#atsv gen

[vhstown]

CAN SPIDERS SCREAM?

POV: 1610!MILES 🗡️ [halloween one shot]

summary: What's your favourite scary movie?

word count: 2.4k

content/warnings: depictions of murder, blood and stabbing

a/n: unedited :/ tew busy and i have never written fic that isn't x reader so! that's all erm have fun?

“Oi, Miles — wake up, mate.”

With slight surprise, Miles opened his eyes to see the dimly lit living room. Freeing himself from the confines of his friend’s shoulders, he blinked a few times to make out a rather bemused-looking Hobie. The punk’s eyes left his a moment later, and Miles was soon bombarded with the troubles of a movie night with people who had never had Netflix before.

“Give me the remote back, I just wanna—”

“We are not watching Ghostbusters again, Pav!” Hobie let out a slight laugh as a stream of web, and then a remote control, flew past him — right into Gwen’s hand.

“Ghostbusters is a perfectly fitting title for the occasion!” Pavitr protested, Hobie narrowly dodging the hand that flew up in frustration.

“He’s got a point — that Murray lad is scary lookin’,” Hobie chimed in. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say “thanks a lot, Hobie”, before turning to Miles.

“You know what? Maybe Miles should pick. He’s been asleep all night anyway.”

“Hey! Not my fault my ma’ made me clean the whole house ‘fore you guys got here!”

Miles’ eyes felt like closing again at the memory; who knew using your webs to help with chores would need so much clean up afterwards? Not one of his brightest ideas, since he was all out of webs now. Though he would’ve been out of a home if his mom saw the kitchen covered in them.

“Where are your parents anyway? Perhaps on a romantic outing?” Miles rolled his eyes, like it’d do anything to subdue Pavitr’s less-than subtle expression.

“On Halloween night? Your lot must love a thrill, mate.” Also a lot less-than subtle — thanks a lot, Hobie.

Cheeks prickling with warmth, he snatched the remote from Gwen’s hand, frowning at the TV screen. Halloween movie…

“Well, if he’s anything like Rio and Jeff, he should be able to pick a movie.” Gwen crossed her legs, and everyone else shuffled back on the tiny couch.

“Thanks,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. Gwen’s knee, Hobie’s elbow, and Pavitr’s stare prodding him at either side, Miles sifted through the different shows and movies.

“How about Annabe—”

“Nope nope nope…!” As the preview came up, Pavitr shielded his eyes. “Anything besides dolls.”

“At least it’s better than Ghostbusters,” Gwen muttered under her breath as Pavitr peeked through his fingers.

“Oi, Gwendy, cheer up, yeah?” Miles ducked his head as Hobie reached over to slap Gwen on the shoulder. “She looks just like you!”

“Hobie!” was shouted from both ends of the couch.

Miles smiled, and grimaced. At least the two of them could agree that Hobie wasn’t any good when it came to movie nights.

Looking through the movies, none of them really interested Miles, or his friends. Each one would be met with an excited “wait!”, and then a disappointed groan, or another heckle from Hobie (it was one way to decide not to watch the movie.)

“Dude, Halloween’s almost over. Let’s just watch Ghost—”

“Just gimme a sec…” At this point, Miles had given up on listening to anyone, clicking through titles after a glance. It wasn’t like it was helping, though.

“Pick your favourite, or something,” Gwen suggested with just as little enthusiasm.

“Well it’s not Ghostbusters…” he mumbled to nobody in particular.

“Hey, not you too, Miles!”

Scream 2 appeared for probably the 5th time on screen. It’d have to do, he supposed.

“You guys seen Scream?” His tone didn't have enough energy to sound like a question.

“Well Hobie hasn’t, because he lives in the stone age,” Gwen started. “And he looks like Ghostface.”

“Don’t need ol’ Ghosty when we’ve got murderers in government.”

“Dude.” All Miles got was a shrug from Hobie, and then a sigh from Gwen. Crossing her arms, she fell back on the sofa with a creak.

“What? Fed up already?” Hobie questioned, brow raising by a twitch.

“It’s been like, 4 hours and all we’ve been watching is Ghostbusters. We ran out of popcorn ages ago.”

“You guys finished the—” Miles stood up, looking into the bowl. All that was in it was his reflection, staring back at him with disappointment. “Damn…”

“That was all Gwendy — swear on my life.” Hobie declared half a moment of silence later.

“Was not!”

“Okay, okay! Fine! Let’s just watch Scream.”

Miles turned on the movie, chucking the remote on the spot he was sat in. The introductory sequence started, and the room went dark with the screen.

“I’m gettin’ more popcorn — caramel popcorn." That got a groan out of everyone.

“If y’all use your webs…!”

He didn’t finish his threat as he walked into the kitchen — his mom could probably do that for him anyway.

The kitchen door swung open, shutting on its own weight. Miles held his wrist out to the cabinet, but all that came out was a click — out of webs. Right, of course.

A crackling bag of “Crunch ‘n Munch” caramel popcorn on the stove, Miles leaned his arms on the counter, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He’d been feeling groggy since he’d woken up, but the dreary tiredness was still lingering. Maybe sitting out here with microwaveable kernels popping on the stove would help. Stretching and letting out a groan, the cheap decorations on the windows caught his attention. He could guess that people were starting to head back from trick-or-treating. It was late, after all. Miles had grown out of it, at least for this year. Going out with his friends who technically weren’t meant to be here wasn’t exactly a good idea, though. Besides, being Spider-Man for Halloween again wasn’t really doing it for him.

Both of his parents were at work, but it didn't bother him too much. They were always busy, and so was he. All of them were keeping Brooklyn safe in their own ways, he supposed. And having the house to himself wasn't so bad.

Faint murmuring — excited, or panicked — could be heard from the living room. Miles laughed through his nose, the crackling of the popcorn getting louder as he haphazardly reached out to flip the bag. That was, until, a searing, high-pitched noise rang out.

Miles almost jumped, before realising that it was coming from the phone: the old-fashioned cordless phone his mom kept for emergencies, or, for making sure he was “actually at home like you said you’d be, because if you and your friends are out somewhere I don’t know about then—”

Better safe than sorry, he thought, picking it up without any thought but an exhale.

Click!

“Hello?”

The faint whirr of static could be heard on the other side; it was dull among the pop of the kernels and giddy buzz from the living room.

“Hello, Morales.” Okay, definitely not his mom.

“Uh, who is this?”

“Take a guess.” Miles took the phone away from his ear, frowning at the screen. These types of phones didn’t seem to give any useful information.

“Ganke? That you?” he humoured.

“Try again. Two more guesses.” His half-smile immediately dropped.

“Okay, nope. This is weird.”

Declining the call, Miles put it back on its stand, rolling his shoulders in discomfort. It was probably just a prank — kind of creepy nonetheless.

Krrrrr….! Miles’ attention quickly turned back to his popcorn, registering the smell of burning. Damn it…

Wooden spoon in hand, he turned off the stove, biting his lip as he assessed the damage. A second barrier of defence against his friends, at least. Come on man, you gotta wake up—

RIIING RIIING! Miles cursed under his breath, and then winced in guilt.

RIIING RIIING! Again? Well, it could be his mom.

RIIING RIII—

“Hello?”

“Why’d you hang up? Don’t you want to play a game?”

“Okay dude seriously? Couldn't you be at least a little original? I don’t have time for this, I literally just burnt my popcorn!”

Miles didn’t know why he was suddenly ranting to a stranger on the phone, but maybe it’d get them to break character, or something. It must be some kids behind the stupid crackly voice — or maybe it was his dad. He tried to stifle a laugh at the thought of his dad trying not to laugh and his tightened expression, even though nobody would hear. Well, whoever this was might.

“You’re making popcorn?”

“Uh-huh. Was gonna watch a movie, actually. And relax — you know, without weird phone calls at midnight.”

“How about this? I ask you a different question this time.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Miles let out a sigh, hands on his hips as the burning died out in the pan.

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Not even a little improv..." he mumbled under his breath. Might as well stick to the script. “Uh, I dunno. Scream?”

“Scream? That one where the murderer wears a mask and goes around killing people?”

“Yeah, and where the murderer makes dumbass phone calls to their victims beforehand.”

“But that’s your favourite?”

“No..."

There was a pause on the end of the phone, before the modulated voice replied.

“You know... me neither.”

Bzzzt!

“Hey, what the…?!” Miles looked around him, but couldn’t make out anything. The power was out. “You can’t be serious…”

“Scream’s too old-school, don’t you think?”

There were equally confused reactions from the living room, and the voices of his friends got louder as he stepped into the hallway, phone in hand.

“Guys?” he called out, cordless phone by his hip and his own phone flash pointing into the hallway.

“They won’t hear you,” the voice from the phone said. Miles stopped, turning his phone and seeing something catch the light. "When you scream."

Moving, it shot towards him, his web-shooter sputtering empty air at the knife that surged past mere inches away from his face. No webs.

“Guys?!”

Miles pointed the flash up, only to see what looked like a Halloween mask that was melting: Ghostface. He would’ve laughed; it was crude at best. But right now, it was terrifying.

He booked it for the living room, pushing against the door only for it to push back against him. Locked — the panic surged in his chest, but his Spider-sense hadn’t gone off.

Thunk! Knife in wood — right where his face was a millisecond ago. His cheek stung only for a moment before he grabbed the knife out of the door, holding it to the darkness.

His mouth opened, and then closed. Should he call for his friends? Would it put him in more danger? Why couldn't he... Where did the masked person go—

A short breath came out of his throat, strangled. And then hot searing metal, right through his stomach. Why couldn't...

No, the metal wasn’t cold — it was the blood. The pain only seared for a moment, when the knife was pulled out. Miles’ hands went to the growing patch of darkness near his abdomen, bile in his throat and eyes wide, stinging from the dry air.

It was suddenly cold, and his mind was blank. Something that sounded like wind — a laugh, emerged from behind him.

He didn’t feel the second stab.

“Oi, Miles — wake up, mate.”

With slight surprise, Miles opened his eyes to see the dimly lit living room. Freeing himself from the confines of his friend’s shoulders, he blinked a few times to make out a rather bemused-looking Hobie. The punk’s eyes left his a moment later, and Miles was soon bombarded with the troubles of a movie night with people who had never had Netflix before.

“Give me the remote back, I just wanna—”

“We are not watching Ghostbusters again, Pav!” Hobie let out a slight laugh as a stream of web, and then a remote control, flew past him — right into Gwen’s hand.

“Ghostbusters is a perfectly fitting title for the occasion!” Pavitr protested, Hobie narrowly dodging the hand that flew up in frustration.

“He’s got a point — that Murray lad is scary lookin’,” Hobie chimed in. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say “thanks a lot, Hobie”, before turning to Miles.

“You know what? Maybe Miles should pick. He’s been asleep all night anyway.”

“Huh?”

“We were doing fine!”

“No we weren’t, Pav — I was about to fall asleep.”

“Like Hobie said, Murray is a good representation of the horror genre!”

“And not the literal ghosts?”

“The ghosts too!”

“Hey.” Miles flinched a little at how close the voice was. “You alright? You look a bit pale, mate.”

The three of them went silent, attention turning to him. Hobie’s expression was laced with concern. Miles just nodded, though he wasn’t looking at anyone. He was fine, right? That was…

“Yeah, yeah — I’m cool. I just…” That wasn't real. He was fine. “Tired. Ma’ made me clean… and stuff.”

“Where are your parents anyway? Perhaps on a romantic outing?” He glanced at Pavitr, but it didn’t do anything to subdue Pavitr’s less-than subtle expression.

“On Halloween night? Your lot must love a thrill, mate.” Also less-than subtle. If it weren’t for the fog clouding his head, he would’ve been annoyed.

“Just watch… Anabelle, or something.” The sofa creaked as he pushed off of it. He winced at the feeling of his abdomen reeling in on itself. “I’m gonna get some—”

Two eyes met his: the reflection in the popcorn bowl. It was empty. Figures...

“That was all Gwendy, swear on my life.”

“Was not!”

“Oh, Miles is mad guys.”

“Hey, don’t look at me.”

It wasn't real.

“It was literally Hobie!”

Just a dream — of course.

“Miles…? Where are you goi—” Pavitr’s voice faded as the kitchen door swung shut behind him.

“Just need to call my mom,” he muttered to himself, grabbing the phone off the stand.

“Mira — I’m going to call this phone, okay? You need to call back from the call log. I'm showing you once.”

“Like—” This…

The call log appeared on screen.

Incoming:

31 OCT. 11:42PM Accepted

31 OCT. 11:40PM Accepted

31 OCT. 4:21PM Missed

Only the last one was his mom. Miles clicked out of the call log, met with the tiny blue home screen. It read: TUE 31 OCT.

The time right now was 11:39PM.

RIIING RIIING!

RIIING RIIING!

RIIING RIIING!…

His friends were in the other room, still arguing about what to watch.

“…Anything besides dolls...”

“…It’s better than Ghostbusters…”

“…She looks just like you!…”

"...Hobie!..."

…RIIING RIIING!…

With half an inhale, Miles picked up the old-fashioned cordless phone, thumb over the green button. It was the phone he’d answered before, and for some reason, minutes into the future.

The phone he’d answer many, many more times to come.

thanx 4 reading! thats it okay cya i havent slept more than 6 hours in a hot minute goodnight x_x oh n tagging @phoenixinthefiles :P

find my masterlist here !

#miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #miles morales fanfiction #atsv miles #atsv hobie #atsv gwen #atsv pavitr #spider punk #ghost spider #spider uk #spiderman india #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv gen #spiderverse gen #hope im using these tags right :/ #vhstown

[moralesmilesanhour]

Show Me Ur Gen Fics! (please...)

Hey spiderverse enjoyers - both I and a few others as of recent have noticed that it's really difficult to find general (meaning non-ship) content for the spiderverse characters.

Aside from the fact that this genre just isn't as popular among readers (or writers for that matter), it's also difficult to search for. There's no specific tag for this sort of thing in the way that you can just search the name of a ship and easily come across what you're looking for.

Sooo...my suggestion is that we try to make this easier by creating a tag for it! Idk if this will work but I want to try 😭

If you see this and write spiderverse gen fics, feel free to put your work (new or pre-existing) under #spiderversegen (you can choose to put a space or not) or #atsvgen ! I will read it, and try to reblog as many as I can! If you don't want to do that you can also shoot me an ask with a link to ur fic and I'll reblog it with the tag myself :)

(Pls reblog so that this can circulate 🫶🏾)

#atsv fic #miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown fic #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #gwen stacy x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #blabbering #spiderversegen #spiderverse gen #atsvgen #atsv gen

[atlcscp]

First time drawing the sillies pleasce excuse the inconsistencies </3 ^_^

#I ALSO STARTED THIS LIKE WEEKS BEFORE. AND I HAD ARTBLOCK THEN RIP #BUT I HAD 2 FINISH IT !!! HIIIIII #I LOVE THEM SO SO SILLY MISCHIEF FRIENDLIES FOREVER!!!! #hope everything looks ok for hobie i gen have no idea how to draw wicks ive been figuring it out but these were drawn way before #and i didnt change it much</3 sawry #BOOM !! #hobie brown #spiderman #spiderverse #atsv #across the spiderverse #pavitr prabhakar #spiderpunk #spiderman india #isa's art #i need to draw them more.. <- has drawn them more but hasbt finished #marvel

[theloveinc]

any hobie and/or miguel icks? 😟

whoever sent this: thank you + i ADORE you. i hope you don't mind i'm switching up the formatting/style a it in comparison to my older icks... shorter list, more detailed <3

(warning: some fem terms used at the end, such as “mama!”)

-

Miguel O'Hara

- This guy... has some long ass toenails. Type of toenails that poke you at night in bed, and tear holes in his socks.

It's maybe somewhat related to the claw thing he's got going on? Has a lot stronger and faster-growing nails than the average person... but the real problem here is that he's TERRIBLE about clipping them. Claims it doesn't bother him even remotely and that you're the one overreacting when you ask him to... but hardly anything gets through to him about it. You probably even offer to do it for him one day, thinking the offer of a foot massage would sway his thinking and that it'd actually work... but he fought you on that just as easy...!!!

...which is how you came to the conclusion that you have a man who'll even argue w/ you over toenails. Petty boy.

- Miguel is also tired 24/7. AND yeah, it's pretty hard to be un-sympathetic towards that, but he's tired in the... I'm-gonna-prioritize-this-one-last-email-over-saying-goodnight-to-you way. Which gets real irritating when you're asking him to help you out w/ anything, like cleaning up or answering a question or JUST HAVING A DAMN CONVERSATION W/ YOU and he's using "I'm tired" as an excuse when his response is shitty or distracted.

Like one of those stupid guys whose always squinting at their damn iPad when you ask what he wants for dinner... which is ironic given that he'll get snippy at you for not giving him your full, entire attention whenever he wants it. Type of man to start picking imaginary lint off your head when you're simply trying to finish up a text before engaging him so that you aren't distracted.

- Odd about Lyla. Not that he loves her or anything, but she'll like pop up to give him updates about whatever even if you're MID-MAKEOUT session and he won't change that setting. Pulling away from your lips all pouty and squinty only to glare at his watch for thirty seconds before trying to go right back into kissing you.

No. No sir.

(Lyla will also always say something to or-but-usually-and about you, which... Okay, she's an AI and doesn't Get It... but it's still weird because it feels like someone you don't know just walked into the room.)

- Picks his nose when he's too busy to find a tissue, and forgets to sanitize his hands after. Denies this when you tell him.. but you've witnessed this multiple times (he's weirdly kind of whiney for a dude and lazy for a workaholic LOL).

Hobie Brown

- Lovely boyfriend because he doesn't give a crap about your appearance or the idea of needing to "look nice" for a man... but also stupid, nuisance boyfriend because this means he doesn't give one hoot if you try to get all gussied up for him. Nags you about wasting time getting ready because he doesn't need you to do all that instead of just saying "THANK YOU, YOU LOOK NICE." Even probably complains about you feeding into gender stereotypes or w/e when you do something like shave your legs or pluck your eyebrows😭

You try to talk to him about this, ask if he even cares that you tried to look nice, and he skirts around admitting it because he has an argument for everything. "'oughta know I think you're pretty either way"-ass when you just spent an hour trying to look all good for him.

- Tries to share the most obscure music with you... which is like, sweet in concept, but weird when it actually happens since it's never like a generic love song but an eleven minute underground jam session.

Which isn't to say he has bad taste in music, usually it's fine if not fantastic... but you try to tell him you don't want to listen to some dude's first draft of himself banging on a drum set for a full album and he's like: "tsk."

HOBIE. TSK??? FUCKING TSK????????? WHAT ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE????????

(He'll also use his to get out of listening to your music. Claiming his "inconsistency" is why he liked your playlist yesterday but not today. Stop!!!)

- And you know I gotta say it, he's a punk, after all: absolutely refuses to clean his favorite leather jacket, and it smells RANK. He's genuinely sentimental about it, though... and if you even try to bring up cleaning it somehow (even if very gently), he's acting like you betrayed him. Goes through the five stages of grief over you asking him not to wear it on one of your dates, and teases you by TALKING to it:

"Mumma didn't mean that, jackie. She just doesn't understand our lifestyle, does she?" while giving you a (lighthearted) stink eye.

#miguel o'hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie #miguel #atsv #LOL THIS WAS SO FUNNNN I HOPE ITS OK TO READ #I'M EBARASSED THO SO YEEET #SORRY I BAD AT TAGS LATELY WAHH #caitie things #gen #anon

[nadiawritessomething]

Have you ever thought

Have you ever thought about how early 42 had to grow up?

No, not just grow, but to grow up, deep down and physically he is still a child. He is fifteen damn years old. He loves comics, technology, stupid jokes, and drawing.

But he's left alone, with a single mom and an uncle who can't play that big of a role in the family even if he tries.

I wouldn't be surprised if he's been able to cook a light evening meal for himself (and his mom) for a few years now.

I wouldn't be surprised if he knows how to iron, do laundry, mop the floor, and all these other household chores that usually fall on the mother's shoulders.

But Rio is exhausted. Rio works a lot. And that's why Miles will do everything he can to make her work a little less, to give her a few hours of rest.

I wouldn't be surprised if all the breakdowns, broken shelves, and doorknobs that have fallen off have been on him since he was thirteen.

Not because it's a "man's" job, but because mom comes home late at night and that's the last thing Miles G. wants her to do. Although Rio did ask Miles to leave it to her.

But he's a pushy guy, you know.

I wouldn't be surprised if he knows exactly all the water, gas, and heating bills. He knows how much they owe over the past months, he knows how much money they need to pay back to stay afloat.

I wouldn't be surprised if he and his mother sit together in the evenings and count it all up, no longer complaining that the other needs a break.

Because they need each other.

Because Miles is Rio's son, and Rio is Miles' mother.

And if Miles has to sacrifice his childhood, his "golden" teenage years to make his mom feel a little better, he will do it without a second thought.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #miles 42 #miles g morales #aaron davis #prowler miles #earth 42 miles #spiderverse #I will write some fluff I promise #Just wait a little #I will bring all kinds of Miles G gen #And let's not forget that Miles also has a 'job' #Equally exhausting work #But he still believes that Rio deserves a rest more than him #my boy (

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Crimes against humanity: Calling Miguel O'Hara a 'boomer' despite the fact he was born fifty years after any of the people reading this.

Crime against humanity 2: Forgetting that HOBIE is the ACTUAL boomer in this situation and he is technically 'older' by birth year.

#do you know what a boomer is ALSO HE'S LIKE 30 #HE'S FROM 2099 FOR CRYING OUT LOUD AND HE'S LIKE 36 MAX #HE WAS PROBABLY BORN LIKE 2063 #He's Gen Sigma or Delta or something #idk them Greek ass sorority letters #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara

[raileurta]

Part 2 of Miguel having a gen z style sense of humor and freaking out people.

--------------------------------------------------

Peter: Well crap, we're both out of web fluid. How far do you think the window is distanced from the ground?

Miguel: Enough.

Peter: ......

Peter: I just want you to stop saying odd shit.

--------------------------------------------------

*Caramelldansen is blasting and Miguel is faced down surrounded by various bottles of alcohol with Lyla singing in the background*

Lyla: 🎶Ooo wa o wawa dance on my balls🎶

Miles thinking: What the hell is she singing?

Miles: Umm.. tío are you... okay?

Lyla: 🎶cat fucking a handbag🎶

Miguel muffled: ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵐᵉ ⁱ'ᵐ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵉⁿʳⁱᶜʰᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵉⁿᶜˡᵒˢᵘʳᵉ.

Miles: I think we're going to need to have a tal-

Lyla: 🎶YOURS ONLY YOURS I OWN A SINGLE DANCE BAND, IT'S NO LIE! LISA SAID LOOK IN THE CROWD HARRY HAD A VAGINA INFECTION!!!!🎶

Miles: Please stop.

--------------------------------------------------

Noir: Sometimes I just let matches burn down to my finger tips just to feel something, anything.

Miguel: Have you tried walking around in a Costco? This would kill a Victorian child but you're further along your timeline so you shouldn't die.

Noir: What's a Costco?

*At Miguel's universe biggest Costco*

Lyla: I'm only 40% certain this won't give you a seizure.

Noir: *snorts some cocaine* I'm ready to FEEEEL!!! 🏃🏃🏃

--------------------------------------------------

#atsv #parental miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #spider noir #originally noir was going to drink McDonald's sprite but me and a friend concluded it would just put him in the icu #atsv lyla #peter b parker #miles morales #gen z humor #you decide what happens to Noir

[moonibinbon]

People seem to be very invested of late, increasingly in the past few years, of the concept of things needing to be “perfect” to be praiseworthy.

The number of reviews, posts, etc that are titled something along the lines of “flawed but great!” Or “not perfect but still good!”

It’s impossible for anything to be “perfect”, that doesn’t exist. But people feel like they have to tear things apart and criticize them to the moon and back before they’re allowed to voice their approval.

We’re so stuck in this perfection-culture in which something is either perfect, or it’s horrible and never should have been interacted with to begin with it’s always been awful and disgusting and anyone who likes it is stupid and should- (fun fact! Anything in the former category will eventually be examined deeper and inevitably relabeled as the latter because, again, perfection doesn’t exist!)

#more effects of gen z hyper-purity culture :) #fascinating how we’ve lost critical thinking so completely #that things must be perfect or they’re inherently Evil #and if you interact with it and don’t join in on the dogpiling then obviously you support it in real life #wanna know why we keep getting so many reboots and soulless cashgrabs and remakes? #because people already hail the source material as Perfect #and therefore Safe #so spending money on it is Allowed and not Evil because the content is not Evil #media criticism #inspired by all the jeancourse that’s been all over my dash today #disco elysium #but also #itsv #spiderverse #atsv #nimona #just been grating on me lately #very irritating #jean vicquemare

[the-named-anon]

“And then he hit me with a bagel!”

I just got the Franky doll and I wanted to see if some of her clothes fit Spot, and they did! And I like making scenes so I had to make this one,,,

Ultimate cross over of all time?

Some close ups <3

Also don’t mind the hallway in the background, I took these photos in my room haha

#nanon rambles #the spot #Franky Stein #spiderman across the spiderverse #monster high gen 3 #satsv #atsv #mh gen 3 #mh g3 dolls #action figures #dolls

[foxgloveciara]

To those people who like crossovers with tmnt and spiderverse; I found something you might enjoy

I forgot the time point because im stupid and it was like 2am while I was rewatching it, but around where miles and Aaron are painting the expectations piece in the subway tunnels, just after we see miles walk off after being bitten by the spider we see this

Pretty unassuming right? Except if you turn your eyes over to the little wooden(?) plank to the left of miles and Aaron, above the spider.

Leo was here in *blue*

Basically that's my thing I think people who like crossovers with tmnt and atsv :)

We do see this a little before this but netflix wouldn't let me screenshot so I had to use my phone, and this was one of the more clearer shots tbh. Anyway take this how you will

#tmnt #rottmnt #idk what the tags are for a spiderverse and tmnt crossover?? #tmnt spiderverse?? #i know theres the ship between miles and mikey (i dont really like but you do you) but i gen cant think of the name #was it something about sunflowers??? #i guess if those shippers find this theyll know lol #spiderverse #atsv #teenage muntant ninja turtles #oh that reminds me im seeing mutant mayhem tomorrow hehe #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

[punkeropercyjackson]

I love hobies design as much as the next guy but there's one thing about it that really irks me

And that is that his arms are too long for him to be physically correct. His fingertips hit his knees. His KNEES. It's so wrong, and every time I notice it, I have to scroll away.

When I first noticed it I had to Google what a person looks like

FR?????????LEMME SEE(Damn and i thought i was gangly-)

#also thank you SO much for reminding me to awnsering these w/ your like on my post😭😭😭 /gen #parkerpresentz #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #askies

[novagalaxy24]

Ya know, sometimes when you've got two braincells with a brainrot each, ya just gotta.... Mash 'em together. Like barbie dolls.

Spiderman cover reference, Sketches, and Aggie/Magma conceptualizing under the cut

(ty to Cre8tives, Elomation for patiently giving me feedback every time I made some small change and shoved it in front of them)

(And also TheUntitledArtist for telling me I should totally do this)

#generation loss #gen loss #generation loss fanart #genloss ranboo #ranboolive #genloss fanart #my art #Spidersona #of a sort #spiderverse fanart #atsv fanart

[moralesmilesanhour]

lil' baby crush

summary: gwen pays miles a visit and gets him to go to one(1) college party. wc: ~1400 a/n: this isn't canon-compliant in that gwen is gay and miles is bisexual here. he's like the 'damn nobody want u fr' 'im sayin like!' image. enjoy!

Miles sighed and sunk down into his chair, the blue light from his laptop illuminating his face. He was currently the only one occupying the shared dorm room, working on an essay that wasn’t due until next month while his roommate was out doing…whatever he was doing. 

Partying, probably.

Despite what he’d often told his parents to explain his sudden disappearances, Miles didn’t really do parties. 

He’d had a taste of them in the form of school dances at Brooklyn Middle: you get there, maybe talk to your friends a little, then stand around trying to figure out how, when, and for how long to dance while the same ten songs rattle your eardrums. 

If he wanted to blast his ears with music for several hours straight, he figured that’s what his trusty bass-boosted headphones at home were for. No complex social ballet required. Even better, he could choose the playlist. 

But it sure made for some boring-ass Friday nights.

Miles got up and rolled his shoulders, fully prepared to go lie in bed for another hour, when he caught a familiar golden light flash across his window. He grinned to himself, wondering which member of what Hobie had affectionately called ‘the Spider-band’ had swung by for a visit.

Tap, tap, tap.

Gwen’s white mask appeared in the frame. She waved as Miles padded over to the window and pushed it open wide enough for her to climb through. Just as her muddy converses were about to touch the floor, he raised an eyebrow.

“Gwanda, you know better.”

“Right, forgot about that,” Gwen laughed, kicking them off. “Old habits, y’know?”

Miles shook his head and grinned.

“So, how’s the thing with MJ going?”

Gwen removed her mask, revealing shoulder-length blonde hair. It fell in choppy layers, and she had replaced the soft pink dye at the tips with a fiery orange.

"Well, it's…going."

Miles crossed his arms.

"Gwen…You did talk to her, right?"

"Y-yeah! I spoke to her," Gwen gnawed at her bottom lip before mumbling, "Once. On the subway."

"Absolutely tragic," he exclaimed dramatically as he fell back on his bed. "My best friend has absolutely no game!"

"Oh, you're one to talk! You think I forgot about 'the shoulder touch'?"

Miles sat straight up.

"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."

"Just saying," Gwen hopped off of the window sill and sat at Miles' desk. "Enough about me, though. How's campus life? You get wasted at any parties yet?"

Miles shrugged.

"I got invited to one nearby that's supposed to be tonight, but I stayed back. No club meetings this week, either, so…"

Her eyes widened.

"So you're just sitting here?"

"I'm being productive," he corrected, pointing to his laptop. "See? I'm half-way done with that essay, I could probably turn it in a week early."

"Miles."

"What? I'm chilling, Gwen, seriously! Just me and my, uh…" Miles glanced at his bookshelf. "...crossword puzzles."

Gwen stood resolutely, already having made a decision in her head.

"Pick an outfit, we're going to that party."

"Whoah, whoah, wait, hold on–"

Miles hopped to his feet as she threw open his closet and began rummaging through it. 

"Since when do you wear sweater vests?"

She held up several hangers with sweater vests of various colors.

"I wanted to look distinguished…?"

"Nerd," she snorted. "Oh, this bomber jacket looks sick! Feel like going out with it?"

Miles laughed, "Something tells me I don't have much of a choice."

"Correct," Gwen smirked, tossing the jacket at him. "I’m gonna have to borrow one of these hoodies."

-

After a twenty-minute walk (Miles didn’t want to risk swinging), the two stopped in front of a run-down apartment building. Loud music and spinning lights from mini disco balls spilled out of the windows.

"This is it," Miles breathed. "If my first party sucks or gets raided by the cops, I'm never speaking to you again."

"Never know until you try," Gwen replied. "Shall we?"

The place was already packed. There was a lively beer pong game happening in the kitchen, while a pack of students were strung along the walls in the living room puffing clouds of marijuana smoke into the air. The group in the middle of the room, of course, was dancing. Or something that closely resembled dancing.

Miles glanced across the room, scanning the sea of swaying bodies when he noticed one lounging on the couch.

The figure was staring down into a red solo cup, a full head of blonde, ear-length dreads obscuring half of his face until he looked up. 

In a devastating miscalculation, Miles let himself stare a little longer until he realized that their eyes had met. He froze, as if the stranger’s dark eyes kept him in place.

Gwen followed his line of vision. She’d seen that look on Miles’ face before: once when they first met at Visions, and again when Hobie had invited them to a concert and she’d caught Miles ogling the bassist. 

She grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. 

"I'll be by the speakers. Go get 'em, tiger."

Despite his sneakers feeling like they were made of concrete, he took a step forward, then another, keeping his eyes on his target all the while. 

The other boy tilted his head in amusement. 

"Um," Miles began, "I-Is this spot taken?"

"Well, I'm sitting in it, so…"

Real smooth, Miles.

"No! I mean, like, next to you–"

The boy’s eyes became crescent moons as he burst into laughter.

"Relax, I know what you meant. Spot's free," he gestured towards the empty area on the couch to his right.

"O-oh, cool. Thanks," Miles laughed awkwardly. The couch sank beneath him when he sat down.

How the fuck do you flirt with dudes?

He could barely fumble his way through flirting with women, riding almost entirely on them finding his utter lack of game endearing. Now here he was, glancing back and forth between the stranger and a wall.

"Yo, you want a drink?" The boy asked, snapping Miles out of his thoughts. "You look like you need one."

He was probably right.

"Sure, I don't mind."

He rose to his feet, revealing more of his outfit: an oversized black tee layered over a white shirt, with a red kilt draped over a pair of dark wash jeans. A real Jaden Smith type, it seemed. But maybe Miles was into that. 

It wasn't long before he returned with a second solo cup, which he pushed into Miles' hand. 

"So," he asked with a grunt as he sat, "Why you not dancin'?"

Miles snorted, and shook his head.

"I don't dance. Was never too good at it."

"Ah, but is the point of dancing to be good at it?"

"Don't get philosophical with me now, I'm a STEM major," Miles grinned, then took a sip of whatever was in his cup. 

He tried his best to hide his disdain for the brown liquid, but the grimace on his face made it evident. "I didn't catch your name, by the way."

"Call me TJ."

"That's a cute name–I mean, a nice name," Miles winced at himself. "A very…normal name."

TJ laughed, revealing a gap-toothed smile that made Miles' chest swell. "Thanks. Yours?"

"Miles. Miles Morales."

"I think your name's cuter. Bonus points for alliteration."

Miles felt heat rushing up to his ears and cheeks. He hadn't had enough to drink for him to blame it on that. 

"So, why aren't you dancing?" He asked, changing the subject.

TJ shrugged. 

"I prefer to people-watch."

"Oh, so when you do it, it's 'people-watching'," Miles made air quotes with his fingers. "I see how you move."

"And yet here you are, talking to me anyway. No idea why you chose me to sit next to, by the way. It's hella empty seats."

Miles bit his lip. 

"I…didn't come over here just to find a seat, actually." 

TJ raised a bleached eyebrow. 

"So what did you come here for? Clearly not to get high, your pupils look normal."

Miles took a deep breath, his heartbeat louder in his ears than the music.

"You, um…You're…"

Holy shit, just say something!

"Do you like boys? I'm not asking for a friend."

Oh my god. Not like that.

TJ blinked, then a smirk began to spread across his face as he came to a realization. 

"Why, yes. Yes I do. You wanna get outta here? I know a place with actual food."

Miles let out a breathy laugh.

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that."

"I think I have some idea. You're sweating."

Before he could respond, Miles felt his phone vibrate in his jacket. It was Gwen.

-gwanda: finally!!

-gwanda: if u don’t get his number im gonna be so mad at u. be back by midnight!!

He rolled his eyes.

-miles: ok mom

Miles shut off his phone and rose to his feet, as TJ had already done. He took a deep breath.

“Shall we?”

#can i even tag this as a gen fic #miles morales fic #miles morales headcanons #gwen stacy headcanons #atsvplatonic #miles morales x reader #atsv fic #miles morales x oc

[arachnicas]

Imagine Miles being affected by what happened at Spider Society, but instead of hanging up his suit, he decides to create a Spider Society for Spiderlings, young Spiders who are just starting out and need a community of their own to train, have fun, make friends, and have a support system that won't reject them like Miles was rejected.

Miles Morales is eighteen-years-old when his little society flourishes and finds himself mentoring bright-eyed, web-swinging kids who all adore him and want to make him proud, except he's so damn proud of them and protective and doesn't want them to go through the same pain that he did when he was a kid. Sure, his Society doesn't have the large buildings and shiny gadgets like the one in Nueva York, but here, the Spiderlings are happy and thriving and learning new things about themselves every day, and for Miles, that's more than enough.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #in which miles learned from the adults who failed him by being better #if miguel can create his own little society than so can miles #except instead of going after anomalies he mentors and trains spider kids #and he doesn't do this alone like miguel #miles is joined by other young adults who are spiders like him and want to help the next gen #maybe aunt may comes back from florida to help miles and teaches a class that helps parents of spider kids learn how to be supportive

[theloveinc]

miguel o'hara x reader - little thing abt migs w/ a baby boy instead of a baby girl. takes him a bit to get used to it.

(warning: ref to you giving birth + the word "bosom" but nothing more than that, bad scenery)

-

Miguel is having trouble with his… son. 

It still feels strange to say it—a son, his son. Born covered in hair and slightly purple with a screeching cry that could’ve shattered even opera house windows. You, in the sterile white bed, not decorated in memories of pink but of blue. And him, by your side, not unhappy but surprised, because of all the things he knew and expected, it wasn’t this. 

In all the universes where he’s happy, he sees himself with a daughter. Beautiful, smiley Gabriella, with curls he’s able to tie up in braids, a passion for soccer he helps hone, a connection deeper than blood and DNA itself. He has yet to find a version of himself with both you by his side and a son in his life. 

“Pa.”

His baby babbles, strapped safely into the jumper you put him in for Miguel to watch while he works, plump legs hanging from the soft cotton that keeps him upright, chubby hands batting against the fake rainbow buttons that kept him entertained until now. 

“Son."

“Pa,” he gurgles again, little pout on his baby plump lips as he gazes, brown eyed, up at his father, “pa.”

"Gabriel," he says, and he can imagine your voice. The half-critique you’d pester him with about taking your son seriously, celebrating his feats of speaking with adult words to help him understand more, more, more… then he can imagine you nagging him for also being too formal. “What is it, mijo?” 

The acknowledgement doesn't work, and instead, the boy begins to cry: his sandy hair (that’s already beginning to darken and curl at its ends) flopping over his forehead with frustration when his feet start kicking but do not hit any ground.

Miguel thinks about calling you. Gabri’s always preferred your bosom to his, softening into your chest like dough the second you lift him into your arms, and smiling as though he it's where he belongs. It's almost as if all the other universes Miguel visited before he was born had laid claim on him first, a stain of sorts that only a baby could detect in trying to bond with someone who was already imprinted on.

(He’s never been able to admit his jealously, barely even to himself; is this the life he’s supposed to be living? Did he just want these things because he assumed he was supposed to have them? Is his son a punishment for the expectations he was never supposed to have? Miguel tries not to ponder it too hard.) 

“Papa!” Gabri continues to wail, little fists knocking against plastic so hard that Miguel is finally forced to turn away from his many screens and face the sight of... his boy reaching his little arms up, up, up in asking to be held.

And that’s all it takes for him to melt. 

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel #atsv #i love a weird dynamic and esp one where like #it doesnt feel right at first #too embarrassed to type up everything i was thinking of #so just enjoy! sorry if bad #caitie post #gen #caitie things #kids tw

[nadiawritessomething]

A STAR

Miles had never known what stars looked like. He'd only seen their shapes, shining specks scattered across the black sky, obscured from the rest of the city by a thick layer of smoke and ash. The cold asphalt stung his hands, made his battle scars burn and swell, and his words stuck in his throat every time he tried to say something into the silent air. But no matter how hard he strained his eyes, no matter how hard he tried, the stars were too far away. Too weak to shine their rays through this veil.

Perhaps Miles was the same way. Equally weak and invisible to people, equally unrecognizable and unknown. He didn't have much time to think about who he could be. He didn't have time to think about who he was, or even who he was now.

Uncle Aaron told him that he was an amazingly talented child whose potential was as hard to unlock as it was to destroy. Uncle Aaron said that he would try his best to make sure that all of his -all of their- efforts were not in vain.

Uncle Aaron was lying.

His mother hugged him, whispering in his ear that he was the smartest boy she had ever known. She assured him that she had no problem paying for Miles's school, that they would have enough for everything if she worked a little harder. She said it wasn't a burden.

His mother was lying, too.

Sometimes Miles thought about what he had lost, only on those nights when no one saw or heard him, only when the evenings were particularly icy and the gunfire outside the window was too loud.

And still, he was a perfect combination of everyone he respected and loved. Frequently he would hear from distant relatives (who had long since stopped calling only on holidays and only when it was convenient for them) how much of a spitting image of his mother he had become, or jokingly remark on how much his Spanish had improved in recent years.

Often, he would receive a friendly, somewhat gentle pat on the shoulder from his uncle, saying that Miles was "learning the best from him." His uncle's habits, peculiarities, fighting techniques - all of this was slowly becoming a part of his being, carving Miles' tiny self into him right alongside his mother's childhood advice

Because, most likely, Miles Morales was simply not destined to become a star.

He was not destined to repeat his father's heroic physique, always hiding in the shadows behind a mask. It was not written in his fate to have his father's smile, love of silly jokes, or work ethic. It was not in the world's plan to give him even the smallest, most vile part of the man he longed to know a little more about. To remember anything but the crooked memories distorted by the evil game of his brain.

Except, perhaps, the eyes. One of his eyes was a slight shade of green, somewhat reminiscent of his mother's. The other was coloured like a dark honey, almost black at certain angles of light. You could say that his face served as a reminder of both of his parents with different reflections. And yet, it had nothing special behind it, nothing that he wanted to hold on to like a lifeline - it just served as another reason why Miles didn't like looking at himself in the mirror.

And for a very long time, Miles really couldn't understand what exactly he was missing. What was the reason, the mistake, the glitch in the system that ruined his own life?

Until he met him. A boy who looked like him like two peas in a pod. A boy who was him in every literal sense of the word. He shone, blocking the obstacles on his way, illuminating his own faltering path in those moments when there was no other source of light around. His eyes always burned with fire - not the kind of fire that burned houses - and never went out for a second. In all the time Miles had known him, himself, he had never seen anything in the double that resembled his own emptiness.

Miles Morales.

His mom stops, looking up at the doppelganger. Miles didn't hear what they were talking about - he was too busy clearing the table after the last dinner. But he definitely heard the last words she spoke, in a whisper and in a rush. Something that should have been left between the lines.

"You act so much like Jeff." Her voice was quiet, almost absent "And don't even realize it."

She would never say something like that to him.

Perhaps, a timid smile, excessive risk-taking, and strange stories were what it meant to be a hero. What it meant to be a star. What it meant to be who his father was.

What he was supposed to be.

But no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much effort he puts into being a hero, the Prolwer will not be one. Not the way they want to.

Miles Gonzalo Morales will not bring even the smallest part of Jefferson Morales into the world.

Because, most likely, Miles Morales was simply not destined to become a star.

And the universe was never going to listen to him anyway, was it?

#across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales #miles 42 #miles g morales #prowler miles #earth 42 miles #spiderverse #aaron davis #jefferson morales #gen #character analysis #“Jupiter was supposed to be a star but failed” #yes him #fanfiction #atsvgen #atsv fanfiction