#the osborn journal

[samasmith23]

The Retconning of Aunt May's death from Amazing Spider-Man #400... aka, screw John Byrne!

Wanna know something else we can criticize John Byrne for aside from his general creepiness and bigotry? He undid Aunt May’s death in the beautifully written Amazing Spider-Man (1963) #400, "The Gift," aka one of the best stories to come out of the entire infamous Clone Saga era.

Like... when Linkara reviewed the Web of Death storyline, one particular complaint he brought up was how all of the all the beautiful & emotional moments between Peter Parker and comatose Aunt May were severely undermined in hindsight due to the later retcon that this wasn't actually May Parker, but instead an highly-skilled actress whom Norman Osborn replaced Aunt May with after her stroke and made resemble Peter's aunt through cloning technology.

And the person who was responsible for this controversial retcon? None other than John Byrne!

Byrne apparently refused to even initiate his divisive 1999 Chapter One and The Next Chapter reboots of the Spider-Man titles unless he was allowed to utilize Aunt May as a member of Peter's supporting cast. Consequently, this meant completely retconning Aunt May's lovely and tragic send-off by J.M. DeMatteis & Mark Bagley in ASM #400, even though that issue was highly regarded and celebrated by even the most hardened detractors of The Clone Saga era as a whole.

And you know what made the retconning of Aunt May's death even more stupid? It directly contradicted Norman Osborn's own recounting of The Clone Saga from his perspective in The Osborn Journal one-shot after he was revealed to be the true mastermind behind the whole saga. Writer & editor Glenn Greenberg specifically made sure to include these passages from Norman's private journals:

-"And as luck would have it, the clone -- Reilly -- learned of May Parker's stroke and returned to New York to be near her during her final days. This saved me the trouble of concocting some elaborate scheme to lure him back to the city."

-"Then the old woman finally died, delivering a major emotional blow to Parker and his wife. My only regret is that I was NOT the cause."

Yup, Greenberg wanted to make sure that DeMatteis' brilliant work from ASM #400 wouldn't be undone by having Norman himself state in his private journals that May's death was strictly due to natural causes instead of another part of his behind-the-scene's manipulations. Which makes sense considering that the entire issue was dedicated to Peter & Aunt May's final days together as she revealed to her nephew that she had always known he was Spider-Man and was deeply proud of him before passing away in her bed right besides Peter, Mary Jane & Aunt Anna, with Peter's final words to his surrogate mother-figure being him quoting his favorite childhood novel Peter Pan to her, telling Aunt May:

"Let go. Fly. 'Second to the right... and straight on until morning.'"

Its honestly one of the most simultaneously heartbreaking & beautiful scenes that I've personally ever read in a comic. The silent panels of Ben Reilly crying to himself on the roof of the house, unable to be by his Aunt's side during her final moments since he's only a clone of her nephew, especially tug at my heartstrings (poor Benjy)! And its an issue that resonates with me even more deeply today than back when I initially read it a few years ago, since I now know what it feels like to lose a dearly beloved relative, with both my paternal grandmother (Nana) and maternal grandfather (Paps) having since passed away.

But then John Byrne decided in his infinite wisdom to screw it all up, ignoring all of that emotional weight and feelings of down-to-Earth loss by not only revealing that the Aunt May Peter watched die was actually just a random actress whom Norman Osborn "genetically modified via the Jackal’s cloning technology" (which again… makes ZERO sense), but that Osborn apparently now lied in his own personal diaries or something?

So yeah, the resurrection of Aunt May by John Byrne during the Spider-Man: The Gathering of Five/The Final Chapter arcs is easily one of the most insulting retcons that I've ever encountered since it spits in the face of one of the most beautifully written single-issues that I've personally ever read (both because of how it personally resonates with me as someone who's lost two grandparents, and because is J.M. DeMatteis is among my Top 5 favorite comic book writers).

But trust me, this is the LEAST of John Byrne's problems, which fellow comic creator Ramon Villalobos made an excellent thread discussing in detail if you want further information:

[asoftepiloguemylove]

i will do as devils do. fall.

Sylvia Plath The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath / S. Osborn Blasphemies at the 5th Street Station / Kate Cayley Lent / retirementfund (on etsy) BEGOTTN HORROR PATCH / Ethel Cain Sun Bleached Files / Nicola Yoon The Sun is Also a Star / unknown

i. Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[ "I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty." ]

ii. S. Osborn, Blasphemies at the 5th Street Station

[ " 'if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i'm going to make him cry.' / - s. osborn, from 'blasphemies at the 5th street station,' published in The Rising Phoenix Review (via lifeinpoetry)" ]

iii. Kate Cayley, Lent

[ "When I think of God, I think of hiding. The way a child hides. In hope of being found." ]

iv. retirementfund, BEGOTTN HORROR PATCH

[ Black patch with a screenshot form the horror movie Begotten. A grainy black and white image of a woman standing as she looks down at something. "GOD IS DEAD / ALL HAIL NATURE" ]

v. Ethel Cain, Sun Bleached Files

[ "What I wouldn't give to be in Church this Sunday / Listening to the choir, so heartfelt, all singing / God loves you, but not enough to save you" ]

vii. Nicola Yoon, The Sun is Also a Star

[ "I wish I still felt that way. Growing up and seeing your parents flaws is like losing your religion. I don't believe in God anymore. I don't believe in my father either." ]

vii. unknown

[ Black and white drawing of a statue of a man looking upwards into the distance. "GOD ONLY LISTENS TO ME WHEN I SPEAK THROUGH SIN / IN TRANSLATION MY PRAYERS FALL FROM GRACE BUT I AM HEARD" ]

[abigailkart]

drawn from photo of keith haring by Bruce Osborn in 1983

[rexscanonwife]

Watching world tour again...👉👈

[agirlnamedbone]

Jason Kyle Howard, "If God Had a Name," (on Joan Osborne's "One of Us") in Oxford American (2020)

[fancyschmancyopinions]

ELISABETH MOSS at the finale event for “The Handmaid’s Tale” Season 5 in Los Angeles on November 8th 2022 wearing PACO RABANNE

[ask-harvester]

I.. I could’ve sworn I saw Hera off the corner of my eye.

I thought it was only just the old S.T.A.R.s team members who were supposed to be coming back as simulacra… Nobody said anything about anyone who died recently..

- 🥩

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“The Osborn Journals,” Spider-Man: The Osborn Journal, (Vol. 1/1997), #1.

Writer: Glenn Greenberg; Penciler and Inker: Kyle Hotz; Inkers: Jason Moore and Al Milgrom; Colorist: Mark Bernardo; Letterer: Richard Starkings

[hauntedbythenarrative]

I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.

All the gods have been domesticated

And Heaven is now overrated

And the churches, they all closed their doors

But you can take your complaints straight to the Lord

The unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath//Sun bleached flies, Ethel Cain//The Double Image, Anne Sexton//Silk, Wolf Alice//Phaedra’s Love, Sarah Kane//Girls against God, Florence + The Machine//Adonis, from Death (tr. by Samuel Hazo)//Kill Bill vol. 1 (2003), Quentin Tarantino//Blasphemies at the 5th street station, S. Osborn//Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare, Leila Chatti//This Hell, Rina Sawayama//Cassandra, Florence + The Machine

[probablyasocialecologist]

Journalist Gary Younge has warned that the narrow range of most British journalists’ backgrounds means it takes “a seismic event” for journalists to take an interest in problems that are for many people everyday realities. Delivering the inaugural Rosemary Hollis Memorial lecture at City University he said “now more than ever we need reporters and commentators who can engage with the sources of discontent and alienation which fuel the assaults on our democratic space. “But instead we have a commentariat, overwhelmingly from the same social class both as each other and the politicians they cover. Their reference points are limited, their comfort zone is narrow. “Much as they may mock millennials for seeking safe spaces, that is entirely where they operate.”

[...]

Noting a finding of the 2019 Sutton Trust and Social Mobility report that suggested journalism has one of the most privileged workforces of any British industry, Younge said that “when the media class is drawn from the same social strata as the political class, the spectrum of views is narrow, and the atmosphere in which they are aired, foetid”. Later in the lecture Younge said there are people for whom journalism “is their life – this is all they’ve ever wanted to do, this is what their parents did, this is what their friends do. To occupy this space means everything to them. “And they shuffle, almost literally, between the media class and the political class. Boris Johnson just got a [job] on GB News. He was a journalist and then prime minister, now he’s going to be a journalist again… George Osborne pauperises a significant section of the population, goes to the Evening Standard, runs a Christmas campaign for food banks.” He added: “It’s a group of people talking to themselves. They used to call broadsheet journalism the internal memos of the middle class, but increasingly it’s the internal memos of the upper class.”

[primaviva]

TRUTH OR DARE

PAIRING: ghostface!gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: paranoia and the creeping feeling that someone is watching you have been happening ever since the start of the school year once you got together with your boyfriend, randy robertson. but when he gets murdered and queens starts an uproar over this secret ghost killer, you get a call at night from a stranger in the middle of the night, and they wanna play a game. truth or dare?

NOTES: scream au! violent descriptions (nothing too much just with the use of ghostface it’s expected), reader experiencing comphet, major jealousy and heavy flirting, stalking, obsessive!gwen, nothing too much. nickname “good girl” mentioned once but in a taunting way not no bdsm type way we don’t do that here. HEAVY MAKEOUT. enjoy??

the black cloak and white mask seemed to be everywhere, a constant presence that infiltrated every corner of your world.

it dominated the media— from news broadcasts to social media feeds, newspapers, and even the e!news tabloids. the images from those fateful nights were plastered in front of your eyes repeatedly, each time reopening the wounds and forcing you to relive the heart-wrenching moments.

it all began at a costume party hosted by the notorious playboy, harry osborn, in anticipation of halloween. autumn held a special place in your heart, particularly as it transitioned into the eerie and enchanting season of october. tim burton's movies, with their dark whimsy, were a particular favorite of yours. that's why you convinced your boyfriend, randy, to dress as victor and emily from the corpse bride.

randy was a tall, somewhat dorky guy hailing from a loving african american household. while he had a reputation as an athletic football player, his true passion lay in writing, more specifically the realm of journalism. he seemed like the perfect match for you, and yet, there was an indescribable hesitation lingering in your heart. it wasn't that he wasn't right for you or vice versa, but really a blend of uncertainty and fear. perhaps it stemmed from him being the first guy to actively pursue and ask you out, leaving you unsure of what lay ahead. or maybe you were just grappling with the question of whether he actually fit your ideal type. it was a feeling you couldn’t explain in words.

the corpse bride held a special place in your heart, beyond the fall season. however, it did turn you off how much convincing it took to get randy on board with the idea of matching halloween outfits. after all, it was just a couple's costume. so what was his problem?

the night began on a high note as you arrived at the party with randy. the vibrant lights bathed the room in ever-changing colors. people danced and swayed to the infectious rhythm of the music, while others indulged in halloween-themed snacks and drinks in the corners.

you spotted your friends and decided to join them, breaking away from randy to spend time with his own friends. or so you thought. randy never struck you as the cheating type. with his gentle giant demeanor, he seemed like the perfect match for you— kind, considerate, and driven, basically all the qualities a girl should want in a guy.

but then, everything came crashing down when you caught sight of him in a corner, locked in a passionate kiss with sally avril. at that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl before abruptly hurtling forward.

“what the hell? this whole time you were acting like you wanted to be with me but instead you’re messing around with the bootleg avril lavigne?” you shouted, the words erupting from your lips.

your eyes locked with hers as she stared at you in disbelief. the look you had only intensified as you saw her weakly hide behind him. you didn’t care if you were disrespectful, that was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

randy's gaze was fixed on you, fear and guilt circling within his eyes as you turned to him. “you are the most trifling man i have ever met. if you felt this way, why not end it? but no, you wanna act like a little bitch and make me come dressed with you just to embarrass me. never let me see your face again,” you declared.

angry that a friend of yours who knew he was taken decided to kiss him anyway. angry that your ex boyfriend couldn’t just do the bare minimum out of respect and tell you the truth, instead being sneaky behind your back. angry that you felt embarrassed and like an idiot for even believing something like this would work out.

as tears welled up in your eyes, you turned away, walking off in a haze of hatred. your friends tried to console you, practically begging for you to stay, but you needed to be alone to process the overwhelming pain. seeking solace, you found yourself outside, rain pouring down, mirroring just how you felt. the raindrops traced a path from your head down to the curve of your nose, mingling with the wet fabric of your dress. in that moment, all you desired was to be alone in the dark with your thoughts, away from the prying eyes of friends, and just calm down.

ironic how you were dressed as emily, considering you felt like the other woman.

it was when you were lost in your thoughts that you heard a a piercing scream reverberating through the house, jolting you from your previous assumptions that it was all part of a macabre party activity. your body tensed, and you swiftly turned towards the entrance, witnessing a wave of terrified people streaming out in panic.

driven by curiosity and a growing sense of unease, you stepped forward, determined to unravel the mystery unfolding before you. as you made your way inside, the scene that greeted you was far from anything you could have anticipated.

the grand staircase, once an elegant display of cream-colored opulence, now bore a twisted transformation. its steps were drenched in a vivid, saturated red, creating an otherworldly and macabre sight that churned your stomach. blood cascaded down in a haphazard and unsettling manner, leading your gaze to the source of the horror.

there, at the bottom of the staircase, lay randy, with a broken neck.

his friend, chad, had turned him over, revealing a sight that sent shivers down your spine. it was evident that randy had suffered a fatal blow to his chest, inflicted by a shard of glass or some other jagged object.

initially, you thought it was just a tragic accident, but deep down, you knew better. you had witnessed the fear and confusion etched in randy's eyes while his body laid limp on the floor. it was clear to you that someone or something had ruthlessly taken his life.

the night wore on as the police conducted their investigation, and you found yourself subjected to interviews, polygraphs, and everything else demanded of you to piece together the events that unfolded.

you still don’t know what happened that night. the weight of remorse for randy's tragic fate bears heavily upon your heart, not in the personal sense of romantic love, but in the recognition that no one deserves to meet such a brutal end. the haunting image of his final moments, consumed by fear and confusion, you couldn’t help but feel guilty.

it engulfs you in sleeplessness, much like tonight. the continuous string of events and criminal activities associated with this enigmatic apparition has caused an overwhelming amount of stress, making it impossible for you to find solace and rest during the night.

frustrated, you let out a sigh and forcefully throw off your covers, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. with a gentle unplug from the charger, you notice that it has sufficient battery to allow you to use it comfortably while lying down.

unlocking your phone with your password, you open tiktok, perhaps the least advisable app to open if you intended to sleep. however, acknowledging the chances of you falling asleep anytime soon, you decide to indulge in it anyway.

as you glance at the corner of your phone, you notice the time reads 11:30. you make a promise to yourself to scroll for just a few minutes before attempting to sleep again.

and so, time passes by, more than just a couple of minutes. suddenly, a ringing sound interrupts your tiktok video, and a notification pops up at the top of your screen, automatically muting the video. the incoming call displays as "no caller id," causing you to dismiss it, unwilling to immediately hang up in case it's a scammer testing the validity of your phone number.

returning to your scrolling, the number calls again. it becomes clear that it's an actual person trying to reach you. annoyed, you press the red button, rejecting the call. almost immediately, your phone starts ringing again, persistently calling you.

clicking your tongue in irritation, you sit up in bed and examine the unknown caller id.

why do they keep calling?

"fuck it," you groan, deciding to answer the call. "hello?"

a profound silence ensues, only accompanied by the faint background noise resembling a gentle breeze.

"hello, (y/n)," the voice on the other end utters.

it lacks a natural quality, instead exuding a cold and detached demeanor, yet with a tinge of arrogance.

"how do you know my name? who the hell is this?" you demand, seeking answers.

the fact that this person knows your name, especially at this late hour, immediately sends chills down your spine.

a deep, dark chuckle emanates from the voice before it speaks again. "wanna play a little game?" the voice asks.

you sigh in irritation. "i asked you a question, who are you?"

silence lingers on the other end of the line before the voice breaks it once more. "don't you want to play? it’ll be fun, i promise," the voice adds, its tone dripping with a smirk.

despite your initial inclination to hang up and leave this peculiar individual to their own devices, there was something about them that piqued your curiosity. the voice carried a feminine quality, although it was difficult to discern due to its thick, apathetic tone. beneath the eerie and disconnected facade, there seemed to be a hint of something more in the way they conversed with you. it was as if they genuinely wanted to engage in conversation.

you scoffed, rising from your bed and catching a glimpse of the night sky. "fine, i'll play. what game?"

you could hear the voice on the other end eagerly patting their thigh in excitement. "good girl, i like them feisty. how about a nice game of truth or dare?" the voice suggested, its eagerness palpable.

feeling a hint of nervousness at being referred to as "good girl," you cautiously responded, "truth or dare? okay. what are the rules?" the sinister yet mysterious aura still sent shivers down your spine.

the voice cleared their throat, adopting a more official tone as they explained the rules of the game. "well, you see, the rules are simple. each player chooses either truth or dare. the chosen option determines what the other player does. truth means you'll be asked a question, while dare means you must perform a task." after a brief pause, the voice continued, "the first player is you. which are you going to choose, truth or dare?"

slowly pacing around the room, you pondered your response but ultimately decided to play it safe. "um, truth," you mumbled into the phone.

"okay then, beautiful. what's your favorite color?" the voice inquired.

you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the simplicity of the question.

"what, did i say something funny?" they whispered through the microphone, clearly perplexed.

"no, no. it's just... for a creepy stranger calling me at night, that was the most ordinary question you could have asked," you explained, a few giggles escaping your lips as you spoke.

although you couldn't see it, you could almost imagine the person on the other end of the line smirking. "what do you expect when you receive a creepy call at midnight from a creepy stranger who knows your name and starts a creepy game of truth or dare with you?" they retorted, their sense of humor evident.

you laughed at their wit and couldn't help but feel a sense of strangeness in going along with all of this.

"what do you want?" you asked once more, silently hoping for a genuine answer.

"what i always desire," they stated nonchalantly, causing a shudder to run down your spine as their voice suddenly adopted a tender tone. "you, of course."

"w-what?" you mouthed, barely managing to whisper the words.

you found yourself utterly bewildered by their statement, but before you could dwell on it, the voice swiftly redirected your attention.

"i think i asked you a question. what's your favorite color?"

"it's (f/c). i practically wear it all the time, or at least whenever i have an excuse to. i even buy things in that color," you rambled, attempting to clarify. "but it's not like an obsession or anything."

"i know all about obsession," the voice responded darkly, taking an unsettling turn for a moment. "i bet it looks stunning on you. not that i would know, right?"

a blush crept up your cheeks at the compliments and endearing terms. it had been a while since you had received such attention. yet, even in those instances, it didn't evoke the same spark as it did now. the nervousness it stirred within you felt oddly exhilarating, unlike anything you had experienced from your boyfriend or the other guys at school.

"okay, i guess it's my turn now. so, truth or dare?" you ask the mysterious figure.

they let out a slight chuckle. "truth or dare, huh? i think i'll go with the truth."

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you sense their attempt to put you at ease.

"what's your favorite hobby? or, you know, your favorite thing to do, if you have one," you inquire.

there's a moment of silence on the other end as you patiently await their response. "drumming. i'm a drummer in a band, you know? i've heard girls like the title of being a rockstar's girlfriend," they reply.

you giggle at their comment. "the drummer's girlfriend, huh? isn't it a bit egotistical to call yourself a rockstar?"

"maybe it is, so what?" they retort, followed by a low, raspy chuckle.

another laugh escapes your lips. "that's actually really cool. i've heard that drumming takes a lot of skill and practice. and if you're in a band, then i'm sure you're pretty talented."

"you're... you're really interested in this kind of stuff?" they ask, their tone transitioning from confidence to astonishment. "nice to know a girl like you has good taste. i'm sure you'd love to feel the calluses on my fingertips," they tease.

you can't help but nervously giggle at the stranger's words, a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"now it's your turn," you remind them.

"well, truth or dare?" the voice asks.

"dare," you reply almost immediately.

you hear them let out a laugh from the other end, presumably in response to your eagerness. "bold, i like it," they comment. "i dare you to spin around in a circle until i say stop."

you tilt your head to the side, slightly perplexed by the dare. "are you serious?"

once again, their laughter fills the line. "come on and give me a show, ballerina."

letting out a sigh, you begin to spin around, unraveling into a fit of giggles. you can't deny that you wonder why they chose this particular dare, out of all the possibilities. but it serves as a distraction, and part of you is content with that.

"and stop," they command, and your feet come to a halt, your head lightly pounding from the spinning.

catching your breath, you resume speaking. "happy?" you ask, lacing your words with sarcasm.

"ecstatic," the ominous voice replies. "thanks for the view. as a former dancer, i'd give you a ten out of ten."

maybe it's the impending headache, but you could have sworn they thanked you for the view. which also means they could see you. but that's not possible, right?

"your turn, hurry up and pop the question," the voice commented, its impatience evident.

running out of questions and feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity, you blurted out, "do... do you like girls?"

silence greeted your question, and you mentally facepalmed at your awkwardness.

"oh," they whispered, seemingly taken aback. "i think you forgot to include the truth or dare part, babe."

your voice caught in your throat, leaving you speechless. you felt like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in fear.

"but i can't help it when i see a pretty girl like you so desperate for a response. i don't just like girls," the voice replied, a small snicker following. "i love them."

heat tingled behind your ears, spreading to your cheeks once more.

"how did you, um, know?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"i haven't even told you i'm a girl yet, and you're already assuming. i'll take that as a compliment," they mumbled, their tone bordering on mockery. "i just know who i like."

silence fell once again, and you found yourself lost in your thoughts. this inexplicable feeling that washed over you was something you couldn't quite put into words.

"i'll let my curiosity guide me here, but when was the last time you had... intimate relations with someone?" the voice asked, waiting for your answer.

a dry laugh escaped your lips, shattering the silence of your room. "what, my ex-boyfriend? what are you trying to get at?"

"ever thought about having a girlfriend?" the voice asked, its tone now more aggressive and snide, seemingly triggered by the mention of your ex.

the mention of a girlfriend made your mouth go dry. there had always been a certain connection missing from your previous relationships, but you could never quite pinpoint what it was or whether it was something about you or them. the question caught you off guard, but before you could delve into it, the voice steered the conversation back to the game.

"truth or dare?" the ghostly voice asked.

"truth," you replied, this time with hesitance compared to the last.

"okay, truth is... what's your deepest, darkest fantasy? what's something you've always wanted to do?" the voice asks.

"deepest, darkest fantasy? wow, that's kind of corny," you scoffed. "um... it's not really dark, but... i don't know. sometimes i just want to run away and get away from everything. people can be so shitty sometimes, and you reach a point where you just can't deal with it anymore. i think i'm at that point. sorry, that's kind of embarrassing to share with a stranger." you lick your lips as you gather your thoughts. "anyway, truth or dare?"

you can hear the voice chuckle. "i like a woman who speaks her mind. talking to someone about your problems is always nice, especially when they can relate. i think that's a good fantasy, running away from your problems and starting fresh. can't say i haven't ever thought of it," they reply, their tone laced with empathy. "dare, all the way."

it's a little relieving to hear someone who can relate to you, even if they are a creepy stranger.

you come back from your thoughts. "i dare you to tell me your name."

the voice on the other end lets out a laugh as they think about your dare. "oh, alright, if you insist." their tone shifts to sound more flirtatious as they continue. "that's such a boring dare, though." they pause for a moment before speaking again. "my name is... well, you can call me ghostface." ghostface states, their tone a bit more arrogant as they introduce themselves.

"very funny," you scoff, not believing them. there's no way in your mind that you're flirting on the phone with a slasher in queens. "come on, who are you? are you just messing with me at this hour?"

you can hear the voice sounding annoyed by your response, their tone shifting away from flirtatious. "you think i don't have the guts after one conversation? you know what, forget it. i was trying to have some fun with this, but it's clear you don't appreciate it. let's start the game over." the voice pauses for a moment before speaking again. "truth or dare?" they ask, their tone serious now.

"what?" you question, the adrenaline threatening to surge through your veins from how abruptly uncomfortable it got. "truth..."

you can hear the voice sounding eager as you pick truth. "alright then. here's your truth. what are you wearing right now?" the voice asks, their tone sounding flirtatious again.

"my pajamas... why?" you ask, confused and weirded out as your heart begins to pound nervously.

you hear a low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"no reason. it's just hard to make out what you're wearing from here," ghostface taunts nonchalantly, a sinister edge in their voice.

"what the fuck?" you shout out, fear and anger coursing through you.

"well, it's time for the dare. here's your dare," the voice said, pausing for a moment. "i want you to look out your window. take a good look," ghostface spoke, their tone now commanding.

you were too shocked to respond, but you reluctantly moved the curtain aside and peered out the window, surveying the ground below. to your relief, everything appeared normal—nothing out of place or ominous.

"nothing..." you mumbled, your confusion growing.

ghostface chuckled on the other line. "open your window," the voice demanded.

your heart dropped, apprehension seizing you.

"what?" you asked, your confusion intensifying as you focused your gaze on the window.

ghostface's tone became more forceful. "i said, open your window," they commanded, their voice leaving no room for negotiation.

you didn't respond, feeling your breathing quicken over the phone as you grappled with the presence of this mysterious individual. you sensed their frustration as they let out a sigh and licked their lips.

"you know what, how about another round of truth or dare? it's my turn," the voice taunted.

you began to slowly back away towards your bed, your instincts urging you to distance yourself from this unsettling situation.

"truth or dare?" ghostface asked, their tone growing impatient.

but you didn't answer, the scary reality of the moment setting in. fear tightened its grip around your heart.

"truth or dare? don't make me say it again," ghostface insisted.

you remained silent, a mix of fear, defiance, and self-preservation guiding your actions.

"oh, what the hell. no more choices then, (y/n). i dare you to open your windo-" before ghostface could finish their sentence, you abruptly hung up the phone and swiftly pulled the curtain shut, blocking out any further interaction with the mysterious caller.

"(y/n)? c'mon, don't be a party pooper," ghostface said, their tone flirtatious once again as the line went silent. a few seconds later, you heard quiet shuffling behind you, causing your heart to pound with fear.

realizing that you needed to take action, you swiftly grabbed the chair from your desk and dragged it into the hallway outside your room. you closed the door and positioned the chair below the doorknob, creating an obstacle that would make it difficult for someone to open the door, though not impossible.

suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as the sound of glass shattering echoed from inside your room, followed by a loud thud hitting the floor. your adrenaline surged, and before you could react, the door handle began to jiggle violently. you heard the sounds of your belongings being knocked over, accompanied by a loud crashing noise as the entire door shook. the playful tone in ghostface's voice had vanished, replaced by a sinister and threatening tone.

backing away from the door, you clutched your phone tightly, fearing it might break between your trembling palms.

"leave me the fuck alone!" you yelled, your voice filled with desperation. "if you know what's best for you, you'll leave now."

a sinister chuckle came through the door as it shook violently. ghostface sounded excited, his tone now both menacing and playful. "no matter how hard you try to push me away, i'm not going anywhere, babe. so you might as well just... let me in. you don't want me to break this door down. please don't make me."

"i'm not doing a damn thing!" you yelled back, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and fear as you ran downstairs.

frantically reaching for the railing, you rushed down the stairs while simultaneously dialing 911. the operator answered with the familiar "911, what's your emergency?" prompt as you frantically explained your terrifying situation. you provided them with your address and informed them of the intruder's presence in your home.

suddenly, you heard a loud bang. "you know, the police might not get here in time to help you, (y/n)!" ghostface taunted, his words sending a chill down your spine. "who are you going to call for help? your dead boyfriend?"

as the woman on the other end of the line asked if you had a place to hide, time seemed to slow down, reminiscent of that dreadful night at the party. slowly, you turned your gaze upward from the floor below, your eyes fixated on your once-barricaded bedroom door.

"sorry about him, by the way. i tried to talk to him, i really did! didn't go too well," ghostface spoke, his voice laced with a disturbing mix of amusement and regret. "i guess all those muscles didn't help much."

ghostface had broken down the door, and your eyes darted towards the bathroom— the closest room you could hide in— as you shut the door behind you, hoping to buy yourself some time.

"he seemed like a decent guy for you, shame i had to carve him up like a pumpkin. no one really appreciates a good woman anymore. i probably did you a favor, taking the trash out, if you catch my drift," ghostface taunted, his tone oozing with cockiness and a disturbing familiarity with your personal life.

you could hear ghostface getting closer, their footsteps echoing on the wooden floor as they walked down the nearby stairs and stopped outside the door to the room you were hiding in. the sound of their footsteps sent shivers down your spine. "come out... come out... c'mon now. you have until i count to three," ghostface stated, their voice filled with malicious anticipation.

"one... two..."

the constant banging on doors, shaking of doorknobs, and rummaging through cabinets echoed through the house as ghostface searched for you. each sound made your heart skip a beat, and you held your breath, hoping to remain undetected. the heavy thud of ghostface's boots against the floor reverberated through the room before fading away, only to return again as they continued their relentless pursuit. it felt like an endless, torturous game, until suddenly, silence engulfed the house.

"i-i think they're gone," you whispered into the phone, relief tinged with uncertainty evident in your voice as you spoke to the operator.

"is there a nearby exit? anywhere you could run to?" the woman on the other end asked, her voice filled with concern.

you responded with a quiet "yes," knowing that your back door was just around the corner.

quietly, you opened the top cabinet in your bathroom and retrieved a pair of scissors, holding them tightly as a makeshift weapon. you pressed your ear against the bathroom door, straining to hear any signs of ghostface's presence. their footsteps had become distant, as if they had moved to another part of the house. slowly, you pushed the door open, cringing at the subtle creaking it made, and cautiously peeked out. taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to get up and began walking toward the back door, your eyes fixed on it and the window view it provided. but as you approached, something caught your eye— a reflection.

"three."

you felt a powerful, gloved hand wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you tight against their chest. a scream escaped your lips, swiftly stifled by a hand covering your mouth. desperate to break free, you fought with all your strength, but ghostface's grip was unyielding. the more you wriggled and struck out, the tighter they held you, pressing you closer against them.

summoning courage, you ruthlessly stomped on their foot, causing them to lose their balance. their back collided with the wall, granting you a momentary advantage. seizing the opportunity, you lunged forward, brandishing the scissors, aiming to strike them in the shoulder.

however, just as you were about to make contact, another hand clamped around your wrist, its grip unrelenting. "don't try that with me," a voice hissed. ghostface's grip on your wrists tightened, sending a painful sting coursing through your veins. they forcefully redirected your hand away from them, forcing your arm downward until you had no choice but to surrender. struggling to maintain your hold on the scissors, your resistance faltered.

you released a pained moan as your arm throbbed with tenderness. the ominous figure in the black cloak forcefully pushed you against the counter, causing your hand to involuntarily open upon impact, and your phone slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor.

ghostface retrieved the phone, briefly glancing in your direction before focusing once again on the screen. "she's busy right now," they remarked coldly to the operator before hanging up.

with one hand, ghostface held the side of your tear-streaked face, while the other pressed the cold blade of the knife menacingly against your neck. fear coursed through your veins as you felt the sharp edge against your skin, the chilling reality of the situation sinking in.

"shhh now," ghostface commanded, their voice cutting through the air. their grip tightened, the blade digging dangerously into toward your flesh.

you sniffled, attempting to steady your racing heart. everything felt surreal, as if you had stepped into a distorted reality within the confines of your own home. the anticipation of impending chaos loomed, but the expected eruption never arrived. instead, an eerie silence settled over the scene, intensifying the disorientation.

a loud sob escaped your lips as you clung desperately to the edges of the counter, inadvertently cutting off circulation to your fingers. ghostface's hold tightened as they pulled back on the knife, the sharp blade now threateningly grazing your skin. their other hand covered your mouth, their grip unyielding. "just stay still. you don’t wanna do anything you might regret, right? now, say, 'i understand,'" ghostface uttered.

their gaze took in your terrified state as their grip gradually loosened and demeanor softened. ghostface's gloved hand tenderly wiped away a tear cascading down your flushed cheek.

"i-i understand,” repeating their words as your voice trembled.

their hands forcefully propelled you to the side, slamming you against the wall. through teary, half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at them as their imposing figure loomed over you.

their hand glided to the bottom of the ghostface mask, gripping the edge of the chin, and with a swift motion, they yanked it off and tossed it aside. cascading gracefully down to their shoulders was blonde hair, adorned with pink-dyed tips and one side partially shaved. their skin possessed an ethereal paleness, and their piercing blue eyes held a mysterious allure. a glint from the moonlight reflected off an eyebrow piercing, adding to their enigmatic visage.

and then it hit you. it was gwen stacy, your classmate.

the last person you would ever have expected. a smile played upon her lips, relishing in your bewildered expression. "gwen...?" you managed to utter, your voice barely a whisper. "-the hell?"

reaching into her cloak, gwen retrieved a voice changer box from her chest and raised it to her lips. "hello, (y/n). surprised?" she asked, a sly tilt to her smile.

"w-what..." you tried to speak, but the words eluded you.

"i know this is incredibly confusing and terrifying right now, but i promise i won't harm you," she assured, her thoughts seemingly racing.

gwen's smile grew, taking on a hint of obsession. "i've watched you for so long... you have no idea how much i've longed to be this close to you. you're such a beautiful girl," gwen confessed, her tone simultaneously tender and erratic. her hand still clutched the knife, and she tilted her head, regarding you with a disconcerting smile. the proximity between you two was impossible to ignore.

"please, just... just let me go, and we can forget all of this," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

gwen cocked her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows. "why forget this? why would i want to forget a moment like this?" her gaze bore down upon you, her once vibrant blue eyes now tainted with a dark ink-like hue, consuming you with an unsettling hunger.

"why are you doing this, gwen?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling and breaking.

gwen shrugged, her shoulders slumping forward as if weakened by the mention of her own name. "fuck, i love the way you say it," she confessed, her tone laced with an unsettling fondness.

drawing closer, gwen closed the distance until your chests were pressed together. in a surprising turn of events, she flung the knife to the far side of the floor, the sound grating against your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"don't you get it?" she stated matter-of-factly. "i like you. you're the kindest girl in school. honest, pretty, genuine. did i mention pretty? every time we talked, whether it was a small conversation in class or when you defended others from dumb gossip, you always showed such kindness. who wouldn't be drawn to a girl like that? that's why i did it."

your heart felt as though it had been submerged in acid. on one hand, her words melted your heart, evoking emotions you had never experienced with any boy before. however, simultaneously, a sense of violation and terror gnawed at you.

"what... what did you do?" you cautiously inquired, your voice faltering.

gwen reached down and intertwined her hands with yours, their grip tightening. "i killed your boyfriend," she confessed.

your head lowered as you shakily swallowed, the weight of her words sinking in.

"he wasn't right for you, (y/n). who cheats on their girlfriend with their own friends and pretends to care about them? you don't deserve that. you deserve so much more. you deserve everything. he never bothered to remember your favorite hobbies, your preferred makeup style, or even how you write the number five. he failed to appreciate everything you've been through or know how to comfort you, to make you feel good, to be a good boyfriend. if i had you, i would never treat you that way. especially after harry's party," she explained, her voice unwavering. "that night, i was dressed as a ghost because it seemed ironic, considering i'm the invisible loser of the school, right? that's when i saw randy with that girl and you running out crying. no one has the right to make you cry like that, especially not quarterback randy. so i went to confront him, told him how messed up it was. he pushed me, called me just another weirdo obsessed with you. maybe he was right, but the way he spoke of you, the words he used? i couldn't let it slide, (y/n). out of anger, i just threw my glass at his chest, i didn’t expect it to kill him. but it did."

your mouth hung open in shock and fear. gwen's grip on your hands tightened as she raised them higher until they rested at the sides of your head. your mind felt as if it were splitting in two, and your vision blurred. the onslaught of overwhelming information threatened to induce nausea, leaving you reeling.

“and god, did it feel so fucking good to kill him. if you told me all i had to do was get into a fight with your sigma male boyfriend who’s best friend's name is literally chad, just to get noticed by you, i would’ve done if in a heartbeat months ago,” she shouted, beginning to pace.

her eyes were wide, and you could tell just by her talking about it she wa reliving the thrill of the moment.

"i... i don't understand," you stammered, desperately trying to free your hands from gwen's grasp. she watched your movements intently, her eyes locked onto yours. "gwen, you fucking killed someone. why would you do that? do you realize the consequences of your actions?"

on one hand, you were furious that she had taken a life, but on the other, a part of you was unnerved by the intensity of the love she professed for you. it was as if, for the first time, someone truly appreciated your mere existence. you despised how drawn you felt to her, despite the circumstances.

"i don't care about him. i did it for you. i killed for you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "what man can say that?"

conflicting emotions tugged at your heart. ultimately, you yearned to surrender control and experience her twisted version of affection.

"no one has ever spoken to me like this, and even when they did, it never felt... like this," you confessed, your voice filled with a mix of fascination and uncertainty. "it feels... exhilarating."

gwen leaned closer, her eyes shining with a spark of light. "really? are you serious?"

your heart fluttered at her smile as she gazed into your soul. what was happening to you?

"this is a feeling i've never experienced before, even in past relationships. i don't know... you make me feel special, seen, and desired," you admitted, your voice laced with confusion. "i don't know what's happening to me right now."

gwen's gaze fixated on you, her once cocky smile softening into an expression of empathy. she broke the connection between your intertwined hands, slowly withdrawing one of her own. bringing her hand to her lips, she lightly bit the tip of her glove and sensually peeled it off, revealing her bare skin.

"i can't believe any of this is real," she muttered, her breath caressing your face. "can i kiss you?"

the question caught you off guard, amidst the whirlwind of emotions and confusion. your mind felt scrambled, making it difficult to think clearly.

"yes," you mumbled, your voice wavering with uncertainty, yet your eyes betraying an eager anticipation.

gwen's eyes lit up at your response. "perfect," she breathed before pressing her lips against yours.

your heart began to race, pounding fiercely within your chest. this was the last place you expected to find yourself, and you couldn't help but feel a jumble of confusion and conflicting emotions. "that’s it— just relax... everything will be fine," gwen whispered, her voice now soothing and strangely comforting, despite the circumstances.

you nodded, tentatively wrapping your arms around her shoulders and drawing her closer to you.

gwen leaned in even closer, her hands now tangling in your hair as her body pressed against yours. as she kissed you, your breath caught in your throat. it felt wrong, like you shouldn't be enjoying it. yet, you couldn't deny the undeniable sensation of pleasure that gwen's soft lips evoked.

a whimper escaped your lips as gwen reluctantly pulled away, expression tinged with sadness from the loss of contact. her eyes held a look of longing and desire as they locked with yours.

"that was even better than i imagined," she whispered, her voice hushed but audible in the close proximity.

"i... i think i liked it too," you managed to reply, your gaze averting to conceal the flustered state you were in.

it was true. in that moment, you were completely captivated by gwen like never before.

"i came all this way just to see your beautiful face," gwen commented, her hand firmly grasping your chin to turn your gaze back towards her.

as your eyes flickered between her piercing gaze and her inviting lips, a smile spread across gwen's face. without hesitation, she pulled you closer and kissed you once more. the taste of her lingered on your lips, tempting you to fully embrace the forbidden situation. you knew it was wrong, and yet... there was an inexplicable allure to gwen's soft kisses that made you reluctant to let go. confusion clouded your mind, even as your body responded to the intoxicating sensations. you found yourself not wanting the kiss to end.

a moan escaped your lips as gwen's wet tongue grazed your bottom lip, igniting a surge of desire. your grip on her shoulders tightened, your fingers clawing at her black cloak.

gwen released a soft moan of her own as her tongue gently explored the depths of your mouth. her hands trailed down your body, her touch growing more suggestive. "(y/n)..." she whispered seductively, her voice laced with desire.

once again, your body seemed to revel in the moment, despite the confusion plaguing your mind. her tongue slipped deeper into your mouth, eliciting a whimper of pleasure. the taste and sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire being.

conflicted and seduced, you clung tightly to her cloak, yearning for her lips to remain fused with yours as your heart pounded relentlessly.

gwen continued to kiss you passionately, her tongue exploring the inner recesses of your mouth. her touch grew bolder, and your mind struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. it all felt so wrong, and yet your body responded eagerly to gwen's every move. the kiss felt irresistible, betraying the rationality of your thoughts.

your hands instinctively trailed up from her shoulders to the nape of her neck, lightly pulling at her hair for support. another moan escaped your lips, blending with hers, as gwen positioned her leg between your thighs, creating a tantalizing friction.

gwen's hand firmly gripped the back of your neck, pulling you even closer as her lips devoured yours. the tension and confusion intensified within your mind, but despite it all, the physical pleasure of being so intimately entwined with gwen tantalized your senses. the sensation of her body pressing against yours caused a subtle squirming response. you couldn't deny the pleasure that coursed through you, even as the situation felt inherently wrong.

for a fleeting moment, your lips disconnected, allowing you to lock eyes, but the magnetic pull between you drew you back in. you leaned in, kissing her again with a primal hunger, your hands gripping her in an instinctive and passionate manner.

you found yourself gasping for air, your breaths ragged and desperate as you tried to replenish the oxygen you had forgotten to take in during the prolonged, intense kiss.

gwen pulled back, her head tilted to the side, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips briefly before she wiped it away with her gloved hand, smearing it aside. her messy blonde hair framed her face, and you noticed her chest heaving up and down, mirroring your own heavy breathing.

nervously, she asked, "can... can i take you out on a date?"

a smile spread across your lips, unable to resist the pull of excitement. "i'd like that," you replied almost instantly, catching your breath.

suddenly, the blaring sound of police sirens echoed through the block, their blue and red lights reflecting through your window. it seemed, for once, the police had arrived promptly.

"way to ruin a fun time," gwen scoffed, annoyance evident on her face as she stepped back. "i think it's time for me to go."

despite the interruption, you couldn't help but be captivated by how attractive gwen looked in that moment. her hair was tousled, her lips plump and bright red from your passionate kisses, and her eyes held a smoky allure.

"police, open up!" a voice yelled from outside the door, the knocking growing more forceful.

you glanced over at the door, which shook violently from the pounding, the sound of the sirens threatening to drown out your senses. when you turned your attention back to gwen, she had already retrieved her mask, putting it on over her head and securely fastening it. she removed her glove, then picked up the knife from the floor.

"so, about that date, how about saturday?" she asked, a smile gracing her lips.

you couldn't help but match her mood, the excitement bubbling within you. "yeah, that works," you answered eagerly.

gwen fiddled with the voice box, adjusting it before placing it back into her costume. "i can't wait," ghostface remarked, the iconic voice returning.

before you could respond, she swiftly made her way to the back door, disappearing into the night just as the police burst through your front door.

as the police stormed into your residence, the chaos unfolded. you were momentarily overwhelmed by the commotion, the loud voices, and the flashing lights. the officers quickly apprehended you, their stern commands blending with the cacophony of sirens outside.

moments later, the scene shifted. you found yourself sitting in the back of an ambulance, surrounded by paramedics who were checking you over for any injuries. the blaring sirens had been replaced by a steady hum, providing a strange sense of calm amidst the chaos you had just experienced.

one of the paramedics, a kind-faced woman with a gentle demeanor, asked, "are you feeling alright? can you tell us if anything hurts?"

you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "i... i think i'm okay," you replied, your voice shaky yet relieved. "just a bit shaken up."

the paramedic nodded understandingly, her gloved hands skillfully examining you for any signs of physical harm. after a thorough assessment, she reassured you, "physically, you seem to be alright. however, it's important to take care of yourself emotionally too. if you need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out."

you offered a grateful smile, appreciating her empathy in the midst of the chaotic aftermath. "thank you," you said sincerely. "i'll keep that in mind."

“we already reached out to your guardian so they’ll be here soon, just rest up,” the woman stated before walking off.

as the paramedics finished their assessment and went to speak to the police for whatever further evaluation, your mind wandered back to the unexpected encounter with gwen.

something about this situation felt deeply unsettling. not only was gwen a killer, but her behavior had crossed the boundaries of normalcy into something much darker. the realization of her true nature sent chills down your spine, prompting a wave of revulsion.

however, you couldn't deny the conflicting emotions that had stirred within you during those fifteen minutes with gwen. for the first time in your life, someone has shown you such profound attention and affection, making you feel loved, appreciated, and even worshiped for simply being yourself. it was a heady mix of excitement and nervousness, emotions you had never experienced to this extent with any previous crush.

as you whispered the word "crush" to yourself, a sinking feeling settled in. you couldn't deny that you had allowed yourself to become entangled in a dangerous situation.

deep down, you knew that going through with the date was a sick and misguided decision. it went against your better judgment and morality. the allure of the attention and desire overshadowed your rationality, blinding you from the bright red flags waving in front of your face.

but you are your parents' daughter, so maybe you can fix her.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

[homiesondaweb]

This is my theory piece on astv Hobie's Backstory.

Despite the whole Punk lifestyle, living on a repurposed canal boat, minor rock star status, and having active warrants out for both his civilian and Spidey persona thing he's got going on. Hobie had a pretty normal childhood for a bit. 

His Pa managed the local radio stations and his Ma was a lead writer for the newspaper. Hobie found himself the baby out of 5 siblings and their 4 bedroom flat was just a bit too small for the 7 people family but it was great. 

The neighborhood was always lively with community get-togethers, music rattled the bricks and the air was always savory with smell of jerk. Hobie used to eat himself sick with coconut candy and orange cake every weekend. He liked going to 'school' which meant being crammed into Ms. Ngozi and Ms. Freedman's flat with the other neighborhood kids then being taught from books Ms. Freedman had smuggled in when she partnered with Ms. Ngozi. Reading, writing, history, debate, arithmetic, ethics, journalism, all kinds of science but Ngozi loved when Hobie would take a machine apart and remake it. 

His eldest siblings by about 12 years, twin brothers Hudson and Hector ran the 'Shop'. If you needed something fixed within their 6 block neighborhood you took it there. Cars, big appliances, medical equipment, radios, tvs, his brothers could fix it all. They'd fix it good, cheap or free and in a timely manner. (And they greatly encouraged their Little Bart brother to tinker) 

Next was is other older brother, Henry. He was only 9 years older than him. A photographer and worked under their mother getting dynamic shots for any article she posted. He introduced Hobie to a lot of artists and taught him how to observe the world around him. How to sneak in and out of it.

Then there was his only sister, Harley. She was closest in age to him, only 5 years older. She was a badass on the guitar and even slicker at the mouth. She debated anyone under a table and had a right hook to back it up. You never would have pegged her to be the one to run the community garden. Not with her self-done piercings, bleach painted jackets, head fully of bantu knots and black lipstick. But she did, she taught Hobie everything to know about growing orchids and tomatoes.

Life was good. Despite the rising police violence, cost of living, and the fumes of Oscorp rising. 11 year old Hobie didn't know it to be anything else. 

Then, he turns 12. Ma and Henry don't come home.

He's 12 and the Ngozi-Freedman homeschool is raided. He never sees them again but Harley fills her stage trunk with their books and records.

He's 12. Someone reported the shop and President Osborne new "certificate enforcement" squad torches the building. Hudson gets away but the Symbiotes bail out Hector to them and he only has one arm. 

He's 12. The government has taken over the radio station, firing Pa. The house becomes cramped with the equipment Pa had smuggled out. Hudson shows back up and he's as ghost as Hector.

He's 12 and half his friends are just faces on murals and the other half is sick from the water. The garden is sabotaged and the city fines Harley (how the fuck do you fine a 17 year old?) 

And there's a protest. Pa has taken over the radios in the city and rallies the people, he repeats Ma articles over and over informing the people about the propaganda, the contamination, the disappeared people, the injustice. He repeats them and repeated them as the twins litter the city with flyers using Henry's photos of the truth. 

And there's a protest. 

There's hundred of protests of all sizes, all over.

There's a riot. 

There's riots.

There's fire and panic and Symbiotes spill into the neighborhood like oil and-

Hobie turns 13, it's just him and Harley. 

Hobie turns 14, it's just him and Harley's guitar.

Hobie is 15, he's just some punk kid bit by a radioactive spider while trying to find shelter from a Symbiote raid. He uses this to his advantage. 

He turns 16 and instead of blowing out birthday candles he's smashing Harley's guitar through a fascist dictator head with his fellow super powered punks. (He can't think of a better wish)

He's 17 and Miguel makes a mistake in showing up to his dimension with an offer to join his 'society'. 

[vhstown]

42!MILES BOXING AU

a wiki-style post — by @vhstown <3

HELLO this is just some extra background info i came up with for the earth-42 boxing au i wrote about in my two-shot fic time out

all of the ideas in this post i came up with by myself! nothing to do with x reader this is just totally nerdy au rambling (how id envision this au in a comic book / fighting shonen etc)

i don't write fighting stories and im not a boxer so soz if any info is unrealistic i just be making this up fr. it's fiction have fun w it!

spoilers for the fic? i guess? i basically just mansplain EVERY little detail cuz i don't have the balls to write a series

a little contents page for your sanity:

KEY FIGURES: Miles G Morales "The Prowler" // Norman Osborn // Harry Osborn "The Green Goblin" // Wilson Fisk "Kingpin" // Adrian Toomes "The Vulture"

THE UNIVERSE AT LARGE: Boxing generations // Sports journalism // Human enhancement and experimentation // Boxing and the criminal underworld

KEY FIGURES

Miles G Morales / "The Prowler"

The big man himself! Started out boxing with his Uncle Aaron after his father's death as a way to cope and get closer to his uncle.

Aaron is pretty well-versed in boxing and likely competed back with the older generation of boxers in Earth 42. Likely fought alongside Miles' dad Jefferson too back in the day and that's why Miles takes particular interest.

Miles' mom is hesitant about letting him go to Las Vegas to compete (drawing parallels from 1610!Rio not wanting Miles to move out of state for college) but eventually gives in.

I think in this case aging up Miles would be appropriate considering he's fighting adults but who says a 15-17 year old can't take on fully grown adults (fiction!!!!)

Miles gains temporary fame after beating "The Vulture" who is an old generation boxer.

Miles wants to make his family proud and also take the opportunity to make money so his mom can live comfortably but obviously that goes wrong because his manager is...

Norman Osborn

One of the sport's big shots. Has a LOT of the industry under his influence and potentially rigs matches?

Miles' first manager — Osborn takes on Miles but later lets him go because he's not "worth" the investment (which has nothing to do with actually winning as you'll see later.)

Involved in illegal human enhancement and experimentation, particularly on:

Harry Osborn / "The Green Goblin"

The boxer that takes out Miles in one punch and gets Miles' contract nullified

No consistent fighting style, flimsy and appearing to be nothing like an actual boxer but his win streak is building like no other boxer.

He's juiced up on something 😭 This is one of the main plot points of the AU where boxers and other athletes are being experimented on to acquire "superhuman" qualities. Norman is basically experimenting on his own son (for reasons maybe similar to the canon Green Goblin? Perhaps because his son wanted to be a boxer but couldn't because of a degenerative disease.)

Motivation for Miles would be to fight him again but obviously he can't immediately after losing so he has to build up his wins again and so he goes to:

Wilson Fisk / "Kingpin"

Ex heavyweight boxer and champion, probably an older generation of boxers that came before all the experimental stuff and is now a manager and big-shot and rivals with Norman.

His main thing is rigging matches and earning money through betting systems that only he profits from.

Used to manage "The Vulture" who left his contract after being beaten by Miles.

Miles goes under a contract with him after Fisk takes an interest in his win against The Vulture, and now he's masked boxer (which is pretty uncommon I heard so he sticks out and becomes popular again pretty fast) with the ring name "the Prowler"

Miles very quickly realises that Fisk is shady and he decides to break through the rigged matches that he's meant to lose and win anyway which only builds his popularity and the people betting on him.

Fisk sees opportunity in this and decides to let Miles do his own thing so that he can take down his rival Norman Osborn when Miles finally fights against The Green Goblin again.

Adrian Toomes / "The Vulture"

Long-time boxer with an unbeatable win streak, lightweight champion. By the time Miles is fighting him he's on the brink of retirement but stubbornly fights him anyway only to lose.

More of a minor villain at the start however after being let go by Fisk he turns to Norman Osborn and his experimental technology to make a come back and hopefully face off with Miles Morales again.

THE UNIVERSE AT LARGE

A quick note on "generations" of boxers

Old generation = Aaron's boxing era, prime time to be a boxer more about the sport less about the money, fame, etc.

New/second generation = Includes the Sinister Six and experimental work and crime and the whole shebang. Miles experiences boxing through this generation.

Sports journalism

The Bugle is not only a source of everyday news but they have a department dedicated solely to sports journalism!

In my fic MJ is the one who reports on Miles' win however there's definitely Gwen Stacy potential! A rookie journalist doing an internship at the Bugle and might help out Miles on his boxing endeavours (or you could sneak in an x journalist!reader if you're cheeky.)

If you wanted to take a more classic Gwen route you'd probably involve her in the next thing which is:

Human enhancement and experimentation

Oscorp in some capacity would exist in this universe, likely using the front of a company that supports athletes and their development with their technology.

Osborn uses the company's power and tech to fuel the regeneration of his son Harry Osborn and puts him into boxing (as Harry wanted.)

This technology eventually branches out into other boxers in a new-generation of genetically modified boxers — also the opponents that Miles would have to fight, likely in the form of the Sinister Six (including The Vulture.)

All of the experimentations have weaknesses to them that Miles can take advantage of (e.g. The Green Goblin is only a threat if he can land a hit.)

Boxing and the criminal underworld

Miles Morales soon realises that boxing and the sports world in general is just a massive front for criminal activity.

As he fights more and more matches under Fisk he realises the true extent of not only Fisk's world but the entirety of the boxing world in this "second generation" of boxers.

Aaron quit boxing for this exact reason and him and Miles eventually work together to take it down.

Potential for Miles to be the regular Prowler here? It's pretty much open-ended so he could be written as a vigilante with his usual gear or as a fists-only fighting shonen protagonist.

May include some link as to why Miles' father died? I kept it pretty ambiguous in my fic so he could be a police officer or ex-boxer or whatever you'd like — point is, his father's death motivates Miles to take over the boxing sphere!

a note from me

hello hello this is vee! amateur writer and even more amateur athlete (im not an athlete at all 😭)

this is just a post of my personal ideas, again none of this is canon i just put a lil spin on the original villains

if you're going to write this please tag me because id love to see!!!!!!!! even if it's not related to anything in this post AT ALL if you write or draw anything to do with boxer miles please tag me i am Starving

none of these ideas are very refined and open to change / adaptation! feel free to tack on your own ideas too

i highly doubt anybody's read this but if you did i appreciate u 😭🙏

MAKE MORE ATSV AUS PLEASE (frothing at the mouth)

ill edit or reblog this with any other ideas i might have so this is subject to change i guess <3 have a good one

[moonys-mirrorball]

I look for God like a lost child at the supermarket.

american teenager - ethal cain // the unabridged journals of sylvia plath - sylvia plath // blue horses - mary oliver // s. osborn // chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers // the brothers of karamazov - fyodor dostoyevsky // the sun is also a star - nicola yoon // the road - cormac mccarthy

[trademarkblue]

Fanfic Resurrection

Okay, so I feel like I am finally feeling this little tingle of wanting to return to fanfiction and to finish some of my stories. I haven't done what I usually do to get fully back into the mood, which is to skim a whole fic and then open the drafts of the rest of it to start typing. I figured, this time - since I have several stories in various stages of progress - I would see if anyone else has a particular fic they are really wanting to see finished first.

Here are my current, unfinished stories in the Osblaine (Nick Blaine/June Osborne of The Handmaid's Tale) fandom:

D R I V E After the events of the season 4 finale, Nick makes the most difficult decision of his life in an attempt to protect June and save Hannah.

This fic has about 6 chapters left to finish the story. I have a sequel planned, but it doesn't really need to be done right after the original is completed.

Mysterious Bruises After a series of tragedies, June and Nick cross paths in Boston. (June/Nick fake dating AU. Gilead does not exist.)

This fic has about 4 chapters left to finish the story.

H A U N T E D When a mysterious serial killer tries to murder June on Halloween, Nick curses himself to an alternate reality to save her, knowing he will forget her. (Nick & June meet in a distant future. Gilead does not exist.)

This fic has 1 chapter left to finish the story, but it's been a tough one and will be long.

S T A Y This is a bed sharing college AU. The plan is to write each chapter in only one sitting with basically no editing. It'll be shorter than my other fics.

This fic has about 3-4 chapters left to finish the story. I only ever posted one chapter, intending for it to be the beginning of a series of reference stories, based on my favorite fics in the two other fandoms I've been a part of over the years - Harry Potter and The X-Files.

Where You Are While touring Europe on a journalism internship, June Osborne meets Nick Blaine, the driver hired to chauffeur her group for the summer.

This is a super fluffy AU with maybe as many as 10-12 more chapters. The outline for this one is a lot more vague, so it's harder for me to know how long it will go.

S A V I O R When June learns of Nick's imprisonment, she puts together a plan to get him out of Gilead once and for all. Post-season 5.

This fic has about 5-7 chapters left to finish the story.

[liyawritesss]

ɪɴꜱᴏᴍɴɪᴀᴄ!ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Characters: Peter Parker, Mary-Jane “MJ” Watson, Harry Osborn, Miles Morales

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: General headcanons for the main protagonists of Insomniac’s Spider Man 2 on PS5.

Warnings: probs some cursing somewhere, and ofc spoilers for the spiderman 2 game! You’ve been warned!!!

A/N: This game is definitely up there as one of the best games I’ve seen/played in 2023, so it wouldn’t be right for me to go into 2024 and still not have much written for it; so I’m correcting that! Take this as a spoiler for those who have not finished playing the game/watching a full gameplay of it to the end.

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream @ykimobessed @soilmayo

Sign Up For My Taglist Here

Peter Parker

Oh poor Peter, he’s just got so much going on. With Aunt May and the house, him tryna find a stable job, his relationship with MJ, and now prioritizing his friendship with Harry, he’s being pulled in so many different directions it’s honestly dizzying!

There’s so much going on in his life that I wouldn’t be too surprised if he developed some anxiety around it. Like we know Peter for being this quirky, goofy kid who’s got hella jokes and can rock your ass in a science test, but when he’s alone, the turbulence of his life gets to him a little. And it’s not like he can let anyone really know - he’s Spiderman for crying out loud! If he goes down, who knows how the rest will take it.

And of course the Venom Symbiote doesn't make things any better - Pete’s whole acting like an ass thing wasn’t intentional by no means necessary, but I think that would also play into his anxiety as well. He doesn’t want to ever hurt his friends the way he did with that symbiote in him - they’re the last thing he has.

On a completely not depressing note, I feel like having the house to himself gives Peter the opportunity to really figure out his own aesthetic. Sure, he’s the cute nerdy heartthrob guy, but he wants to expand himself! I feel like he wouldn’t be into the super modern high tech home decor that’s been sweeping through every interior designers palette - I see him as a mix of warm country house vibes (courtesy of Aunt May), with a hint of the technological advantages that he’d implement into certain appliances and spaces (*coughcough* at home lab *coughcough*) and a finishing touch of midcentury modern for a pop of color….it won’t stop him from being a bit of a slob though unfortunately.

Mary-Jane “MJ” Watson

If i were her I’d be one critique away from giving Mr. J.J.Jameson a taste of his own desk, because oh my god the self-centeredness he possesses makes me want to vomit. But it’s a good thing I’m not, and our darling redhead angel has enough patience to deal with him for the sake of a bag - I applaud her for that.

I know a lot of people don’t like the MJ segments in the game but i actually appreciate them! Shows that she’s not just a pretty face that Pete falls in love with you know? And I like to think she actually likes the moments she gets to take down the Hunters because it makes her feel like a badass - which she totally is!

As a destresser from being a prime member of the Spider Team (yes, I’m claiming them as the Spider Team since Spider Squad is already taken) and her journalism job, I’d like to think she’s into something so niche like jewelry making - specifically little charm bracelets that she gifts to the others. Yknow, on some ‘friendship lasts forever’ type shit.

Also in her freetime she has writing projects on the side that she wouldn’t consider viable enough to send in as a story, but just fun little stories she’ll write for the hell of it. There’s nothing too specific about them, but they also serve as a way to track how her writing is progressing, and she’s in a group of beta readers of sorts that give her feedback on how much better she’s getting.

Another poor boy that just has way too much on his hands, good lord. Granted, I never saw the hype around Harry, but I think after this adaptation of him I might be warming up to him a little bit.

Harry Osborn

Getting on the bandwagon of adopting new hobbies, I see Harry as getting into drawing, especially during the period in which he doesn’t have the suit. Since his health is deteriorating and he isn’t able to be as mobile as he would like, he needs something to keep his mind and hands busy. And drawing does the trick for him. He starts off with just basic drawings like items in his room, but he advances very quickly and starts drawing portraits of himself and MJ, who spends a lot of time taking care of him. He symbalso sketches a picture of him and Peter when they were in highschool over and over again, especially when he runs out of muses.

Harry also spends a lot of his time thinking. Thinking about his life thus far, his friends, the legacy he wants to leave behind. He doesn’t just want his last name attached to something to make it great - he wants to earn his keep and his place in society. It was the whole reason he started the Emily-May Foundation; it would have been his mark on the world, and yet, here he was, tied down to his bed once again. Then again, who knows if the symbiote would have done the same to himself, had he let his own convictions get too far?

Considering what happens at the end of the game, though, I suppose we won’t ever know…until the next installment that is.

Miles Morales

Why are there so many poor boys in this game? Like I got enough sympathy to go around but Jesus save these guys!!!

He is a HEAVY romantic, especially when it comes to Hailey (so so SO happy he got his girl in the end was rooting for them so hard in his game). He plans their dates according to the mode and vibe of the day, whatever the two are feeling, whatever is mentioned in fleeting conversations, etc. He’s in love and proud of it!

He’s getting better at dividing up the attention to the important people in his life, as well as school and his Spiderman duties. Sundays are for him and his mom to lounge in their pajamas and catch up with each other on the weeks events; he hangs with Ganke throughout the week and sometimes goes out with him to science expo’s every now and then. He’ll pop up on Hailey whenever she’s in the neighborhood and just sits and chills with her (and if she’s working on a street piece, even better! He’s her no. 1 supporter!)

He, Peter and Ganke get into rubix cubes competitions to see who can complete the rubix cube the fastest. Right now Ganke is ranked number one and Peter and Miles are tied for second place, but they’re getting another, more difficult cube to compete again soon.

He’s got a big heart, and knowing the effects of everything that’s happened with Harry, Miles makes it a point to check in with Peter every now and then. He’s lowkey worried that if the older Spiderman’s worry for his best friend doesn’t do him in, then somehow the effects of the Venom symbiote on Peter’s psyche will turn him cold again, and that doesn’t end well at all. He does this well with MJ, and they talk frequently on how they can be better support for Pete and Harry in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!