#out of the spiderverse (ooc)

[h0rr0rsaxo]

[ A LETTER FROM MIGUEL ]

Dear [Y/n],

It's Miguel, Miguel O'Hara. I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, and perhaps with a small degree of curiosity. I assume you've been wondering where I've been, after all, we've shared some pretty incredible moments together, haven't we? But please, don't worry, I've been watching over you, like always.

You're probably wondering why I'm writing this letter, right? It's because I've come to realize something. Despite the fact that we've been through a lot together, I've never really told you how much I care about you. It's a lot, to be honest. More than a lot, really. It's an overwhelming amount, a crushing wave that never breaks. It's like the gravitational pull of a black hole, inescapable, unyielding, and utterly consuming.

I've seen you trying to avoid me, to hide from me. I understand, really I do. The intensity of my feelings can be... a lot. But, I want you to understand something, something very important. You can't hide forever. Not from me, not from us, not from what we could be. I'm not saying this to scare you, but rather to assure you. To assure you that no matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will always be there. In every timeline, in every reality, my heart will always find yours.

I've seen you at your best and at your worst. I've seen you when you're radiant with joy, and when you're shrouded in sorrow. And let me tell you, you are beautiful in all your forms. Just as the stars shine brightest in the darkest night, your light is most entrancing when you're engulfed in shadows. It's a light that I can't ignore, a light that draws me in like a moth to a flame.

I know that all this might be hard for you to understand. After all, we come from different worlds, different realities. But the heart, the heart is a constant in every reality. And my heart... it beats for you. It always has, and it always will.

I want you to understand, I'm not asking for anything from you. I'm not asking for your love, or your affection. I'm not even asking for your understanding. All I'm asking for is your patience. Patience for me to show you how much I care, how much I love you. I promise you, it's a love like no other. It's a love that spans dimensions, a love that transcends time and space.

I'll be seeing you very soon. I don't want to tell you when or where, that would ruin the surprise. But know this, when you see me, when you look into my eyes, you'll see the truth. The truth of my love for you. I hope that when that moment comes, you'll realize that you're not alone. That you've never been alone. That in every reality, in every timeline, I have been, and always will be, with you.

Until then, please take care of yourself.

All my love,

Miguel O'Hara.

[spiderman2-99]

when you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to the last 10 people in your notifs (positivity is cool!!) :)

Again?!

The Devil in I - Slipknot

Entombed - Deftones

Vivir Sin Ti - Nico Play

Afuera - Caifanes

The Package - A Perfect Circle

[valentine-writes]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your spot HC!

I was wondering if you could write something pre-collider accident? When he was working for alchemax ^^

I would adore more content about him and reader being coworkers, maybe this is way too self indulgent, but I crave some good enemies/rivals to lovers with this man. I think the dynamic would be so fun ^^

competitive

「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, no tws, unedited, rivals to lovers (which i hope i do justice), pre-collider johnathan ohnn, reader and johnathan are petty,,, can u tell i like writing him mildly bitchy, plz forgive any conflicts w/ canon i researched but im like 99.9% sure there r still errors 」

「 gn!reader, romantic relationship <3 」

↳ ft. johnathan ohnn/the spot

author's note: ouughh i love this sooo much,,, thank u AUDHEWUFHEW o((>ω< ))o !!! im so excited to write more of pre-collider him,, ignore me as i feverishly research every bit of canon info i can get cuz i haven't been able 2 rewatch the movie yet i hope this is to ur liking! enemies to lovers is not my strong suit,, but OHOUWHUDHEWH RIVALS TO LOVERS!!! UNDERUTILIZED!!! might hafta make a part two tho,,, locked in on the rivals part,,, lovers part in progress. ok no more of my rambles

▸ ever since you had arrived at alchemax, you and johnathan just couldn't seem to get along. not a particularly useful thing, considering you both worked for the same research company where teamwork was vital though, you insisted you had no real spite for him, the second you had gotten the job, you just seemed to one-up him in every single way.

every. single. way.

▸ when given a deadline, you'd finish in half the time it took him. when completing research, you have the information compiled when he was just starting to organize his.

hell, you even succeeded in being more proficient socially. how had you made so many friends already?

▸ he had to admit you were terribly charming too– a trait he was particularly envious of– and from the few times he's seen you get coffee with one or two of the other scientists, he knew that everyone seemed to think the same

not like he was paying that much attention to you as he saw you laughing with another coworker through the cafe window. foam party? sounds boring anyways, whatever

▸ he wasn't mad because he was lonely, or saw himself as inferior to you. johnathan had friends and honestly didn't consider himself particularly bad at making them. johnathan knew he was intelligent and that with his work, he could accomplish something big.

no, this problem had nothing to do with him. it was you. besides you, all the things he worked hard for was just second nature.

how annoying.

▸ your sworn rivalry had been one-sided for the longest of time to any witnesses. grumbling under his breath while he passed you, making a great effort to speak curtly with you, and was certainly not beyond intentionally knocking his shoulder into yours when he passed the look you shot at him for doing this was enough to make him wither on the spot– unintentional joke. my bad.

but he knew you were just as competitive as he was. the way you acted just had to be intentional. some of your remarks towards him were too pointed to ignore– your smiles and your friendliness nothing more than keeping it as civil as possible in a workplace setting.

professionalism, masking a deeper intention: to outdo him.

▸ and once you had figured that your feigned innocence would no longer keep you afloat, that's when the true rivalry began. an ambition-fuelled climb to the top to be better than the other.

it manifested more childishly than you two cared to admit.

"you know, chewing on pens isn't great for your enamel." johnathan practically jumps out of his seat, your words effectively snapping him out of his completely focused state.

he grumbles, looking over at you while lowering the pen away from his mouth a habit that i have too... guys look away itz not projecting...

you only shrug your shoulders. "just saying, johnny."

"don't call me that." he retorts, trying not to roll his eyes. "are you here just to bother me with unsolicited comments about my habits and dental advice?"

you laugh and he feels his face heat up in annoyance. you and your stupid laugh. he's heard enough of it around the workplace while you chatted amongst the others. it was a sound he could live without.

"so hostile. we work together, y'know?" you grin. there's a glimmer of amusement in your eyes. you were getting on his nerves and you knew it.

"anyways, i just came to ask if you had a pen i could borrow. preferably not one with teeth marks." the last part is tacked on so briefly that johnathan didn't even have time to be offended about it before he replied.

he looks at you dead in the face. "sorry. i don't have an extra pen on me."

you glance at the completely untouched, unused, ballpoint pen on his desk and then back at him. he says nothing, staring at you silently, before you get the hint decide to go ask someone else.

▸ it gets pettier.

imagine johnathan eying up a coworker, getting all blushy and stumbling over his words around them.

and within a week, you've got their number– and he passes by the two of out in that STUPID FUCKING HIPSTER CAFE GODDAMMIT–

it's not that serious to him. he can move on from a workplace crush. he however, can't move on from the fact you swooped in before he even got a chance. you never care to bring up that on your little coffee date with that person ended up being a disaster– maybe it was for the better they stayed away from him

▸ of course, he was able to outdo you too. his biggest success?

"so," johnathan flinched away, about to walk out the glass doors of alchemax and head home for the day– only to find you with your back leaning against the frame, arms crossed. "heard you got put in charge over something pretty important."

he curses under his breath. "you can't just sneak up on people like that."

"i was literally standing here in plain sight the entire time."

"were you waiting for me or something?" he asks sarcastically. johnathan seems somewhat surprised when you don't respond, awkwardly averting your gaze from him for a moment hm. guess that's a "yes"...

"doesn't matter." you reply, shoving your hands in your pockets. "so... you're working on a portal thingy?"

"i'm one of the people overseeing it, yes." he huffs, trying to answer your questions quickly and just get the hell home. but as you figured, he had all the time in the world when it came to correcting you.

"and– the word portal is inaccurate."

you raise an eyebrow. "yeah?"

"it's a particle accelerator. you should know what that means. the goal of this project is to essentially create a passageway– a bridge, if you will– between two separate dimen–"

"so, a portal." you interrupt.

he glares at you and you swear his eye twitches.

"just wanted to know. congrats, ohnn." you say casually, before exiting out the door.

the next time he sees you, he discovers that head scientist, olivia octavius who just so happens to be fond enough of your work to hear you out when you asked her decided it would be a good idea to have you work on the project as well.

even though johnathan was still technically still ahead of you– he kicked himself for how quickly you were beginning to catch up. you flashed him a grin from your desk as you began to help out on the project– he forced one back through gritted teeth.

▸ after tirelessly working on the project together as a team still trying your very best to outdo one another he figures this feud of yours is getting nowhere.

you've both spent sleepless nights on this project you both equally cared for,, it was time to just give up and be normal coworkers. an odd conclusion for johnathan to reach as a notorious grudge holder. maybe the lack of rest was getting to him, too exhausted to even deal with you anymore. or maybe, he was satisfied where he was right now– on the verge of a huge breakthrough with him being one of the main contributors– he no longer needed the pleasure of being better than you.

"how did you even get this number?" you ask, recognizing his voice through the phone as he greeted you.

"well, funny thing actually. alchemax has all the employee information on files, so i just–"

the realization hits you. "snooped through mine to get my phone number?! you're insane!"

he's desperate to explain, just trying to get to his point without getting a headache from you. "no, no, no– wait, i didn't come to fight or anything–"

"then what do you want, johnathan? a little medal? a trophy or somethin? you're probably getting that anyways after this whole thing– so,, so– what? what is it?!" you snap.

this is the only blatant hostility you've ever shown him. both ends of the call fall silent.

"wow uh– that was a lot." he mumbles awkwardly.

"...'m sorry." the shame makes your ears burn up. it is getting childish. you can't deny it.

he blinks at his phone, before bringing it back up to his ear. "did you just apologize? have i got the right person?"

it's your turn to groan. "are you trying to get me to take it back?"

"no! no, no, no– sorry." he replies quickly, stuttering as he tries to get back on track. "i just wanted to talk...."

the words hang in the air for much longer than needed.

"just spit it out already." you inturrupt.

"we should truce." he blurts out. "you know... maybe we should calm down. start over."

johnathan pauses for a moment, waiting for a reaction from you. you give him absolutely nothing. he takes a deep breath before speaking up again.

"i just thought it'd be better this way. this is getting ridiculous. and i think we're both mature enough to move past it so–"

"no, thank you."

he falters momentarily, processing what you had just said. "i'm– i'm sorry, i think misheard you."

"no, you heard me," you repeat, your smile clear as day in your voice, "no. thank. you."

"i like what we've got going on. keeps me motivated." the sweetness in your tone makes him cringe.

"you can't be serious." he rubs the bridge of his nose, fighting off the urge to lose his mind.

"oh, but i am." you lean into your phone's mic, voice dropping to a whisper. "just give me time. i'll catch up with you eventually."

your stubborness was truly something else.

"nope. can't do this, not today, nope–"

you laugh to yourself, hearing him hang up. you secretly hoped he'd at least keep talking to you a little longer. probably just a result of being a tad sleep deprived too.

▸ the collider is almost finished. ever since the phone call, you and johnathan hadn't talked for days.

and now, there you were, at his desk.

"need a pen?" he asks, looking up at you, expecting you to bother him again.

you shake your head. "actually, i came to ask for something else. i've been thinking about what you said..."

the words catch in your throat. you stare at the ground, the humiliation of what you're about to say causing you to fidget with your hands. he's never seen you like this– timid and anxious in his presence rather than smug and confident. it's a sight that he thought would bring him joy– but he's far beyond that now. instead, he looks at you curiously, not unlike the way he observes specimens.

"go on..." he says, leaning in slightly.

you meet his gaze sheepishly. "yeah. maybe a truce doesn't sound so bad."

he smiles back, cautious but hopeful. "you mean it?"

"this isn't me surrendering." you're quick to say, though your defensiveness falls flat, only causing his smile to fade for a moment. "i'm growing bored of it. we can just move on." it's not what he had in mind– but he'll take it.

"okay. sounds... good?" he replies awkwardly, unsure of what to do.

"mhm. so, you still have my phone number, right?"

he freezes. "yes... but– um– i can just delete it from my contacts now if– if you want. that was weird of me to do. really sorry 'bout that. just wanted to talk."

"nah. keep it." you say with a slight shrug of your shoulders. he tilts his head slightly at your reaction.

"i'll text you when work's done so we can grab a coffee or somethin." there's that smile he's grown so familiar with. this time it has no undertones of aggression– something which he finds more unnerving somehow. he can't tell what you're up to.

"i– uh– what–" he stammers.

you await the rejection.

"i mean– sure... but... you want that?" he asks, his tone careful, like he expects this to just be a scheme of yours. never in a million years would he think that you'd want to actually resolve whatever conflict you had going on. much less, spend time with him outside of work.

" i mean, i just offered, didn't i?"

"right– ...so uh– after work then. okay. it's a date."

he mentally kicks himself for the last part. "i– not like– a date, date, but–"

you don't give him time to stumble over his words and make a fool of himself.

"great." you turn to leave, but glance over your shoulder before walking away. "see you later, johnny."

▸ you failed to acknowledge this earlier, and maybe he had too– but over the course of your mutual rivalry, you found that you admired him. his brain, his work, his sheer tenacity– and he admired you too.

perhaps you didn't have to be better than one another.

"here's to new beginnings." you mutter to yourself, shooting him a text while waiting at the cafe.

[clowningaroundmars]

previously:

Here, the Doctor leaps over to the side, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw and swinging 42’s still unconscious body into the air… letting him tumble over the ledge.

"Catch!" He announces brazenly.

42 falls down, down, down.

Gwen watches in horror.

here we are you guys!!! the final chapter! are you guys ready? :)

don't worry, i won't play with your guys' hearts for too long! well. i mean

oh yeah, and remember that death tw on chapter 1? well yeah. no gory details ofc but just mind the warning

anyways, enjoy! :D it's the final stretch

<< part 4 of 4

Doc Ock cackles gleefully as he watches 42’s body tumble into the air and down onto the concrete parking lot several stories below.

With one last burst of rage-filled strength, Gwen football-tackles him over the ledge while his guard is down, sending all three of them sailing through the cool night air.

Doc Ock clearly doesn’t expect this, if his screaming was anything to go by.

But Gwen wasn’t concerned at all with his idiotic cries, she was a woman on a mission and by god if she wasn’t going to complete it!

If she failed two of her friends and directly lead to both of their demises, then what the hell was she wearing the mask for?

No, this ends now.

She quickly grabs Doc Ock by the back of his neck and grips onto another one of his tentacles as they fall through the air, ripping it straight out of the node on his spinal cord with all of her might.

“N-no-- don’t!! AAAAAAAAAUGHH!!”

The Doctor’s soul-wrenching yowl of pain might’ve made Gwen feel a little bad… under normal circumstances. But at the moment, her every bit of focus was pointed towards Miles-42 like a compass pointing True North, and she wasn’t letting him out of her sight now.

Making split-second calculations, she kicked the Doctor’s body off of her and used the tentacle’s technological properties as a last-ditch effort to hook herself onto a nearby streetlamp, swinging her entire body’s weight with a loud grunt of effort.

She intercepted Miles’ flailing body in mid-air and succeeded in grabbing a hold of him, swinging down onto the ground safely and falling onto the concrete. She crashed onto her knees and rolled over a few times, clutching 42's head protectively all the way down.

The Doctor… didn’t make it.

With a sickening crunch and splatter, he was a disgusting mess of red, wet garbage on the concrete. His tentacles weren't long enough to reach back up to ledge of the building and his slower reflexes caused him to miss the streetlamp entirely.

His remaining tentacles laid next to him just as limp and as dead as he was.

Well, shit. That was gonna be a nasty surprise for the paramedics to find later on, huh.

Gwen sighed with relief as she laid her head back down and took a minute to catch her breath.

What a day. She wanted this to be completely over now, but… she knew that despite this small moment of relief, she wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. Literally.

But also…

“Miles,” she grunts with effort, every muscle in her body crying out as she pushes herself off of her elbows to sit up.

Miles-42 is laid across her lap now and showing zero signs of waking up anytime soon. Gwen’s heart started kicking into overdrive again, and she held him in her hands…

Just like you held Peter… after killing him, an evil little voice sneered at her from the back of her mind.

“Peter? Peter, oh god. What did you do?!” Gwen sobbed, excavating her beloved friend from the rubble of her school’s gymnasium.

He wasn’t gonna make it… oh god, he really wasn’t going to make it. The poor boy could barely open his eyes, and his bloody, beaten face was something that was going to haunt her in her nightmares forever.

It was etched into the back of her mind, the back of her damn eyelids, especially when to her delight-- or horror, it was hard to tell in the moment-- he managed to crack open his swollen eyes and look directly into hers.

“Gw-- Gwen…” he coughed, weakly.

Gwen continued to cry. “No no no no no, no, no! What did you do!? Why?!” She pleaded, wanting any answer, anything to hold onto.

“I… I wanted to be special. Like you,” he managed, even weaker than before.

Gwen knew it. She could feel the thready pulse of his heartbeat growing weaker and weaker with every passing second, and time was running out.

But she still held on.

“… Peter?” She sucked in a breath.

“Peter?”

“Peter?!”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Miles?!”

Gwen sobbed once more, clutching yet another beloved friend in her arms, in a position eerily similar to that fateful night. “Miles!”

All of the feelings she felt the night that her best friend had died came crashing back down and flooding into her chest like a tsunami.

She sniffled angrily, ripping her mask off of her face and working to pry Miles’ mask off of his own face, too.

... Damn it! What the hell was this stupid thing made out of?!

She didn’t want to break his tech, as complicated and extremely well-made as it was. She knew it was valuable and expensive to make, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She needed to see if he was still possibly alive, if he could give her a sign or something, and she wasn’t going to be able to do it with this stupid mask in the way!

She didn’t trust her shaking hands to be able to read his pulse in this state… she needed to see his face.

After a couple of minutes of careful jabbing and prying, Gwen was finally frustrated enough to just slide Miles right off of her lap and pry the whole thing off of his face with one firm pull.

She managed to do so without injuring him even more, and immediately got to checking the color of his lips in the low lighting of the near-empty parking lot. She fussed over him, sniffling and wiping her tears all the while.

It seemed like his bleeding stopped for now at least, but that was without even knowing how much he had lost in the first place.

“Miles… Miles?! Please,” she begged as she held him in her arms once more. “Answer me, please! Let me know you’re still alive, anything! Wiggle your eyebrows or…” she sniffled, “I… I don’t know but god, please, anything!”

What the hell did Doc Ock even do to this kid anyways?

She examined his face once more through the tears in her eyes and noticed a new injury that looked relatively fresh, still bleeding somewhere from his temple.

Maybe he knocked Miles out for a longer time in his mad dash to the roof… and if that was true… he really, really could be dead.

Miles-42 wasn’t a superpowered being like the rest of the Spider Band, he was a regular kid with cool gadgets and intense at-home training, but a regular kid nonetheless. Gwen could recover from a hard head injury herself just fine, all she would have to do is just sleep the pain off.

But Miles…

Miserably, Gwen sunk down even lower to the ground and sobbed her eyes out, tears wetting her face and staining the spray-painted Prowler logo on Miles’ shirt.

She stays like this, clutching onto the limp body of someone she would’ve been happy to call her friend-- especially after all they’ve been through today-- and now he won’t even live to see the fruits of his labor.

Fuck.

Gwen’s wandering thoughts takes her over to his uncle Aaron’s face, how he was going to react to the news of his nephew’s untimely and unfortunate death.

Gwen thought about Rio and… well, she cried even harder.

But she didn’t get to finish because… Miles then stirred a bit, his breathing speeding up a bit before he laid his head back and sighed softly.

Gwen stopped crying. She was shocked, staring back into his blank face with wide, teary eyes.

… Was it her imagination, then? Did she want Miles to be alive so badly that she convinced herself that he moved a bit while she wept?

No. No, she’s got to suck it up, stop letting her emotions get the best of her and give it a real try this time.

Steadying her breathing and wiping the snot from her nose, she brushes her hair back from her face and turns Miles’ face towards a nearby streetlamp that casts down a cold, white light onto the scene.

With gentle fingers, she lifts up one of his eyelids, then his other eyelid, and then finally bends down to listen to his chest as closely as she can.

She hears a heartbeat, though not so loudly underneath all of the gear he wears, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

Miles really stirs this time, groaning and sucking in a breath as he slowly comes back online.

Gwen laughs wetly, wiping more of her tears and boogers and sadness away, only tears of joy left brimming in her eyes.

“Miles! Oh my god, you’re alive… you’re alive! You made it!” She announces gleefully, giving him a happy little squeeze.

“Ow,” Miles answers hoarsely, squinting in the harsh, cold light of the streetlamp overhead and coughing a bit.

“S-sorry, sorry. I’m just. Well, y’know pretty excited that you’re alive. I thought that you were actually dead for a minute there, bud! You really gave me a scare!” She laughs and sniffles.

Miles finally cracks an eye open long enough to exhale a bit and lay his head back down.

“Uhhh… who are you again?” He mumbles, and Gwen’s heart sinks.

Oh no.

“What? Uh, i-it’s me, Gwen! Y’know, the girl who you’ve been fighting to escape this horrible building with this whole night? Oh no… is your head injury that bad?” She frets.

Miles then cracks a smile, not quite being able to laugh but getting pretty damn close to doing so.

“Gwendy, relax. I know who you are. Joke,” he explained, and it earned him another head bump from being promptly dropped right back onto the hard ground.

“Ow,” he complained.

“You are a dick,” Gwen replied, folding her arms over her chest. She didn’t stop smiling through her tears, though.

“Were you crying over me? Oh my god, you were totally crying,” Miles says with a smile, not making any movements to get up at all.

Gwen unfolds her aching legs from underneath her and stands up on her knees. “Shut up. Stop talking. You’ve sustained a critical brain injury and you need to not make stupid decisions before we get you out of here, alright?”

Miles chuckles quietly. “Mmnyeah, true. Lemme keep my mouth shut.”

He wasn’t slurring his speech or confusing her for another person, so that was a good sign.

He wasn’t moving any of his limbs, though. So… that was possibly a bad sign.

“Can you, uh,” Gwen starts, glancing all around her as she fully stands up, “can you walk? Or sit up? I can carry you, but I need to know that you’re not paralyzed from the neck down first. I don’t wanna risk any more injuries, y’know?”

Miles wiggles his feet and flexes his hands inside of his gauntlets for a bit before laying back down and sighing again.

“Yeah, I can move my limbs. I don’t think anything’s broken… except for this massive fuckin’ migraine I got goin’ on right now. Just, uhm. Just gimme a minute.”

Gwen continues looking over her shoulder. The blades of a chopper are vibrating through the air several miles away but it’s gaining speed quickly, and steadily getting closer.

“Okay, you might wanna hurry up on that, because we’ve got company coming and we still need to get the hell out of here,”

Miles blinks on the ground for a few more seconds, gears very obviously turning in his head as he does.

After a few seconds, he says, “okay. Help me up, then. Slowly,”

It takes them several more minutes of pained grunting and a slow ascent up to get Miles standing again, but once they’re both steady on their feet, they get a move on.

Gwen has one of his arms over her shoulder, steadying him and carrying some of his weight.

“Wait,” Miles says suddenly, just as they’re rounding a corner of the building where several guards and scientists are still milling around. There are a few big white buses parked close by, most likely hired to transport the personnel away from the facility. Some are already sat inside.

Gwen ducks back around the corner and takes a peek at the scene before turning her attention back to her friend.

“Shit, you’re right. There’s a lot of people out there, most likely waiting for Octavius or something. We’ve gotta find a way too book it out of here undetected, though…”

“Mh, yep,” Miles grunts, sucking in air through his teeth for a second. “Ow, sorry. My head’s killin’ me… which kinda sucks, ‘cause my escape plan was to just hot-wire a car and hightail it outta here.”

Gwen laughed incredulously. “Oh my god. That was your grand escape plan this whole time?” She shakes her head. “In every single universe… Miles Morales is the exact same dork I always hate to love,”

“Psshhyeah right, hate to love. You’re not foolin’ me,” Miles smirks at her exasperated expression.

Gwen rolls her eyes and instructs Miles to lean against the wall and stay put while she goes to search for a viable vehicle they could steal.

“Cool. Good luck. I definitely won’t die,” Miles informs her, which just makes her roll her eyes again before bounding away.

Time for some espionage, Gwen thinks to herself as she skirts the outer edges of the parking lot and tries to avoid being seen by the several other armed personnel still waiting around to receive confirmation that they can now depart.

After a little bit, a few ambulance trucks pull up with flashing red lights and the paramedics jump out, which actually gives her some relief. The professionals were on the job now, everything was taken care of; they also served as a perfect distraction from what she was doing…

Which was looping around the entire building’s perimeter and seeing which car was left unattended and unlocked.

She really didn’t want to have to break any windows, especially because she needed to keep as quiet as possible since she still needed to go back and fetch Miles… but if all options were exhausted…

Bingo!

She eventually came across a parked Ford F-250 near a line of trees located just behind all of the ambulances and the commotion. It was unlocked (haha, sucker!) and was perfectly empty, ready for the taking.

Gwen couldn’t believe that despite failure after failure plaguing her on this day, her luck finally turned around at the last minute… what a relief!

Overhead, the chopper finally reached its destination, drowning out every sound around them with its spinning blades as it slowly lowered itself down onto the helipad located at the top of the building. Leaves were whipped violently into the air, trees swayed and shook with the force of the winds.

Gwen rejoiced again at the added distraction that would surely help with her sweet escape.

The helicopter crew wouldn't find much waiting for them up there, save for the unconscious bodies of several brutally-beaten henchmen, of course.

She fetched her friend who was now sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin against the wall, and together they limped their way back to the truck and climbed in.

Once inside, they successfully hot-wired it using Miles’ gadgets. Then Miles went to climb out of the driver’s seat.

“Uhh wait, huh. Where’re you going?” Gwen asks from the passenger seat.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? You’re driving. Hop in.” Miles groans as he lowers himself from the high-as-hell cab, clutching at his side.

Gwen titters nervously. “Ohhh, no, no I’m not! I don’t even have my license yet, I can’t drive!”

Miles takes his sweet time painstakingly climbing into the back seat of the truck. He shirks his pack off, throws it onto the floor of the cab, and stretches himself out over the seats to lay down.

“Yep, I don’t have my license either, girl, you don’t see me chickening out when I’m picked to be the getaway driver!” He remarks, once comfortable.

Gwen huffs in annoyance, leaping over to the driver’s side and locking all of the doors once she makes sure they’re shut tight.

“Dude, forreal! I have no clue how to operate a truck like this! The gear shift isn’t even in the right place,” she complains.

Miles cracks one eye open. “Please tell me your dimension doesn’t have y’all driving on the left side of the road…”

Gwen huffs again. “No, I'm not British, Miles. I meant… this looks pretty high-tech for me and… what do all of these buttons even do? …Is this a touch screen?”

“Gwen, seriously, I get that this is a brand new experience for you but listen: there are like, no laws in this dimension. Literally not even kidding. Just pull up the GPS on that touch screen, punch in my address and we can get going. Left pedal’s gas, right pedal’s the brakes.”

She hesitated, but... there was no arguing with that! Who was Gwen to make decisions in a dimension she wasn’t even a part of, really? If Miles told her that his dimension ignored all traffic laws, well… then, when in Rome, right?

And besides, who else was getting them both to safety if not her? She needed to suck it up before they were noticed by any personnel sweeping the area, or before any cops showed up.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

“Well,” Gwen said nervously, both hands on the wheel and her eyes directly on the road in front of her, “bon voyage, then! Let’s pray I don’t get the both of us killed,”

“Vamos con dios,” Miles mumbled, an arm draped over his eyes. He quickly lost consciousness once again.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

About half an hour into their drive (which-- aside from terrible braking every now and then-- was admittedly pretty smooth, all things considered), Gwen pulls over to a greasy 24-hour fast food place that seemed to serve all of the shittiest, unhealthiest food ever invented under the sun.

She woke Miles up and asked him what his order would be, borrowed his jacket to cover up her unique costume’s design, and ducked inside.

She was surprised to see Miles up and sitting in the truck bed when she returned with their food, legs swinging like he hadn’t just gotten injured helping her fight a menacing four-armed madman not even an hour and a half ago.

He looked the worse for wear, braids frizzed out as they hung right over his shoulders like they usually did, but he was more alert now than he had been before. He looked fine, given the circumstances.

They sat side-by-side, gazing up at what scarce stars there were out in the early morning sky, the edges of the horizon peeking a slight blush of pink through the trees.

Gwen scarfed down her triple bacon burger and inhaled her large fries, only stopping every once in a while to take a sip of her extra-large milkshake.

A mildly amused Miles enjoyed his own fries and meatball sub in companionable silence.

“Feelin’ better?” Gwen asks, still munching on the last bit of her burger, which has now thoroughly stained the lap of her costume with grease.

Miles laughs, wrapping up the second half of his sandwich for later. “Yeah, a quick nap and a good meal helps a lot,”

Gwen hums in thought. “You were out for… a while. Like, back at the parking lot. I was getting real worried there, actually,” she admits.

Miles glances at her, studying her face for a second. “… How long? I mean, you were crying, so I guess it was a while,”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Can you stop bringing the crying back up again? I just… I got scared, okay? You didn’t tell me what your grand escape plan was before you… uh, passed out, so I mean...”

Miles is skeptical. “Uh huh, the escape plan. That’s what you were worried about that whole time, right?” He ribbed her a bit, intending for it to come off light-heartedly.

The tense silence that fell in that moment made him a bit nervous, though.

Gwen looked… upset.

He backpedaled. “Uhhh, I mean. Yeah, yeah, the escape plan! The escape plan... woulda been a real shame if I croaked back there before telling you what it was. Of course.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

Gwen offers him a small smile and starts clearing the wrappings and the trash around her folded legs.

“I… uh. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this before. Well, not all of the details but. I don’t really do the whole friend thing anymore because of… I mean, I lost a friend before. And you’re Miles and-- I mean, not my Miles but the other Miles is-- was my friend, and I think we’re cool now, but when I saw you falling I just…”

Gwen sighs. “Sorry. I’m rambling. This is awkward.”

Miles leans back against the side of the truck bed, positioned in the same way that they were sitting back when they were having a bit of a heart-to-heart in the vents of Octavius’ compound. Funny how little moments like this seemed so serendipitous like that.

He studied her face again in the yellowing lights of the restaurant’s signs, thinking for a bit.

“Miles… the other Miles kind of told me some stuff. Not too many details, sure, but. Yeah,” he offered, trying to signal to her that he was down for a chat, no matter how depressing the topic got.

Not very many people in his world got to understand him on a deeper level, not even his own girlfriend. It was nice sitting next to someone who dealt with just as much trauma as him, if not more. It was... an opportunity for connection. Why not take it?

Gwen looked up at him. “Oh, you two talk about me?”

“Yeah, you’re all we talk about, your highness,” he laughs, then sobers up again. “Nah. I mean, y’know like, we talk about everybody. And he likes you, you know. So, yeah... sometimes you get brought up.”

Gwen sighs, leaning her head back against the truck bed and looking up at the stars above. “He shouldn’t, honestly. I think he can find someone from his dimension that… that’s gonna actually appreciate him, you know?” She looks back down into Miles’ eyes. “Not a self-deprecating thing, by the way. Don’t worry,”

Miles holds his hands up with an easy smile. “Not worrying,”

“Well good!” Gwen smirks. Then she shrugs. "I'm not sure it'd work out between us. That's all."

“... So about that back there… I took a look in the side mirror and uh,” he gestures to his shirt, the Prowler insignia now slightly messed up and blurred in some spots thanks to Gwen’s salty tears. "Yeah."

Gwen looks away, ashamed. “Yeah,” is all she says.

“Was your friend… a good friend?” Miles prodded a bit, trying to seem nonchalant about it.

Gwen saw right through it, even when she was purposefully avoiding looking at him. “Yeah. He was. My best friend,”

“Damn,” Miles replies. “I reminded you of him that much?”

Gwen laughs bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. I mean… I thought of you as my friend, which… y’know, you are, until we get to go our separate ways and forget all of this even happened. And I uh… I don’t like seeing friends get hurt. That’s all.”

Miles bobbed his head slowly, digesting this bit of information and taking a sip of his own milkshake.

"He, uhm." Gwen swallowed. "He died in my arms."

It was all she could say.

Miles winced because he understood. He really, really did.

After a few moments of silence, he cleared his throat. “Listen. I, uh. I wouldn’t mind calling you a friend after all of this, if you don’t mind. Like, even after we go home,” He strategically avoided eye contact with her. "We been through too much tonight to call each other strangers, right?"

Gwen smiled at him again. It was a sad smile. “Why don’t you have any friends, by the way? You seem cool. Well. When you’re not in work mode, that is.”

Miles chuckled. “Wow. Do I seem that lonely?”

Gwen shrugs. “The other Miles also tells me some things… sometimes. You just happen to come up every now and then, that’s all,” she manages as playfully as possible. She throws him a wink over her shoulder.

Miles' upper lip quirked up. “That little traitor. I’m giving him a wedgie the next time I see ‘im.”

Gwen barks out a laugh. “Good luck! He’s ten times stronger than you and he can go invisible,”

“Yep,” Miles nods to himself. “You definitely still have a crush on him.”

Gwen throws a fry at him and then they decide to finally dump their trash and continue their journey back into the city before the sun really started waking up and blinding poor Gwen, who was already learning how to drive on the fly and probably didn’t need the relentless sun rays beaming directly into her eyes while she was still at it.

They rode the rest of the way in much better spirits.

They drive past Newark, New Jersey and before Gwen knows it, they’re driving through Manhattan and reaching the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Okay okay, okay, okay okay okayokayokay,” she mutters to herself, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel and leaving slight indentations in the material. “I got this, I got this,”

Miles is now seated in the passenger seat, seatbelt firmly clicked in place. He’s leaned forward, ready to stop Gwen at any moment and pull the emergency brakes.

“Yeah, yeah, you got this, you got this! Don’t be intimidated by all the other cars around you, this ain’t our truck, remember? Everyone else is gonna be doing whatever the hell they wanna do, but don’t do anything stupid on the bridge, right? Otherwise, just keep your foot hovering over the brakes, like I told you before. Let this truck coast,”

Gwen tries her best to internalize all of his rapid-fire advice and not accidentally find herself flooring the gas by accident at the same time. She’s pretty sure her finger marks are going to be sunk into the polyurethane foam and possibly even the metal underneath forever.

She didn’t know who in the world owned this truck, but whoever he was, he was going to be real pissed off when he discovered it in the future.

Which, actually, speaking of…

“Sooo, how uh… where are we going to put this truck once we’re done with it? Should we… pull over soon, leave it in a parking lot somewhere and take the train the rest of the way?”

Miles chuckled. “Leave it? You kiddin’? This truck is basically brand new, pristine. We’re taking this straight to my uncle’s chop shop, we’re gonna take this stuff apart, sell a part here and there, keep the rest for our own gear.”

Gwen gave him a cursory glance. “Uh, your uncle has an auto shop? Huh. Dunno why that surprises me.”

“It’s not a legit business, that’s why. He only runs it as a front. We use it mostly to bring in abandoned cars, use the metals, wires and glass for our gear, other weapons we make to sell. Sometimes Aaron fixes other people’s cars and bikes for some money, though… and bribes.”

Gwen chuckles a bit. “Sounds about right. But I guess I don’t blame you guys. Gotta do what you can to… survive… right?”

She trails off as they get closer to Brooklyn's residential areas and see a rampant spike in crimes. Gwen’s Spider Sense goes off as she sees crime after crime being committed in the brand new hours of the dawn, when the sky hasn’t even finished lightening up to a nice baby blue yet.

“… I see that you guys, uhm… these New Yorkers here in this dimension are a… lively bunch, huh?” Gwen comments distractedly as she drives past someone actively committing grand theft auto.

“Yyyyep,” Miles sighs. “Home, sweet home.”

“You ever wonder what it’s like to live anywhere else in the world sometimes?”

“Only everyday. But us Morales never run from anything. So,” Miles shrugs.

Gwen gives him a fond look.

"Sure do wish I could stop some of these people, though-- wait. Is that man mugging that other guy over there?" She cranes her neck over the wheel to get a better look.

Miles grabs the wheel to keep them from veering into a line of parked cars. "How about we just keep driving, okay? Eyes on the road, girl."

Gwen laughs sheepishly. "Right! Sorry. Spiderwoman instincts."

"Yeah, trust me, I get it." Miles replies flatly. "Don't get distracted. This crime's ours to fight, not yours. Just get us home, like, alive please?"

After finally rolling up to Aaron’s garage at five in the morning, bright and early, Miles lowers himself down from the cab once again and limps over to ring the doorbell.

He presses it in a series of patterns that Gwen only vaguely recognizes before the metal garage door eventually starts rumbling open, revealing a slightly disheveled Aaron still in his PJs, but with a fly coat on as per usual, and some nice-looking Timbs. He was casually leaning against a vintage Cadillac.

He held a mug of coffee in one hand that read “WORLD’S WORST UNCLE” in bold lettering on one side.

Gwen bit her lip to keep from laughing.

“About damn time,” Aaron grumbles, scratching at his beard and pushing off of the Cadillac. “What took y’all so long?”

Miles only gives him a cursory glance before going around the front of the truck to help Gwen down from the cab and dive into the backseat to retrieve his stuff.

Aaron raises an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, hello… sir. I’m Gwen!” She responds, mostly to dispel the awkwardness that hung in the air.

Aaron eyes the truck as he paces casually towards the two teens, gaze occasionally flicking down to the purple jacket that Gwen still sported... that very clearly belonged to his nephew.

"What, uh," Aaron starts, "what... happened to you two?"

"Ah, you know. High risk life-threatening mission, the usual!" Gwen quips on auto-pilot. Her mouth moves faster than her brain does sometimes.

Miles followed Aaron’s gaze and quickly stepped in front of her, holding his pack out for him to take.

“I got it,” he informed Aaron. “All of it.”

Aaron made a noise of approval, taking the pack and examining it.

It still had a few cobwebs dangling off of it. He hummed in thought, eyeing his nephew once more.

“Sooo, we’re gonna go upstairs now, cool? I gotta clean this super awful and deep wound I got from… uh, saving Gwen here. Yeah, she was gonna be sushi if I didn’t jump in front of her. It was Doc Ock, by the way,” Miles continued, as they both made their way into the garage and towards the door in the back. “Doc Ock, that we killed, too. By the way. Mostly me, of course. But, y’know. No need to thank me or anything!”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head. "I'm tellin' Rio, kid. I am! I'm snitchin', I don't care."

"What!" Miles exclaims indignantly. "About what?!"

Aaron's shoulders are shaking. "I'm tellin' her you got another girl around now,"

Gwen laughed loudly, grabbing Miles by the back of his shirt and yanking him towards the back exit door.

“I do not! Do not call her! Bye!” Miles called out before stumbling into the landing that lead up to the elevator of his uncle’s building.

Miles apologized about his uncle in the elevator ride up, and when he opened the door to Aaron's spacious apartment, he kicked his shoes off and sighed with relief.

“Make yourself at home, by the way… mi casa es su casa, and all that,” he says nonchalantly as he peels his shirt off of his body, shedding gear on the floor all the way to the couch.

Gwen only stands by the door, jacket in hand, fiddling nervously with the material.

“I should… I should go.” She finally says after a moment of hesitation. Guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders. “I shouldn’t stick around if I really don’t need to--”

“Why, ‘cause of Spider Society rules?” Miles scoffs, pulling a first aid kit from under the couch and inspecting his wound. “Am I still bleeding on the side of my face, by the way?”

Gwen sighs. “No. And, no. You’ve stopped bleeding a while ago. Look…” she dumps his jacket onto the back of a computer chair and looks down at her watch. “This little adventure was very fun and all… but you got hurt because of me, and I should--”

She stops when she sees Miles’ wound. It looked nothing like she’d ever seen before on a person... and she’s seen her fair share of wounds.

The gaping… thing that Miles was inflicted with didn’t look like any wound she’d even experienced before.

It was green, still had a slight glow to it from the weird snake-like marks winding out from the center. The dried blood scabbing over didn’t bother her at all, she knew how ugly a stab wound could look most days, but the green glow…

It looked a lot like the glowing green circuits back in that power box that she destroyed at Octavius’ compound…

She gasped.

Miles looked up from his inspection and they locked eyes.

“Uhhh,” his pupils bounce around for a bit, trying to think of something to say. “It’s… it’s not as bad as it looks?”

Gwen winces and then swiftly turns around, immediately punching in her own dimension into the watchface. “I’d love to stick around… but I gotta go. Don’t die on me, okay?” She tells him, speaking quickly.

Miles is caught by surprise, but eventually concedes. He places a hand over his wound and nods in her direction. “Uhm. Yeah, cool. Will do. You uh, you take it easy, too. Yeah?”

Gwen only offers him a sad smile in return and her own watercolor-bright portal is immediately opened. Then, she’s stepping through it like she’s being chased down.

After the portal closes, everything that was in the vicinity settles down after floating in the air a bit.

Miles is left alone blinking in the place it used to be, unsure as to why Gwen just dipped on him like that out of nowhere.

He looks back down to his wound, only maybe slightly infected, but still very sure that the poison most likely worked itself through his body by now. Especially after that meatball sub and the fries...

Maybe seeing poisoned wounds upset her or something, he figured, shrugging and going back into the open kit laid next to him.

He starts cleaning his wound with isopropyl alcohol, wincing every now and then when the chemical stung a little harder as he peeled away dried blood.

It isn’t until after he’s done that he remembers their conversation about her best friend, back in the truck at the fast food joint.

He shuts the kit closed, tucks it back underneath the couch, and picks his phone up off of the counter where he usually leaves it before heading out to dangerous missions.

He selects and copies Gwen’s number from the Spider Band groupchat that he never sends messages in, opens a new message box, and sends only one text.

Thanks, btw. For everything.

[milimeters-morales]

chapter 6 of my transfem miles fic :3

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 7 / Chap 8 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 4k+

Warnings: None! But a non-binary character does talk about getting jumped!

CONFESSION PLAN:

Tell Peter and twin

Survive

???

Profit

(Note: If dead, warn Ganke through haunting)

____

Miles doesn’t plan on fighting while he’s out, and he honestly doesn’t even need it if he does, but he changes into his now-dried suit and a jacket anyway before opening a portal to Peter’s dimension.His parents, sound asleep in their bed after dinner, won’t even realize he left. He folds his paper and tucks it away in his pocket, lightly slapping the sides of his face as he’s shot through the portal and into a water tower. 

Groaning in annoyance, he stands up, taking a good look around. Peter’s dimension is only half an hour ahead of his own, so the man should still be out. Unless he’s watching Mayday tonight? 

“I’ll just go check his house,” he mumbles, rubbing his face. He doesn’t want to wake Mrs. Watson at all, much less Mayday if they just got her to sleep, but he’s on a time crunch. He needs to get this done before 12, or else that would be breaking his promise, even if Ganke didn’t actually have to know if he gets it done around two… which was shamefully tempting. 

But he could do this. His anxiety was just making him fear every possible bad outcome, and didn’t even allow room for any possibly good outcome, or even consider the long term effects of being honest despite the bad outcomes. He knows this, he’s a really emotionally intelligent guy, or whatever.

Honestly, though? That means jack when he’s still not brave enough to actually confront those emotions. That changes tonight, for sure. He can do this!

He camouflages as he’s swinging, landing in the family’s front yard with a quiet thump. Gross, the grass is wet.

Crawling to the windows, he tries to find any lights already on, sighing when it’s all dark in the house. The blinds are closed on all of them too, so he can’t see inside. Putting his ear to several points on the walls only reveals two heartbeats calm and steady with sleep. 

So Peter is still out, then. He can’t just wait here until the man shows up, who knows when that would be?  

Crawling onto the roof, he sits and frustratedly rubs at his face. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he tries to make a more detailed plan. Peter’s currently not at his house and there’s no way of telling when he’d be back, and Miles can’t search all of Queens in under… an hour, he needs an hour for Peter and G., even with his spider-sense guiding him to where the man could be if he got in range. 

“So… okay, wait, I can call him,” Miles mumbles. If Peter doesn’t answer, he could go to Earth-42 and try his luck there, his alternate self definitely wasn’t going to be asleep… but it would be even harder to find the other boy since there’s not even a spider-sense to help guide him…

Peter picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “Hey bud! Kind of busy right now! Can it be quick?”

Miles can be quick. Rip the bandaid off, for real this time.

“Peter, I have something super-- EXTREMELY important to tell you.”

“How important are we talking? Scale of one to ten, oh darn--” Peter’s cut off by mad cackling that Miles doesn’t recognize, must be a villain losing it. He hears Peter coughing and his heart speeding up.

“Do you need help?” Miles asks him, standing up, grimacing at the realization the roof was wet too. Double gross.

“No buddy, all good here! Aaalll good, c’mon, what were you saying?”

You’ve already told him once before, you can do it again. He’s already promised to not tell.

Miles inhales deeply, pushing past the giant wave of terror-- okay, no, he’s not going to lie. He’s still terrified, and those rocks in his stomach are trying to burn a hole through his stomach and spill his innards all over this roof tile. Triple gross. 

Confessing better get them out, Miles doesn’t even know what he’d do if he had to carry their weight and shame with him any longer.

“Buddy? You good?”

But what if it’s all for nothing? What if this honesty doesn’t get rid of any of his fears, what if this only makes them worse if it goes poorly?

Miles exhales, letting the coming waves hit him full force, saltwater filling his lungs.

“Miles--”

“I’m gay.”

It burns. Horribly. He knew it, he knew it all along, and he still confessed.

“Whu-- Yeah, I knew that already, remember?”

The rocks seem to gain sharp edges out of nowhere, making him sit back down and try to catch his breath. There’s too much on his body, and the water is still on the roof, and it’s all so gross. He’s gross. Admitting being gay didn’t help at all, all it did was give Peter confirmation, it gave him reason to hate him. 

“Your heartbeat is all fast, is everything alright?”

He could be on his way to beat us to death , a voice whispers in his head, you know what happens to boys like us.

Please, just stop , Miles begs the voice, tears escaping and freely flowing down his cheeks.

“Miles, where are you? Are you at home? I hear crickets-- are you outside?”

What a brave-hearted hero, risking it all , the voice whispers, trying to smother his actual voice of reason, you’re going to get Ganke killed.

“Stop, he wouldn’t…” Miles breathes out, digging his nails into his leg. He has to focus.

“Kid, please tell me where you are.” Peter tells him, a hint of urgency in his tone.

Look, he still cares, Miles thinks, he doesn’t hate me. I didn’t ruin anything! Nothing bad happened!

With pain in his leg clearing the fog of anxiety that was beginning to overtake his mind, Miles takes another deep breath in and exhales loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m on your roof right now,” he tells him, coughing harshly into his elbow at the end.

“The roof?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright buddy, how about you stand on the porch instead? Much more stable than the roof, trust me. My ankle last month can attest to that.”

Miles chuckles wetly, and wipes at his face. “Yeah, okay. You, um, you’re not like… mad at me or anything…?”

“No, buddy, I’m not mad. I told you I knew already, remember? You accidentally told me.”

Miles jumps off the roof and lands safely on the grass, dropping his camouflage and waiting by the front door. He could get away with the cosplay excuse if some random person is nearby and curious enough, hopefully. “I know, I just… I had to tell somebody, and I thought telling you on purpose would make me feel better.”

“Well, did it?” Peter asks him. 

Miles thinks of the horrible possibilities his brain was pushing to the forefront of his mind. He thinks of how the rocks in his stomach are waiting for the man to show up and lash out after luring him into a false sense of security. He thinks about the stinging pain in his leg, all to just focus on not drowning in his fears that even he knows are too much and too unrealistic.

“Nah,” he answers, taking in a shaky breath.

“Well… that’s okay, bud. I was scared too.”

“What? Scared of what?” Miles asks, turning around when he hears a familiar heartbeat come closer.

Peter lands softly on the grass and ushers Miles inside.

“It sounded like you were about to confess to a murder, or something,” the man chuckles as he locks the door behind him. “Or… y’know,” Peter makes a weird motion, pointing up then down, so Miles very much doesn’t know.

“Oh,” Miles says, taking a look around the dark living room. “I can’t stay, Peter. I have to go to G. next.”

“You seem really shaken up, are you sure?” Peter asks him. “Are you gonna come out to him too?”

Miles nods wordlessly, and rubs at his face. “Hopefully. He was actually the one I was supposed to tell, so you’re like… practice, kind of.”

Really awful practice.

Something in Peter’s stance and gaze hardens, and every voice Miles was holding at bay started to howl out the very anxiety that created them. This is it , they cry, we told you!

“Miles,” the man begins, and Miles finds himself agreeing with those voices at the steely tone he hears, “when you say ‘supposed to’, is someone making you do this?”

And that’s… a complicated question. One he certainly wasn’t expecting.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks, forcing his shoulders to relax. It doesn’t work, they hike back up the tiniest bit.

Peter sits down at the small dining room table, folding his hands on it in front of him. “Yeah bud, you shouldn’t feel forced to come out to people. If someone’s making you do that--”

Miles stops him right there. “No no no, you’re making it sound really bad. He’s not doing that, I’m just not being… a really great guy right now. Ganke doesn’t like-- he’s actually never liked us being a secret. So, we agreed that I’ll tell G., but I couldn’t… so I’m telling you, so I can say I told someone, and maybe be prepared.”

Peter stares at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “You feel prepared?”

Miles lets out a humorless laugh, “No, no.”

Peter continues staring at him, and Miles briefly glances down to see that he camouflaged again without even noticing. 

“I really gotta go,” he mumbles, making his way towards the front door. 

“Wait, kid, why not just take a few minutes to calm down? Sit on the c-- actually, sit at the table, don’t get my cushions wet,” Peter walks over and gently places a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a chair. “So, why didn’t this help?”

Miles shrugs, “Iunno.” He supposes it should’ve shown him that nothing bad was likely to happen, but… he knew that. It just didn’t convince all of his brain, apparently. “Hey, we can talk later, I have to get this done tonight.”

“You have a time crunch too? Miles, this doesn’t sound--”

Miles doesn’t really have time for what it sounds like. He knows what it is, what the possible outcomes are if he fails, and… it’s all… none of it makes sense. It clashes, it mixes, it contradicts, it supports each other and the rocks in his stomach. He now knows, with Peter’s reaction, the worst possible outcomes that are at the forefront of his mind aren’t likely, but he can’t do anything about the “what if” that hangs heavy on his shoulders.

What if , a voice speaks up, he’s stalling? What if he’s pretending?

He isn’t, stop it , Miles scowls, and hopes Peter doesn’t think it’s directed at him. Well, it’s not even like he can see Miles, so why was he even worried about that? 

Why was he worried about any of this? He should be worried about Ganke feeling hurt by still being hidden from his boyfriend’s family and closest friends, not what Peter, some middle-aged man with an entire life and family of his own, thinks. He should be worried about Ganke feeling like their relationship can’t work anymore, and leaving him for some Barbara who probably exists. 

“Kid, are you… angry? You’re buzzing a bit louder than usual,” Peter’s voice from behind asks him.

“Dunno,” Miles mumbles, stepping outside and opening a portal. Peter, fortunately, doesn’t follow.

____

Being on Earth-42 is infinitely more calming than being on Earth-1610B, but somehow also just as stressful. 

Miles checks his watch. Forty minutes until 12, but he can work with that. G. is himself, so he’s bound to be painfully aware of the time while he’s out as the Prowler. He’ll understand the urgency for sure.

“Speak of the devil,” Miles mutters when he sees a brief flash of magenta out of the corner of his eye, followed by a rapidly approaching heartbeat. 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” G. says with an exaggerated shrug after he lands quietly in front of Miles..

“That joke doesn’t work here,” Miles mumbles.

“Yes it does--”

“Remember that thing I was gonna tell you? On the roof?”

“The thing you didn’t tell me? After freaking out about Barbara?”

Miles frowns angrily at the reminder. “Yes. Listen, it’s really important.” He takes a deep breath, feeling a shiver go through his shoulders and down his spine, and blurts it out, painful as ever. “I’m gay and dating our roommate.”

“Your roommate,” G. corrects, sharp white eyelights widening slightly, and he places his hands on his hips in a way that’s almost scarily reminiscent of their mom. “Is that seriously all you wanted to tell me?”

Miles stares at him, trying to stop the waterworks before they begin and calm the panic that’s rapidly climbing. It’s probably working. The voices that like to talk about how he’s made a huge mistake and won’t wake up tomorrow are strangely quiet, maybe it’s because he’s basically talking to himself?

“Hey,” G. says, sighing, “look, I really don’t care. Good on you. Go home now, you look like you’re about to faint.” 

“I don’t get it,” Miles mumbles.

“What’s new,” G. shrugs.

“Shut up.” The playful jab is like poking a hole in a tire, and Miles can feel a tiny part of his mind clearing. “I meant that I expected… worse. Y’know… yelling. Running away. Fighting.”

G. shakes his head and his eyelights flatten into a line as he waves a hand around in the air, looking for the words he wanted to use. “I know. I honestly expected worse too. I’m-- wait, you don’t want me to tell anybody, right?” 

The weight that was slowly lifting from his shoulders slams back down, forcing a breath out.

“Taking that as a no,” G. says, “take a few breaths. Think logically about this, man.” G. takes a few steps closer until he’s an arm’s length away. “You could probably beat me in a fight if this went wrong. And if I was the type, I wouldn’t gain anything from telling people that you, a guy who shares my name and appearance, is gay. That would be pretty strange and useless, right? Pretty stupid?”

Miles nods once and swallows hard. His legs are slowly trying to camouflage in messy patches, he notices.

“Don’t go all Swiss cheese on me,” G. chuckles, placing a clawed hand on his shoulder. “I know that just saying ‘I accept you’ isn’t gonna convince you.”

Miles nods again, slowly relaxing his shoulders and resisting the urge to bite at something. That’s one of the things he likes about G., having basically a copy of yourself to comfort you means that they know exactly how you’re thinking, and what would and probably wouldn’t work with way more certainty than anybody else. 

“But… why do you think I’m not really surprised?” G. asks, tapping his temple. “Think about it. But don’t hurt yourself.”

Miles’s eyes widen, knowing his lenses are taking up most of his face at this point. 

No way.

There’s-- there’s--

“No way,” he breathes out, feeling a sort of warm, pleasant feeling spread through the top half of his body. His hands slowly stop shaking, and he doesn’t feel like the ground is about to collapse under him. “No way!”

G.’s eyelights squint, and Miles hopes he’s smiling. 

“But…” Miles remembers G.’s words from earlier, “what about Barbara? You said you liked her?”

The other boy removes his hand, taking a step back and looking around, “Yeah, but y’know how it is. Sometimes you like girls, sometimes you like guys.”

“So you’re… bi?”

“No? I’m-- we’re gay, but sometimes you see a woman and she’s… y’know,” G. elaborates. 

Nodding rapidly, the rush of being understood in a way most people would never be able to experience like this flowing through his veins, Miles agrees with a shaky smile. “Yeah, I mean… there’s this-- you remember how it felt meeting Margo, right?”

G. puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head to the sky.

“Right!” Borderline-hysterical laughter coming from Miles shocks them both. “Sorry, I just-- I thought this was gonna go so horribly, I’m just so-- super excited!”

G. nods his head and fidgets with a strap on his jacket, and man, he’s moving around a lot more than usual. Does he have somewhere to be? Probably. Maybe his mom is gonna go to work soon? Those are weird hours though, maybe his Aaron needs something?

“Sorry, again, I’ll just,” Miles holds up his watch with a wide smile, “I’ll let you go.”

“Right, right. Be easy, man.” With that, G. runs past, leaping onto the side of a building and darting up to disappear over the top, leaving a faint pink light trail behind him.

Miles tries to school his expression, but his mouth refuses to drop the smile no matter how hard he tries. His limbs have a sort of lightness to him, and feels like he can run a marathon. Scratch that, several marathons. The electricity in his legs is practically howling at him to start running until he collapses, all out of joy and without the expected crowd of voices telling him how badly he fucked up.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life!

Making sure nobody was secretly watching him, Miles shakes his hands at his sides, running in place. He then kneels down on one knee, and launches himself high into the air, twirling slowly. The air rushes past him, the wind rushing down his body feeling like a hug he’s been missing.

There’s no trace of the overwhelming fear, the anger, or even any sort of begrudging acceptance of a hatred that evidently was never going to blow up in his face. He felt like light was trapped inside his body. Closing his eyes, Miles lets some of it run through his arms and out of his finger tips, creating mini-sparklers on their ends. A quick burst through his legs sends him tumbling higher into the air, and he flails his arms legs wildly, unable to hold in the energy any longer. The flailing lasts a few seconds before he’s rocketing back down to the roof, pressure suddenly returning with the wind. The sparks at his fingers and feet fizz out, leaving light trails in the air.

He’s like a comet as he spins down onto the roof, quickly flipping at the last second to land feet-first instead of cracking his head open on the cement. That would be such an embarrassing concussion.

Landing with a bit more force than he meant to, Miles starts to giggle quietly as leftover electricity spreads from below him and spiderwebs out before fading completely. 

“Okay, okay,” he breathes out, trying to calm himself. He opens a portal back to his universe, being spat out behind some grocery store, for some reason. He didn’t leave here, why did--

A fast heartbeat and quiet sniffles have him snapping his head to the side, eyes landing on a kid leaning on a wall and crying. 

“Hey, you okay?” Miles asks softly, not moving from his spot. 

The kid startles hard, eyes wide as he- … um, they, Miles decides on- stare at Miles.

“Y- yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” they say, voice shaky. Miles can see their hands shaking, and even with little moonlight reaching the alley, their eyes shine wetly. One is more closed than the other.

“That a black eye?” Miles asks as he takes a tentative step forward. “Someone punched you?”

The kid crosses their arms and curls in on themself a bit, nodding. “Got jumped.”

“Oh, man. You know them, or…?”

The kid shakes their head, “Just some guys from school.”

Miles’s eyes widen. Guys, as in multiple? “Dang, how many? You look like you ain’t let them do much besides that eye.”

There’s a quiet snort, and Miles internally cheers. “Like, five. Teacher was coming, so they ran.”

“Five? Holy…well, good on you for standing your ground,” Miles laughs quietly, taking a few more steps. “I can walk you home, if you’d like?”

The kid is quiet for a few moments. “Really?”

Miles nods, and realizing it might be too dark, says yes. 

“Sure, that would be cool. I’m Kenneth,” the kid says, walking towards Miles.

“I’m Spider-Man,” he replies.

“No way, really?” 

They both chuckle as they make their way onto the street, weaving through the few others heading to their own destinations. 

“So, why’d they jump you? Was it money?” Miles asks casually, hoping it wasn’t too personal to share.

“Man, I wish,” Kenneth sighs, “they just… they don’t like people like me.”

Racists? Miles turns his head, ready to offer his support, but Kenneth continues, “The way I dress, my hobbies… stuff like that.” Their voice trails off near the end. “They make fun of my designs a lot, threaten to rip all the clothes I make.”

Oh, Miles thinks, feeling even more upset. “You been dealing with that long?”

“Kinda,” Kenneth nods. “I usually win, though.”

Now that they’re walking under the streetlights, Miles can actually make out Kenneth’s appearance. They’re wearing a purple sweater and denim jacket, a somewhat long black skirt, and some sneakers that are so customized that Miles has trouble figuring out the exact type they are. Of course, to top it all off, Kenneth is sporting a busted lip in addition to that black eye. He doesn’t like to think about what else they deal with when they don’t win.

“You said you make clothes?” Miles asks, high-fiving someone passing by.

“Yeah! I-- do you wanna see? I have some pictures on my phone,” Kenneth pulls out a phone with a cracked screen, and Miles looks away until it’s moved closer to his face. “I made these shoes for a friend, this dress, this-- well, I’m actually wearing that jacket right now!”

“Ooh, is that like a jean-skirt deal? I really like that one,” Miles tells them, already getting ideas of figure drawings he could add these clothes too. “You got some real skill!”

Kenneth beams, not even wincing a tiny bit at the pain that the pull on their lip must cause, and thanks Miles. 

“I don’t design clothes or nothin’, but I draw a lot too. Artist to artist, you seriously could make a career outta this,” Miles tells him, “don’t let those fools try and convince you otherwise.”

“That’s what my mom says,” Kenneth says, smile softening into something that feels a bit too private for Miles to just be seeing, “I’m glad you’re chill. And that you like my work, this is probably one of the coolest things that’s ever happened to me.”

Miles nods, “No yeah, I’m totally chill.” Wait, that sounds like a lie! “Like, having that type of hate in your heart is just so strange anyway.” Totally saved it! “And your designs have some real character, the creativity you got is crazy, ma-” Shoot! “--my buddy.”

Kenneth laughs at him, “You--” Miles tries to not let his teeth start grinding in embarrassment at the other teen’s laughter, “--you tried, it’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it. They/them, by the way.”

Miles breathes out a sigh of relief. “Still, sorry, force of habit. Call everyone that, y’know? My bad though,” he stumbles through the apology, “and, uh…”

He’s never had to tell someone his pronouns before. Spider- MAN doesn’t really leave a lot of room for speculation, and he thinks he’s pretty obviously a guy. Well, masculine. Wait, no, because he knows it doesn’t always work like that for people, but… he’d think people would refer to their default when they see him, hear his voice, the name--

“You don’t have to tell me yours,” Kenneth pipes up when he’s been quiet too long. “No pressure or nothing. This is me,” they say, pointing to a brownstone entrance with a woman in just her pajamas sitting on the steps. 

“Kenneth!” She cries out, rushing down to embrace the teen in a fierce hug. “Baby, those boys got you again? Oh, come on, let's get inside.” 

“Ma, give me a second,” Kenneth whispers, half-heartedly returning the hug as they try to gesture to Miles. 

“Did you find them?” The woman doesn’t let go, instead just picking her head up and very coolly glaring at him.

“Yes ma’am,” Miles says, deepening his voice and placing his hands on his hips, “I was worried, so I walked them home.”

“Thank you.” She gives a small, tense smile, and Miles can’t blame her. It is a pretty tense situation! 

“Yeah, thanks!” Kenneth’s smile is much bigger and warm as they wave goodbye.

“Buenas noches!” Miles calls before swinging away.

____

Later, as he’s lying in bed, his mind drifts to Kody. He never asked their pronouns, should he have? No, right? That would be putting them on the spot. He didn’t ask Kenneth, he just went based on appearance just like with Kody, and they had offered up that information. 

Should he start using they/them for everybody? That way he isn’t unintentionally offending anybody? That would be a lot of work, and he knows he’d mess it up a lot… kind of like being Spider-Man! 

Shifting to scratch a scab on his leg, he thinks of how he faltered when he tried to tell Kenneth to use he/him. People always-- well, until recently, he was never seen as anything other than a guy, obviously. He’s pretty manly, his voice is supposed to get deeper, he’s got some nice muscles, and he’s almost taller than his dad. He’s definitely taller than his mom.

He stops scratching his leg and stares at it, bare of any hair. 

It’s not like pronouns make the person. And it’s not like shaving doesn’t make him any less masculine. Not that anyone thought that, of course. Nobody even cares about that. Miles doesn't even care about that.

Those kids that jumped Kenneth would probably care , he thinks, they sound like the type to think any small difference deserves a beatdown… what was I thinking about? 

Right, pronouns. He should feel more confident using he/him, but there’s some weird, vague hesitation when there should be a brief acknowledgement so casual that it’s barely there. Not a feeling of wrongness per se, but something similar to forgetting what you walked into a room for.

This probably requires a bit more thought than he really wanted to give at this time of night. He did what he had to do, and now he can go to Ganke with the good news, and Ganke will be so happy and won’t leave because Miles is finally being the best boyfriend to him. There isn’t much reason to stay awake any longer.

Miles puts on his headphones and resumes his video, drifting off to sleep.

A/N: lowkey wish i cared enough to figure out how to format the text in the exact way i wanted bc there's a text message part coming up that i put on opposite sides of the doc to make it clear who's talking 💔 anyway... YAY KENNETH !!! They're gonna be appearing more often, and is NOT one of the characters that don't appear again but Miles can't stop thinking about. dw kennethheads miles is the queen of unknowingly befriending trans people and becoming their fav.

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

I've been seeing some recent discourse about ATSV painting Miguel as someone that was "going after" Miles and, as much as he's an asshole right now, he never went after him until the very end when he escaped. He was content with leaving him alone, practically in the dark, until Miles got caught up with Gwen's quest. I'm not saying he's less of an asshole for what he does, but he's not this villain that's out to ruin Miles (at least, not in the typical sense). He's a good guy with a twisted sense of morality in the grand scheme of the Spider-Man archetype, the "bigger picture" guy.

Basically, cut him some slack, but not too much.

[aspidersreflection]

((Would it be weird if I wrote out Selene's introduction? You know how all of the Spiderfam got their own "my name is X and I was bitten by a radioactive spider" spiel? If I wrote hers out, would that be cringe?))

[iobartach]

i ' m living for how kuro & i are just mutually 🤝'ing on the fact that broly and miguel are probably gonna end up throwing hands before the week is over

this is exactly why i be out here living for crossovers. canon can bite my ass (sorry, miguel), we do what we want, out here 😎

[quietlyblooms]

btw!! unless otherwise stated in her verse write-ups, you can assume that chiyo's relationships with her family remain pretty much the same. i don't think it's something that should really affect interactions very often, but i just wanted to point that out!

[spinxeret]

+ ( Minor Spiderverse spoiler below cut.

THE WEDDING IS A CANON EVENT ! FUCK YOU EDITORIAL ! )

[spiderman2-99]

can you figure out this math problem since you’re a genius?

5m - 20 = 65 + 8m

(I just made this up lol.)

m = 85/-3 or -28.333…

What about me doing simple algebra is so important for you?

[morganasirennether]

"You sure you wanna do that...?"

((And here we have them; Jonathan Cress, aka the infamous anti-hero Arachnophobia, and his symbiote King are now in color!))

[im-a-luxury]

He bumps into his counter, wincing and hissing as his hipbones stab his skin, even through his slacks. Noir tries to ignore the buzzing in his head and on his neck, stumbling down the hallway to his bedroom.

Or at least he was trying to, before his vision blacked out and he collapsed on the floor.

The last thing he heard was the shrill beeping of his interdimensional watch. ••• in which i discover that there are pretty much no fics in which noir has an emotional breakdown and gets comforted and i decide to change that

[woomywebs]

//I have a whole shit ton of lore that I've created for 56210 with the help of my friends that I can't wait to infodump.

//Please ask me about my OC/Universe lore I'm dying to talk about it.

[dangerstxrlet]

+ ( Mayday’s eye color in this film is a reference.

In her original appearance, her eye color was brown. In all of her series afterwards, she has blue eyes

Her eye color in this new Spiderverse film? One brown and one blue. )

[aspidersreflection]

((I have so many feelings about Selene gdi.

Headcanon based on her faceclaim; Selene rarely smiles with her full face. She tends to give a tiny half-smile until she's either really happy or laughing her ass off.))