futurology | ( video | un: 10-65 )

Entry tags:

( video | un: 10-65 )

[ on-screen: ( 1 ) gwen stacy, a completely normal college student, wide-eyed, frowning. this is serious. a tragedy in motion. ]

I know we're all busy what with smashing bugs, do they even still count as bugs when you can spike them like a football? [ gwen stacy, asking the tough questions, ] but I have an emergency. See this? [ she holds up a cell phone in front of her face. the background reads "THE MARY JANES." the eagle-eyed will note the battery symbol in the corner: warning red. ]

This is my life. Not only is it my life, it's sitting at less than 10% charge so if I don’t get a charger for it pronto, I will literally die.

[ """""""literally.""""""" ]

Somebody has to have one. Help me, Samsung-Juan, whoever you are. You're my only hope.

[ other people have questions starting with "how" and "why" and "what the actual f—" gwen stacy, however, has #priorities. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( is there a Peter Parker out there that doesn't know Gwen Stacy? maybe. he's not an expert on Peter Parker. which is, you know, kinda weird, being one. he's one of the lucky ones, or unlucky, depends on how you look at it, but he can't see Gwen as anything other than the best thing that ever happened to him. too bad she can't say the same about him.

he thought he saw it, the resemblance, the icy blonde (it's shorter, instead of a ponytail), the quirky conversation and the familiar humor. but that's just it, he sees Gwen everywhere. Aunt May told him to put her away, keep those memories somewhere safe and distant, and he tries, he's just not good at it. in the end, it's been a year and change, and that's still not long enough at all.

his expression cracks, and crumbles, all in a horrible instant when it sinks in. it's worse than being known, now, isn't it? )

Pretty sure he didn't pick Stacy, but what do I know? Your dad would have been the type.

( why are they joking? doesn't make any of this better, at all, nor does it hide the wet look in his eyes. he can't help it. )

Gwen. I... I just didn't... You're...

( you're not the same. she's close, she's far too close, but she's here and she's alive, which is about all it takes to be different from his Gwen, isn't it? )

[ alive? she supplies mentally. yeah, I've got a habit of not dying. other people can draw and write poetry and get the high score on every video game they touch. my gift? not dying. lucky fucking me.

every word sits behind her teeth. she seals her lips, and there they remain. were she speaking to jessica, she wouldn't have hesitated. her dad had heard versions of it. even spider-ham, hallucination or no. but peter… she can't be so sarcastic with peter. she can't. ]

We should meet up.

[ gwen considers the face before her, all its similarities and its differences. you'd think she would have gotten over this, already, this surreal he is and he isn't. ( you'd think her throat would stop aching after so long. ) things weren't so difficult, then. talking wasn't so difficult. ]

If phones aren't good for this type of conversation, jewelry is just crass.

( as someone who has had to lose her, Peter would say not dying is a pretty awesome habit to have. he's lost a lot of people, if only it were as easy as that. her story is different, he knows that without asking, knows that there's a disconnect deeper than different worlds and different existences.

meet up. he used to sneak into her bedroom at three in the morning because he couldn't handle the idea of waiting until third period to kiss her, and now the idea of meeting her sounds sort of terrifying. he swallows, hard, before he looks down and nods. )

Yeah. I want to see you.

( even if it hurts, it's better than where he was a minute ago, where his memories were all set to the reminder that she was gone. he fumbles with his communicator only long enough to ping his location. it doesn't occur to him that he could probably find her faster; he's sort of dealing with a lot right now. )

I'll be right there. [ a brief smile, one corner lifted. gwen extinguishes the connection. unseen, she sags. back bowed, head low as if even that is too heavy to keep up anymore. the base of a fist presses into her eye. ]

Shit.

[ before she can chicken out, she pushes away from the wall. the map remains before her, peter's position a blinking dot. gwen inhales. like a band-aid.

the entire way there, gwen keeps up a list of what she needs to cover. the first, not cry. no matter what happens. he can cry, but if she starts crying too, then they'll both be crying and nothing will get said. second, yes, she's gwen, no, she's not the gwen he knows, yeah, she knows about that and it's a really, really long story. she doesn't even know how to begin to broach the spider subject —

then her time's up, and he's right there. gwen's lips part. a shaky exhale passes between them. her lips curl up in a gentle smile. ]

Hey, Peter.

( if he's not allowed to cry, it's already too late. it doesn't take her long, not long at all, but it feels like decades. his head is a reel of questions — what is her world like, how she already knows about the fact there's more than one (because yeah, that'd been a bit of a revelation for him when he arrived in Oska), how... how she is, if she's okay, if she's real, if he's just going crazy. it wouldn't surprise him if his guilt finally made him crack, but he just barely manages to hope it might be real, even if he doesn't know exactly how to handle the concept of a Gwen that isn't his.

Peter is twitching and fidgeting while leaning against a statue in the courtyard, bolting up suddenly with the intention of finding her himself until he can hear her coming, spidey senses coming in handy, for once. )

Gwen, it's really...

( really her. he's not dreaming it, she's really there, and in person, she's even more familiar. technically, they've never met, but technically is proving really stupid right about now. she's just going to have to forgive the sudden and possibly intensely painful hug. he never thought he'd get a chance to be with her again, and even if it's a different version of Gwen, it's enough that he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by, because he knows he'll regret it. )

I've got so many questions. God, Gwen, how are... how is this even happening? ( he asks her hair, because he can't quite let her go yet. ) I mean, I knew this place was crazy, but this is crazy crazy, right? Maybe even three crazies.

[ gwen's resolve holds…until peter hugs her. she, quick enough to dance circles around bad guys and good guys alike with guns, is somehow rendered immobile when he approaches. then he's hugging her, and on some level she recognizes the grip is too tight, but she has known it tighter. for two years, she lived it tighter. ( his very memory become a chokehold squeezing, squeezing. ) for him to grab her means he's strong, and well, and he's so warm —

she exhales a watery laugh. ] Shut up for a minute.

[ gwen's arms snake around his waist, and she holds on just as tightly as he is to her. she hides her face in his chest. her tears leave damp spots on his shirt. the suffocating pressure that has lived between her ribs relaxes its grip a little bit.

let her indulge. time will be had. they can go over all of his questions, and all of hers. they can discuss the hows and whens and how longs. but for once, let her indulge the selfish missing of her friend. ]

( if her Peter Parker is anything like this one, she has to know how difficult that particular request is. he'll stammer until his voice fails him when he's nervous, or uncomfortable, or to cover up the fact he's falling apart all over again. doesn't matter that she's been gone a year, doesn't matter that he's tried to put her memory in a better place, so he can try and live without her. because she's there and the feelings come rushing back.

he might have tried for a comeback, but the breath he gives is trapped in his throat. okay, fine, no talking, because he probably couldn't manage it, now that he thinks about it. his face dips into her hair and he closes his eyes and he tries to focus on the fact that in some world, in some way, she makes it.

that doesn't erase the misery of losing her, of trying so hard and still ultimately failing. of being the one guilty of taking her away, even in his attempts to save her. yet when he pictures all the worlds where he apparently exists, and the likelihood that she's gone in all of them? it's sort of reassuring to know that in one, she makes it.

with a clearer head, maybe he'd realize she's reacting almost identical to he is. right about now, though, he's just glad to focus on her being there. )

[ what a pair they make. ill of heart, and ill of mind. hours ago, she had been holding on to another friend, more afraid of losing him too than she can remember being. I believe in my friend, she said kneeling before him, meaning every word, wishing she could say it to the one missing — that third corner of the triangle, abruptly erased, known in the deep grooves carved in the paper, which nothing could lift.

hours ago, she said goodbye to her friend, not knowing when she would see him again. but she has hope. she believes. ( she was lucky. )

being so close to peter again is an impossibility. scrawny peter who one day shot right past her. he walked hunched, though; shoulders turned in, head down, as small a target as he could make himself. skinny he had been, more bone than muscle. the difference wasn't as marked.

( the lizard had been massive and terrifying. gwen's heartbeat had thrummed in her ears, lived in her throat. she couldn't have known. but love is irrational. and she loved peter — loves him — misses him — ) ]

God, we're a mess. [ she draws back with a self-deprecating laugh. he, judging by the common thread, who failed in catching her. she, once incapable of seeing the depths of her friend's misery. this isn't the boy with whom she traded recommendations for music and movies and books, with whom she texted in class and late into the nights, with whom she made stupid faces in front of a camera. but he's peter, and that's enough for her heart to squeeze tight in her chest. he's her friend, and she loves him…no matter how universes between them.

gwen brushes at her tears. the backs of her fingers brush at his. her hand lingers on his cheek. ]

Edited (never tag while half-asleep you'd think I'd learned and then I go and do it again) 2016-09-08 01:59 (UTC)

( that'll be a hell of a story. that in a different universe, he turned into the Lizard, the role his father's research partner filled in his world. as someone who has held the weight of too much responsibility, it'd be hard for Peter to imagine a version of himself so desperate to be special that he'd go to such extreme odds. then again, there's a good chance there are parts of his story Gwen won't quite relate to, either. they're different and all too familiar all at once, offering a reprieve from a guilt that time and distance can never wash away.

a mess. yeah, well maybe. he wants to correct her, that he's not quite the mess he used to be. would that reassure her, though? that it took him a year to pull himself together again, a year for her speech to really reach him. yeah, probably not. he's not proud of it either, looking back. Gwen asked him to be greater than his suffering, and he'd failed her and the rest of New York for longer than anyone should be proud to admit. he mutters a laugh, because for all her differences in some ways she's much the same.

teasing him at just the right moment to make his heart a little less weighted, for example. )

You'd think we're on an episode of Oprah or something. ( and certainly not a good one, where they got a free car. her hand lingers on his cheek and he finally takes the chance to really look at her. for once, his instincts haven't failed him. she looks a lot like the girl he remembers so vividly, except for one thing. he reaches up to tug a strand of surprisingly short hair. ) That's new.

( new, but good. he likes it on her, if the watery smile is any indication. he imagines some of the other differences will be harder to take, but that one is easy. chances are good that it is beyond Peter Parker to think any Gwen Stacy that has ever existed isn't the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. )

[ gwen ducks her head with a bashful smile. she tucks her hair behind her ear. ] I wanted a change after high school.

[ needed it. the hair was an aspect she could control. then it proved to be of easy upkeep, a blessing when she couldn't be bothered put any effort into anything outside of the mask. enough hair had littered the floor to resemble a cat. she faintly remembers how light her head felt. it was an unfamiliar feeling then. it remains so, more often than not.

gwen keeps her voice light. ]

Turns out this length is great for the shampoo budget. Great for the college student on the go.

( wanted a change after high school. that shouldn't hurt, but it does. he hides the wince, mostly, though his eyes squeeze close for an extended beat. would his Gwen have wanted a change, heading into Oxford? would she have surprised him with a short hair cut, a new look for a new school and a new country? he's never going to know. he swallows and forcibly ejects himself out of those thoughts. this is never going to get easier if he lets himself tailspin into old, destructive thoughts. this is a chance he'd never have gotten anywhere else, he needs to take advantage of it. instead of poisoning it with what could have beens. )

I bet it is. ( it's genuine, if a heartbeat late. he wants this to work and no matter how it stings, that might mean he needs to work for it. ) See, that's why mine's short. Fabio would look to me for style cues if it weren't for my measly shampoo budget. ( his hair is actually getting kind of long, for him. he would fix that, if he had any idea how to cut his own hair. that should be put on the agenda before he actually does turn into Fabio, though.

he lets his hand fall back to his side, and it's hard not to reach out again. he can't just physically hold onto her for the rest of time, as much as he'd like to. it wouldn't protect her any, even if it might make him feel better. ) I know we have... a lot to talk about. But maybe we can just figure out how to ... ( he wheels his spare hand around in the air aimlessly, as he realizes there is no good word for what he's trying to say. ) Do this. First.

You mean, how to be friends?

[ the delivery is humorous, although the earnestness behind it is anything but. gwen knows how to take on bad guys with peter parker. she knows many of the thoughts coiling poisonously through his head. ( she has those too. ) being friends with peter parker, however…

she's a faced hungry vampire family with a taste for spider, a rhinoceros of a man, the guy with thin bird bones and a thinner funny bone and matt murderdock himself.

peter scares her more than any of them. but leaving scares her too. ]

How about starting at the beginning? [ she extends her hand. ] Hi. I'm Gwen. By day, I go to Empire State. By night, I'm the irreplaceable drummer of an indie rock band.

( how to be friends. yes, something like that, or an approximation. that she can so easily put it to words and leave him feeling like an abashed freshman, in a good way, and only Gwen Stacy has ever been able to do that to him. she's definitely different, and yet the ways she's so alike to the Gwen that he knows manages to be a comfort he doesn't really deserve.

he takes her hand and tries to commit to the business-like handshake, but it just becomes exaggerated and a little embarrassing. that might as well be his middle name, Peter "Exaggerated and Embarrassing" Parker. his eyebrows lift in slight surprise at the mention of a band. yeah, his Gwen had never mentioned interest in joining a band, or playing drums. that's new, but not a bad new. )

What's the name of the band? ( and in turn, she gets, ) Peter. Photographer of the Daily Bugle. Aunt May keeps leaving applications to NYU under my door, but as of yet unaffiliated with any institution. I'm doing that whole find myself before college thing, or at least find more time for naps before I commit to classes thing. ( he can't see himself making much headway in a degree in the middle of heroing, and when he was on sabbatical from heroing, he really hadn't been up for college. )

[ gwen laughs. in the realm of "exaggerated and embarrassing," he's in good company if not challenged for the title. she would happily abdicate any title, however, for a life with more naps. a night's sleep that leaves her feeling refreshed in the morning instead of out-of-sorts and like she missed something important. sleep, like school, like any semblance at a life, fell by the wayside for a long time. gwen suspects her dad would kill for her to be like anyone else her age: go to class, hang out with friends, experiment with new experiences, do a crazy thing maybe once a blue moon instead of once a day.

she doesn't really want to find herself, however. some days, she doesn't want there to be anything else but spider-woman. spider-woman is a solution; gwen stacy has only ever been a problem.

some days, she fears that has become too real. ]

I'd listen to Aunt May. She knows what she's talking about.

[ ben too, but she figures that piece of news can wait until he's come to grips with his not-actually-dead alternate universe self of the girl he knew.

as she knows her next cue. gwen fishes in her pocket for the phone that started it all. it's doing a little better after a couple of minutes hooked to the charger loaned to her. the battery symbol is no longer "I'm dying, squirtle" red. it could still use a few minutes out in sunlight. the background spells out the name of the band. ]

It's called The Mary Janes. We co-founded it in school: me, MJ, obviously, Glory and Betty.

[ she thumbs the photos app. the picture she wants isn't too far up: taken from the crowd, four girls in black and pink striped matching outfits on stage. ]

That's from a gig we did a while ago. I think that was the middle of "Face It, Tiger." I got the song here if you want to listen to it.

Edited 2016-09-20 03:36 (UTC)

( superheroing just doesn't provide the opportunity for naps. there's always a new problem or disaster unfolding in NYC. turning his phone into a mobile police scanner was the dumbest thing he ever did, because it was almost impossible to condone sleeping when he could hear so clearly how many people needed help. between that and the fact that sirens were amplified to ridiculous levels thanks to spidey senses, sleep was sort of a rarity for him.

he'd gotten more of it in Oska. and he'd gotten too much of it for a long time, the darkest months where he had trouble getting out of bed unless he was heading to the graveyard for silent vigils that wouldn't bring the people he'd lost back any more than all the time he spent mourning them. so maybe he built up a sort of auxiliary stash, that totally makes sense from the biological standpoint, right? )

She does, and she knows it. She has an 'I Told You So' dance. ( and it's about the most ridiculous thing he's ever had to live through, and yet right about now he really wishes he could see Aunt May grooving to no music at all in her delight at being proven right. he misses her, a lot. he just hopes she doesn't have to miss him in return.

her phone battery is in better repair and he looks over her shoulder to see the figments of her life flashing in front of him. out of context, he really can't parse all of them, but a few seem familiar. he smiles at the picture she lands on, because even if he isn't sure he could see his Gwen behind the drums at a rock show, there's something alive and vibrant about the piece of her life she's sharing with him, and it makes him wish he could have been there to live it, too. )

I knew an MJ, back from Midtown. ( he'd never been very close to her, though, so it's just a quiet similarity to chew on. still, more importantly, ) Yeah, I'd like to hear it. I'm a music snob, so just know you've got a lot to prove here. ( it's a small step, to listen to a song by her band or to share bits of their lives together. it feels like a good step, though... and maybe once they take enough small steps, the crushing weight of the reminder he lost her will feel a little less heavy. )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( video | un: 10-65 )

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

what if i told you i only tag half asleep

I might be taking after you

do not i am the worst influence

too late

http://67.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m574y11hoE1r317bvo1_500.gif

pls forgive :'<<<

okay... i guess i forgive... wanna wrap here possibly maybe?