[On the other end of the spectrum, Peter has to spend a lot of time staring into the mirror, wondering why he was so endlessly confused these days. No matter what he did or where he went there was this unrelenting...sense of unease. He always had to look twice when he entered a room. Stare at the dates he'd just written in on his assignments, squint at predictable news segments. After enough time he'd made a game of guessing the outcomes of every conversation he was having. And correct him if he's wrong, but having something like a sixty eight percent success rate is a sign that something is definitely up, right?
Except how do you convey to someone that you're experiencing the world's longest spell of deja vu? Mary Jane had noticed he'd been strangely pensive lately but had somewhat erroneously chalked it up to PTSD. Like don't get him wrong, he was still pretty firmly stuck in the quagmire of severe and untreated trauma (and so was she, for the record), but that didn't explain this.
He kind of wishes Doctor Strange was still around. Professor Xavier. The former would be about the only person who could tell if there was some wacky voodoo messing with him, like that time he'd been under the sway of that nightmare demon thing, and the latter could take a harmless peak at the ole noggin and figure out which cogs are grinding in the wrong direction.
But both are dead. And Reed Richards is evil, Nick Fury is AWOL unless he deigns not to be, and Carol Danvers already thinks he's too much of a spaz to not throw him in super detention if she hears he's in another pickle. And thusly, his pool of capable confidantes has been whittled down to near nothing.
Truthfully, Peter's still not entirely convinced that this is something worth bothering the big leagues with anyhow.
It'll just be something he ponders over while swinging. On patrol during a sunny Saturday afternoon, more for kicks than for business. He was allowed to do some swinging for fun once in a while.
Then his spider sense buzzes. And while it is a mild buzz he is still extremely bothered by the interruption, and is incredibly displeased to find some dillhole swinging
up
like right in front of him?
Also a metal cable whips him in the leg as the dude goes.]
i hope that eren tried a bagel during his big week in new york!!!!
Except how do you convey to someone that you're experiencing the world's longest spell of deja vu? Mary Jane had noticed he'd been strangely pensive lately but had somewhat erroneously chalked it up to PTSD. Like don't get him wrong, he was still pretty firmly stuck in the quagmire of severe and untreated trauma (and so was she, for the record), but that didn't explain this.
He kind of wishes Doctor Strange was still around. Professor Xavier. The former would be about the only person who could tell if there was some wacky voodoo messing with him, like that time he'd been under the sway of that nightmare demon thing, and the latter could take a harmless peak at the ole noggin and figure out which cogs are grinding in the wrong direction.
But both are dead. And Reed Richards is evil, Nick Fury is AWOL unless he deigns not to be, and Carol Danvers already thinks he's too much of a spaz to not throw him in super detention if she hears he's in another pickle. And thusly, his pool of capable confidantes has been whittled down to near nothing.
Truthfully, Peter's still not entirely convinced that this is something worth bothering the big leagues with anyhow.
It'll just be something he ponders over while swinging. On patrol during a sunny Saturday afternoon, more for kicks than for business. He was allowed to do some swinging for fun once in a while.
Then his spider sense buzzes. And while it is a mild buzz he is still extremely bothered by the interruption, and is incredibly displeased to find some dillhole swinging
up
like right in front of him?
Also a metal cable whips him in the leg as the dude goes.]
Oy gevalt!