conner, stopped mid conversation as you approached them.

You threw yourself at Officer Cage, pressing your full chest into him and fluttering your lashes above your distressed eyes. The younger officer looked down at you, flustered, and shot a nervous glance towards his partner.

Peter stood back with a brow raised as Officer Cage attempted to keep his hands visible as you threw yourself at him. “Please, you’ve got to do something!” you declared, sounding like you were on the verge of hyperventilating. Cage began to sweat.

“Alright, just calm down, ma’am,” his more senior partner ordered. “What’s the matter?”

You gripped Cage by the collar, so distraught you struggled to stand upright. Anxiously, the rookie cop fought the urge to grab you by the hips to steady you. 

Peter did not like it at all.

“You’ve got to do something!” you repeated, fanning your face with your fingers as tears threatened to break through. “There’s a-a man at the con-construction site back there!” Still holding Cage’s body towards yours, you turned and pointed down the street in the direction you and Peter had just come from. The officers followed the end of your finger, past a food delivery truck being unloaded into the bakery. They angled their heads around the truck to see your line of sight. “There's a worker who’s dangling from a rope! He’s going to fall!” 

Cage and Conner glanced at each other with growing alarm, and they both took off down the street towards the site of the impending trouble. You watched them go with a self-satisfied smirk. It technically wasn’t a lie if it hadn’t happened yet.

Peter watched the officers rush off, then turned towards you with a mix of confusion and annoyance. His eyes grew three times bigger as he saw that you had Cage’s pistol in your hand. 

You dutifully disabled the weapon like a seasoned pro—unloading the magazine, ejecting the first bullet from the chamber, and smashing the firing mechanism against the edge of a metal garbage can, before tossing the weapon down a storm drain. The bullets you took with you, pocketing them right next to the cash.

“Who the hell are you?” Peter exclaimed, barely able to speak coherently. “When did you get so terrifying? How did you learn how to use a gun?”

You responded with a careless shrug. “You should see the other way I unload it. It’s way more fun.”

Peter stood speechlessly as he looked down at you, with a disappointed tilt of his head that did the same.

“Hey, I’m not the bad guy,” you retorted, offended by his apparent judgment. “Trust me. That cop needs a few more hours of training time on the range— not to mention years of therapy— to address some deep-rooted childhood trauma.” 

Peter looked back over his shoulder past the delivery truck, sizing up the retreating officer. 

“And that Wall Street Douche?” you added. “The only reason he was carrying that cash for was to buy some cocaine party favors for a big ‘rager’ tonight. I mean, what better way to celebrate a successful insider trading payout, amirite?” You used haphazard air quotes to match your cruel tone. “Too bad he doesn’t know the coke’s laced with fentanyl. Guess you shouldn’t try to cheap out on your drug dealer.” Your boyfriend stared at you, his brow furrowed. “I just saved that guy’s life!” you spat pointedly, with a bravado tone, your voice bellowing throughout the busy street. “Him and the Blockchain Gang.”

You retrieved the roll of cash, holding it up for Peter to see. “Let’s just call this a ‘thank you’ for my service.”

“So that’s it? That’s what you think saving lives is about? That’s what it means?”

“Everybody dies, Peter,” you sneered coldly, shoving the cash back in the pocket of your coat. “Who cares what it means?”

He gazed at you with tight lips, jaw locked in place. “I do,” he softly replied, after several long moments. His face was elongated with a sour expression. “I care.”

A long beat passes as you stare at him—the poor, pitiful fool— and you remember that he hasn’t seen what you’ve seen. By contrast, you haven’t survived in the same way he has. You recalled the way death has been a constant presence in his life. Between the death of his parents, his surrogate father, and his high school sweetheart, grief was just a condition of his being.

You breathe a heavy sigh, and recognize that while you may not be the bad guy, you are an asshole. 

Dying was making you bitchy, and there were few things that could adjust your attitude when it soured. Your eyes land on the parked police cruiser, and they lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You wanna fuck on the hood of this cop car?” you grinned deviously, as if you were suggesting something as innocent as swiping an extra handful of Halloween candy.

He leveled a stone-faced, deadpan look at you.

Your devilish smile only faltered slightly. “No?” You tried to reel it in, sombering yourself. “Some other time, then.” Displeased, he rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, still carrying the pile of takeout boxes in his long arms. You gritted your teeth and groaned. 

He doesn’t get it, you thought. “Peter, just wait up.” 

He paused.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You kick your toe into the sidewalk. “I just feel like... like maybe— We shouln’t take all of this too seriously, y’know?”

“All of what? Life?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, but agreeing with him doesn’t ease his growing frustration. “I just think that in the grand scheme of things, none of this matters.” The ‘this’ you were referring to was all around you. It was everything. Everyone. All the days had become the same, and every event in them—including your death—had bared the same dreadful monotony. Time was meaningless. Time is meaningless. 

He glared down at you, quirking an offended eyebrow. “How couldya say somethin’ like that?” His accent rears back to life again.

“Maybe you need to hear it,” you state matter-of-factly, with a shrug of your shoulders. “Your entire world is built on the foundation that you need to save everyone, and that’s somehow going to make the world a better place. But if any of us dies, Peter, it doesn’t matter. If I die, it doesn’t matter.”

“Shut up.” Even over the sound of traffic, you can hear the pain in his whispered reply. He jutted his finger out towards you, warningly. There’s a quiet intensity in his voice, and all the humor had drained from his demeanor. “I don’t wanna hear any more.”

“No, Peter. I’m gonna die.” You’re bold with your statement. Confident. It’s an edict. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. I don’t know if God even exists, but regardless, you’re not him.”

“Stop it,” he seethes now, inching closer to you. He looks like he’d web your mouth shut—right there in front of everyone on the street. Maybe you want him to.

There’s venom in your voice, not certain who its reserved for. But you serve it to the love of your life anyway. “You. Cannot. Save. Me.”

And it’s right about that time when the delivery truck driver emerges from the back carrying a giant sack of flour. The wind picks up, and the fine, white powder is carried with it. The cloud wraps around the both of you.

The static electricity of Peter’s dry hands across the surface of the styrofoam food containers creates a spark. The dust cloud in the air ignites, a fireball erupting in midair. The grease-soaked food containers go up in flames, reduced to a burning pile in seconds. Peter is stunned, dropping the burning food containers on the sidewalk, and now you both are alarmed by the burning pile. Both of you start kicking at the fire, in order to put out the flames, but it just creates more of a flaming mess. 

The embers of bacon-soaked styrofoam fan up and catch on your coat. You’re quick to recognize it, and shed yourself of the garment just as it starts to burn. You slink it off your shoulders and drop the coat to the ground, just as Peter renders a stunned look of horror on his face.

He gazes up at you over the small bonfire, amazed beyond belief. “Time loops are real?” he squeaks out.

At about that time, the bullets in your pocket ignite in the flames. It sounds like popcorn— if it were made in a steel vat with the volume turned up about 100 times. 

Peter flinches at the sound. You jolt as your body becomes riddled with bullet holes, tearing through your flesh like swiss cheese. 

You were getting warmer. And colder. You followed his line of sight down and gaped at a whirlpool of crimson torn through your chest. You watched your life force drain out of you, spilling onto your feet and across the floor. 

By far, the most nightmarish of visions was the dread you saw in Peter’s eyes. 

You watch. His light extinguishes. Swallowed up. Drowned in anguish. Cue darkness. 

TUESDAY, 7:00am

Your eyes popped open as you were viciously ripped away from the darkness. Music invaded your ears, your senses assaulted by a toe-tapping tune.

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT...”

The ceiling. You stare. Still. Motionless.

Your eyes sting with tears that are fighting to be shed. Some days it’s harder than others to keep them back. 

“Mornin’, Sunflower!” 

He pokes out his head. His expression naive. Serene. Joyful. Alive.

You wonder how many times you have to die before you’ve evolved. 

Before you devolve. Into something less than human.

You glance over at Peter. Despite being half dead, your heart flutters at the sight of him. A glowing freckled face. Sparkling amber eyes. A beautifully-mischievous smile.

His smile.

“We need to talk,” you respond quietly. His expression falls, confused. “Take me somewhere with a nice view?”

It’s quiet on the roof of the high rise that overlooks Central Park. You appreciate the view, and how the sun hits the vertical, towering, puffy clouds just so, threading golden rays of sunlight into their indigo plumes.

It’s not Peter’s first choice, but there’s a rainbow out and you can see it better from here than from the Empire State Building. 

There was something poetic about rainbows, you’ve come to decide. Something about a pattern of refracting light, laid out into a pathway that could only be seen if you’re in the right place at the right moment. You chuckle quietly. Rainbows really are magical.

Peter paced anxiously beside you, muttering a monologue, mostly to himself. It didn’t bother you much. He would get this way, and you found that his nonsensical mumbling actually soothed your nerves. Almost like a white noise machine.

You sat on the rooftop listlessly with your back against a wall. Your eyes would follow him sometimes, lids heavy with apathy. 

By contrast, Peter was a livewire; synapses firing, his eyes alight as they tabulated variables and ran through formulas. He looked like one of those internet memes with greek letters and roman numerals circling his head, rummaging through the endless, note-scribbled index card catalogue of his mind on quantum mechanics and chaos theory. 

It was exhausting. 

You wished that he would just sit down next to you, so you could rest your head on his shoulder again. Maybe close your eyes and sleep. 

Dying was exhausting.

You continued to watch him dig a trench with his Spidey-clad boots. You considered not saying anything at all this time. Then, you opened your mouth, “Pe—”

“I’ve got it!” Peter said triumphantly, with a ‘eureka’ vibe. He turned to you, his amber eyes glittering with hope. “It all makes sense now. The temporal loop limited to less than 24 hours. The blatant disregard for the Novikov self-consistency principle—”

You rolled your eyes.

“This all sounds like that presentation from last winter at Horizon Labs!” Peter blurted out, half still talking to himself, mostly. “Who was that guy? He was theorizing the possibility of quantum computation with a negative delay—”

“You know I have no idea what you’re saying, right?” you deadpanned.

“Time travel!” Peter explained. “He was talking about time travel! I bet Horizon is tied up in this time loop thing somehow. That-that guy must be behind this—”

“What guy?”

“Agh,” he gripped his head, squeezing his eyes shut, “what was his name? The chunky guy with the mullet? That guy!”

You nodded your head once. You knew exactly who he was referring to. “Grady.”

He pointed an index finger at you. “Yes!” Then, he paused, letting his arm drop. “Wait, how do you know—?”

“It’s not him,” you declared simply, picking at your nails. 

“What do you mean it’s not—”

“It’s not him.”

“How do you know—?”

“Because we asked him. Interrogated him. Ripped his research apart. Tore Horizon Labs down to the studs, and it wasn’t him. Same with Oscorp. Tricorp. Alchemax. They’re all busts.”

He locked his jaw, looking down at the ground, fingers digging into his hips. “You know, this smells like Quentin Beck—”

“Not Mysterio either.”

His shoulders dropped. “Okay. Then what about Fisk?”

“Nope.”

“Kraven, then.”

“Not Kraven,” you shook your head. 

Peter bit his lip, gritting his teeth, his frustration building. “How can you be so sure?” he argued. 

“Time loop, remember? Nothing changes, Peter. Ever.” You shrugged your shoulders and picked at your nail again, bored. Or did you shrug your shoulders and pick at your nail? Time was meaningless at this point. At every point. “This isn’t a problem you can solve by punching it.”

“You know what—you’re right! I can’t,” he spat, indignation hot. “I can’t solve any problem! Not with your attitude! Or would it actually kill you to try to be helpful?

You chuckle again, without lifting your eyes from your cuticle. “That was a good one. New.”

“Is there something funny about this to you, huh?” he raised his voice, shutting you up. You look at him, seeing a fury in his eyes he usually reserved for someone at the end of his interrogations. You stilled your movements under his steel gaze. 

Way to go. You pissed him off. Again.

“You’re telling me that you’re gonna die today,” he glowered darkly, voice thick with aggrevation. “Why are you acting like this is a fucking joke?”

“No,” you sigh regretfully. “No, I’m… I’m sorry. Look—please. Let’s not fight this time.”

“This time?” he snapped. “Stop saying that! Stop saying that you’ve had this conversation before!” He leaned in, pointing down at you in the way he does, veins bulging in his neck. ”Stop saying that you’ve lived this day before!” He lowered his voice, but lividness still punctuated his words. “I’m sorry,” he spat viciously “if this is getting repetitive for you, but for me this is a goddamn nightmare and you’re telling me I can’t do anything but—”

He stops. Chokes on the words. “No,” he declares, more calmly but with the same resolve. “Not gonna happen.” He wags his long finger, shaking his head furiously. “I won’t watch you die.”

It is an edict. You unpurse your lips. “Peter,” you softly, tenderly try to argue, “you can’t—”

“I’m trying to save you!” his voice erupted from his throat. He sounds so angry. So much anger in him. Angry and betrayed. “Why won’t you let me?” he pleaded.

“What’s your plan, huh?” you question. “Take on every bad guy in the city at once?” You take a beat, dropping your frustration back down to a manageable level. You add, bitterly, “I’m not gonna let you massacre everyone at Ryker’s Island in some futile attempt to save me!”

“Seriously?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. “What makes you think I would ever do something like that?”

You remain still, your brow furrowed. Eyes locked on his. 

“Because you have.”

A beat passes as he just stares at you, struggling to understand. Your voice was now quiet. Nothing louder than a whisper, and dark with a cold absolution. You take no satisfaction in being right. 

You swallow on a dry throat. “It’s not Grady, not Beck,” you explain with a little more sensitivity. “Not Fisk. Not Toomes. Not Kraven. Not Lin. Not any of your enemies.” He blinked at you, and you watch his heart sink. “I know that because you killed them. All of them. And it didn’t make any difference.”

Your words settled in like a snake slithering into his bedsheets. He watched you, as if he was waiting for the punchline. Dread filled him as he realized there wasn’t one. Your word choice echoed in his mind. Face paled. Eyes glazed. A shudder ghosted down his spine. 

Massacre.

Then you saw it. There was that look. He was terrified again, of what you’ve come to realize was perhaps his worst enemy: The monster he was capable of becoming. 

Massacre.

Your eyes said it all, and then you watched him shift to his next reaction. All of this a rerun of an episode you’d seen before. 

He looked sheepish. Exposed. Embarrassed. He didn’t know where to place his eyes. You could see he was running the math, scoping the variables. Calculating. Formulating the most likely outcome.

How far gone would he have been to do... ? 

How crazy, out-of-his-mind...? 

—Not only to be capable of that savagery— but to let you see it?

He would have to be mad, he decided. Absolutely unhinged. 

Forget having occasional commonality with his enemies. Forget being the un-Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Forget not “pulling his punches.”

His jaw locked in place, lips curving downwards. He looked like he swallowed glass. It would be a volatile mix. A fatal combination. Absolute power, meeting absolute desperation. Resulting in his absolute corruption.

Massacre. Everyone.

He looked over at you, just as you wiped away a stray glimmer of a tear. You cursed yourself for letting it slip this time, but it’s too late. He saw it, and now he knows. You’ve witnessed him do the horrific. Unforgivable. Unimaginable. 

Tears formed in his eyes too.

He could imagine it. If he was desperate enough. 

If it meant that he could save you.

You shook your head somberly, as if you could read his thoughts. Maybe you could, he wondered. To him, this day just kept getting weirder.

He pulled his gaze away from you, and that’s when the cable snapped. He’s overwhelmed by a deluge of cries. You watched him grab his hair and pull, the bridge of his sanity buckling and collapsing under grief. 

He turned his face towards the skyline, letting out an animalistic noise. A yowl. Something between a groan and a scream, erupting from his soul and threatening to break through his teeth. 

Now he’s getting it, you think. 

It never hurts you any less, no matter how many times you watch it.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice as gentle as a lullaby. You know if you try to touch him, he’ll wrench himself out of your hold, as if he can imagine blood already staining his gloved hands. “It doesn’t always end like that. With anger.”

He lifted his gaze but refused to look at you. He stared at the city, thinking. Deciding.

“No,” he replied, barely above his breath. “It doesn’t have to end like that.” His calm puts you on edge. When he finally turns towards you, a renewed energy puffs up his chest. Fire in his eyes. 

“But it’s gotta end some way, right? Some time?” 

He sounds lighter, with a callous laugh in his tone. 

You don’t like it at all. 

He leaned back, standing straighter. “So we just end it now.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Both of us,” Peter explains grimly, with a dangerous resolve. “You go, I go.”

You stare at him, taking measured breaths. It’s important not to overreact here, you try to remember. You purse your lips, then began your objection, “Peter—”

“If you’re right about this—” he cut you off curtly, “—if there’s nothing I can do to save you— then none of it matters!” 

His eyes were furious and razor-sharp, he pointed at you as if to silence your protests. As if his mind is already made up. Chest heaving. His eyes fall to his wrists, and without a second thought, he claws at them. 

You quietly observe. He ripped the small web shooter devices from his wrists, crushing the watch-dial-looking machines in his palms with a crunch. He carelessly tossed them aside.

“How ‘bout that?” he spat, glaring at you challengingly. As if you were somehow responsible. You’re hurting him again. You always do. 

You try to keep still, frowning as you watch him. Your stomach twists.

He glanced back at the edge of the roof, before stepping up on the ledge, peering anxiously down at the street below. Even for a superhuman, eighty stories is enough to crush him. You already were familiar with the sensation, but it’s not worth bringing up right then.

“It’d be over quick,” Peter called to back you with a tense shrug of his shoulders. “Straight shot down from the side. I’d be Jell-O in six seconds!” 

The callousness of his voice tears a new hole in you. He’s being more cruel than he intends to be—you know that. He can’t help it. But it still hurts to hear. 

You should be used to the pain by now.

His anger has given way to determination. He wants to provoke the gods. He wants the universe to open up and make this day never happen.

You’re motionless. Watching. Eyes glued to the crimson logo on his back. A symbol of everything opposed to what he’s saying now. That heavy fucking spider. It never left him. And never will leave. It clings to him, like a parasite. Like a Grim Reaper, trailing death behind.

He lowers his head, and the careless facade starts to crack. A quiet sob escapes his lips, betraying him. 

“There’s no saving me if there’s no saving you,” Peter declared, his voice buckling. Breaking.

You consider how this never gets any easier. Witnessing the undoing of a person. Their unmaking — a murder while their heart is still beating.

Tears form in your eyes as you mourn him. “That won’t help you, Peter.”

“What won’t help me?” 

You gazed at him, just shy of forever. Not nearly long enough. 

“Bargaining.” 

He glanced back at you, confused.

You swallow back your upset, finding your voice. “It doesn’t always end with anger,” you explain tenderly. “There’s the whole spectrum. Denial. Bargaining.” 

The corners of his mouth pitch down again, and he turns away from you, gazing sorrowfully at the street below. 

“You never go through with it, Peter,” you softly add. “Because that’s not who you are. Because you know it doesn’t change anything.” You speak up, loud, and clearly enough for the words to resonate with him. “It doesn’t make the world better. Having it go on without you.”

The tears return to his eyes, full force. Big, fat tears that threaten to drown him. 

It’s time for you to stand. Your arms ache to hold him again, and it’s just about time for him to let you. Like the pull of a magnet.

“The pain you feel—the grief,” you explain, taking soft steps towards him, “I can’t imagine how awful it is. There aren’t any words. There’s nothing I can say that’ll make things make sense. Or make it feel like it’s all a part of some plan.” 

You tread close enough to fall into his shadow, peering up at him as he gazes down at you like a statue of disdain, weeping furious tears. 

“All I can say is that I’m sorry. I wouldn’t wish that agony on anyone.” You glance down at the busy avenue, cars and headlights moving about like ants. A fitting description of life outside of your timeless bubble. 

“I wish it was me instead of you,” you declare, and it is the first time you’d done so. “If that makes sense.” You feel that familiar throb in your chest as you gaze up at his towering form. “I wish I was the one that had to be left behind.”

“Don’t.” 

The gentle word slips from his lips, like a prayer. Like a crack in a dam. He shakes his head slowly, peering down at you. 

His eyes beg. “Please, don’t...” 

You reach your fingers out towards him, gathering his defeated hands into yours. Pulling him down from the ledge, he folds immediately, collapsing into your grip. He falls to his knees. Arms around your waist. He sobs into your belly, unleashing furious, wretched cries.

“Please, don’t leave,” he sputtered, shoulders shaking. “I won’t do this again. Please, I can’t...”

Again. It shatters your heart to know he’s not talking about last Tuesday. You bite your tongue, choking back a sob, your fingers carding through his hair. 

You don’t say it, but this is the last stage that you get to witness. Pure despair. Unrelenting and unkind. 

You don’t want to tell him that you’ve seen him like this so many times. Just yesterday you saw it — was it two Tuesdays, or two hundred Tuesdays, or twenty years of Tuesdays? 

You don’t know. 

Time is meaningless. 

Except that it always ends with despair. Just shy of the final, blessed stage of acceptance that you wish for once you could catch a glimpse of.

But that kind of thing only comes with time — time you don’t have. 

Except when it resets.

You let him cry into your flesh and you know that eventually, he’ll scoop you up in his arms and carry you gently back to the apartment. And when you get there, he’ll use a backup pair of web shooters to seal you inside of your home. 

When you protest, he’ll web you inside of your room. To the bed, maybe. 

He’ll say it’s the only way he can protect you, if you’re trapped in there, with every inch of space covered in the rapidly-dissolving, steellike cable he’s spun. 

He’ll apologize, but he’ll say it’s for your own good.

You don’t mind. It gives you a few more minutes together.

Before a fire starts in one of the outlets in your room. The web catches quickly. It’s like dryer lint.

Or it’s carbon monoxide, his web having cut off the flow from the furnace. That way hurts less.

Or maybe it’ll be quick. Like the time you realized your fire extinguisher was faulty, and ended up with a handle lodged in your chest. 

Time is meaningless. You have all the time in the world.

You close your eyes tightly, squeezing him to your body, just as the low rumble of thunder echoes in the low-hanging canopy of clouds above.

TUESDAY, 7:00 am

“It was the HEAT of the MOMENT…”

“Bug, you’re really starting to freak me out,” Peter grinned with a light chuckle, moving in tandem with you in more ways than one. 

The two of you strolled down the sidewalk. The mid-morning crowds parted around you. In one hand, Peter held a paper bag at his side, stuffed full of takeaway boxes. In the other, he held tightly onto yours — devotedly, with a deep passion, and lightheartedness of a man enthralled in love. Filled with hope for the future. Blissfully unaware of how this day would inevitably end.

“Now if what you’re saying was even possible—which it isn’t, because it would break every law and notion of what we perceive as physical time, that’s ever been theorized—”

“Maybe it’s not a science thing,” you replied, even though you still were wildly unfamiliar with the physics of his discussion, you were sober enough to follow his logic. “Maybe it’s just fate.” 

“Babe, c’mon, everything is a science thing,” Peter countered. He spoke coolly and calmly, confident in his musing, comfortable in this element. “Science is everything. The real question is: what’s the inciting action? There’s not a single outcome in physics that’s attainable without some kind of initial source. I mean, that’s basic. That’s Newton.”

“But remember Nana Manners?”

“Right,” he nodded his head, recalling how you’d mentioned your great-grandmother earlier that day. He grinned, teasing, “Your crazy great-grandma told you she could see the future when you were a kid and now you think you’ve inherited some kind of clairvoyant superpower?” 

You shoved him playfully.

“Hey, I’m just sayin’! Who are you gonna believe?” he turned to you with a charming smirk. He sparkled like a diamond in the sunlight. “Me, or a fortune teller?”

You barked out a laugh. “I actually did go to a fortune teller first,” you remarked.

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “No, you didn’t!” he giddily laughed. “What? Which one?”

“All of them. Well, all the ones in the boroughs that I could find, anyway.”

He took a moment to measure your words. “Geez,” he replied, taken aback. “How many Tuesdays have you had?”

“Who knows,” you laughed. “Enough to know that the fortune teller in the Village—the one from the commercials—has a fake accent and her husband’s cheating on her with someone who runs the crystal shop down the street.”

Peter snorted, amused. “Wow,” he remarked. “Wonder why she didn’t see that coming.”

You froze. Peter stopped walking when you did, turning towards you, unaware of why you stopped. He gazed at you, the adoration in his eyes cooling into concern.

You feel every goosebump on your body rise. Hair standing on end. Fingertips tingling. A sharp sting at the back of your neck. A shift, not just in your center of gravity, but in your soul. Your pulse quickens. Eyes wide. Chest tight.

“Bug?” he asked, wary of the way your face paled. 

Ten millenia of evolutionary instinct passed down through your DNA was buzzing. Whirring. Screaming at you, even.

If you could imagine feeling “the tingly sense” that Peter spoke about—his mysterious enhanced ability—this must be it. 

The question dawns on you:

Why hasn’t Peter’s ever worked?

Continue to Part 5

CW DISCLAIMER - Strong cw for su*c*dal ideation and discussion, as well as sensitive themes about death. The ideas expressed in this chapter are based on a science fiction scenario, by characters who are not of stable or sound mind. If you or someone you know is having difficult thoughts or experiencing a mental health crisis, please reach out to somebody because you're not alone. Dial 988 from any phone in the U.S., or go to 988lifeline.org