#Stacy Family

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The White Dove Pt 35 - Kanelbulle, the Menace and the Spanish Inquisition

... Masterlist ...

Still pushing through a rough week, but the fun story-wise continues. As always would love to hear what you might think of how the story is going or what you might think could be coming up around the corner. Sending warm wishes to your corners of the world and hope all is going well there.

Oh, and if you wouldn't mind would you consider this story crack fic? Been told that it's when things drift outside the realm of possibility, but it's for Marvel, anything can happen. So let me know what you think if it would qualify or not, I know a fair bit of my ideas can be out there but not sure if it measures up to that tag. Trying to make sure the story is tagged right so I might draw in more interest and possibly some feedback. :)

****....****

Thursday and Friday you had off, and after distraction days prior in the decathlon team meeting costumed and painted from the game with the half marching band uniformed team behind you into a sea of bodies at Columbia you led the way. For a puzzling sight your tigress self found your table to set up the project you had brought for this competition. Still after all you had done a lengthy description and stream of questions came from them on the several use smart watch like device that would help blind users or those hard of seeing, and possibly on a simpler area to translate things audibly into other languages.

Navigation, item descriptions by means of using installed scanning micro camera lens, text to speech also using scanner for item to translate, atmospheric changes to warn of weather trouble on its way to find cover and even a means of location to ping for help if an injury occurred paired with button alert if they found themselves unable to talk. Designs of what you couldn’t get to yet also had adaptations for those who could not speak or even those who are epileptic to warn of symptom of an impending seizure and alert for help. Several devices inspired at first by ways you had thought up possible gadgets to help Daredevil while Misique was on a mini exploration trip.

During the questioning that seemed to gain little ground, that had Eddie on the side with a second reporter who he bragged to on the project that wanted the scoop on. Having a legally blind sister he helped to look after, a new invention of a Queens local always seemed to draw in attention so this wouldn’t get pushed aside, the rest of your team accepted the offered tour of Dr Connor’s experiment.

A sneak peek of what the famed scientist was working on under the paycheck of Oscorp was stolen. Though irritatingly in second place you held a ridiculous melon sized crystal bull statue beside the gold statue wielding winner, who invented essentially a lego sized taser that could be marketed to parents of little kids for self protection, had you about ready to bash him over the head at the dangerous ways that could go wrong. But the military rep you knew fairly well was intrigued and surely greased the wheels mid judging.

All you could do was keep a straight face and wait until you could rejoin your group and brother’s side, focused only on how Michelle Jones had kept stealing looks Peter’s way as he rubbed the back of his neck mid conversation with Ned about a project table nearby. “I won the bull,” you said to Eddie in the beginnings of the talk with his fellow reporter to fill out your part of the story after his having spoken to everyone else, including the winner.

Isaiah curiously had been talking to another student himself but broke off to give you a side hug in pride to see that you at least were walking away with something for your hard work on top of the nightly ballet shows five times a week. Though focus on them wouldn’t last long as you had to head home and ready for the suddenly decided dinner with Eddie at the Stacy’s home.

.

“Hi,” you said with a grin to Mrs Stacy who grinned back at your emerald plaid sweater dress clad self.

“Hello, come on in, Pluto.” From the covered container in your hand she looked over your stockings that mid thigh were shown to be sheer then right above the knee were solid black to blend into your black heeled booties. The silver shorts seen under the skirt matched Eddie’s shirt he paired with black jeans and his nicer grey velour dress boots for this odd occasion as you lifted the container, “You brought food?”

“Kanelbulle,” you answered and caught her eye after a second look at the container, “Cinnamon buns. Gwen said you and Mr Stacy like cinnamon, it was this or Applekaka, which is Swedish apple cake, but she said your youngest has a thing with apples.”

“Yes, thank you, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

Eddie said, “It’s a family thing, always bring food. Plus we are working our way through this huge book on Scandinavian recipes we’re weeding out for allergies and, it has been a blast.” Smiling as they shook hands. “Eddie Brock, heard all about you.”

“Helen,” she answered and gestured her hand to the side, “Come on in.”

“Gwen, your girlfriend is here!” the younger blonde boy darting across the visible living room called out as his darker haired older brother chuckled darting after him to finish putting away their games they had out in the wait for dinner.

“Ya, stop staring at yourself in the mirror!” the latter called out audibly gaining a scoff and opened door for her to reply when they were in their shared hall of bedrooms.

“You know we’re-,” Gwen was heard by you in the shift of your eyes to her father who was adjusting the waistband of his pants having shut off the new version of footloose that had been playing then offered you his hand.

“The infamous Pluto. Nice to have a name with a face. Seen you around town past few years, and on the parade, part of why our Gwennie wanted to join the Color Guard. George.”

“Hi, I brought Kanelebulle.”

“Wow, never had that, can’t wait to try it. Hope you like branzino.” He said making you smirk at him.

“Fish markets were half a mile down the road from my old home. All my friends used to joke we’d have gills by twenty with how much fish we ate.” You said making him chuckle and release your hand to shake Eddie’s.

“Saw the Bugle’s bit on the Duckling. Gwennie’s been meaning to try that same shop, glad you two decided on Italian, they pulled five armed men out of that place, then not even a stone’s throw some of the Kingpin gang punks tossed dressed dummies off the bridge. Maniacs, had thirty calls they tossed two kids off the bridge, had the whole school in an uproar.”

“Dad,” Gwen grumbled and George looked between his freshly arrived daughter, dressed in the purple dress you’d helped her to pick while out shopping, reminding him to not get too into work talk making him grin at Eddie and let his hand go.

“But that’s work talk, we are here for dinner.” He said then asked, “Have you seen the new Footloose?”

“Warning, Bacon alert.” The blonde boy said on his way to help set the table as Mrs Stacy accepted hold of your container to add it to a plate all its own to go beside the mini tart desserts she had picked up to serve.

“Dad’s a fan of Kevin Bacon. We had a healthy discussion of the importance of Footloose earlier before we gave the new adaptation a try.”

“Isn’t that the one where he dances in that warehouse?” you asked and George looked to you curious of your meaning. “Saw that one when I was little, neighbors took to thinking they could fly after that scene, did not go well and several four year olds filled the medical offices for a good week after that.”

Slyly a smirk had spread across his lips and he answered, “Yes, one and the same, seen it since?”

“I have been working through the Tremors series actually, going backwards on his film credits.”

“Well you can’t go wrong with Footloose, let Gwen know when you get to it and we could do a marathon here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Gwen said and gave her dad a pointed look.

“Ya dad, unspoken bonds don’t meet movie marathon with the family level,” her darker haired brother said and chuckled dodging her huff and pointed glare his way making their dad clear his throat.

“Food’s ready,” Helen said luring you all to the table where you were seated between Eddie and Mr Stacy opposite their three children with both parents on the ends.

Fixing his napkin across his lap to the presentation of the full fish dish served with veggies on each plate George looked your way as you unfolded your napkin, having settled your purse on the chair behind your back. “Call me old fashioned, but two months is an awful long time to be dating.” Eddie immediately stole a glance your way as you looked to Gwen, who was hushed in her try to poke her dad in the arm to stop, “What does my Gwennie bear have to show you she’s girlfriend material.”

“I am sorry,” she mouthed your way and you looked his way, blindly fixing the napkin to lay flat.

“Obviously she always has been, no need to prove that to anyone.”

And he gestured a hand your way saying to Gwen, “See, just like the website said, Swedes don’t date, you’re a couple.” If you weren’t locked between being polite and absolute bewilderment you would have felt bothered at the assumption without even having talked to Gwen about any steps towards courtship.

Conversation between the parents was guided to keep the evening going their opinion of well while Gwen tried to keep her awkward grin from splitting across her face. Rounds of the desserts were served as plates were cleared and swapped for a new set to hold the treats and George asked, “I gotta know, you know her, what’s Misique up to on this trip of hers?”

“Expanding more on the ocean floor,” his brows arched up and you said, “The continents are only about a third of the space taken up on the planet, there are no maps of the ocean floor except for around locations of old mine fields, or where Titanic and other ships rest. Even routes submarines travel we have no footage or proper maps beyond rough estimates based off sonar pings where rock features are.” His head nodded in thought and you said, “Think of it this way, Godzilla, thousands of miles down has ruins of an abandoned civilization where ancient people used to pay homage to him, like the Greeks or Asians with temples to their gods for protection.”

“Whoa, there’s a whole city down there?” he asked leaning in a bit.

“Exactly that, just like rumors of Atlantis. We’ve mapped so little of it and all the use for those maps have been to lay bombs for subs to crash into while we were at war or to hunt for lost treasure or the occasional ship or plane wreck. Plus I’ve seen pictures of his civilization and it is truly spectacular, there could be so much more down there.”

“What about great squids?” the youngest brother asked you making you look his way.

“She has found a few, and some more creatures of the deep not even named yet,”

You said making both the boys say, “Cool.”

“I take it that’s how you bonded, over animals?” He asked and you nodded.

“Amongst other things.”

.

A hug and stolen peck on the cheek was your goodbye from Gwen who hurried to go and hide when she was alone with her family again and you were in the hall waiting for the elevator Eddie hit the button to. Once inside he said, “You know, I thought I was the only one to get stuck in this situation.”

“Two months!” you said and asked him, “How have I been a couple for two months?!”

“Okay, we gotta track this back.” He said and you nodded, clearly grateful for the help in this. “Color Guard, she asked you for help so you stay late few times a week. That’s just helpful,” he said then led the way out when the doors opened on the lobby.

“What I thought, part of my team duties.”

“Exactly, coffee after though,” his head tilted to the side and you nodded.

“Borderline,” you agreed.

“Shopping, with a chaperone, could be a date?”

“Slim, but possible.”

“You talk,” he said when you left the building to walk on the street towards the spot where he parked his bike, having promised to take you to a film after the early supper. “Very respectable hours, you enforce good habits, time for studying, no late night up all hours chats. You don’t hold hands,” that had you lift a hand to point at him and he asked, “What?”

“Bridge night, I took her hand after the rainbow shop thing. I thought she was just scared, her heartbeat was wild so I didn’t let go. She kissed my cheek.” You said and at his bike you stopped to accept the helmet he took off the handlebar to give to you. “How do you just not tell someone you’re together? You have to mention it! Sometime! You do the old ‘oh we’re so cute together’ and,” you paused and in a wide eyed stare he was unable to stop himself from smirking.

“What clicked?”

“She asked me about my plans for babies, and where I wanted to live on the bridge.”

“Okay, that’s deep. That’s two months in talk, two months, so that’s got to be shopping day or one of the coffees at least.”

Adding the helmet you asked him, “Do I flirt? Have I been flirting with her all this time?”

“I think you’re being playful, which is different. But she is 14, I mean, that’s a rush of just crazy to be thrown at you, and you’re a 10, 15 if I use my biased scale. She was bound to fall eventually.”

“That’s not funny, I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I’m the older one, I’m supposed to know things. What if she’s gonna expect me to kiss her or something? I don’t even know if I’m just enjoying her company as friends, we just met. She’s 14, I’ve made it two years from that lone dating flub and I still have no idea how to date a 14 year old!”

“Let’s go see the movie, just um, obviously you’re not doing anything wrong, model girlfriend material especially for the parents. So, just keep it friendly, maybe offer an occasional hand hold, but pg should be safe, and if she has any issues she can bring it to the table. Or she’ll huff about it and you can bring up the issue of why she’s huffing and take it from there.”

You sighed and said in adding your helmet, “If I knew it was going to be an official couple meet the parents I would have brought a chocolate sticky cake, makes a better presentation and flavor combination.”

.

Scans from your bees had confirmed it, and behind the wide eyed Peter inside of Delmar’s Deli you tried to bring up a conversation in the brief time you had before your show tonight. His entire genetic code had evolved and after a couple days of being without his glasses you made him flinch once again in a try to gain his confidence to understand how he was faring. Clearly one of the spiders had gotten loose and Dr Connors was upset in having to breed another one to replace the initial test subject for those desired uses of its webbing and other bodily functions.

“More fun with Ned today?”

Right around his wide eyed self more hopped than pivoted to face you, now hearing again with his new senses an odd effect to your voice he hadn’t noticed before, as if it was layered to be subdued, as if it wasn’t just this frequency your voice could travel between adding to the honey dripped effect it gave your words. “Ned, no. Um, just, getting a sandwich. Why, what did you think we were up to something?”

“He’s your best friend,” you answered.

“Yes, he is,” Peter said and looked you over, curious about your stained t shirt, converse and jeans that had you shorter than usual without heels on to have him actually look slightly down at you instead of being even for a change. Delmar behind the counter smirked at another odd interaction between the two of you. “He has an appointment.”

“Very convenient. If you were more self conscious and this was a soap opera he’d have a second town and a second best friend hidden somewhere.”

“Oh he would not, he’s miserable with secrets.”

“Or so you think,” you said luring a curious smirk across his lips, “Could be the most marvelous cover you’ve ever seen.”

“Are you, relaxing? There’s a show tonight, right?”

“Yes, been printing off wall panels, have a few supporting beams I have to work into these slots within the wall, had to wiggle out the rest of the beams that were broken off inside the slots around the bite.”

“That, hard? To do?” he asked sheepishly, having like Ned been trying to work up the nerve to ask to see your ship sometime in person. Most of his free time lately had been to gather old computers or appliances to fix and fancy up for sale online and the ship along with your watch more reps were still stupidly ignoring the ingenuity of it work on that ship had him ultimately in awe. You were working on an actual space ship and by what you had recorded so far were having great success at it.

“Seeing as the wing joints shocked me and when I first touched the rudder control it bit me, I would say there’s some risk to it.” You said making him chuckle to himself.

“Need a hand?”

“Two would be useful, the beams are fifty pounds a piece.”

“That’s, is it supposed to be fifty pounds each?”

“After wiggling the remaining bits out I weighed them and measured the space on the bite, and scanning through where the beams would be on the other side of the hull to have exact measurements.”

That had him nod, “Weight of what’s missing compared to how much you have and it gives you fifty. Not bad. How many beams are there?”

“They’re half a foot apart, eight, to help support the panels. Then I have to layer that with a series of netting around the border of the torn metal to smooth and weld the rolled bits to it to make fitting the new pieces there smoother.”

“I wouldn’t have the first clue how to fix a boat. That is wild you know that.”

“What’s wild is the Escher like mast. It folds like gears in layers but expands and has thinner supporting woven patterns in between to lock it together. Can’t find trace of wires and it’s kind of like a magnetic force to lock them together when they’re expanded, but there’s no magnets.”

“Unless it’s like some alien metal that only bonds to itself?”

“Tried that. Unless it has something to do with the engine and its star engine core that maybe zaps it then after it bonds to itself once expanded.”

“Star core, so cool.” He said then turned for his turn to request food.

Not long after with food in hand he was able to circle the ship as you readied the beams. Sight of you moving them to the deck then you carrying each one to wiggle with down the space around the mast had him stand on the ship to ask, “Wouldn’t there be a hatch to get down there?”

“I’m certain there is, I just haven’t located it yet.”

“But, there’s a giant hole in the side of the ship. You could climb in there.”

Halfway down the space again with another beam you paused to look at him, weight supported by one palm on the deck, “Now that would be just rude. If you inexplicably grew a second belly button on your bicep I wouldn’t go sticking my finger in it. The hull will be patched one day when I get enough scale panels printed.”

Smirking to himself he watched you pop down then did himself to move the chair so he could reach as you moved all the beams beside the gaping hole. “Hey,” you said crouching to ease the final beam in place across your lap readying to lift it snapping his eyes right to your shadow encased nervous self. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said with a chuckle, “You’re letting me help you work on a space ship. Ask me anything.”

The two foot thick, half foot tall beam that stretched longer than the gap was lifted on one side to line it up with the opening groove for it along the wall of the hull, and you asked, “You’ve seen me with Gwen, do, we seem, couply?”

The other end of the beam was lifted on his raised palms to help with the alignment in making it level, “You are a couple.”

“I get that,” you said beginning to wiggle the subtly curved beam that just barely had enough space to get it to go deeper. “I’m ace, I don’t really get the whole hormone and, social dating scheme.”

“Oh,” he said and at the lock of the beam in place you both eyed the other side and he shifted to face the other way to begin to wiggle it back the other way, “Well you seem happy, both of you. Really a lot of girls have been sighing and complaining their boyfriends aren’t as understanding or give them as much support or space for free time.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing then. Hard to know, how I’m perceived outside of being odd.” You continued to wiggle the beam in to the liquid chalk line you measured to have it lined up as it should compared to the other side to by symmetrical.

“You know, we’re all odd ducks,” he said letting the beam go to move his arms at his sides as you readied the next one. “And besides, like that Dr Seuss quote, ‘You have to be odd, to be number one.’ Aunt May got me that on a poster when I was little. Or Alice in Wonderland, best people being mad and all that. Everyone who creates something has to be a bit odd.”

“You get a lot of motivational speeches don’t you?” you asked and he chuckled.

“That obvious?”

“Welcome to the boat Skipper. Eddie loves himself a good motivational quote of the day calendar, even got an app on his phone to have it pop up each day.” Up into the groove the next was wiggled to slide in to be wiggled the way back to the chalk lines, two more were added until Eddie in his return grinned in being a taller set of hands to help you finish the job off.

Rolled up the honeycomb metal netting was held by Eddie with heat resistant gloves so you could curve and arch it to weld, with the visor on as Peter finished off his meal the support around the edges of the hole. A break was taken to allow you to finish your meal as Eddie used the welding torch on a lower heat to warm the metal that had rolled outward the most to hammer as flat as possible against the netting.

After your food was gone scans of the partial scales that were already taken to see if they were lined up level to be able to take the layer above it to be added. A test that when Peter was gone you could come back later to manipulate the metal in it to lay flatter than Eddie was capable to work it; the hole with gaps between beams didn’t look much better.

But at least the support there showed progress that online in the comments would have mini explosions of glee at what you were capable of getting done in the small break you had today to get it done. Now with a backing there even ship builders knew that gradually if you wouldn’t have time for long sessions scales could be layered to keep progress to attain float and watertight status in no time.

.

While news of your show had put the gym trips on a sparser schedule the few times you did see him since apparently the confirmation of your relationship with Gwen, a certain billionaire’s son seemed to have something brewing inside that head of his now there was an official competition to your free time. Norman at least as Dr Connors was gaining ground on his research was pleasantly distracted from tries to poach any and all ideas possible from you in each time you spoke.

But halfway through November your main focus was to keep everything on an even keel to ensure you completed the obligated shows to the end of December to gain several thousands to sit on like a tiny dragon with a scaled down mighty hoard of savings. Until you had to spend it on school and other expenses to cover until you could legally play poker and gain some serious funds on the side. You just had to agree to have a study group with Harry this week to calm his worry on spare attentions all his own on top of gym trips.

‘Green Cackler Spotted’

Across headlines the arrival of a new villain in town above your heads in the streets that ran over the subway a battle was raging. One you bore no energy to pay no mind to as beside a pillar you stood nodding off in wait for the train to take you home. Others down here amongst the just swarm of masses, including those with children, escaping the waging battle above tried to distract said children and one another with small talk or stolen glances your way at one oblivious to muffled crashes, blasts and explosions. Somewhere between sleep and dreams bees kept sharing bits of what was around you a telling ring of metal across concrete had your eye crack.

Bomb, gold and green a triple beep warning to a boom split your eyes and had those around you group up with nowhere else to go. Up above, the yet to be named green menace, had thrown that and Captain America had knocked it away with his shield down here. Out of his way and right into yours. The golden shell split open and a telling scream of explosives had your eyes snap open, glittering yellow and around a pair of small children and the pillar you moved, hands glowing to cast a barrier and convert the energy of said blast.

Too fast to see the glow of the hatted and thickly coated body let them know of the name of who had prevented this disaster. But right in the heart of a smaller sort of mushroom blast they stood in silence watching the swirl of green get lost in the frenzied glittering yellow pulses of energy to burst not just here but all through the state subway system. Too much energy was left over and without thought over the surfaces of every subway center a thin layer of vibranium was spread, packed trains and rails alike stained in various colors. Enhancing the electrical system and adding guarding bee monitors and barriers to protect people in the future from danger of crimes and weather alike should it flood like it had two years ago.

The glow lingered and through the opening of the subway stations more bodies took it as a sign of safety or merely less danger than where they were at and raced there away from the Star Spangled Avenger and his backup. Out of the nearest exit to their damage a swarm of bees only enforced the fact of who was down there on its path to Black Widow’s back. Off her thigh when it warped to be a crude silhouette of Misique cast with projections to show your mask a handgun was pulled, aimed and fired dropping her jaw at what you had done. One shot, straight through Captain America’s back and out his chest lodged into the chest of the green menace dropping him off of his glider.

To a knee Cap dropped in a half twist to see who had shot him. Back to Nat the bees gave the gun, more dropping it in front of her with little care if she caught it or not. And his pained gaze scanned over the small swarm who pointed to the subway opening now growing dimmer to reveal the lingering wave of smoke pooling out of it from the explosion, speaking together an imitation of Misique’s voice, “There are children down there.” They split apart and faded in the stunned silence as the Avengers could see the people they had put in danger and buildings they had broken by means of ‘helping’ the city.

Down below long as you could you held consciousness. All the same, once that single gunshot was fired down to your sides your hands dropped and knees gave out to have your collapsing self be encased with all the bees forming the barrier. Every inch of you was covered, hat held on by their numbers down to the soles of your boots with bag bee coated and pressed to your belly.

Awkwardly on a shoulder you had landed to give off a sort of pop, the telling sound of that joint dislocating upon impact to your bees, and out of the stunned masses locked in silence a man split from his huddled group. The one with the girls you moved around. Off his back his rather expensive outer jacket was removed to be bunched and in a creep closer to ease the bee coated head up to slide the jacket under it. Buzzing and flicked wings of the bees nestling to cover every inch ensured by layer upon layer of them like a cocoon they would stand guard keeping watch over every body that would pass by until you could wake up and stumble home again. And just in case two wiggled down into your boot to hit the ping box to call for Eddie to come and find you or contact through Venom another Symbiote to do so.

Back atop his glider the menace pounced, blood spilling down his chest plate to soar his way down into the subway. Cackles to the crowds there would be recorded as his reaction to finding a bee encased body. Up into his arms he hoisted you up, having sent out an electrical type of pop rocks that fizzled and caused the arguing masses to halt their try to save you and just watch and wait until they could be told it was safe to come out. Out of the subway he flew, over the heads of the Avengers, granting only a glimpse when a few layers of the bees broke off the arm that fell into view flashing a couple rings Hawkeye recognized at once.

“That’s Pluto,” he muttered and shouldered his bow to race for the bike Cap had shown up on. Close behind War Machine thwarted drones and gas to try and keep on his tail while Stark, who was out of town, sent empty Iron Man suits to try and help the tracking. Only to lose sight of him beyond lower Brooklyn in a wonky wobbly path all over New  York. Through the streets of Manhattan Clint was the closest, tracing any sign of bodies of passers by he could ask for sign of where the menace had gone to. Steve meanwhile by Nat was being hoisted up into and then out of a vehicle to carry him to Stark Tower to get medical attention for his punctured lung and severed artery.

 .

 Soft and low a grumble left your lips as you opened your eyes splitting the bees above you to coat the lounge you were on continuing their patrol as you brought out your phone. “Eddie,”

“Sis, what’s going on? Ping box went off and internet is saying Cap blew up the subway in uptown then got shot.”

“I was in the subway, I guess the Cap part is true, knocked a bomb down into the subway. I passed out but the hive says green menace took me,” up off your back you lifted painfully to look around the room only to stop at the giant portrait of Norman Osborn. “I’m in Osborn’s house. Menace left me here then took off.”

“I can have Phage and Shriek out there if you need them. I’m still out in Pennsylvania but I can fly back.”

“I can get home. Focus on your story. I’m just tired, got my hive.”

“You call me if you need anything at all.”

“I will. Text you when I get home.”

“Soon as I get home I’m killing that green bastard.” You hung up as he did, pocketing your phone to ease your tired legs off the lounge to force yourself upright. Airborne the bees formed groups to give you something to hold yourself up to get to the door. Quietly you eased the handle to crack it open enough to have a trio of bees scan the room in case the menace was out there. You needed something to eat, and you assumed Harry at least would be understanding if some food was used to be replaced later on, so to the kitchen you aimed yourself. Marble floors tried to give hint you were there in numb footed echoing steps to the next ornate wood paneling on pillars or door frames.

“What do you have?” you muttered and gathered a couple apples and found an unused container of cream cheese near to expiration you added and claimed the unused bagels surely bought at the same time far harder than they ought to be for enjoyment. A dagger from your waist when you set your bag on the counter was brought out so over a paper towel you tore from the roll near to the sink you cut the apples up then sheathed it again. The lid was removed and silver film pulled back to scoop the fruit in the topping for a hopeful burst of sugar to help power your legs to get the distance home. Around the apple slice you grumbled however as your phone rang again.

One handed it was brought out to read who disturbed your snack, “Hey, Lt Rhodes.” You said answering the call once you saw who it was. Wondering what he wanted from you as it was too coincidental to be something causal at this hour.

“Where are you right now?”

“Oddly enough, I’m in Norman Osborn’s house, stealing some of his food.” And before he could ask you say, “I woke up on the chaise, and I really don’t know much else.”

“Pluto I need you to stay put,” he tells the team, “She’s at Norman Osborn’s house, Misique must have dropped her there taking on the menace.”

The lights suddenly came on halting your chew of the next slice of apple you had coated in the topping. To the door your head snapped, where Harry froze seeing you in the sea of bee coated counters and cupboards, having woken up to news that the menace had stolen away with a woman from the subway. Into the phone after swallowing you said, “I’m gonna have to call you back,”

“Don’t you hang up! Pluto!”

“Pluto?” Harry asks curiously.

“I, um, I have the military on the phone, um,” you said making Harry smirk curiously.

“Pluto the tower has a helipad, right? Do you see one?”

And you shift the phone to ask, “There’s a helipad here right?”

“Yes,” he said moving closer.

“Yes,” you say then say to Harry, “Something happened in the subway, big explosion and some green guy picked me up and I woke up on your lounge, and am now stealing your food.”

That had him chuckle and say, “I’ll make you something better to eat than cream cheese,” he said smiling as he moved to the fridge. “Welcome here anytime.”

“Pluto we’ll be there in three minutes.” Rhodey said and you simply covered your face with a hand.

“Sure, just, sure.”

“You alright, did you hit your head?”

“I’m just really tired. Just got off work, Harry’s making me something to eat.”

“Good, we’re gonna get you fed and looked after and then back home don’t you worry.”

You lowered your phone muting it as you whispered, “I really wish they’d stop saying that.”

Harry chuckled asking, “Say what?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not worried, I’m tired fell asleep on the subway and got carried off by some green guy after the whole place exploded. I have nothing to be worried about.” You said making him chuckle again as you lifted the phone you un-muted to Rhodey’s next question.

A bacon and egg based so called ‘power smoothie’ he swore by was whipped up and pressed together as a helicopter was seen to be flying closer to the tower. In one go you downed the drink and settled the glass in the sink restraining a grimace while saying, “Thank you, Harry, and sorry, I’ll pay you back for the food.”

On your shoulders he rested his hands, trying not to notice the swollen shoulder internally he questioned, “Take as much food as you want here any time. Obviously we have more than enough.” His grin spread saying, “Next time go for the good stuff.” As you collected your purse and hat he said, “I’ll show you to the helipad.”

Rhodey beside the helicopter landed to watch you walk out of the double doors towards the two soldiers who climbed out of the door to help your notable self into the vehicle. The closer you got eyes settled on the swarm of bees that latched onto your bag, arms and back and into your braided hair to keep close to you. All of whom they moved to cover your front to crawl under your jacket so you could sit back against the seat, hands one at the door helped to keep you level on the way inside.

Off the ground it lifted to start the flight to the base where you built the Blackhowls. Over the radio Rhodey stated he was going to keep looking for the menace in one more sweep of New York and his usual haunts where he had been spotted. And the men on either side of you over the headset they put on your head kept you awake between the clear urge of your body to go to sleep as you kept nodding off.

.

“Okay, basic checkup, were you injured?” the Medic asked turning your head to the smear of blood down your arm.

“That’s not mine. Must be from the green guy.”

“Can we take your coat to swab that?” you nodded and grimaced in the shrug out of your arm parting lips on him and his Nurse seeing the bees across your chest and belly. “We got bees.” Shaking his head he looked to the SHIELD agent along the wall with hold of the leather jacket by the neck they handed over, “Menace blood is on the right sleeve. They’re gonna want that.” They hurried to call that in and make use of some sample kits to go over your jacket for traces of ways to track the menace in and out of his armor.

The Nurse asked, “You do know you’re covered with bees?”

“Yes, they’ll fade when I get home. They won’t hurt anyone.”

The Medic however in a shift around your back till he was back in front of you he eyed your shoulders and asked, “Does your shoulder hurt?”

“I think it’s dislocated. Felt too stiff earlier to pop back in when I woke up,” with warning he shifted the neck of your baggy sweater to see the clearly swollen shoulder.

“Let’s get your weight and we can finish the basic exam and get that popped back in for you.”

Even with the bees you could about feel their displeasure at you being 72 pounds hanging in the air and onto a reclined table you were moved to have your blood pressure checked same as your lungs and heart. Back onto your back you were helped and the bees moved to coat the wall so they could ready to check your arm. One hand rested on top of your shoulder as the Medic laid your arm over the top of his other arm, his eyes swept over you in the steady exhale you gave stirring a stunning limpness in your arm. Just a twitch of your brows together was the response to the snap of the shoulder back into socket. “This happen often?”

“Chaos follows me. Land on my left a good deal.” You said making him smirk to himself.

“I’m gonna rotate your arm and check your other arm before we move onto your legs.” A few times the Nurse had to tap your arm to stop you from nodding off. Eyes and head were checked next when he was sure your legs were fine, “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

“No, just tired. My night off. I have school, the shows I’m in, work,” into a raised fist you yawned and kept trying to keep awake with a few spare blinks. “I fell asleep in the subway and I woke up in Norman Osborn’s house with the bees. Not sure what happened.”

Lowly the Doctor chuckled to the Nurse stating, “Well you missed a doozy. Apparently Cap knocked a bomb into the subway, Misique was down there, she stopped the bomb and went up to shoot through Cap’s back to hit the menace. He fell off his glider but popped back on and flew down to grab you. Best we were told Misique’s chasing him down and dropped you at Osborn’s, do you know them well?”

“He says we’re friends.”

The Medic said, “That makes sense then. Why she dropped you there. Plenty of beds there I bet. And now off your jacket we have a blood sample to track him down.” Off your neck he asked, “Any issues lately on top of fatigue? You are severely underweight, I do want to talk about that as well. Just gonna check your bowel sounds,” he said removing his stethoscope from his neck to out on.

“I have a bad reaction to shellfish and other foods. Stomach is just in torment for days after, that and other foods, got a meal from a neighbor and it,” you sighed, “Took the wind out of my sails, that on top of a nasty bout of allergies I just couldn’t keep much in my system. I get sick and it seems I take twice as much in to have to get better again. Been getting better, my brother’s been helping me with five pound bags of tater tots and chili. I eat nine times a day, two big meals and small snacks so I’m not facing an eating disorder. I get that often, I just have to keep eating and I’ll gain that weight back easy.”

“Your parents have history of digestion issues?” he asked listening to your belly then moved to hang the stethoscope behind his neck again.

“Mom had Wilson’s Disease and Chorea,” you said parting his lips, “Dad had kidney disease. He said he used to get sick when he was little too, but we didn’t get into his full history. I would have to call Sweden and Norway for his medical records for more.”

“Well if there are issues like this frequently you might want to have a Doctor do more thorough tests on your digestive system. I’m gonna palpate your belly, tell me if anything hurts. And after this we’re gonna get you some tater tots and chili.”

Amusement of the large supply of tots was traded for the more worrisome sight of you hooked to a heart monitor atop a spare bed to get a nap until it was cleared for you to be taken home. Over the top of you like a blanket the bees coated you, buzzing in conversation while keeping Eddie up to date on progress of the task of returning you home.

Rhodey, upon arrival into the building he found the medic asking, “How’s Pluto?”

“For the most part intact, aside from a dislocated shoulder no injuries. Said she fell asleep on the subway and just woke up in Osborn’s house.”

“That’s good,” he said and let out a breath, “What else?”

“Other than the fact she’s 72lbs.”

Rhodey shook his head and let out a chuckle, “She says she eats nine times a day. I’ve seen her eat myself she’s like a tiny linebacker.”

“Well she said she had a bad reaction to something a neighbor gave her, and said allergies on top of that she just burned through all she was able to eat, and wasn’t able to keep much in her system. She’s small and under a great deal of stress, mentioned school, work, a show and I know she builds planes too. If there is any sign of digestive trouble or inability to keep weight on she needs deeper testing, said she doesn’t have a full history of her parents but her dad said he got sick as a kid like she did. We gave her tater tots and chili and she’s napping now. When is she gonna be able to go home? Apparently the bees won’t leave her till she gets there.”

Rhodey soaked all that in saying, “Misique does keep a good eye on her. Won’t be long now. Which room is she in?”

“End of the hall.” The medic nodded his head towards the barely lit room where Clint could be seen in the crack of light from the mostly shut door seated in a hunch forward watching the numbers and lines on the screen dance in odd patterns he couldn’t make sense of.

“Clint,” Rhodey said in his quiet step into the room. “Fury said her building has been cleared, we can take her home.”

“I think she’s having nightmares.” Again the numbers danced up to grow closer to a warning level that would set off an alarm that caused the bees on your chest and arms to spiral and together buzz in what seemed like a too fast to be believed ripple of light around their tiny legs and wings before your numbers leveled out. “They keep doing that.” You weren’t having nightmares however. They were ensuring you didn’t spark up as while you slept part of the hive was already tracing the pathway of the menace to show inside Oscorp a bloody Norman on the security footage dragging himself towards a gas chamber to burst out again cackling with a crude scar across his chest where you had shot him.

“The hive is talking,” you sighed causing the men to look at you, having assumed you were deep in sleep locking them in wonder on how to wake you safely from said nightmares. Opening your eyes you said, “Helping Misique track green guy down.” Off his seat Clint stood to help you sit up with your jacket on his shoulder.

“Jacket’s been cleaned off. When she finds him we’ll be able to lock him down for life.”

Rhodey said, “Heard you’re underweight. Stomach issues.”

“I feel better now I’ve eaten and with a nap. I have a sensitive stomach, after that clears it’s easy to bulk up again.”

Clint asked, “Glucose? One of my boys had that as a baby.”

“No, shellfish. And some other foods. Off results I’ve gotten I don’t fit all the signs to what illnesses I can find in medical books.”

“Either way, let’s get you home and we’ll be checking in on your stomach to make sure you are past your stomach issues. Gotta keep you in good health now.”

“Let me guess, your engineers are still afraid to blow themselves up working on my Blackhowls?” you asked making the duo smirk as you eased off the table and eased on the jacket to take hold of your bag and hat.

“The team likes to see you and you know it. Part of the team.”

Clint at the waiting truck asked you as he climbed in behind you, “So Misique’s back in town? For good this time?”

“Supply run. No sign of any more hidden bases, did find a giant golden statue buried in the sand a friend in Spain is going to help grease some wheels in getting inspectors for one of their museums.”

“I thought museums loved that sort of thing.”

“Well, when it comes to gold that’s another matter. Could just melt it down and pool it back into the economy. I mean the face looks like King Phillip, but that’s just my guess, and anything from that era seems to be alluring. And if they won’t take it I’m certain France would love to add to their museums.”

“Or you could just ask her for it.” Clint joked.

“I don’t feel so fondly about King Phillip to have a golden statue of him.”

“Think of it more as a college fund,” he said making you giggle to his second chuckle.

“Do have to admit seeing his face on the footage reminded me of that Monty Python skit, ‘Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.’”

“Classic,” Rhodey said and they both chuckled now turning the conversation to the classic comedy team for the rest of the ride.

Pt 36

@devilishminx328​. @theincaprincess​, @lilith15000​, @jesevans​, @jiminapickle

[firelance2361]

Grieving as a Ghost (Oliverse)

Just a pretty emotional Oliverse piece I did of Gwen Warren/Arachne breaking down in front of the graves of her sister and father Gwen and George Stacy.

[To clarify, in this universe (Earth-5203), Gwen Warren was one of the clones created by Miles Warren who was saved when Oliver Osnick/Steel Spider prevented the events of the Clone Saga alongside Peter Parker/Spider-Man.

Because of her genetic makeup, she retained the memories of her predecessor, Gwen Stacy, which caused her to have multiple issues with her identity, including struggling with the fact that both her memories weren’t entirely her own and that her sister and father are both dead.

So now, as she struggles with her powers and personality, she takes the time to mourn the family that fell before her, and a life she never really lived.]

Thought I would throw this out here as a change of pace from my usual lighthearted pieces. Besides, I didn’t want to skimp on some of the more important things from the lore.

Hope you like it!

[fernacular]

I could make serious fanart

Or I could make some of the stupidest shit anyone has ever seen

[kantush]

This movie was fun (TW: Loud startling sound)

Miguel your are my beloved

[tikklil]

Spider X Family !

Commission for the lovely @spicypepperjack

[pinkiemachine]

PART 6!

Part 7 👇

Part 5 👇

[passionfruitbowls]

so… there’s a recurring theme in my headcanons…

[jtexplorer]

[tarjapearce]

I loved the crew interacting with the O’Hara family I was laughing the entire time!

Is it possible to do a reaction to Miguel first introducing his family to the crew? Like Mama!reader showing up to his office out of nowhere, no matter how many times Miguel said no and the crew stares in disbelief like - “YOU HAVE A WIFE AND KIDS?”

Imma switch it up a bit to fit into the Soccer Family AU 🤭. Glad you had fun with it!

"Why don't you just ask him?" Gwen deadpanned

"No. Can't just ask Mr. O'Hara, 'hey are you married? He's mean!" Mile's hand gestured

"I swear I saw him holding a baby. And it wasn't Mr. Parker's Mayday!" Pavitr chimed in, curiosity shining in his eyes

"Maybe his brother had a baby?"

"You'd owe me five if he's married." Hobie spoke as he laced up his boots. The three pair of eyes looked at him.

"Whu-?"

"Make it ten cause I know the man is a workaholic at heart"

Hobie shrugged.

"Dun' say I didn't warn ya."

"Dude, we have just done some chores for him, for the neighborhood really, he rarely asks for our services! He just asked us to clean his front yard!"

"Cause he likes minding his business." Gwen rolled his eyes.

"Okay, I know. maybe we can just ask him directly?" Mile's spoke as he looked Miguel’s car passing by.

Now all the eyes were on him.

"Or we... can spy him?"

Pavitr's smile turned into a smirk.

"Like, you distract him and the rest can go around to find any clues on his home"

"Why me?!"

"Cause it's your idea" Gwen chuckled

"I'm pretty sure that's property invasion"

"I'm in." Hobie mumbled

The plan was set.

----

Miles gulped for the thousandth time as he approached, the door of Mr. O'Hara's home growing ominously big and closer.

"Nuh uh. I'm out."

His phone buzzed, Gwen's name displaying on screen.

"What are you doing?!"

"I'm out!"

"Miles, I swear... Just distract him enough for us to get a glimpse on the back side of his house!"

"If I die? Keep my collection of figurines intact." He could hear Gwen groaning from the other line.

"Don't be dramatic. Just ask him if he needs anything done this week!"

"Fine. Fine. Alright."

He shook his body and gave his cheeks a brief pat, walked over the door and dinged the doorbell. His breath hitched as the door slid open, but instead of Miguel, a woman opened the door. Short, pretty, kind eyes and hair donned in a messy bun. That was definitely one of Miguel's t-shirts.

"Yes?"

"Uh... Hi. I'm Miles Morales, from Friendly Neighborhood Spiders?"

"Oh?" You looked confused

"Just a little business me and my friends set up. Uh... we eh, we just ring doorbells and ask if we can do chores for the neighbors around the block?"

"That's pretty cool! Didn't know about it. Gotta ask Miguel if we need any services right now."

"Wait, you... You know Mr. O'Hara?"

"Mr. O'Hara?" You giggled, shaking your head, "Miguel! Mi amor! Can you come at the door please?"

Mi amor?

Miles' eyes went wide at the endearing term. His breath caught in his throat again as he saw Miguel’s hulking figure carrying a baby that wasn't Mayday. Just like Pavitr had said.

Gwen, Hobie and Pav approached behind Miles, they had been watching from the other side of the street and we're too tempted to not see the scene unfold for themselves.

"¿Qué pasó?" (What's wrong?)

His voice low as the baby was falling asleep in his arms.

"I didn't know we had some entrepreneurs in the neighborhood. They wanna know if we need anything this week."

"No" Miguel shook his head softly, the toddler in his arm stirred. A thick eyebrow of him raised at the expression of the four teens. A 'The legend is real' expression, all eyes settled on the golden ring around his finger, matching yours.

Hobie however just smirked. 30 bucks on his pockets would do nice things for him.

"Will go prepare dinner then. Nice to meet you guys!" You chirped and waved your goodbyes, leaving Miguel alone with them.

"So..."

His sharp features went blank

"You're married. And have kids."

"Oh! We can babysit that pretty baby too" Pavitr sing sung

"The lawn is enough for now." Miguel’s voice still remained low, but firm.

"Right. Uh, thanks. We'll be back."

A hurried 'have a good evening Mr. O'Hara' was thrown his way as they fled from his door.

Once they were far enough, Miles couldn't help but hold his head and gasp.

"He is married!"

"Yeah, noted." Gwen nodded

"Did you see that toddler?! Oh so chubby and precious!"

" Yeah, cool family and all. Y' owe me 30"

"You seriously know how to sour the moment" Pavitr slid two five bills on his hand.

"Well, mystery solved." Gwen slid another two bills on Hobie's hands

"That explains the baby chair in his car."

"You peeked into his car?!" Mile's freaked out

"Wut? Ya said you wanted to go in his home."

Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Kids."

[iwasbored777]

Gwen's face while listening to her father talking shit about Spider-Woman is sending me

[devouredmelancholy]

Stacy Kranitz

[punkeropercyjackson]

Making Hobie say out of pocket shit to everybody and be innapropriate to his s/os is cracker behavior and i'm not afraid to say with my whole chest."But he's the personafication of punk-"He's also the sweetest boy in the entire Spiderverse and yeah he does beat Miles in that aspect which is not a diss to Miles because i would never.There is no dimension where making an incredibly kind and gentle black male into a tactless jerk is progressive.The Atsv did NOT work their asses off to make Hobie both super soft and an anarchist and him being both is an act of rebellion in of itself with the context of how society treats and has always treated black dudes.Write Hobie as he actually he is or keep your antiblack ass paws off my son.End of!!!!

[florencemtrash]

Wedding Invitations

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Miguel take the day to distribute wedding invitations to the Spider-Gang. But in the midst of all the congratulations they forget to tell a very important member of the wedding party...

Warnings: Fluff, Spider-Gang family dynamics, Miguel's got a touch of baby fever

Author's Note: I FINALLY got around to writing this Miguel x Reader oneshot that's been in my WIP dump for ages. This can be read on its own, or as a continuation of my Hummingbird series.

Masterlist of Masterlists

________________________

You blinked around Spidey-HQ, buzzing with excitement and armed with a stack of cream-colored envelopes. The cards within had the following words printed in lacy gold lettering:  

Miguel O’Hara and Y/n L/n Invite you to join their wedding celebration on Saturday, October 15,  2105 at 4:30pm St. Javier’s Cathedral 115 Hammond St

You’d visited Pavitr first, finding him tucked away in an alcove on the top floors where he went about carefully oiling his hair. 

“FINALLY!” He squealed, sprinting away to wash his hands before gingerly accepting the invitation like you’d just handed him a million dollars. “You’re getting married!” He snatched one hand, then the other, splaying your fingers and searching for the ring, “Where is it? Where is it? I want to see it.”

You chuckled, “Calm down, Gollum.” You reached into your shirt, pulling out the chain where you’d been hiding the ring for the past eight months. “I don’t wear it very often. Art teacher and superhero - remember?” 

It was a shame. It was a beautiful, vintage ring originally belonging to Miguel’s mother. He’d since updated it, replacing two of the missing stones with small burgundy gems that matched the color of his eyes. Even if you couldn’t wear it often, you kept it with you at all times, resting against your heart. 

Pavitr began to vibrate with excitement, bouncing on his feet. “Can I-Can I tell-?”

“Yes, you can tell people.” 

“Really?!” He brightened up.

“Yes. Miguel’s probably already sent out a general announcement by now.”

As if on cue both your watches beeped, a red notification popping up.

Announcement:  Y/n and I are getting married. Don’t get upset if you're not invited to the ceremony. There are literally thousands of you. Reception will be at Spidey HQ atrium Saturday, October 15, 2105 at 7pm. All are welcome.

“Perfect timing.” You said, smiling at the words Y/n and I are getting married. You still couldn’t believe it, even though you’d been sitting on the knowledge in silence for the past six months.

“Oh and Pavitr. Miguel will probably ask you this again later but… would you like to be a groomsman in the wedding?” 

Pavitr’s lips trembled, then broke into the widest smile imaginable, brown eyes crinkling. He surged forward, wrapping his lanky arms around you and spinning you around.

“YES! YES! A million times yes!” He gasped. You may as well have gotten on your knees and asked for his hand in marriage. “Oh my goodness this is all I've ever wanted. What are the wedding colors? I need to get a new sherwani.” He finally let you down, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you desperately, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS SOONER?!” 

You gripped his hands, your cheeks aching from how hard you were smiling. Pavitr's energy was unmatched and you could feel his joy rubbing off on you.

“It’s really going to be a simple ceremony. And we didn’t want to pressure any of you with the typical wedding prep stuff.” 

He looked incredulous, “So no bachelorette party? No-no manicure days or spa days or...” 

You shook your head no and his jaw dropped.

“WRONG!” He shouted, touching the tip of your nose with his finger, “Are you free next Saturday night? Yes? Good.” He shook his finger at you, “No wedding prep stuff? Really? Pah!” He threw his hands in the air, muttering as he walked away and started dialing up Gwen and Miles.

“You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Gwen asked, mouth agape. She pushed her lunch tray to the side, the excitement chasing away her appetite for the time being.

“Fuck that. You told Pavitr before you told me?!” Miles slammed the milk carton on the table, spilling a few drops, “I thought I was your favorite.” 

“Piss off, Miles.” Gwen teased, ruffling his curls. "I'm her favorite."

“One semester abroad with Hobie and you’re already sounding like a Brit.” He teased back, never moving far enough apart from her that they weren’t touching. 

She’d recently gone for a shag haircut. The tips of her dyed hair fading into a pale bubblegum blue. The new nose piercing completed the look and Miles was smitten.

You wrung your hands together. “Well I’m telling you now! And! I’m asking you to be part of the wedding party. So what do you say? Wanna be a groomsman and a bridesmaid?”

They didn’t even look at each other before saying, “Absolutely!” In perfect unison.

The rest of the day went similarly, full of excited squeals and hugs and twirls. Everyone at Spidey-HQ - minus some of the newcomers - knew who you were and didn’t hesitate to shout their joy, whooping and calling out across the atrium.

“CONGRATS, TEACH!” 

“LET’S GO! SPIDER-WEDDING!” 

“CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Hobie leaned against the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his patchwork leather jacket and flashing every color of the rainbow. 

He stuck his hand out without a word, a crooked smile on his face, “I don’t believe in state-sanctioned marriage, you know. You and Miguel are already married - have been for ages in my book.”

“You rummaged around in your bag for the last of the invitations, finally locating the envelope that had slipped into one of the inner pockets and out of sight. 

You hesitated, trying to hide your disappointment, “... so does that mean you’re not coming then?”

Hobie quickly snatched the invitation out of your hands, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles. You laughed, shoving him away and fixing the tangles he’d made in your hair. 

“Pffft, of course I’m coming. It’s important to you.” He shoved the cream-colored paper into his pockets alongside a couple posters he hadn’t found a proper place to plaster them on yet. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He smirked, “But I hope you’re not expecting me to show up in a suit.” 

“Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

“And are you going to ask me to be a groomsman or something? Make a toast at dinner?” There was no contempt in his voice… If anything he seemed expectant. Happy. 

“Actually, Miguel and I were hoping you could be the flower girl with May and Benjy.” 

He brightened up, flashing a sunflower yellow and shooting off curls of newspaper print like fireworks. 

“HA! I like it. I like it.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, opening his arms wide and sighing like he was giving up on an age-old war, “Alright, get in here, girl. I wanna hug you.” 

You giggled, scrunching up your nose in satisfied glee as Hobie finally gave into his softness. He liked to pretend he was cooler than everyone else in the room - and he usually was - but that didn’t stop him from also being the softest person you’d ever met. 

“Congratulations.” He said, propping his head up on top of your head and mussing up your hair once again.

“Thanks, Hobie.” 

You weren’t alone in spreading the news - Miguel was making his own rounds. Margo was the first one he’d told, by virtue of the fact that she was nearest to his office. 

“Hey, Margo.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. He held out the envelope, Margo’s headpiece peeling away from her sleek cornrows. Her eyes glittered purple, wide open and staring.

“Really?” She asked hesitantly, reaching out for the paper. 

“Of course, Margo. You’re family. We want you there.” 

Her eyes softened and she read through the invitation quietly.

“Y/n was also hoping you’d be a bridesmaid.” He tapped the additional paper sealed in her envelope. “Nothing fancy, but we wanted you at the front with everyone else. Miles, Gwen, Peter B, LEGO P-oof.” 

Miguel huffed as Margo all but rammed into his chest, the edges of her flickering. Who knew virtual reality bodies were so durable and dense.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to keep any emotion out of her voice.

Margo didn’t like to talk about home, preferring the VR life she led with the Spider-Society. They were her real family now… she just liked the confirmation. 

“Anytime, kid.” 

She cleared her throat, pushing him away as quickly as she’d hugged him. “Alright, get out of here. I’m sure everyone wants to see you right now.” She turned around, wiping at her eyes in real life. Her VR body did the same. 

Miguel chuckled, rubbing his neck again. He wasn’t used to the kind of attention he’d been receiving since meeting you and learning to open up again. It was almost as if he was likable when he wasn’t acting like a complete asshole.

He was chased by compliments and congratulations all day, Spider-people stopping him to clap him on the back or to bump shoulders like they knew just how absolutely whipped he was.

Something about announcing your engagement to the world made the whole thing feel more real, like he could taste it as physically as he could taste your lips whenever he kissed you. He didn’t wear his engagement ring very often for the same reasons as you, but he slipped it on his finger halfway through the day, standing a little straighter, and looking a little prouder after doing so. 

LEGO Peter was next and he’d practically swooned when Miguel had handed him his invitation between his thumb and pointer finger. He’d printed an extra-small version for him. Then he’d fainted when Miguel asked him to be a groomsman, his brick body going rigid and toppling back with the same rattle as a teacup saucer.

“I’m taking that as a yes!” Miguel called out, slipping his head back out of the portal into his own universe.

He needed to make a home visit for Jessica, but she had a champagne bottle ready to burst when Miguel appeared into her home in a crackle of color and brushstrokes.

“AHH! HA!” She tossed her head back with glee. Her mane of pitch black hair smelled like coconut and citrus. “CONGRATULATIONS! Malcolm! Malcolm, get your ass in here. Miguel’s arrived.” 

Her husband slid across the living room entrance, a chubby three-year-old boy balanced on his hip and grabbing at his locs. 

“Miguel!” 

“Hey, Malcolm.”

“Mig!” 

“Heyyyy, Jefferson.” Miguel laughed when the little boy grabbed at him, latching onto a strand of brown hair and tugging. 

Jessica clicked her tongue, “Jeff, what have we talked about.”

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, patting Miguel’s head and slapping him in the face in the process. 

“It’s alright, kid.” 

“OOooooh. Get in here, Migs.” Jessica was grinning brighter than the sun, radiating warmth as she wound her arms around his ribs and used her strength to lift him off his feet and shake him like a rag doll.

“Careful, Jess. Can’t break the groom before his wedding.” 

“Pfffft, Miguel’s not made of glass, honey.” 

That much was obvious enough. Miguel had to keep his body crooked to avoid banging his head against the hanging ceiling lights. 

“Congratulations, man.” Malcolm hugged him next, being notably gentler than his wife. He still slapped Miguel’s back hard enough to rattle his shoulders though. 

Miguel stayed for a long while, until him and Jess had made their way through three bottles of champagne just because they could. Their bodies burned through alcohol way too quickly to get drunk - a fact that had disappointed Miles when he went off to college for the first time last year. 

Jess and Malcolm leaned towards one another like sunflowers to light, with little Jefferson splashed across both their knees and struggling to stay awake as the sun pressed against the windows and turned their pale yellow walls golden. 

That would be him someday, with you and your son.

The thought shook him to his core. First, because it was a secret hope that he’d never dared to even dream about and second, because it was now possible. Wonderfully, beautifully possible. 

His heart began to flutter, the absence of you by his side suddenly feeling like a gaping hole instead of a subtle ache. 

Jess seemed to understand that, making a show of looking at the clock and then down at her son’s open mouth drooling against Malcolm’s arm. 

“We should get this little guy to bed.” 

“On it.” 

“I’ll head out then. Thanks for everything, Jess.”

She made a noise with her tongue, brushing off his thanks with a graceful wave of her hand. “Get out of here you big sap. And tell Y/n I said congratulations too! Actually, scratch that. I’m coming in tomorrow so I’ll tell her in person.” 

Miguel chuckled, “Alright then.” 

He gave a final hug to Malcolm and Jessica. Jefferson stirred in his mother’s arms just long enough to babble something that sounded adorably close to, “I’m not… I’m not sleepy. I-” before his eyes rolled back and he slumped onto Jessica’s shoulder. 

You sat curled up in Miguel’s office chair, legs thrown over one of the armrests as you flipped through the pages of your book on the life of Aubrey Vincent Beardsley. Occasionally your eyes would flicker to the array of monitors, watching the careful web of universes as they flickered and morphed. Fluid, but stable, and in a perfect balance of chaos and order. 

Miguel drifted into the room behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and peppering the curve of your neck with kisses.

“Mi amor,” He murmured. You hummed happily, tilting your head further to give him better access. “How is everything going on with you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

“That’s a pretty great answer.” He chuckled, finishing with a quick kiss to your lips. He came around, lifting you up with ease before sitting down in his chair and placing you in his lap, “And how are things in the Spider-Verse?”  

You made a self-satisfied hmph sound. Thank god he’d finally stopped calling it the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. What a mouthful. 

“Holding strong and steady.” You flicked your fingers to the side, pulling up the latest day report that you’d already handed two hours ago, “B76’s Black Cat and 1805’s Venom were the only anomalies. Done and dusted with no issue. Reports are on file under Project Catalyst.”

“Perfect.” 

Miguel stretched comfortably, curling in on you and resting his head on your chest like the world’s most luxurious cat.

You snorted, blinking your book away with a snap of your fingers and running your fingers through his hair just the way he liked. He groaned softly when you lightly dragged your fingernails against his scalp. 

“Right there, babe.” He encouraged, sighing with contentment. 

You stayed like that for a long while, one of Miguel’s arms wrapped around your waist and his other hand snaking up your stomach to rub circles against your smooth skin. Unbeknownst to you, he was quietly thinking about what it might be like if you ever decided to have kids. If one day he’d be so lucky to lay like this against you and quietly talk to the little child growing in your stomach. 

He shook his head, he was getting ahead of himself.

“Everything ok, Migs?” You curled your finger beneath his chin, gently tilting his face up to look at you. His eyes softened.

“Yeah. Everything’s perfect.” 

You couldn’t help it, you blushed under the softness of his gaze. It was strange how you could get into hundreds of fist-fights, get knocked on your ass dozens of times over, and yet crumble at the sight of his auburn eyes. You didn’t mind the vulnerability though - you knew Miguel felt the same. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing the flash of silver on his finger.

"You wore it today?"

He smiled when you took his hand in yours, kissing his palm, "Felt appropriate."

You tugged the necklace out from under your shirt, carefully slipping the ring off the chain. Miguel took it wordlessly from you, gently kissing your hand before sliding the ring onto your finger. It was warm to the touch after hours pressed against your heart and Miguel felt a surge of love flood his chest seeing you wear it.

“Busy day, huh?” You asked when he settled back down, holding your hand tightly in his.

He groaned, “You could say that. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many people talk to me in my life.” 

You prodded him in the side, “That’s not saying very much.”

“Ouch.” He grinned, kissing your chest. 

“Did everyone say yes to joining the wedding party?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yup.” Your lips popped on the end of the word.

Miguel grinned wide and unabashedly leaning closer to you, “Then we got ourselves a wedding,” he said, smiling against your lips. He tasted like coffee and cinnamon. 

You chuckled, “Maybe we shouldn’t have sprung this on them so soon.”

Miguel shrugged, “We needed to tell them at some point, cariño. And it’s not like we’re doing all the extra stuff. They just need to show up to the church at this point.” 

“I know that. But Pavitr seemed to disagree. Apparently I'm going to have a bachelorette party next weekend.” 

He pouted, “No party for me?! I’m hurt.” 

“Peter didn’t bring it up with you? I thought he'd be over the moon about being Best Man.”

Miguel’s head shot up, thick brows furrowing in confusion beneath a bed of ruffled curls, “I thought you were going to tell Peter.”

You tipped your head to the side, “I thought you were going to tell to Peter?” 

“Yeah, LEGO Peter.” 

Silence, thick and full of horror fell over both of you. 

“Did… did neither of us tell Peter and MJ?” You whispered. 

Miguel closed his eyes, his face plummeting into the soft skin of your chest, “Fuuuuuuuuuck.”

The double doors to Miguel’s office slid open with a groan of disappointment. Peter stood there with his legs splayed, carving out a disgruntled shape in his signature pink bathrobe that he never took off, especially with the new addition to his family. 

Mayday clung to her father’s chest, her brother’s chestnut mop poking out from behind Peter’s shoulder. Benjy’s grin was gummy and wide and he wore matching noise-canceling headphones with his sister.

“Fuck.” You repeated, your face falling flat. 

MJ leaned against the doorway and rubbed her temples with one hand, shoulders shaking with repressed laughter as Peter stalked forward, absolutely livid. 

“You MOTHERFUCK—

*cut scene*

*Alexa, play 'Blitzkrieg Bop' by The Ramones*

____________________

Author's note (again!):

Just some funny gifs I thought were appropriate for the characters:

Peter storming into the room because his best friends forgot to tell him about their engagement:

Pavitr learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

LEGO Peter learning he's going to be part of the wedding party:

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Love,

Florence B.

[blackbrownfamily]

MADAGASCAR PEOPLE

[raileurta]

My headcanons on what each of the spider-kids parental name(s) for Miguel would be.

Miles

• Tìo of course.

• Papà.

• Work dad.™ I've seen this being used a few times and it's so canon lol.

• Mamà araña (spider mom) I read a fic with this nickname and I find it so cute.

Gwen

• Dad.

• Spider dad.

• On very rare occasions mom; she's more comfortable using dad though. (She feels guilty about calling Miguel mom, like she's replacing her old mother.)

Noir (he's 19)

• Father. Noir gives off vibes of someone who uses formal names 24/7 with older people. (Plus he's dramatic)

• Pops but only when he's emotional or drugged up on pain medication.

• Mother if he's in spider mode.

Margo

• Dad but in a teasing sort of way.

• Work dad; she doesn't care that it's trademark by Miles.

• Mom but in a I don't have emotionally healthy parents that don't fight all the time and you're my only semi stable parental figure I have to look up to sort of way.

Peni

• She just mostly uses Miguel's name or boss but she has called him dad a few times.

Hobie

• Old man. (Affectionately)

• Boss mom but he's being a little shit about it. Stole this nickname from a comic.

• Called him dad by accident once and he tried not throwing himself immediately out the window from his sheer embarrassment afterwards. (He failed)

• Mum if he's feeling vulnerable enough.

• Work dad™ but only because he wants to mess with Miles' trademark.

Pavitr

• Out of all of the spider-kids Pav seems the most emotionally healthy? That's not saying a lot but still. So in my mind he doesn't have enough parental issues to consider Miguel his parent. I think he would only call Miguel boss mom, but it's because he picked it up from Hobie.

• To him Miguel is more like a grumpy old uncle who's really cool.

Here is an extra headcanon for the people that read to the end ✨ or just scrolled down to the bottom of the post. 😒

• Peter b. called Miguel dad once in the middle of a villain fight. They both just stared at each other and immediately agreed to never bring it up again. Peter is still mortified he did that to this day.

[ausetkmt]

Lynching victim Rubin Stacy’s story being told by his family in film screening at NSU

Anne Naves knew something bad had happened to her uncle when her male relatives came home from fishing, each wearing a pall of silence. Dad wasn’t cracking jokes like usual. Grandfather looked grave. And her uncle, Rubin Stacy, hadn’t come back. The next day, someone from the funeral home said a body had been dropped off.

Naves, 8 years old at the time, only discovered the full gruesome truth about her uncle years later. On July 19, 1935, acting on an unproven accusation from a white woman, a masked lynch mob strung up Stacy under a Fort Lauderdale tree, hanged him and shot him 17 times as spectators gawked and children laughed.

The brutality and silence of Stacy’s lynching is revisited in the new documentary, “Rubin,” which will screen on Tuesday, Oct. 3, at Nova Southeastern University. In the hourlong film, the farmhand’s death is recounted through the eyes of his surviving descendants, but mainly through Naves, who was the last living eyewitness to the trauma — and to the secrecy — that followed.

The film, the first to be made by relatives of Stacy’s family, also chronicles the history of lynchings in America, used as a tool of punishment and to foster silence.

“I think (my family) knew that, without telling us (kids) what really happened, they would save us a lot of trauma,” Naves says in the documentary. “The neighbors and our church members respected our silence, too, because they knew that if it could happen to our family, it could happen to theirs.”

For “Rubin” director Tenille Brown, who is a cousin of Rubin Stacy, the film has in recent weeks also morphed into something else: a posthumous tribute to Naves. After filming her interviews for the documentary, she died on Sept. 18 at age 96, leaving behind a strong legacy: She was a Broward County educator for 25 years, teaching at Pines Middle and other schools.

“The biggest piece of the film was Anne,” Brown says in an interview with the South Florida Sun Sentinel. “Without her, there’s no story. She’s the driving force. She was ready to talk. She told me to record her. She really pushed me when I didn’t feel confident and said, ‘Record me anyway. Just go.’ ”

The rest of America witnessed the cruelty of Stacy’s lynching long before Naves did. A series of photos immortalize the moment when a white crowd gathered around Stacy’s body hanging from a tree. These images ran in newspapers nationwide, were published by the NAACP, Life magazine and National Geographic, and are now archived in the Library of Congress.

It was a tale of Jim Crow-era racism that Fort Lauderdale would’ve rather forgotten — the brother of a corrupt Broward County sheriff participated in the lynching — but city officials have made strides in recent years to acknowledge the tragedy by placing memorial markers around Fort Lauderdale. One is on Davie Boulevard and Southwest 31st Avenue, also known as Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue, near where Stacy took his last breath. There’s another on the 800 block of Northwest Second Street, where he lived, and a third at Woodlawn Cemetery, his final resting place. In February 2022, a section of Davie Boulevard was renamed Rubin Stacy Memorial Boulevard.

“I’m glad they acknowledged it,” says Brown, of Pompano Beach. “These stories make some people in the state uncomfortable, but if they are based on fact, we need to tell the truth. You can’t turn your head. These are things you can’t ignore.”

For Brown, it was these memorials — and Naves’ willingness to break her silence — that motivated her to reconstruct Stacy’s story. To do so, she also interviewed Ken Cutler, Parkland commissioner and historian, and Tameka Bradley Hobbs, library regional manager of Fort Lauderdale’s African American Research Library and Cultural Center.

“My family didn’t want to talk about it out of fear for years,” Brown says. “There was shame. There’s an element of hurt, and you can hear that emotion in Anne’s voice. Now it feels freeing. This is a story that was suppressed for years and by sharing it, this is how we overcome.”

Michael Anderson, a producer for “Rubin,” says the film also tackles what too many school textbooks don’t stress enough: the history of Black lynchings.

“For Black youth to know their stories, they have to know the history of lynchings,” Anderson says. “They still don’t know how lynchings were used as a weapon to keep a community quiet. That’s exactly what it did to Rubin Stacy’s family.”

IF YOU GO

WHAT: “Rubin”

WHEN: 7 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 3

WHERE: NSU’s Rose & Alfred Miniaci Performing Arts Center, 3100 Ray Ferrero Jr. Blvd., Davie

COST: Free, but tickets must be presented for entry

INFORMATION: 954-462-0222; MiniaciPAC.com