how to be a Gen Z, by Peter Parker

How to piss off your family-get arrested

Warnings: street art, mentions of tattoos, getting arrested, very out of character peter.

Ships: Omg guys! we did it again! it's Parkner! Not spiderfrost! wow, and ironstrange. 

My boyfriend was sleeping soundly beside me, I was tucked into his side because he is a fucking giant.

These past months have been unique. I finally got adopted, which is great by the way. You see I had a pretty shit life before this, jumping between abusive and neglectful foster homes and schools, never staying in one place.

I somehow got an internship at SI and that is how I met my dads and the love of my life. Due to being practically abused for most of my life (pretty certain I have some undiagnosed PTSD), I picked up some interesting traits, such as *cough*crippling depression*cough* and some slightly illegal things. Small things, like graffiti and all that, nothing bad. Honestly, it is more like art! Just slightly more illegal.

It is a ton of fun though my new adoptive dads and boyfriend disagree. Only recently they figured out my small obsession with art and all things related. For example, I hide my insecurities with tattoos.

My chest is littered with scars old and new, some from Spiderman and some from foster homes. However, no matter how big or small, they remain in my consciousness. Last week, in fact, my family (which includes the amazing Avengers), did a slight check-up on me when I let my soul-destroying abuse slip.

I kind of feel sorry for Harley and the poor bucket he shared his 2-hour old lunch with. My chest and I suppose my whole body, let's just say, has seen better days. For example, when I was born!

Anygays, I made my body an easel and covered it with all types of art. What really pisses me off is when people say tattoos are for the uneducated. Many people forget you can have beautiful expressive and flowing designs. Plants, science, space! You can have amazing artwork that expresses you, it does not just have to be tattoos either! For example, I have way too many ears, nose, mouth, eyebrow, and lip piercings.

Anywho, I am slightly very awake from the very vivid nightmare I just had. I unburied my head from my beautiful boyfriend's neck and slowly swirled it around. I stared at the digital clock, 3 am, the hour of the devil, mwhahhahaha.

I de-weaved myself from Harley and slowly sat up, groaning at the fresh stab wound that was treated yesterday. I stood up, swaying slightly as my senses had a mini party before quietening down. I rolled my tired shoulders and headed towards the walk-in closet.

I chose some black jeans and a hoodie before grabbing a dirty, almost hidden grey, duffle bag.

I crouched down to reach it before zipping it open showing a slick, black spray paint mask alongside a shit ton of spray paint. I plopped on the mask, flipped the hood of the hoodie up, zipped up the duffle, and walked silently out of the room and towards the street below.

All was going smoothly until a smallish hand grabbed my shoulder before turning me around. The owner of the hand attempted to punch me, but luckily for me, I got spider senses, causing me to duck.

"Peter?" a feminine voice questioned.

"Heyy, what up," I said stretching the hey and popping the P while doing some dope ass finger guns like the raging bisexual I am.

"What are you doing?" She said in a motherly, and somehow disapproving tone.

"Baking," I spurted out and immediately regretted it. She raised a perfect eyebrow at this.

"I am just going to go. '' I said faintly, motioning my hands towards the elevator. She made a move to stop me, but I was already moving. Sprinting towards the elevator like my life depended on it (because Natasha was chasing my rebel ass, it probably did) I ran full speed into the elevator and started to frantically tap the close button.