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peppermintsparker · 2 years

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tonight (is gonna be the loneliest)

summary -- in which you're in love with peter parker, only he's not in love with you. warnings -- fucking angst on top of angst. mentions character death (uncle ben and r's father), tiny not even bad explicit language, peter parker is lowkey an asshole in this authors note -- inspired by the lonelist by maneskin. proof read a little, not edited. gif not mine.

You had grown up next door to Peter Parker, he had been your best friend since the two of you were six years old and it hadn’t changed over the years. If you went digging through attics or basements, you’d find hundreds of pictures documenting two children growing up side-by-side into teenagers. The growth charts in the houses were faded now, but you could still make out initials and numbers, and smiley faces. A childhood spent so closely together, families practically weaved together. Peter Parker was part of you.

You’re not sure where along the line you’d fallen in love with him. Maybe as a ten year old when you’d finally learnt how to do the bunny loops to tie your shoelaces by yourself, and Peter spun the two of you around in circles in celebration. Maybe as a thirteen year old when you’d had your heart broken and Peter sat up with you all night to dry your tears. Or, maybe as a sixteen year old when you noticed the way he started looking at Gwen Stacey and you realised that Peter Parker was a boy you couldn’t have.

Now seniors at Midtown High School, you knew things were about to change drastically. Life revolved around homework, college applications, extra credit work, serious boyfriends, and making the most out of a school year that would be drawing to a close soon. Gone were the days of paper planes, skinned knees, hanging upside down until the two of you were red in the face. And, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tear you up inside.

“Are you coming over tomorrow, Pete?” You asked on the walk home, sharing an earbud as you listened to the Peter + Y/n playlist, carefully curated over the years. The backpack you had since freshman year, splitting at the seams, was full of textbooks and homework, and you knew if you didn’t get it started tonight it was highly likely you’d procrastinate.

“Can’t, sorry bub.” Peter was nice enough to sound apologetic, and it hadn’t been the answer you’d been expecting. In the twelve years of friendship, you’d never not spent a Saturday together and it hurt you a little to know Peter was suddenly unavailable. “I can come over on Sunday though? We’ll start our assignment together.”

You shrugged in response, taking out the earbud as you reached your front steps. A quick goodbye was said before you ran up them and through the heavy front door, ignoring the way your backpack knocked against your back with enough force to leave bruises. Peter followed, stopping when the door slammed shut without enough time for him to slip through. Unsure if you wanted time alone or not, the boy decided it was perhaps better to leave you for now; he’d see you on Sunday.

Saturday was an incredibly boring day, for you anyway. You spent most of the day in a too-big sweater and some pj shorts, hunched over your desk as you worked through an English class essay. It felt weird not being with Peter, like something was missing and you wondered what he was doing. You wondered if he was lonely, wondered if Peter was doing anything even remotely close to exciting. You’d ask tomorrow, you decided.

Sunday rolled around, and you sat on the stairs outside your front door waiting for him to turn up, but he never did. Peter Parker, for all his lateness when it came to school, was never late for you. He had sworn against being late after he was five minutes late to your ninth birthday party, quite by accident, only to turn up and discover that nobody had come anyway; you’d been most hurt at the thought of Peter not being there.

“Come on love, dinner’s ready.” Your mom called you inside at 5pm, tea towel draped across her shoulder. You were silent as you stood and followed her, holding in all the heartbreak you were sure you’d cry into your pillow that night anyway. Peter had shown up during dinner, looking apologetic and peaky, and your mom served him some dinner and you had to pretend that his actions hadn’t cut deep inside.

Peter left after dinner, citing that his Aunt May needed help with something, and when you rounded the table for a hug, Peter didn’t stay long enough to give you the chance. Despite the action being unnecessary, you walked him to the front door and as it closed behind him, you collapsed onto the stair behind you and let yourself cry. Nothing needed to be said, the actions were enough, Peter Parker no longer saw you as a friend.

You took to ignoring him at school after that, much to his confusion. When his Uncle Ben passed away, you took Aunt May some condolence flowers and some prepared meals. “Mom said you’re welcome over anytime, which you know anyway.” You explained into a hug, feeling your own tears burn at your eyes. “She knows how you’re feeling, and said you don’t have to grieve alone. You’re not alone, Aunt May.”

A sympathetic smile sent in Peter’s direction before you stepped out of the Parker residence, unsure if you’d ever step back inside once again. Things had changed even more after that, Peter had become obsessed with avenging his Uncle’s death, fuelled by the need to catch his killer, and it was obvious that he didn’t have time for silly friendships anymore. Even if Peter Parker was still the biggest part of you.

When the seventh anniversary of your fathers passing rolled around, you found yourself crying in the arms of Aunt May. Your mom had gone to visit her mother in law for the weekend; her health had been declining in recent months, and having no other children, your mom figured it was only right for her to spend some time with her. You promised you’d be fine alone, said the Parkers were right next door if you needed them. And you did, more than ever. But where Peter failed, Aunt May succeeded.

“He should be here,” you wailed, tears coming thick and fast as you felt yourself breaking down. Peter had been there for every anniversary, every first since, and when you cried for your father, Peter had been the one to hold your hand, encouraging you to let it all out. “Peter should be here. Why isn’t he here? What could be more important?”

You’d fallen asleep on their couch that night, cheeks sticky from tears and throat raw from crying so hard. Eleven am saw you waking up to the sound of May lecturing Peter, “she needed you. You weren’t there when she needed you the most. Where were you, Peter? Where were you because you sure as hell weren’t here when it mattered the most?”

You had left when Peter Parker mumbled out that he was with Gwen Stacy; didn’t stay long enough for the apologies that you didn’t think you’d get to hear. But when Gwen’s father passed away, and Peter withdrew himself from the girl, Peter climbed through your window begging forgiveness.

“I waited for you that Sunday, and you didn’t come,” you cried, grateful your mom had been working a night shift at the local hospital. Peter could feel his heart crack at your tears, wanting to console you but moving felt impossible. “You came for dinner, and didn’t even hug me goodbye. You never leave without hugging me! And you weren’t there. When I needed you the most, you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter practically stumbled over his words, unsure if you’d believe him. He hoped you would, but he’d been such an awful friend to you lately that he wasn’t sure if you’d forgive him. Not that he’d blame you if you chose not to. “Believe me bub, I’m so so sorry. God, if I could turn back time I would, I’d spend every single second with you instead of with Gwen. I’d have held you whilst you cried instead of kissing Gwen. Believe me, I would have.”

Bile rose in your throat at the statement, and you swallowed it back down. You’d been in love with Peter for years now, he’d always been part of you. Twelve years of friendship; shared skinned knees, hanging upside down until you were red in the face, a silly marriage pact, tears, laughter. Peter had been your awkward first kiss aged fourteen when you worried that nobody would ever want to kiss you. You were so in love with your best friend, and wishful thinking had you hoping he loved you too.

“I love you,” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’ve loved you for longer than I think I can remember. Maybe I started loving you when we were ten and you twirled me around after I learnt to tie my shoelaces alone. Or maybe it started at thirteen when you stayed with me all night to dry my tears after that jerk broke my heart. Maybe at fourteen after you were my first kiss when I worried nobody would kiss me. It was confirmed at sixteen though, when you started looking at Gwen Stacy differently and I knew you were a boy that would never be mine.”

There, it was all out in the open now. A confession you could never take back, words you never thought you’d spill. Peter looked lost for words, opening and closing his mouth eerily like a fish as he tried to think of something to say. The right thing to say. The thing you wished he’d say more than anything: I love you too.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, he turned and left your house. Leaving you alone for the last time ever.

Peter Parker will always be the saddest part of you. The part of you that would never be yours.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x you #the amazing spiderman x reader #the amazing spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x you angst #tasm!peter parker x reader angst #tasm!peter parker angst #peter parker angst #the amazing spiderman #peach writes

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ruminate88 · 5 months

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My Best Friends And Lovers Were My Enemies Too 😰

I can truly say you don’t ever know a person fully because they can hide thoughts and feelings in their heart and head. The Bible claims to me in Jeremiah 17; The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, who can know it? (I don’t even know my own heart sometimes and it’s confused me a lot in the past)

I know I’m far from perfect myself and have made countless mistakes. I’m not judging folks, I only tried to trust and find loving relationships but in my past, I was so empathetic and emotional, I attracted so many haters and abusers. People whom could only use me and pretend to care deeply for me. I had an online friend named Bri, from Washington Seattle, that we were on again, off again, for many many years! Bri would some how break my trust, I would pull away but then she would always come back around and some how we were always friends again. She would play both sides too! Bri was also friends with a girl online named Christine and this Christine always hated me from day one. (I never really got to talk to Christine, I always just tried to ignore her and focus on my own problems.) Bri knew this and would act like she was only friends with Christine to get information about her but I knew better. I tried to always give Bri the benefit of the doubt and forgave her countless times until one day Bri went too far.

I had been dating this guy named Andrew, whom, I didn’t know he was a narcissist but Andrew’s behavior in our relationship was very bizarre and confusing. I had made the mistake to complain to Bri countless times about Andrew and Bri took it upon herself to investigate!! Bri went behind my back and started texting Andrew. They apparently talked and sexted for a month behind my back. If Bri was just looking out for me, why did she need to sext with him?? Whenever Bri confessed to me what she had done, I just didn’t see how I could ever trust her again or have a normal friendship with her. I also questioned Andrew and he played dumb, claimed he believed I made a new account and he SWORE he believed that he was only talking to me the whole time. (I wasn’t born yesterday, I knew Andrew was trying to cover up the truth.)

Andrew wasn’t the only man in my life who lied and cheated. Bri wasn't the only dishonest friend in my life either. I learned that people can make mistakes, people can be selfish and can disappoint you. I’ve had special people in my life but even some folks deceive you by making you believe they’re special but they’re trying to gain something from you.

You just have to navigate yourself, having a firm belief system and sticking to it! Always knowing that people can let you down but the Bible tells me in 1 John 4:18: “Perfect Love cast out all fear!” From my own personal experiences, I could easily be afraid to ever have relationships again but then that would be the most cold and lonelist space. I work hard to pray to God and pray for loving people in my life. You won’t always know a persons true colors right away but expecting people not to be perfect, helps me not to be so disappointed and I’m more apt to understand people now and move on. I don’t live so hard anymore as I use to. I use to consistently fall apart and play the victim; having countless pity parties with myself.

Without love and relationships, you put yourself alone in a box and shut yourself off from living. You don’t have to have 100 friends, you do need people though. I’ve felt alone and isolated many times in my past and it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. I don’t understand people that insist on living alone and away from civilization. I realize the world can be cruel and dark but maybe you can be a light for them! Don’t give up! I know it’s hard to stand out from the crowd and be different. You don’t feel like you even fit in. I was always the empath and the emotional one in all my past relationships till one day God sent me my husband who is even more sensitive than me♥️ My husband cries when I’m hurt. That’s beyond sweet to me and nothing I ever had before.

Make your hellos and goodbyes count!! 🥺 Life is so short, you never know when it’s your last moment. Don’t run from people who actually try to be there for you, cherish them. (I know it’s hard sometimes to know who is really your friend or your enemy) My friend Brianna passed away in 2018 and I never got to forgive her or say goodbye. Even if she was wrong or wanted to hurt me, she still was a human like me and I should’ve been the bigger person and accepted her apologies but I let my disappointment and feelings cloud my judgement towards her. Didn’t mean I had to trust her again but what if she needed my friendship? What if I was the only light in her life?? I’ve asked God for wisdom and for forgiveness myself. I know I’m not better than anyone else and just as I want people to forgive my mistakes, I want to forgive others too but it’s hard. You don’t learn everything about life and people in a day!

Don’t beat yourself up! Forgive yourself too and if someone repeatedly hurts you, walk away but you should forgive them and love them from a distance. Yes you need relationships in your life but you do not have to take abuse from anyone!! God can put the right people in your path but you have to step out of your comfort zone and let people in!! God does not want you to isolate yourself! God created you for relationships! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

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ziorea · 1 month

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Awakening storm

An irritable growl came from Apea as Ziorea tried to leave her tent. His forehead met her chest, and with a grunt, he pushed her back in. “Stop, let me out!” She snapped at him, hands on his forehead trying to push him back so she could leave.

A glare was given to the elf from the drake. She watched his lips curl back showing off sharp teeth. Those very teeth caught the fabric of her tent door and with his best effort attempted to close it, the elf rider being stuck inside.

Thunder rumbled around them. Soon she would hear rain splattering on the tent and the scales of her drake. “Come on! We are not going for a ride, I just need to go for a walk. To think!”

The settling of Apea was heard as he curled his long slither body around her tent locking her in place for the oncoming storm.

“Fine! I will just chat with my friends on this goblin comm device. Maybe they will come save me from you.” She huffed out her threat to him.

Apea huffed back, the tent door ruffled from his breath.

Ziorea sat herself down on the rug by her cot. Once she lived a life of oversized beds, silk sheets, and comfort food. Now she enjoyed a new resting spot each night, forgot what a bed felt like, and was used to dirt all over. When she went in public a room in an inn was rented to clean up and look like the pristine noble she was born.

Bored she pulled out the communication device to kill time. Zero messages were left on it. It never bothered her being unpopular or not having a list of friends to chat too. However, at times the lonelist haunted her and was the primary reason she took to going to cities.

Maybe it was time to track down one person dear to heart. Someone she could pester on these boring afternoon hours when work wasn’t keeping her busy. Apea was not much of a conversationalist anyway.

Would her sister want her communication information? Would it be dangerous to reconnect? Ziorea tried not to overthinkabout it.

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caffeinatedslothgaymer · 1 year

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Carly Rae Jepson's The Lonelist Time is honestly the only thing getting me through university

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astarion-dekarios · 1 year

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Orchid, Mahonia, and Sage?:D

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

Carly Rae Jepsen is the queen of making songs that are perfect so I could name any number of her songs, but right now I'll shout out the Lonelist Time. The accompanying video? Perfect. Rufus Wainwright? Perfect. The homage to disco and the silent film era at the same time? ...Also perfect.

mahonia ⇢ what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

This is hard because I don't think this is constant at all and tends to be whatever my main special interest is at the moment? The most persistent of those would be Les Mis which I guess has inspired me to create fiction, also to visit Paris, to learn French which I still read and write fairly competently, and then to go to college. So that's pretty big.

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

Almost certainly that's music. I don't know, I think we as a species are kind of hard-wired to create and respond to music, and I think there is something pretty spiritual about like, people singing together.

Shout-out to video games, when they are committed to being art and telling stories they're amazing & have an immersion/participation level that is hard to reach with other forms of art.

#ask games

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maneskintalk · 1 year

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Do we know if Damiano has discussed his mental health before? I've heard he mentioned he was in therapy for anxiety in an old interview, but I keep seeing references to self-harm and suicidal ideation in his lyrics (The Loneliest, La Paura del Buio, Le Parole Lontane and specially in Torna a Casa), and in interviews. That one interview before The Lonelist MV premiered legit got me worried, when the interviewer asked if he came close to death before, and he said that he did, many times, which immediately made Victoria ask, "many times?" He got awkward afterwards and they eventually changed the subject. Then there's the heated argument with Vic in the "This is Maneskin" documentary, in which he says he wants to die sometimes, right before telling them to "turn this off" and stop filming it. It makes me worry, sometimes. I find myself watching him closely during tours now, since he clearly struggles.

He mentioned seeing a therapist for some interview, but I can't remember which is it. I believe it was the Fun Interview.

I don't think Damiano has discussed openly mental health. I know during Loneliest q&a, he said he was lonely during LA because he had nobody to visit him during that time, but that's him being lonely, I think.

Sorry for giving short answers. I really don't want to speculate someone's mental health or assume like yeah, I know this, because we really don't at the end of the day, you know

I don't know how to ease your worrying, but you don't need to worry too much as he has his friends & family around him at the moment and seems to be in high spirits to me, so don't worry!

#anon ask #damiano

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bridgeporthq · 1 year

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Oh, look! It’s [Eleanora Beaufort]! I heard they’re [32], a [FEMALE], use [SHE/HER] pronouns, have been in town for [3 DAYS] and are actually from [Clermont, Quebec]. They are currently working as a [WRITER] and living in [Downtown Bridgeport]. You know, I personally think they look like [Jenna Coleman], but that’s crazy, right?

BIOGRAPHY

Trigggers in Bio: heart attack

Most young girls will, at one time in their life, experience the delicious draw of time-worn pages that tell tall tales of princesses and knights and dragons in castles. Eleanora Beaufort was not unique in the fact that these stories infatuated her mind with intricate fantasies only a child could dream, she was unique in the fact, however, that this imagination followed her from her childhood, into her teens, and never left her side as she aged into an adult.

A coping mechanism some would call it, one of a daydreaming only child born to a working mother and an absent father. And it was a fair assessment. Eleanora’s active imagination didn’t pair well with her loneliness as a child. She retreated to books, alone at home and grew shyer with each passing year. She would later learn to tell her own stories, though struggled to base them on people she knew in real life. She kept everyone she knew at an arms distance, only ever truly content with her own company. She wore a smile as a mask, her lips almost always posed in a people-pleasing grin so as not to ruffle any feathers. Deep down, she yearned to live life bolder, able to speak as though she were one of the characters from the books she so cherished. She went to bed each night thinking she was still the lonelist person in the world, that not a single soul in the world knew hers.

At the age of 30, Eleanora’s life cracked open. She had lived quietly, in the same town in which she grew up. A beautiful, lush, French-Canadian town, with only 4,000 people within its limits. But then one day, as these things do, her mother was on her way to work and simply clutched her heart, onlookers say, while stuck at a red light. Suddenly, Eleanora was totally and completely alone in the only home she'd ever known. No longer figuratively as she’d once laid in bed imagining, now literally. Her “friends” withdrew. In every booth at the local diner, Eleanora saw her mother’s smile. Behind every open letter box at the post office, she’d hear a familiar sigh. Around every aisle at the grocery store, a laugh. Her mother's ghost was everywhere. Eleanora had no choice but to leave Clermont, but where would she go?

The idea to find her father came to her quickly, almost as if something had whispered it to her. It wasn’t easy to do but she found the site of his last job from 5 years ago: Bridgeport, ME. She moved with only a suitcase, and bought the nicest apartment she could afford with the money her mom had saved. As she lay in her new bed, in her new town, with only opportunity in front of her, she wondered if this was what it felt to finally live.

#bridgeportbio #eleanora beaufort #heart attack tw

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