found out that in nyc theres a gay bar named ‘the spot’
Black Excellence in one photo.
Puzzle Pieces Ch.7
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6
Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex
It had been far too long. Far too long since you've stayed alone with a man overnight. Your nerves were kicking in as you kept thinking about staying over at Miguel's place. You knew that he would never take advantage of you, but the nerves. The nerves wouldn't go away nor stop the thoughts.
Unable to stop shaking, you gasped as you dropped the order you were wrapping on the floor. Prepared to be yelled at, you shrunk and covered your ears. To your surprise, none of your coworkers yelled at you. They just quickly made another order and had to wrap it for them again.
You apologized and redid the wrapping, glancing around. You've seen these guys scream and yell at each other whenever someone fucks up. How come they didn't do it to you? Recalling Miguel, you started to wonder if he had a hand in this. Miguel was a regular and someone who did use the supermarket for something else that you still didn't know.
Could he have said something?
Playing with your sleeves, you tried to calm down. Could Miguel have said something to your bosses? The thought did make your heart flutter. How much was this man going to take care of you? You needed to find a way to return the favor.
"(Y/N), go take a break." Your Supervisor told you. You flinched and nodded,
"S-Sorry," You whimpered, hurrying off to the breakroom.
Right as you left, your Supervisor exhaled loudly and walked over to the small seating area in front of the deli. He placed a sandwich in front of a woman holding a newspaper.
"You got patience. I could never sit and watch someone for eight hours a day."
"That's why I got hired," Jessica said, lowering her paper, "You and I both know it isn't going to last forever. Miguel always gets what he wants."
You held your bag in your hand, waiting for Miguel's text. You had prepped last night and the manager allowed you to leave your duffel bag in her office for your shift. Stepping outside the supermarket, you gasped lowly, spotting Miguel exiting his car.
"I was just about to text you," Miguel hummed. His driver rushing out to take your bag, "Would you like to go anywhere first before dinner? There's still some hours of daylight left."
"O-Oh, hmm..." You covered your mouth, trying to think as Miguel motioned you towards his car, "I-I'm not sure, there is...a few things I've been wanting to see..."
Once you were both in the backseat of his car, Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss. He loved seeing how dazed and red you get each time. It was so addicting seeing your innocence. As you started naming some places, Miguel informed his driver to take them to each one.
Before they left, Miguel made sure to signal Jessica a good job and for her to go back home. Miguel was determined to make sure nothing gets you stressed or worked up. Especially not after seeing those scars.
Right as he leaned back into his seat, Miguel eagerly waited for a report from Miles. There was so much anger inside of Miguel that he needed to let it loose soon.
"Thank you, Miguel," You whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist,
You were exhausted. Miguel had taken you all over the city, sightseeing a bunch of places you had wanted to visit. You felt so happy and loved. But mainly exhausted. All of that walking around since he couldn't drive into those places, did take a toll.
Rubbing your eyes as you sat back down in the back of Miguel's car, you whimpered a small yawn. Once the car started to drive, you immediately fell asleep.
Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you sleep against him. Wanting to make you comfortable, Miguel adjusted you and had you lay your head on his lap. Miguel's jacket resting over you as a blanket. It was funny. Normally Miguel had women lay down in his car for other reasons, but this was nice.
As Miguel played with your hair, he felt his phone buzz. Assuming that it was Miles, Miguel hurriedly answered.
"Weeeeeeeeell," Lyla forced a laugh, "That mission you sent Miles on turned out to be a road trip."
"See, Gwen and Hobie found out that Miles was going out of town and decided they want in. Then they dragged Pavitar with them, so to make sure they didn't mess up the mission or do anything stupid-"
"Don't say Peter-"
"I had Peter go supervise them," Lyla laughed.
Miguel couldn't handle hearing anymore. He hung up, groaning lowly. It just had to be the youngling of his group. They kept adding to his stress. But, at least Miguel had you.
"Shall I take you home, sir?" Miguel glanced up at his driver,
"Yes. Perhaps take out will suffice for dinner instead." Miguel replied, adoring your sleeping visage.
The last thing Miguel wanted to do was overstimulate you. You were fragile. His reports from Jessica were very detailed in what got you to tick and explode. It took every ounce of willpower for Miguel to stay back whenever Jessica reported you crying over a stupid, angry customer.
But, you won't be working there much longer. Arriving at his penthouse, Miguel carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs while his driver grabbed the bags.
You looked perfect in his arms. All nuzzled against him, sleeping peacefully. Why didn't you appear sooner in his life? Miguel was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to be. His precious little wife. A title so fitting for you.
Miguel had his driver leave the bags on the counter and told him to enjoy the rest of his day. With ease, Miguel took off both his shoes and yours and proceeded to take you to his bedroom. Miguel placed you on his bed, kissing the top of your head before leaving to order some food.
"Que duermas bien mi conejito. (Sleep well, my little bunny)"
It was quiet. Your felt yourself start to come too as you shifted slightly in your sleep. You felt relaxed and comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you titled your head at the different, yet fancy ceiling. Miguel must have taken you to his place.
Gasping, you shot up, covering your face since you realized that you fell asleep. How embarrassing! You looked around, seeing that you were in his room, but no sign of Miguel. Laying back down, you felt yourself sink into his mattress.
"It smells like him," You whispered, holding his pillow close.
Your cheeks started to warm up as your heart pounded against your chest. You were really at Miguel's place. You wanted to feel like everything was moving so fast, but it also felt so right. It was corny, but you felt like Miguel was filling in the missing pieces.
"Ah, you're awake. Did you rest well?" Miguel asked as he entered the room. You quickly released his pillow and sat up,
"Mhm, s-sorry for falling asleep,"
"Don't be. I made you exhausted after a long day of work," Miguel sat beside you, cupping your cheek, "I got us some take out. Ready to eat?"
You took Miguel's hand, giggling softly as he lifted you off the bed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying the moment. Miguel held your hand as he showed you around his penthouse, at least until he took you to the dining room where dinner was waiting.
"T-This place...is...is so big. It...It must feel really lonely," You whispered.
Miguel glanced at you in awe. Every other women would compliment on his place, saying it must cost a fortune, or make a sly comment about him needing a maid. Yet, here you were, worried about him. It was funny how much Miguel loved you.
"Not too much since I'm only here so a short time. Unless I get a reason to home won't, I'll stay out working." Miguel handed you a plate.
You watched Miguel as he set the plates, finding him much more attractive. This was new. You sat up, wanting to help him, but Miguel insisted that you'd sit and relax. As Miguel set the plates, you picked at your sleeves. He was so nice to you. So understanding.
Perhaps, you could tell him your secret. It was something hard for you, but if you were going to be serious with Miguel, you wanted him to know. You were just worried about his reaction. What if he decided that you were ugly? What if he didn't want anything to do with you afterwards?
"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Miguel hurried to your side, wiping your tears away, "Tell me, mi amor (my love)."
"I-I'm so-sorry. I-It's just...I...I want...w-want to t-tell you s-something b-but...but I-I'm scared...t-that you'll w-want n-nothing to do...w-with me." You sobbed.
Miguel knew you were scared due to your worse stuttering. He held you against his chest, letting you cry. Miguel had a rough idea that you wanted to tell him about your scars. Hell, Miguel wasn't sure how he would react. Stroking your hair, Miguel sighed softly,
"(Y/N), I never want you to be scared of me. You can tell me anything. I'll still love you all the same," He tried to reassure you.
You sniffled, trying to calm down. You apologized for ruining dinner, but Miguel dismissed it. He reassured you once more, and told you to eat. Miguel wanted you to have some energy before telling him anything.
You agreed and ate beside Miguel, still sniffling every now and then. Once finished, you offered to do the dishes, needing some more time to calm down. Miguel said he was going to shower. That gave you some time.
Once dishes were done, you quickly looked through your bag for your pajamas, puzzles and cookies. When Miguel came out of the shower, you proceeded to enter. You grabbed Miguel's hand, slowly bringing him back into the bathroom.
"I-I was...in a....v-very bad relationship...b-before. Which, which is why I'm s-so scared...I-I really...really...like you Miguel. I-I want y-you to understand...m-my fear,"
You closed your eyes as Miguel held your cheeks in his hands. He kissed your forehead, giving you motivation. You hummed lowly and slowly started to take off your clothes.
Miguel watched you, telling himself to relax no matter the outcome. You needed his support, which was something he was not used to giving. His brows furrowed as you took your pants off. There were cuts, scars and a few cigarette marks.
Miguel felt his blood boil. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your body started to shake. You were gripping the bottom of your shirt, hesitating to pull it up. Miguel almost didn't want you too, but this was for you.
"Lo mataré por ti, mi conejito. (I'll kill him for you, my bunny.)" Miguel whispered as he gave you a deep kiss.
Miguel watched the sparkle in your eyes shine as you made eye contact with him. His hands rested over yours, helping you remove your shirt. Miguel inhaled deeply as he observed your body, which was covered in those marks as well.
"S-Sorry...f-for not being-"
"Beautiful?" Miguel interrupted, needing to change your mindset, "You didn't make these marks, but they don't cover your beauty. (Y/N), I'll get revenge for you, but I need you to love yourself as much I do." He whispered, kissing your hand.
"You have no idea how much I'm behaving right now. Seeing you shaking in front of me, ready to be devoured."
Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned bright red. He captured your lips in another kiss before taking your hand and showing you how the shower worked. He smiled, watching you nod and hold his hand tightly.
You were warming up to him, and Miguel liked that. Letting you shower peacefully, Miguel made sure to compliment you once more. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the dining room, to make sure everything was cleaned.
To his surprise, he saw your cookies. A smile formed against his lips as he placed one in his mouth despite hating sweets. To his surprise, it wasn't too sweet. It felt just right. Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel looked at a text he received from Miles.
'We have a name.'
"Tch," Miguel hissed lowly, calling the kid, "I want more than just a name. I want everything on his fucker. If you guys find him, bring me to me."
"Whoa, guys? It's just me-"
"I can hear Hobie and Peter in the background," Miguel said unamused. Miles laughed awkwardly,
"Okay, fine. Hobie's asking if we can rough him up a bit?"
"No. Leave that to me."
Miguel immediately hung up upon hearing your call. He returned to the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Miguel was going to make sure your ex paid for what he did to you. For damaging his precious future wife.
You belonged to Miguel.
@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddies
not a role model, briefly a runway model.
brieuc's 1k celebration: 🫀 url edit for @spiiderpunk!
The fact that all Gwen knows about her variants in other universes is that they're dead is so sad. Like imagine you want to know what happens to you in other dimensions and it turns out that wherever you look you mean nothing, you're so unimportant that there's no bigger role for you other than dying.
And I've seen you guys pointing this out, where she's looking at what looks like her own death and even if it's not this is not just a "love interest" Gwen, this is a superhero who is supposed to mean something, but she doesn't. She's only here to die. And so far this (our) Gwen doesn't have any reason to believe that she won't die very soon just like other Gwens.
I think that one of the main reasons why she's rejecting Miles is not just her trauma and all shit she's been through and the fear of dying like other Gwens when they're involved with Spider-Man, but also because if they start something and she dies this will hurt him too.
It's easy to say "canon events aren't true she shouldn't believe in that" but this isn't just a regular risk, this is her life we're talking about.
I have 25 Days to perform a Christmas Miracle.
Hey guys it’s Emu. I’m a black transfemme based in Florida. I have been trying to flee the fascist state of Florida for months no with no luck. It is hard finding work as a openly black and openly transfemme person.
I am in need of staying housed for the Holiday season. My only income is an after school teacher at a learning center. I only get 6 hours a week and I’m only paid $13/hr. Because it is almost Christmas break and the center will be closed up until January because schools will be closed for Winter break. I will be even more short on rent due to lack of hours. This is my only job.
I have 25 days to raise $2000
That is only $80 a day to keep me housed and safe.
If you are truly boycotting please spare a Netflix or Hulu subscription ($7.99, $15.99)
If you cannot or do not want to donate that is perfectly okay! You can support in other ways.
• Post on my behalf on other platform
• Interact with my posts daily or whenever you find the time. (Reblog + like + comment)
$10/$80 (met) 🎉
bc im so happy i wanted to write a quick prompt - established relationship, miguel has trouble accepting that he likes your presence, in which his day off is a day to spend time with you at home. wham! - last christmas
"Miguel, take a freakin' holiday. You have eye-bags," Lyla poked and prodded at Miguel's face, her worried expression zooming all around his face, fluttering.
"Like.. it's December. Don't you also have a right to take a day off?"
Lyla continued to nag, genuinely concerned for Miguel's well-being. He hasn't had a proper day off in.. who knows. He can't remember.
Miguel grunted, folding his arms as he continued to wipe his tired eyes, watching another successful mission be complete. He watched as Penny Parker and Sp//dr, (her robot,) high-five each other in victory.
He averted his gaze and looked at Lyla as she continued to speak.
"Y/N's on break." Lyla responded, looking at him a certain way. She had a light smirk on her face, adjusting her pretty pink glasses.
"I know," was all Miguel said.
"..So are you going to go take a day off, or what, big guy?"
Miguel closed his eyes for a second to ponder his options, a hand rubbing the permanent crease in his forehead. He could use a day off, a day off with you.
"..Fine. I'll take the day off." Miguel gruffly said, smoothing a lock of hair that strayed from running a hand through his hair so many times. A nervous habit of his.
"What are they doing, anyway?" Miguel mumbled, and Lyla opened up a view of you. You were comfortably on the couch, snuggled under a blanket with what looked like to be hot chocolate. Why hadn't he joined you sooner?
"Oh, that looks... comfortable." He talked out-loud, mainly to himself.
"I'm going to drop in on them... They won't mind."
You could be flexible, and with Miguel that was no different.
Without warning, you heard the familiar sound of Miguel's portal opening in your living room. You had a decent-sized apartment, but it could be tight at times. In this economy, what could you truly do?
"Miguel?" Your head jerks to the portal, and sure enough, he steps through, Lyla slowly fizzing away to give you some privacy.
"..Yeah. I hope you don't mind.. Lyla.."
"-forced you to take a break?" You grinned and patted the seat next to you.
"There's room under my blanket.. I don't know if you want to go change first, though."
Miguel was still in his suit, his mask de-pixelized. He liked to look at you for a bit too long when he talked.
"..I'm gonna shower. I don't want you to smell me.. it's been a long day."
You nodded, understanding.
"I'll be here."
Miguel took his cold shower, the ones you couldn't stand. You had tried it out one time and chickened out because of how cold it was. He let out a laugh, one of the few times he would laugh around you, it always made you laugh, too.
He came back, drying his hair with a towel, he was in a black sweatpants and sweatshirt set. It was too cold for him to show off his physique in his usual tank tops.
You turned to look at him, unable to conceal your smile at the sight of him. You figured he knew what affect he had on you.
"You look good, come here, let me smell you."
He laughed and got under the cover next to you, tossing the towel near the laundry room area.
"Your hair dries fast..." You mutter, and he not so shyly presses himself into your side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you as close as possible.
"Missed you," was all he said, staring at the TV, not looking at your gaze.
"I missed you too," you respond and you take a smell of him.
He started to use a musky lavender scent on himself, since he sensed you had liked it. You always complimented on how he smelled, even if it slightly puzzled him. He found it somewhat amusing when you could differentiate the scents present in a certain cologne he's bought without telling you what it contains.
You aren't shy as you lightly nuzzle your face into his chest, clearly you enjoyed how he smelled and felt. The combination of he soft fabric and his warmth.. it made you feel so cozy.
"You smell great."
"..Thank you," he was smiling as he looked at you, starting to pet your head, in a stroking sort of way.
"How was work?" You already know the answer, you just wonder if he has a different answer this time.
"Sucked. ...But I'm here now, so I'm just fine."
He eventually couldn't resist the urge to pull you onto his lap. You were laughing as he firmly sat you on his strong thighs.
"What? Why are you so giggly tonight?" He was smiling, glad you couldn't see his face. He nuzzled himself right into your neck, as your back was to his front.
"I'm just happy to be with you. You're a workaholic, Miguel." As you say that, you feel his hands go up your shirt, and rest on your stomach. That catches you off guard, as you open your mouth to protest he cuts you off.
"My hands are cold."
"On my stomach, really?" You can't help but feel your body warm, and he doesn't move his hands away from under your layers.
He gave it a light pat, knowing he was driving you crazy.
"My hands are cold.. what's the problem?" He was smugly smiling, not able to suppress his facial reactions to you. It was just comfortable for him to rest his hands there.
You sigh and you touch his hands under your layers, hoping to warm his hands.
"Good." He mumbled, and he moved his face in your neck again, pressing light kisses, making you feel a little funny.
That went on for longer than you thought, you ended up closing your eyes at some point, focusing on how his lips felt, and the occasional brush of his sharp fangs.
"Can you tell I've missed you?" He mumbles, unable to cease from kissing on your skin, he was feeling touchy.
"I can tell."
You let out a sigh, and your brain can no longer function correctly, as its in another spot during this moment.
"You smell like chocolate." He closes his eyes as he remembers you drinking some, as he spied on you.
You take a second to respond, his light kisses were distracting for you.
"Oh.. ..Yeah, I was drinking some hot chocolate."
You figured you'd offer some, warm up his insides a bit more after his freakishly cold shower.
"Do you want me to get up and make you some?"
He makes a sound that sounds like a yes, letting go of you, and letting his hands out of your shirt.
"Come back quick. I'm already cold."
What's in a name?
✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader
Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.
✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, misunderstandings.
(mostly based on how earth-138 is)
A name everyone has learned for the worst part, the name ‘Osborn’ has run though the streets of Camden through the blood and dirt that drips through its pristine and marble image, spoken like the candyman–as if it were uttered three times, they’d be cursed and face the consequences. The man who hated the poor and less fortunate that were scattered through England. The man who kept his paws clean by hiring those who needed the money, then turning them into the crooked police for the crimes he made them do. The cruel family man who’s destroyed homeless shelters and remade them into his own buildings for business, legal or not.
Here she was. The daughter of this monster, the girl who receives bloody money that her father steals from the innocent, The daughter who people are afraid to even talk to out of fear of her dad, the girl who can’t refuse what she’s given because she understands how much worse it can be. That doesn’t stop her from still trying as much as she can. Sneaking out of her mansion most nights to try and get a taste of college parties. Whenever she goes out during the day with her dad’s black card, She spends it on clothes and gives it away to those she knows really needs it, always wearing a face-covering balaclava so her father doesn’t somehow find this out. Instead of the piano lessons she attended where her fingers gracefully flowed between those white elegant tiles to create beautiful classical music–she tried to learn the electric guitar, mostly teaching herself to the rhythmic sounds and rough rumble of the guitar that Hobie Brown wields.
A name recognized as well throughout Camdon but for the exact opposite reasons, a name that drips with earned respect, a firm rough hardwood image that's covered in stuck-out nails and splinters. A Punk that directly strives against fascists like Osborn, and who’s blood boils when he learns Osborn’s cruel plans to begin using the old Canals again–mostly to flush out the homeless that reside there, The homeless who Spiderpunk always seems to be visiting and helping out.
Oh. Spiderpunk. A name Y/N can recognise due to her father’s phone calls that she overhears late at night, a name she always hears that is spit out with venom through her fathers and his colleagues lips, the name she sees in bold graffiti almost daily on her dads main company building. Jet black graffiti and red with blue undertones that drip almost beautifully down the glass panes it was sprayed upon. She always bites back a grin smile whenever she hears her dad ranting about the punk he ever so clearly despises.
It was one of those days, those days where you despised everything in your life–that was unlucky, bad luck of yours to have been born in this universe. Bad luck that you were the daughter of a sadistic monster, how you were seen as a monster for even being related to him.
These emotions burned through your veins, making your hands tense and chest heavy. These emotions pool in your eyes the moment you walk through your large white bedroom door and crash into your Jado Steel Style Rose-Gold Bed. Your tense body relaxing but messy black mascara tears flowing down your face. Nobody understood, it's like you were speaking their language on deaf ears that didn’t care to hear you out. They didn’t care to hear out the brat, The Spoiled girl who has her life handed to her, the brat that no matter how hard she tries-
Can’t prove anything to everyone who is dead set on her being a spoiled daddy’s girl.
With boiling tears drying upon your soft smooth skin, You get up and change out of the clothes your main ‘Maid’, Roxanne, had put out for you earlier for your Dads event of a damn Factory opening that was built over another destroyed shelter. Removing the ruffle black dress with small cute green ribbons to show off your dads company colors along for him to display his gorgeous daughter. It’s not like he cared for anyone's image besides his own anyways.
Glancing at the clock, you sigh and dip your head into the pillow again,
You take a calming breath and change into some jeans and a loose black tee after crying some more for a few moments, the shirt only allowed for you to wear at home since it wasn’t perfect and elegant enough for the Osborn image. Ugh. You enter your private marble bathroom to wash your face free of those streaks of ‘weakness’ as your dad would call it.
“Hey! Uhm, Roxy?” You call out softly, your door soon opening with Roxanne standing by it and looking over at you expectantly.
“Yes, Miss?” Roxy said back in her usual calm and blank expression, her expression shifting ever so slightly at the sight of you wearing your usual clothing you do whenever you plan on sneaking out without Osborn knowing.
“Don’t let father see me going out, if he asks about me, tell him that I’m upset and tired from the event and to not disturb me.” you tell her as you reach under your bed to grab a shoebox where your balaclava, hoodie, and gloves are stored and hidden away. You wish you didn’t have to wear all this just to be an actually not-bad person, but you can’t risk angering your dad. He always told you to never dwell on what has to be done.
“It’s a dog eat dog world, You can’t cry about others who don’t have the guts to do what has to be done.”
Those words are always playing in the back of your head, your own dad telling it to you soothingly to help stop your tears–when you were about eight. You were crying because you were thinking about the lives he’s ruined and took for you two. Well.. More like for Oscorp.
You snap out of that memory as you clear your throat and put everything on to hide the safety of your identity while Roxy watches with that neutral face you’ve seen and known your whole life. She’s the closest thing you’ve ever had to a mother, by textbook definition because she brought you up with care and some affection. But your actual birth mom had died while giving birth to you, you never met her once besides the moment she passed with you in her arms. Since then, Your dad has seen you as if you were the last living part of her that he has besides memories and pictures of her. He's always telling you that you’re her spitting image but you just.. Can’t see it. Probably because she is always glowing and happy in her pictures with anyone, she had a normal college student experience with friends and parties, she didn’t have an overprotective dad.
You roll the glove over your wrist, pausing ever so slightly at a white gold bracelet your dad gave you when you turned thirteen, with your grandmas and mother’s name engraved into it, and yours engraved below theirs. An important and old heirloom to your dad since he wants you to always remain in touch with your moms side of the family–not like your dad spent much time with his family anyways.
“When are you going to get over this phase?” You suddenly hear Roxy ask from behind you which makes you jump ever so slightly before subtly moving it a bit lower on your wrist so the bracelet chain does not get caught in the fabric of the gloves.
“You really want me to answer that?” You ask rhetorically before fixing the balaclava over your features while walking to your window and sitting on the sil, Kicking your legs out and looking out on the city and lowering sun before actually answering Roxy, realizing she sounded even a little.. Disappointed.. in you.
“The Osborn name has done- Irreversible damage, And I’m just trying to help out the people who need it, and pay for my dads actions with actual kindness.” Your tone is soft and a bit honest, you adjust your hands to push yourself out of the window before Roxy can even reply.
Your thick black boots break your landing as you fall in the green fluffy grass garden that surrounds your mansion, rose bushes and flowers adding some color to it since your dad agreed it would look good for our image, as if it wasn’t soiled already.
You make your way out of your house and just walk, stopping by an old tree that stood beside the path from your house to the city. Your foot stands on a nook where the tree had a brach that went out and folded in itself and your hand stretched up into one of its hard woodend pockets until you feel a familiar fabric, you pull on it until the backpack falls out with your hand holding it by the handle and hopping off of the tree.
This was your secret backpack that you didn’t even want on your own property so you kept it safe in a tree. This bag contained little necessities along with spray paint, some basic tools, cash, and pepper spray. You keep walking down the path and arriving at the city, where the air was polluted and slightly hard to breathe while the rest of the city had occasional litter, trash, and shady looking people who make it seem like it's better to walk across the street to the other sidewalk.
You usually went out at night to be able to put some of your art on display in the streets: You had a sketchbook full of small things that you usually spray-painted on canals, or outside the wall of abandoned buildings. You didn’t know what this secret ‘hobby’ was really called, you just walked the streets of the city until you found a good spot and started to make your art.
Nothing was out of the ordinary until you walked past an alleyway and in the corner of your eye, you saw someone in dirty clothes wearing messed up jeans and a worn out jacket, sitting on the ground outside a little blue tent with a small fire in a bin that lights up some of the alley.
You come to a small halt and debate whether walking over to the person or leaving them alone, your vision focusing in the dim lighting and revealing the other few tents there, some of the tents zipped up and indicating that whoever is in there is sleeping, and some people standing around with a lit cigarette in their calloused hand.
You swallow that gut feeling to leave them alone and walk over to a gas station, buying some instant pizza, sandwiches, and food for the people you told yourself not to bother and walk back over to them with the plastic bag in hand.
You approach the person you saw, but they look over at you and seem to tense and quickly stand as they face you.
“Hey! Hi, relax, I brought some things for you and your friends?” You said with a gentle soft tone as you stepped closer slowly since the vagabond seemed wary of you with their eyes locked on your face.
“Oh! Damn, I forgot, hang on.” You murmur as you reach up to pull your mask over your eyes to show your face so that the person would be less afraid of you, holding out the bag of food.
Their face changes into a grimace, as if disgusted at how you’re trying to help them out. Recognizing you as the creation they and their whole community despised due to the cruel name that comes after your first.
They grimace at you and stare at you as if you were the one trying to drive them out of the city. The one that’s destroying non-profit shelters, as if it were your company that’s dumping all kinds of waste to the community- but that didn’t seem to have any matter to them anyways.
Staring at you like you were some Monster.
“You’re not welcome here.” The person murmurs with a coldness and genuine hatred in their tone, sharp like an icicle that cuts through your heart sharply. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, they didn’t know anything about you besides what your dad has done.
Before you can respond, they continue as they walk closer to you with their hands fisted to their sides,
“You aren’t welcome anywhere around here, you don’t even know what has been going on here, ‘princess’. You’re just some brat who needs some kind of sick ego boost to try and make people love you and respect your image.” Each word spat like venomous cold spikes as they gesture one of their hands, as they get closer–you can see the other people in the alley look over and seem to tense up and get worried in some way.
“I know what my father does, I’m so s-” You begin as you take a step back, but being cut off be the person speaking louder with exasperation in their tone.
“No you don’t! You don’t have any idea what Norman is even doing to us! You just sit there and look pretty while your dad is ruining lives!” And if there weren’t other people around- well, if there weren't one of their friends, a girl with baggy jeans and a gray beanie holding them back, you don’t question what would’ve happened to you or what they would’ve done if that girl wasn’t holding them back.
“Dude..” The girl whisper yelled as she pulled the person yelling at you away from you and closer to herself, “What the hell are you doing? Don’t piss her off because she’ll tell her dad and he’ll fuck over each and everyone in this damn alleyway.” and she swats them on the shoulder.
You really are just ‘daddy’s girl’.
You stay quiet and just place down the bag of treats and just walk off, out of the alleyway. Feeling the earlier emotions come to a boil once again as you fix the balaclava back on your face and walk down the pavement of the dimly lit street.
With your eyes prickling with tears and resurfaced emotions following, you decide to walk to a part to calm down as the hot watered sadness drips from your eyes, down your cheeks and soaking into the fabric covering your face.
You find yourself here. Late at night. Silently sobbing your eyes out on a cold metallic bench you vividly remember your dad showing it to you when you were a kid.
You were about seven and you had fallen off a swing set and scraped your knee badly, you still have it slightly scarred on your knee if you looked for it enough.
Hot tears because of the burning pain on your soft flesh, you were sitting in this exact spot as your small hands were holding up your black and white striped leggings with your leg up, and Roxy tending to your wound with your dad sitting right beside you with his hand on his shoulder.
“You were reckless, and your mistake cost you. You don’t want to be getting hurt,” He begins before gently taking your chin with his calloused hand and making you look at him through sniffled sobs, “and you can’t be showing this weakness unless you want it to hurt you later on.” Your dad continued as he wiped away your tears with his leathery thumb brushing against your babyfat-filled cheeks.
Crying like now you always did, as if you didn’t change. Still that little girl who only knows one thing: how to cry.
You sit back and hold your legs with your face in your knees, it's like everything that has been being held in–caused by your father or not.. Was crashing down and flooding your eyes like a broken dam through a canal. The balaclava grew damp before you hear an odd THWAP sound which makes you raise your head and look in the direction of the sound.
You see a familiar man with his gaze focused on you, wearing what seems to be a red spandex suit below a torn blue t-shirt and black ripped jeans that accentuate his already skinny and lanky body with a spiked leather jacket over his shoulders with several pins that decorate the chest and a spiked mohawk on his head.
Once you notice him approaching you quickly reach your hand under the balaclava to wipe your cheeks from the excess tears, internally grateful that your mask was already dark and the moisture from your tears won’t be too visible to this man.
“Excuse me? You- you alrigh’?” The man asks, his soft yet cockney voice immediately making you recall who this man specifically was: You’ve heard his booming words at protest rallies but never saw from who the vocal fighting came from because of your dad and his security quickly ushering you away to keep you safe–or to keep you unaware of your father’s negative popularity.
You sniffle for a second before answering “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a shitty night.” while you clutch your bag a bit closer to you since he was still a stranger to you. He sees you tense and he chuckles while shaking his head and putting his hands into his pockets.
“Calm down there, ‘m just making sure you’re not some dealer tryna make bad lives worse.” He says jokingly as he glances at the bag you’re clutching, but also at your body language, “You’ve gotta understand how it looks for me, to find some masked person sitting in a bench in the crappy part of town.” His voice was playful yet gentle as if to calm you, he had some kind of charm that made him seem almost easy to talk to–especially since this is the first conversation you’ve had in a while that wasn’t swayed against you due to your name.
“And imagine how this looks for me, some dude walking up to me as I’m sat happily on a park bench.” You say back to him with a smirk under your mask.
“Touché.” He chuckled as he shook his head and stepped closer while offering his hand, “The Name’s Spiderpunk.” Once he introduced himself, you felt a splash of relief as he confirmed who he was. His name is said in his own way, in such a calm manner that contrasts the venomous words your father speaks of him when he thinks you can’t hear his disrespectful language. “And you are..?”
His body language is weirdly calm and relaxed, not at all judging you or making you uncomfortable.. Is that a green flag or a red one? You take and shake his gloved hand with yours. This was the only time a stranger wasn’t immediately hostile or rude to you, and you didn’t want to lose that. ..So what’s a little white lie?
“Emily.” You answer him with a soft nod. Your mothers name? Why say her name?
“Emily,” Spiderpunk echoed with a smile in his voice, “And uh.. Wha’s with the whole.. getup?” He asked as he gestured to you vaguely, mostly to your mask that's covering your face and only shows your dark eyes and long lashes, that were ever so slightly red and puffy because of the earlier crying.
“Don’t worry about it, just- lets just say my face around here is.. Disliked.” Because of my damn father.
He nods slightly, if he has some kind of expression on his face then you can’t even tell what it is because of his mask, you open your mouth to at least try and ask about that but he continued without realizing he practically interrupted you: your face is equally as covered.
“And uh.. Not that I don’ believe ya for your word, but I’ll have ‘o check that bag.” He says while gesturing at your backpack that you're clutching against you.
What? What kind of request is that? It’s not like you’ve even done anything to prompt this question in the first place, and who is he to ask about the bag or something?
“What are you, a cop? Some kind of narc?” You ask with your tone slightly more hostile than you’d want it to be. It’s not like you’re hiding anything either, but you literally have money and spray paint: You can get in trouble for some vandalism you haven’t even done yet.
He pauses for a second, seeming genuinely offended that you accused him of being a cop, as if you called him something below the respect that even vermin have.
“No. Nothing of the sort, never compare me to a cop.” He tells you firmly before muttering under his breath, “fucking pigs.” and without warning, he thwips a white silky rope out of his wrist and it attaches itself to your bag and rips it from your grasp.
You find yourself staring at Spiderpunk as he starts to casually go through your bag as if it were nothing and like you fully offered it to him. He chuckles as he sees some of your spray paint, you hear the cans clink as he shoves his hand into it and checks everything out.
“Tha’s it? Here I was partly thinking you’re some dealer trying to make sure this part of camden stays ghetto, but nah,” He hands you back your bag–He seems mostly amused by the obvious grin in his voice, “You’re just a stree’ artist?”
Street artist? That's what it’s called? You always loved art ever since you were a kid–So your dad always provided you art lessons, good paint, expensive sketching pencils, but he always made you draw boring things like fruit bowls or paint sunsets. But you even one time helped him with ideas for the Oscorp logo! That was fun for you at the time before you knew the shit Oscorp was doing.
But you realize he was pretty much asking for you to confirm if you’re a street artist or not. “Yeah- Yeah, I’m a.. Street artist?” You respond as you take the bag back, not even knowing if you’re saying it right, but you shouldn’t rely on someone to teach you so you reword what you said with a bit more of a firm tone “Yeah. I’m a street artist, tonight I haven’t really done art though.”
He nods and stays quiet for a moment as he looks at your masked face before he looks around and holds out his hand for you as if to help you up.
“Come with me, I know a good spot where you can put up your stuff. I was on my way there anyway so I could show you.” He had this tone where you knew you could say no, swat his hand away and run, politely decline and leave, Something but..
You take his hand and stand before slinging your backpack handle over one of your shoulders. His mask hiding every bit of emotion he can possibly be showing besides the lenses over his eyes that squint slightly at an expression every once in a while but beyond that–you have to heavily rely on reading his tones and body language.
“Do you trust me?” He asked as he glanced over at you. He seemed like he wanted to do something and just wanted some of your approval. He seems strong and like he’s able to do a lot–and he leaves the decision all up to you.
With an unsure nod of your head, he pulls you closer and wraps his arm around your waist, "Hold on." He told you before shooting a web of his up to a building, your arms wrap around his neck–over his shoulders.
You shut your eyes tightly as you suddenly stop feeling the ground below your feet and cold air hitting and blowing against your body as you swing through the city and hold onto him for dear fucking life.
“My god, holy shit.” You say as you try not to yell but unable to be silent. Spiderpunk holds on to you with one strong slim arm around you and the other expertly shooting webs and slinging through the streets of Camden as if it's some common occurrence for him–well, it was.
Your vision is slightly blurred with the lights and the slight tears forming because of the dry wind blown against them. But before you know it–you’re on the ground again with a soft thud with Spiderpunk still holding onto you like it's nothing.
“You alrigh’?” He asks with some kind of smug tone that implies he somehow finds how you clung on to him amusing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It's just that not everyone is used to slinging through the air.” You respond sarcastically as you let go of his with his hand on your waist lingering for a second before it falls to his side and his other arm raising his hand to gesture where you guys are and you feel your stomach drop once you see a familiar green logo- no, a familiar cut ribbon as well.
This is the new factory my dad opened.
Well, it wasn’t completely new that Spiderpunk was on his way to vandalize your dads newest business- how could you have forgotten? Your heart beats in your ribs as your eyes dart to the hidden cameras you know are there because your dad asked you to adjust them and help so you make sure they cover the whole area.
“W-we shouldn't be here, at all.” you tell him as you grab his arm to keep him from getting too close to which he fully laughs while shaking his head and putting a hand over his eyes, Is this some sick joke to him?
“Didn’ think of you as the type to be afraid of Osborn. You’re full of surprises.” He coos while softly clutching his stomach teasingly.
“What? No! It’s just- there's security and-” You begin, before being cut off before he shoots webs in all directions and corners of the wall as though to cover the cameras- he over did some webs but they are definitely covered now.
“And we’re wearing masks. Osborn has nothing on us- and that sadistic fascist probably can pay someone to clean up. Bet this is worth pennies to him.” Spiderpunk scoffs, his voice full of disdain and genuine venom towards your father–and he doesn’t even know it.
Something about his words ring into your ears, it’s not like you didn’t know your dad was practically hated by everyone that wasn’t rich and privileged.
So why did this feel more.. real?
As if watching these acts in person other than the news you secretly watch is more.. In your face about these situations?
You swallow a big gulp and nod and take out your bag and open it to show the spray paints. Spiderpunk’s lenses squint as if he were smiling at you.
“Good girl.” He teased
The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. A blur full of laughter, smiling, story telling, and paint. Spiderpunk makes his usual tag on the building as you try to get the hang of using spray paint cans. Genuine laughs from Spiderpunk when you have a stupid yet funny comment, and a smile seen in your eyes when he has a joke. Something warm develops in your chest and cheeks by being in his playful presence, a bit foreign but it's a nice feeling. Like a warm hug..
At one point you two actually get to painting, with a practice ‘drawing’ being a little spider like the one he has on the back of his jacket. “Aw, nice! Am I like your muse?” He coos as he looks at the art you’re making with a hand on his hip.
You chuckle as you glance at him then look away to focus on the spider itself, “Like it? It looks l-” You pause and cut yourself off at the sound of a camera and a light flashing. Your head whips towards the sound and you see Spiderpunk took a polaroid picture of you.
You watch as the picture prints and he shakes it while it develops before giving it to you with a squinted lensed smile again. You see the picture is of you with your back turned and the spray paint can in your hand while it decorates the blank gray wall it's on.
“Keep i’, let it be a reminder of the time you met Spiderpunk.” He comments playfully as he picks up another spray paint can and goes to the free spot of the wall beside you which makes you laugh and shake your head while he chuckles softly.
But then you think of a question that ends up erupting from your throat as you put the picture into your jean pocket.
“Hey, Spiderpunk..” You begin as you spray a line of your paint, leaving a streak of black since you’re starting on the outline.
“Yeah?” He responds as he holds his own spray paint can in one spot to create the little dripage to give his tag the right style.
“Why do you hate Osborn so much? I mean, I dislike him too, but do you have a specific reason to hate him?”
Spiderpunk pauses slightly but keeps his gaze to the wall instead of looking at you.
“He is ruining lives and screwing people over for his own selfish gains. He’s a fascist twa’ that likes the power trip. And I can’t stand his pompous daugh’er either.” He answers while going back to what he was doing with his paint.
At this, you’re the one who pauses and keeps your gaze away. Before you can ask a little follow up–your phone goes off and you check it with eyes going wide once you see the time.
How long have you two been spray painting? You have to seriously get home before Roxy worries-
Or before your dad finds out you’re gone.
“I have to get the hell home- like.. Right fucking now.” You say as you scramble to grab your things and shove the almost empty paint cans into your bag, suddenly aware of what can happen to you if you arrive late- Roxy is always giving passive aggressive threats of telling on you to Osborn if you arrive home late.
Spiderpunk gets confused at how you suddenly have an urge to leave but helps you pick up your stuff anyway. “Heh, did you sneak out or something..?” He asks with a chuckle but is mostly curious as to why you’re leaving in such a hurry now.
You breathlessly chuckle before zipping up your bag. “Yeah, something like that.. Can you-” You cut yourself off as you realize you were about to ask him to take you home. Obviously he can’t know who you are- you cant lose this friendship.. Or whatever this is.
“Take me over to the park you found me. Now. ..please.” You say as you sling your bag over your shoulder and wrap your arms around his neck again–even if this time his body is warmer and there's something there that makes your heartbeat a little faster.
“Wow, and I was ‘bout to ask if you were sick of me already.” He coos teasingly before putting his arm around your waist, and with a secure grip you’re swinging through the air again.
You roll your eyes and hold onto him, he comes to a stop at the park and leaves you exactly where he found you-
On the bench.
You awkwardly say your goodbyes before bolting away in the direction you first came, you hastily put your backpack back into the tree and make your way through the dark garden. You smile to yourself as you think back on everything that you and that masked punk did tonight.
You climb up the tree beside your window and jump into your warm bedroom where the only lighting was the bathroom light you probably forgot to turn off and the hallway light outside your bedroom door peeking in from below the wooden barrier.
You kick off your boots and start removing your mask as you walk back over to where the shoebox under your bed hides. You enter your dimly lit room and see it just how you left it. You take a breath of relief and smile to yourself like an idiot as you think about Spiderpunk, walking to your bed as you remove the balaclava from your face and put it into the box along with your gloves and the picture.
Once you close the box and safely hide it under your bed, your dad suddenly bursts through your bedroom door and Roxy behind him.
“No! Mr. Osborn, She’s-” Roxy was saying to your dad before she looks at you and stares daggers for a moment before continuing more calmly, “See, sir? She’s right here.”
She had been distracting your dad while you were gone and you definitely owed her something since she was busting her ass. Your Dad seems like he was fuming but his gaze softened when he saw his daughter in her room like roxy had been saying to him.
“Hey, sweetie.” He greeted, almost awkward because of his aggressive entry. “It’s late, you should go to bed.” Osborn says as he walked over to you kissed you on the forehead.
“Yeah, I was just about to do that.” You retort in the usual chipper tone you used with him so he really had no idea of all the things you did against his back.
The next morning you go downstairs to your kitchen but overhear your dad livid on a call, so you stand by the door and listen in without making yourself known.
“What?! What do you mean he already hit the damn new factory at Elm street?” He practically roars but keeps mind to his volume since he thinks you’re asleep.
You smile to yourself as he begins ranting about Spiderpunk, the grin widening once he says something that made your heart pump slightly faster.
“A second one? Who the hell does he think he is, bringing some kind of date to ruin my work.”
@eyesxxyou .... I did it.
I'll make part 2 if this does well since I also have sm shit to do now that I have a job.
This is a request from @miguelspookiebear. Sorry it's super late, but I do hope you enjoy it!
You thought that maybe this guy was the one, that he was the man of your dreams, that he would be the one to make the future you had dreamed about since you were twenty a reality.
For three years you had told yourself that and you believed it, until you saw him hooking up with your sister of all people.
You were heartbroken. You felt betrayed and broken. You had blocked him and broke up with him the next day after the incident, and you wouldn't even talk to your own sister.
You thought that life was over, that you would never find the guy that would be your knight in shining armor.
But maybe life would change, and you would meet the man that you so desperately dreamed of.
A few months after you had broken up with that bastard, you were in your kitchen making a cup of coffee, a frown on your face and dried tears on your cheeks as you stared at the mug in front of you until you heard a knock at your front door.
"Not him again," you groaned to yourself as you walked over to the door and opened it, expecting your ex-boyfriend to be begging for forgiveness and to take him back.
What you didn't expect was to see his father, Miguel O'Hara, to be standing there with a bouquet of roses in his hand and a small smile on his face.
"Mr. O'Hara," you said with a smile and leaned against the frame of your door. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Miguel let out a small chuckle. "Sorry I didn't warn you," he replied. "I just wanted to come over to-"
"Pick up your sons shit because he's too much of a pussy to do it himself?" You cut him off with a frown and a raised brow.
"Yes, and other things," the older male stated.
You hummed in response and looked at the box of his sons stuff and clothes, nibbling on your bottom lip as you thought about it.
"How about you come inside and I'll make you a cup of coffee," you suggested with a smile and offered him inside with a wave of your hand, which he gladly and nervously followed. Walking to the kitchen you grabbed another mug and poured coffee into it.
"I wanted to tell you that my son, the fucking estupido of a kid he is," he muttered under his breath as he took the mug with a small 'thank you'. "I kicked him out of the house until he gets his shit together."
You looked over at him and stood at the other side of the counter, looking at him and let out a sigh.
"Why'd you do that?" you asked, not making eye contact with him. "He's your kid."
Hearing the older man set his mug down and walk over to you, you felt his hand touch your shoulder and squeeze it gently.
"Because I did not raise him to treat women like that, let alone break their trust and sleep with another girl," Miguel said and put a finger under your chin, making you look up at him.
"Especially to not cheat on a girl that's as beautiful as you." You felt your cheeks heat up and a blush spread across your face at his words and the feeling of his hands holding your face like you were the most important person in his life.
Your eyes widened in shock when he had pressed his lips against yours in a gentle yet small kiss but you quickly gripped the fabric of his shirt and closed your eyes and kissed back.
Miguel growled against your lips and ran his large but gentle hands down your body and gripped your hips, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulder and moan into the kiss when he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
"Can't believe he would ever hurt a women like you," he growled as he pulled away from the kiss to press his lips against the skin of your neck, his teeth threatening to bite into the softness of your skin, causing you to let out a small moan and tilt your head to the side to give him more access.
This was wrong. The fact that you were making out with the father of your ex-boyfriend was something that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. But you couldn't bring yourself to give a shit, not when Miguel was biting and sucking marks onto your neck.
"Miguel," you whined.
"Tell me what you want, princesa," he whispered in your ear. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."
You closed your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting your lip in thought.
"I..I want you to touch me," you said. "Please."
Miguel growled and lifted you up so you were laying on the counter, the cool surface making you shiver lightly.
"Look at you," the older male said with a grin, his hand moving up your leg and squeezing your thigh. "Is it bad that I'm glad you're no longer with my son?"
You bit your lip as you felt his fingertips dipped under the skirt of your dress and press against your folds through your soaked panties making you let out a gasp at the feeling. He leaned down and started to kiss down your neck again, his tongue soothing the bite marks he left.
"Gonna make you feel so good, mi amor," he promised with a smile and slipped your panties down your legs and dropped them onto the kitchen floor. "Gonna make you feel better than my son ever did.
The older male rubbed your clit with the tip of his thumb and slid two fingers into your dripping cunt, making you grip the fabric of his shirt and moan against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you grinded down onto his fingers.
Miguel growled against your throat and started to thrust his fingers in and out of your cunt, his fingers pressing against the spot inside of you that made your back arch off the counter with a moan.
You knew you weren't gonna last long, not when his fingers fill you up better than anyone else has, not when he made you forget your own name with the way he whispered praises in promises into your ears.
"Miguel," you gasped out. "I...I'm not gonna last long..." The older male rubbed your clit faster and reached his free hand up to squeeze one of your breasts through the fabric of your dress.
"I want you to come for me," he said and kissed you again, this one sloppier and more messy than the first one as you moaned into the kiss. "C'mon mi vida, wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.
Just hearing his words made you come with a moan, your walls gripping his fingers as you squirted all over his hand.
Miguel pulled out his fingers and licked off your juices, moaning at the taste before pulling you back in for a messy make out session. You closed your eyes as your tongue tangled with his, groaning as you tasted yourself in his mouth.
"Such a good girl for me," Miguel whispered against your lips with a smile. "But we're not done yet." You felt a shiver run down your spine as he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.
You thought that you were never going to meet your knight in shining armor after you broke up with your ex, but you did, and it was with someone way better than him.
And you couldn't be more happy that it was his father that made you feel more loved and cared for.
This is probably the longest thing I have ever written, when it comes to requests, but hey I enjoyed writing this and it could be better but I am just getting over being sick and I'm a little dry with the smut! But it's okay!
Imagine Hobie’s symbiote cat going into a liquid state like actual cats lol
What's the 2024 canon event in your universe?
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Pile One 🕷
Your Canon event that cannot be interfered with:
There's going to be a tremendous amount of movement for you in 2024. This could look like traveling, ascending in your endeavors, plans playing into motion, but the main thing that's standing out to me is that you won't be doing this alone. There's a lot of group activity here with friends, family, or co workers who you have a healthy relationship with. This could also indicate a lot of celebrations or ceremonies regarding success in what you accomplish next year. I keep getting this image of gears moving non-stop, which to me it looks like you're pushing through anything physically and mentally. Some of you could be start working out as a new hobby or something else that requires you to uncover barriers within yourself that you never thought you could exceed. Maybe this is inspiration to pull yourself out of something in the past that has been making you feel like you should just lay in stagnation, or maybe you're tirelessly moving because you have to, but either way, you're making moves that you should see positive results in the year of 2024.
Your Canon event that cannot be interfered with :
You are going to learn either from circumstances that corner them or through self-reflection (can even be both) that will make you learn how to take more accountability. This is about making changes in the way that you have been reacting to stuff that boils down to the multiple ways that you have been self-sabotaging. Knowing when to walk away when you've put your all into a person that isn't doing the work to meet you half-way. Withdrawing your energy from situations that seek to get you out of character. Understanding the value in your emotions instead of pushing them aside or allowing other people to invalidate them. 2024 is the year for your voice to be heard. You'll improve in how you communicate with others, especially amongst conflict, discovering your unmet needs that you didn't even know were needs, solitude that will bring you more peace that'll draw away from the loneliness you may feel in working on yourself. You could even be finding out what spirituality actually means to you as well. Overall, I'm getting the feeling that you're walking away from the noise that's discrediting your discernment, you're going to find out that you aren't crazy as some people tried to make you ought to be.
Your Canon event that cannot be interfered with :
2024 for you is going to be about uncovering a lot of secrets and I'm not talking about anxiety inducing kind. This year is going to be exciting for you and about revealing what your self-concept is. Tapping into your sexuality, finding the things that compliment your beauty, or your "recipe" that just makes life work for you, having more freedom financially, romantically, or other areas that you may have felt restricted in. I feel like most of your months are going to be eventful to the point where you may pause temporarily throughout the year because you may feel like you need to chill out, or life just feels "too" good. This could be related to certain indulgences or this could be some fear creeping on you that'll make you doubt the positive things going on with you in life. Other people could find you impulsive, but that's really none of their business, a lot of the blessing that you receive in 2024 comes from taking leaps of faith and being assertive in searching for things that you want to take a chance on.
Gwen hugging her father Captain Stacy
I love how she got to hug him as Spider-Gwen the second time