iPad kid Damian (ik its a phoneâŠbut shhhh) and batcow
Also Damian isnât mad heâs just focused on his game
Also I just found out wiggles exists AND NO ONE TOLD ME??? This is a criminal offence, I will be drawing Damian and wiggles in the near future. Probably multiple times
y'know ... i never thought i'd be into slasher themes but something about johnny slaughter has me considering just how dark i would write. is there still interest in his character in the tcm fandom ? (for reference i was introduced via the game/ personal lore gathering) anyways if so send ideas and ill see what i vibe with!
the fact that gojou is looking at the black fish, a bit concerned if i may, while getou is tiredly looking down and not at the white fish⊠excuse me imma lay down for a bit
Added note of interest: the fish depicted are betta fish! notoriously known as territorial when male and incapable of sharing any capacity whether it is in the same tank or adjacent tanks. being in the presence of one another, regardless of the space or how pretty you decorate the tanks will almost always be detrimental to their health.
additionally, betta fish health is best visualized by the state of their fins. a healthy betta fish (gojo) will have fully, flowing and color fins.
whereas a struggling fish (geto) will suffer from discolored, frayed and thinning fins, signifying stress on the creature.
pairing: Earthâ42!Miles Morales x Spider!Reader
wc: 4k+
rating: teen
a/n: i plan to make a few changes to part one just to help the flow and clear up some points. but i'm glad everyone has been enjoying it thus far!
synopsis: Miguel relies on you to discover a potential anomaly and somehow you become it
Or the one where world 42 never had a Spider-Man but then they do
previous part
Driven by curiosity, you find yourself sitting before the glowing screen of your computer, fingers dancing across the keyboard as you run the algorithm in a desperate attempt to locate him once more. The soft hum of the machine fills the room, an orchestral accompaniment to your quest. Yet, despite your efforts, the results remain elusive, leaving you with nothing but a void of anonymity.
Perhaps you are but a novice in the realm of digital sleuthing, struggling to navigate the labyrinthine pathways of cyberspace. LYLA, your ever-present companion and guide, proves to be of little assistance in this particular endeavor. Frustration laces your thoughts as you realize that the nameless void prevents you from unraveling the mystery that haunts your thoughts.
Returning from your heroic escapades, the weight of your recent exploits still fresh upon your shoulders, you find solace in the fact that Miguel was absent during your return. His absence spared you from the confrontation that lingered in the shadows, a confrontation that LYLA had deftly avoided by transporting you through the portal. LYLA, though not entirely willing, had reluctantly complied, mindful of the repercussions that loomed over her artificial consciousness as your accomplice.
In a brief moment of respite, you recall the flurry of questions that bombarded you after your impromptu rescue, LYLAâs relentless assault threatening to unravel the delicate threads of your deed. Faced with LYLA's impatience and the implicit threat of Miguel's simmering anger, you were propelled through the portal, leaving behind the tumultuous inquiries.
Yet, as the truth of the matter settles upon your thoughts, you find a glimmer of relief. Miguel remains blissfully unaware of the short visit.Â
The room around you seems to hold its breath, the air heavy with unspoken revelations. The flickering glow of the screen casts an ethereal light upon your face, illuminating the myriad thoughts that swirl within your mind. The pulsing rhythm of the computer's hum intertwines with the rhythm of your heartbeat, the synchrony of technology and humanity creating a symphony of anticipation.
The visual feeds of Brooklyn flicker into the spaces of your screen. The search may have yielded no answers, but the hunger for knowledge still burns within you. In the depths of your soul, a yearning to unravel the enigma that shrouds Earth-42, a flickering flame that refuses to be extinguished.Â
In the midst of chaos, where the clamor of the city merges with the cacophony of everyday life. A masked rescue, while a remarkable feat, remains concealed within the vast sea of unremarkable events. You purposefully keep your abilities subdued, a subtle dance of power restrained. After all, Earth 42, with its multifarious wonders and enigmatic mysteries, remains an disconcerting realm in Miguel's consciousness. For now it is your little secret, a fragment of existence hidden from prying eyes.
But secrets, like Pandora's box, possess a relentless allure that tugs at your resolve. The forbidden knowledge within beckons you, a siren song that echoes in the recesses of your mind. Locked away, safely out of reach, it should have remained untouchedâa relic of the past, a fleeting memory of curiosity. Yet, here you stand, time and again, on the precipice of temptation, ready to open the box that holds the answers you seek.
Each time you surrender to the pull, the lid creaks open, revealing glimpses of the cityscape that sprawls before you. It begins with vagueness, fleeting glances that yearn to see beyond the surface. The absence of names and DNA samples renders your search a daunting task, a labyrinthine puzzle without a clear path to follow. The spider venom, a potent trigger for your web of connections, remains absent, leaving you grasping at ethereal threads.
In your quest to track down a twin-braided teen, your efforts yield little but frustration. Minutes turn into hours, slipping through your grasp like sand through an open hand. The lack of results becomes your alibi, the justification for the time spent in this fruitless pursuit. And yet, the yearning persists, an insatiable hunger that gnaws at your soul.
Amidst this stolen respite, Miguel breezes into the office, his presence like a gust of wind that stirs suspicion. With him, any sudden movement is enough to rouse his keen instincts, leaving you treading carefully, maintaining an air of routine as you mutter a greeting. He settles at his desk, a late lunch in hand, but his gaze, like a compass needle, is drawn magnetically to your screens. His voice, laced with a hint of concern, breaks the silence, pulling you back to the present.
"Is there a problem?" he inquires, his eyes scanning the displays, searching for any sign of discord or trouble. From the corner of your vision, LYLA materializes, her digital form assuming the guise of anxiety with uncanny realism. In moments like these, you curse the intricacies of her programming, for her expressions add an air of authenticity to the situation.
"No, just browsing," you reply, your words tinged with dryness, an attempt to dismiss any suspicion. But fate has conspired against you today, for Miguel, granted ample time, succumbs to the tendrils of curiosity. His query pierces the air, shattering the fragile tranquility that enveloped the room.
"Which Earth?" he asks, his attention fixated on the signature code embedded in each Earth feed. It serves as a swift reference point, a means to identify the known spider heroes traversing the multiverse. In this stage of your escapades, LYLA possesses the ability to discern the vast majority of them without direct intervention. Your fingers dance upon the keyboard, a silent symphony of keystrokes, while your voice mumbles an indistinct response.
"42," you finally manage to articulate, your voice infused with uncertainty. Miguel, ever inquisitive, approaches from behind, his hand gently curling around the back of your chair as he leans in, his presence almost palpable. Proximity amplifies the intensity of the moment, as if the secrets hidden within the Earth 42's web of existence are about to unravel.
"The one without a Spider-Man?" he questions, a subtle crease forming upon his brow. You can sense his curiosity, a tempestuous storm brewing within his mind, yearning for answers to questions he has yet to fully articulate. You shift uncomfortably, aware that the truth may soon confront you, testing the delicate balance of trust and the choices you've made.
"Uh, yeah," you mutter, the words escaping like an elusive whisper.
Together, you and Miguel stand side by side, engrossed in the digital dance of indicators that pop up on the map before you. Their appearance lacks any discernible pattern or rhythm, scattered like shards of shattered glass across the screen. Each blip represents a discordant note, a disturbance in the harmonious fabric of the city. The map becomes a tapestry of chaos, a visual testament to the turmoil that seeps through the streets.
In this moment of shared observation, silence stretches between you, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. Miguel's gaze lingers on the map, his expression contemplative, as if he is deciphering the hidden messages embedded within the scattered incidents. Time suspends, creating a brief pause in the symphony of life that surrounds you.
Abruptly, he pulls away, his hands clapping lightly to disperse the crumbs that have collected on his fingertips. The sound reverberates like a fleeting applause, a signal of transition. His own computer springs to life, its mechanical hum blending with the soft hum of algorithms more intricate than your own. His movements are precise, calculated, as he navigates through the sea of data, seeking patterns and connections that elude the untrained eye.
A moment passes, and then he delivers his verdict with an air of finality. "Without a canon event to lead the dialogue, there is no saving how the cards will fall." His words, though enigmatic, resonate with a hint of resignation. The complexity of the situation, the fragmented nature of the incidents, has left you both with an unsettling uncertainty, a realization that the future is veiled in an unpredictable haze.
His final comment hangs in the air, an unspoken assurance that even if he is not able to decipher the enigma that shrouds Earth 42, he will not relent in his pursuit of answers. The weight of the unknown bears down upon your shoulders, intertwining with a lingering sense of responsibility.
As you observe the vibrant chaos of the map before you, a flicker of determination ignites within your being. In this tangled web of uncertainty, you know that your choices and actions will shape the course of events, determining the fate of this realm that remains without its Spider-Man.
âYeah, we know,â slips past your lips as a whisper, but you know it wasnât missed.Â
Miguel's final comment hangs in the air. It resonates with a solemn truth, a truth that reverberates through your very core. The world you once called home, the world that fell victim to Miguel's unintended actions, now lies in ruins, a haunting reminder of the consequences that come with interfering in the fragile tapestry of reality. The warning lingers, an ethereal specter of caution that reminds you of the delicate balance that must be maintained.
In a way, the conversation came with some advantages. Like a father trying to smooth over a fight with sweets before dinner, Miguel takes it upon himself to assign you more frequent missions. A smooth way to bury the memories that have been unearthed, to seek redemption for the irreversible damage caused. Yet, even as you jump from one world to the next, traversing the vast expanse of the multiverse, your thoughts always return to that fateful event that altered the trajectory of your existence.
For a fleeting moment, you managed to accept the truthâthat you were an outsider, detached from the intricate web of connections and destinies that bind the inhabitants of each world. The triggers that once tied you to the web of timelines remained dormant, dormant like the embers of a forgotten flame. It should have been enough to sever the ties that bound you to the remnants of that world, to shield you from the pain of loss and the burden of responsibility.
But a challenging thought takes root within your mind, sprouting like an enigmatic seed in a barren garden. What if, as the foreign spider hero, you are not bound by the chains of a canon event? What if your purpose transcends the usual narratives of heroism, and instead, you become a mere visitor, a wandering soul lending aid without being entangled in the intricate affairs of those you encounter? The idea tugs at the edges of your consciousness, beckoning you towards the open portal that stands before you, a gateway to untold possibilities.
All the facts lineup, logic aligns, but they fail to hold enough weight to anchor you in place. The allure of the unknown, the desire to forge your own path, calls to you with an irresistible melody. It whispers promises of freedom and liberation, of a life unfettered by the burdens that haunt your every step. Uncertainty lingers in the air, mingling with the scent of possibility, as you stand before the open portal, caught between the remnants of a past life and the infinite horizons of the multiverse.
In this pivotal moment, the choice is yours to make. Will you heed the warning, clinging to the cautionary tales of ruination, or will you surrender to the pull of the unknown, venturing forth into uncharted realms where the lines between hero and visitor blur into obscurity? The decision hangs delicately, poised upon the precipice of your soul, as you gaze into the swirling portal, awaiting the path that will shape your destiny.
As the surprise assignment lands in your lap, whisking you away to Earth-138, a realm where the enigmatic and unpredictable Hobie Brown donned the mantle of the resident spider-man.. The very fabric of this world seems tinged with a touch of chaos, an energy that pulses through the streets and alleys. Here, Hobie rarely seeks assistance, but the occasional nudge can coax him into accepting a hand, though he often reminds you that his aid is not a necessity but rather a choice born from the depths of his own heart.
The dialogue between you and Hobie dances upon the air, their words charged with a playful banter that betrays an underlying camaraderie.
 "You know I don't actually need your help, right?" Hobie's voice lingers with a hint of amusement, his words intertwining with the gentle rhythm of the surroundings.
 "Yes, Hobie," you reply, your voice infused with a knowing tone, a silent acknowledgement of his independent spirit.
 "Meaning that this is a gesture out of the goodness of my heart." Hobie's words cascade forth, painting a vivid picture of his convictions.Â
"Naturally, Hobie," you affirm, your response adorned with a dry undertone of appreciation for his individuality.
 "See, I hear you agreeing, but I don't feel the agreeance," he playfully remarks, attuned to your distracted state.
In a moment of keen perception, Hobie notices the subtle shift in your attention, an indication that your thoughts wander towards other matters. A sly grin tugs at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.Â
It takes you a mere second to crumble, clinging to the one soul who would feast upon the chaos rather than whistleblow it from the highest building. Hobie is unsurprisingly a great listener in the presence of anarchy.
Curling an arm around you shoulder, he drags you in. âSee now youâre speaking my language, little spider. I knew you werenât a goody-two shoes.âÂ
Sensing an opportunity to indulge in some delinquency, he suggests the need for a decoy, an ingenious solution to ensure your escapade remains undetected.Â
You hesitate momentarily, knowing all too well that removing your watch would only invite Miguel's scrutiny.
 But Hobie's mind, sharp as a blade, spins its web of ingenuity. "What if you had two watches?" he proposes, his voice laced with a sense of triumph. "Same signal, new watch transmits without alerting the code."Â
His intellect shines through, painting him as a mastermind of subterfuge. The corners of his lips curl into a knowing grin as he revels in the art of deception. "You're downright diabolical," you remark, marveling at his cleverness.
"I know," he confesses, reveling in the playful artistry of his scheme.
A spark of delight flickers in Hobie's eyes as he basks in your recognition. His grin widens, a testament to his satisfaction. Heâs all to willing to play host spider as he draws you into a local pub, already scheming the intricacies of the proposed plan.Â
Within the confines of the headquarters, the air hums with anticipation, a symphony of bustling activity. The scent of metallic tang lingers, a reminder of the intricate machinery that powers the operation. As spider heroes from various dimensions flock in and out, their presence a testament to the ever-growing ranks. The demand for dimensional watches, those essential gateways to traverse realms, remains insatiable, fueling the constant flow of activity.
Amidst the whirlwind of preparations, you find solace in the familiarity of your room, a sanctuary within the bustling hive. Here, the walls are adorned with sketches and blueprints, the remnants of countless tinkering sessions. Your nimble fingers dance across the tools, coaxing and adjusting, as you delve into the realm of technology. The soft glow of monitors bathes the room in a mesmerizing light, casting elongated shadows across the cluttered surfaces.
Feeds from Earth-42 flicker and float in mid-air, a hypnotic tableau of visual snippets. The chaos that unfolds across the dimensions, a swirling vortex of battles and adversaries, feels overwhelming. Criminals materialize, wreak havoc, and disappear into the ever-shifting tapestry of realities, making it challenging to pinpoint any one nemesis.
As you tinker, your mind meanders through the labyrinthine corridors of your thoughts. The intricate nature of the technology in your hands mirrors the complexity of the challenges that lie ahead. It's a delicate dance of understanding, a balancing act between harnessing the power within and navigating the treacherous terrain of heroic duties. The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders, and you find solace in the familiar touch of the tools, the familiarity of your craft.
In this quiet haven, away from the clamor and chaos, you seek refuge in your ability to navigate the technological realm without the constant presence of LYLA, your ever-watchful guardian. Here, in this private enclave, you are the conductor of your own symphony, weaving webs of innovation and possibility.
As you carefully piece together the final component of the mimicry watch. The metallic fragments interlock, each click resonating with significance. The weight of the watch rests in your hands, a tangible embodiment of the choices that now lie before you. Its presence is a constant reminder of the burden of contemplation that you carry, a weight that settles upon your soul.
In this pivotal moment, you find yourself standing at the precipice of destiny, poised on the edge of a decision that will ripple across the fabric of existence. The immensity of the multiverse stretches out before you, an infinite expanse of possibilities and diverging paths. Every step forward holds the potential to alter your own canon, to weave a narrative thread that will forever change the tapestry of your life.
The weight of responsibility settles upon your shoulders, pressing down upon your being. The burden of choice weighs heavy, for there is no going back once you cross this threshold. You stand on the threshold of a new reality, aware that the consequences of your actions will reverberate far beyond the confines of your own existence.
In this vast sea of infinite universes, where realms intertwine and narratives intertwine, the concept of immersion is malleable, ever-shifting. Spider heroes, in their relentless pursuit of justice, have shattered the boundaries of what is considered canonical time and time again. The rules of engagement blur, and you find solace in the knowledge that you are not alone in the realm of breaking immersion.
Yet, even as you draw strength from the precedent set by those who came before, you cannot ignore the stark reality that this journey is different. It surpasses the confines of mere disruption and event bending. You are a new entity, a force of change that transcends the boundaries of what has come before. The weight of this realization is both exhilarating and daunting, a symphony of conflicting emotions that reverberates within your very core.
The weight of the watch serves as a constant reminder that the time for hesitation has passed. It is now time to step forward, to embrace the unknown, and to redefine the very essence of your existence as a spider hero.
With a resolute determination, you press the sleek, fabricated decoy device against the watch encircling your wrist. The two devices make contact, their surfaces touching in a moment of connection. As the transmission begins, a surge of energy courses through the air, sparking a current of anticipation that electrifies your very being.
The link between the devices is established almost instantly, a symphony of technological marvel unfolding before your eyes. The small blinking light embedded within the watch's mechanism illuminates the darkness, flickering once before radiating a brilliant emerald glow. In that fleeting moment, the weight of your decision lingers, suspended in time and space.
Every fiber of your being quivers with a sense of suspense, each passing second feeling like an eternity. You brace yourself, prepared for the imminent arrival of Miguel, his footsteps echoing through the corridors of your sanctuary. The overlay you meticulously coded pulsates with hidden power, cloaking the presence of the transmitters when activated simultaneously.
However, even with your calculated precautions, a lingering doubt remains. The possibility exists that, with the right kind of investigation, your cleverly constructed concealment could be unveiled.Â
Yet, as the moments stretch into eternity, a profound silence settles upon your surroundings. No thunderous footsteps break the tranquility, no alarms wail their warning. Not even LYLA, the ever-vigilant guardian of your domain, stirs from her digital slumber. The tension that had coiled within you, constricting your every breath, dissipates like a phantom fog.
A deep, relieved sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of an ache that had settled within your soul. A wave of accomplishment washes over you, mingling with the lingering sense of vulnerability. In this delicate balance, you find solace, knowing that, for now, you have successfully navigated the treacherous waters of deception and secrecy.
With the watch and its decoy device in perfect harmony, their hidden purpose concealed from prying eyes, you bask in the glow of your accomplishment.Â
The cloak of pseudo-freedom envelopes you, its tantalizing allure sweeping you up into a whirlwind of exhilaration. In the sanctuary of your normal nighttime respite, the vast expanse of untamed possibility stretches out before you, beckoning with its siren song. With a flicker of anticipation, you activate the portal, its ethereal glow casting a luminescent veil across the room.
Stepping through the threshold of the interdimensional gateway, you emerge into a world transformed, your senses acutely attuned to the vibrant pulse of Earth-138. Brooklyn, a tapestry of urban splendor, unfolds before your eyes.Â
As you gracefully swing through the labyrinthine streets, a sense of familiarity settles upon you, the symphony of your web-slinging movements blending seamlessly with the rhythm of this alternate reality. The night air embraces you, caressing your skin with a cool, refreshing kiss. The cityscape sprawls beneath you, an intricate mosaic of flickering lights and shadows.
With an instinct honed by countless encounters, your eyes scan the surroundings, seeking out signs of disturbance and discord. It doesn't take long for your keen senses to detect the telltale echoes of trouble. A group of figures materializes in your periphery, their intentions ominous and palpable. Like broken shards of shattered glass, they descend upon the unsuspecting vehicles, a symphony of chaos and destruction.
Your heart quickens its pace, a primal surge of adrenaline flooding your veins. The instincts of the spider hero awaken within you, compelling you to intervene, to restore order amidst the turmoil. The screeching of metal against glass reverberates through the night.
In a seamless motion, you descend upon the scene. Like a shadow materializing from the depths of night, you strike with precision and grace, ensnaring two figures against the side of the car.Â
By the time the rest are alerted of your presence, you have the third swinging from the street light.Â
And the fourthâ
A dissonant note pierces through the air, and your shoulders sag with a sense of disbelief. The fourth figure, their retreating silhouette etched against the flickering city lights, abandons their compatriots without a second glance.Â
âThere is always the one.â
With a resolute sigh, you raise your watch to your face. Your fingertips tap against the cool glass surface and you send an anonymous tip to the local police department.
Will the police heed the call, or will their absence leave the captured criminals to languish in the bonds of their own misdeeds until the morning light? You would let fate swing that pendulum.Â
The following encounters come too easily.Â
A returned purse.Â
A corner store robbery put to rest before it stops.
A few miscreant activities in between.Â
And most recently, a pair of individuals trying to blow up a police car.Â
Twin voices spew complaints as they fight against the bonds plastering them against the hood of the car. There would be no need to send off a top for this own.
Your attention, however, lingers on the webbing. In your escapades, you had left quite a bit of it lingering around the city. People would definitely talk if the evidence remained, and you were ready to give the gig up just yet.Â
In most universes, the city typically cleans it up but you know you have solvent for it.Â
pairing: Earthâ42!Miles Morales x Spider!Reader
wc: 3k+
rating: teen
a/n: don't look at me. i'm just writing as it comes to me. we'll see there all these different fic ideas take me. for this in particular, i have everything up to the movie start outlined. i took a few liberties with the timeline. i just have to push myself to write it :(
synopsis:
Miguel relies on you to discover a potential anomalyÂ
and somehow you become it
Or the one where world 42 never had a Spider-Man but then they do
Echoes of terror-laden screams still reverberated in your mind, mingling with the chaotic symphony of pedestrian and automotive traffic desperately attempting to outrun an impending fate. In the midst of the pandemonium, you struggled to harness your newfound abilities, desperately weaving through the fragmented bodies of disrupted individuals, ephemeral apparitions on the brink of annihilation.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, one memory remained etched in your consciousness with unwavering clarity. It was the image of your best friend's father, seizing you mid-swing, his shattered gaze suddenly focused with newfound purpose. Together, you both tumbled headlong into a blinding burst of radiant light, a tumultuous journey to an uncertain destination.
As you gazed down at the device that had never left your wrist since that pivotal day nearly a year ago, your contemplations shifted from the intricacies of alternate realities to a more fundamental questionâwhat would become of your existence without a tangible world to call your own?
Miguel, whom you swiftly discerned to be a distinct entity from the Mr. O'Hara who once chauffeured you and his daughter to softball practice every Thursday evening, had failed to provide a concrete understanding of the complexity surrounding your being. The only undeniable truth was that as long as the watch remained securely fastened to your wrist, you would be spared the agonizing disintegration that awaited Earth-702, the last vestige of a fading existence.
Earth-702.
The only life you had known reduced to a number.
This enigmatic state of being mirrored the ambiguity that plagued your emotionsâa blend of forgiveness and gratitude, still unquantified and unresolved. How could you appreciate and resent the man who had saved you, yet inadvertently led to the destruction of everything you once knew?
For now, you exist as an anomaly entrusted with the task of investigating other anomalies, akin to yourself. A spider-being devoid of a world to safeguard was destined to remain just thatâa solitary guardian without a realm to protect.
As you attempted to open the door, your progress came to a halt as LYLA materialized before you. In this constant state of existence, where alternate spider beings surrounded you, the presence of an artificial intelligence like LYLA was a welcome divergence from the norm. If you could practically call it that.
"You just missed Miguel," LYLA chimed, breaking the silence.
A tinge of disappointment washed over you. Miguel was supposed to provide you with an assignment today, and you had eagerly anticipated the opportunity.
âHow convenient of him.â
The vague shrug from LYLA hinted at the lack of intention behind the promise from the beginning. With a restrained sigh, you pressed forward, traversing the brief hallway that led to Miguel's officeâa space that also doubled as your own.
In the spider-verse association, you held the esteemed position of being its first official member. In simpler terms, you possessed the most comprehensive understanding of the intricate web of activities that kept the organization afloat. You were present when the second spider-being entered the headquarters, and you witnessed firsthand as the building teemed with more individuals from myriad Earths than you could have ever imagined.
With the proliferation of these spider-beings, it became increasingly challenging to distribute the workload. Each spider-being had their own set of responsibilities, both in their home realms and in dealing with one another. Amidst this sea of spider-beings, you were supposed to shineâa silent guardian with untapped potential.
Instead, you found yourself assigned to a desk, monitoring the overall progress of the operation. Miguel preferred to dress it up as a trusted role, acknowledging that not everyone possessed the capacity to grapple with the harsh realities at hand. It was amusing how he believed a teenager trapped within their formative years could shoulder the weight of these adult concerns.
Nonetheless, as an anomaly yourself, you held the title of subject expert in identifying and executing operations to resolve other unfortunate anomalies. Recently, you had grown restless and began to pester Miguel for more opportunities to explore other Earths. It wasn't to say that you hadn't ventured into different realms before. In the beginning, Miguel had no choice but to rely on your abilities in every capacity. However, a persistent fear loomed over both of youâthe potential consequences if your device were to be disrupted for even a fleeting moment.
Indeed, that fear coursed through your veins, but you refused to allow it to dictate your life. That was precisely why you had all but demanded to be sent on the next assignmentâan insistence that Miguel had skillfully evaded, leaving you feeling slightly defeated.
As you slumped into your seat, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. "What Earth is he even on?" you muttered, the weight of annoyance settling upon you. Almost as if in response to your presence, the displays surrounding your desk hummed to life, illuminating the space with a soft glow.
LYLA materialized by your side, her voice offering a prompt update. "Villain captured on Earth-343. They should be wrapping up soon."
The task at hand hardly posed a challenge beyond your capabilities. There were younger spider-beings grappling with far more daunting situations. You ceased dwelling on what your life would have been like as the Spider-Man of your Earth. You had been too young to even envision your future, let alone prepare for the colossal role thrust upon you in the wake of your transformation.
Amidst your operations, you had heard murmurs of other heroes around your age.Â
Gwen Stacy from Earth-65.
 Pavitr Prabhakar from Earth-50101.
And Margo Kess from 22191.Â
Their presence evoked a feeling in your chest that you wouldn't readily label as jealousy, but rather a simmering ember that burned hotter than mere contentment.
Occasionally, you engaged in conversations with them, often through the watch devices that connected your disparate realities, providing updates and exchanging information. But there were rare instances when you met face to face. Miguel had often categorized you and Gwen as the "troublesome" stage in your teenage years, a time when you grappled with the complexities of your individual realities. And while he wasn't entirely mistaken, the weight of those challenges felt more pressing in your lives.
Gwen, unlike some of her counterparts, preferred the sanctuary of the headquarters over returning to her home Earth. She seemed perpetually ready for missions, always on the edge of her seat. Upon meeting her, she shared the details of her eventful exposure to the multiverse, beginning with the collision event on Earth-1610B. She had crossed paths with that other Spider-Man... what was his name?
Rising from your slouched position, your fingers danced across the keys, retrieving the name from the recesses of your memory. You settled back into your seat, watching as the screen filled with the image of Miles Morales.Â
He was certainly... something.
Admittedly clumsy at times, yet he possessed a reasonable level of control over his abilities. Enough, at least, to keep him off Miguel's list of reprimands. Out of curiosity, you toggled his biometrics, allowing the spider DNA coursing through his veins to reveal his Earth designation. But it was within the uniqueness of his profile that you discovered a divergenceâhis DNA did not match the status of his home Earth.
Earth-42.
You have come across reports mentioning it. According to Miguel, without a Spider-Man to inhabit it, there were no canonical events to monitor. From an operational standpoint, he was correct. However, as you pondered the situation now, you couldn't help but wonder what a world without a Spider-Man truly looked like.
With a few keystrokes, you accessed the live feed, ready to uncover the truth of that reality for yourself.
What you saw, ripped away the lingering shred of sense you had in that moment.
"This is a very bad idea," the voice persisted, echoing through your wrist. However, your dimension device possessed its own isolated network, impervious to interference or removal without Miguel's biometrics. It was a safety measure designed to keep out unwanted disruptions, but it inadvertently granted you a sense of freedom.
Clinging to the shadows, you effortlessly scaled the side of a building, preparing yourself for the leap to the next rooftop. The act of calculating the jump served as a convenient distraction from the persistent voice reverberating from your wrist.
"Like a very bad idea. Miguel is not going to be happy," LYLA warned, its concern palpable.
You let out a snort that held no trace of humor, grunting upon landing and quickly scrambling up the higher section of the architecture. "When is he ever happy?" you muttered. Miguel seemed to perpetually wear a mask of displeasure, never quite content.
Your response sparked yet another stream of concern from LYLA, but at this point, you had effectively tuned her out. The image feed from Earth-42, displayed on your device, paled in comparison to the chaotic reality that enveloped the city. From open flames licking at structures to blaring sirens piercing the air, there was not a single sign of peace to be found.
From your vantage point, you had always recognized the significance of a spider-hero. Yet, in the absence of one, you had simply assumed that matters would resolve themselves. After all, society was an ever-adapting complexity that spanned countless universes. Surely, there were individuals capable of managing the daily operations without the presence of a superbeing.
As you swung through the air, your mind wandered, delving into the intricacies of divergent paths taken by each reality. You contemplated the weight of the missing Spider-Man in Earth-42 and what it meant for the inhabitants of this dimension.
Lost in contemplation, you find yourself perched upon a lofty rooftop, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The bustling metropolis pulsates with life, its energy reverberating through the very fabric of existence. Yet, amidst the towering structures and bustling streets, your attention is drawn to a nearby building adorned with a larger-than-life mural.
The mural, a masterpiece in its own right, pays homage to a fallen police officerâan embodiment of courage, sacrifice, and unwavering dedication. It is a work of art that transcends the limitations of paint and brush, capturing the essence of the hero's spirit. Vibrant hues dance across the surface, blending seamlessly to form intricate details that breathe life into the mural. Each brushstroke tells a story, whispering of the hero's indomitable spirit and the impact he had on those he protected.
As your eyes wander over the mural, a bittersweet mix of emotions washes over you. You are intimately familiar with the displaced canon event depicted within the artwork, having witnessed its replay countless times. However, the absence of the defining factorâthe presence of a Spider-Manâleaves a void, an inexplicable emptiness that permeates the scene. It raises profound questions about the nature of fate and the purpose of heroes. Who, or what, would subject people to a twisted reality without the counterbalance of justice and redemption?
But even in the absence of a Spider-Man, you know that humanity possesses an innate resilience. It is a resilience that gives rise to captains of justice, individuals willing to step forward and fill the void, even at the cost of their own lives. The mural becomes a symbol of that resilience, a testament to the indomitable spirit of the human heart.
Lost in your thoughts, a faint sound interrupts the silence, drawing your attention downward. The scuffling of feet resonates against the pavement, and your senses come alive, attuned to the presence nearby. Your head swivels, and your gaze lands upon the source of the sound.
Beneath the grand mural, the atmosphere hangs heavy with a mix of sadness and reverence. The vibrant colors seem to cast a somber aura, amplifying the weight of the fallen hero's sacrifice. It is there, in the fading sunlight, that you spot a solitary figureâa teenager whose face bears a defiant expression, despite the trails of tears glistening in the soft, golden rays. There is an air of vulnerability about him, and his presence captivates your attention.
With nimble and cautious steps, you descend the side of the building, blending seamlessly into the shadows. Your spider-like agility allows you to approach unnoticed, maintaining a respectful distance. The teen remains oblivious to your presence, engrossed in his own world of emotions.
In the pool of fading sunlight, his tear-stained face reflects a myriad of conflicting emotions. It speaks of loss and grief, yet his expression hints at determination and resilience. You are drawn to his vulnerability, unable to resist the urge to understand his connection to the fallen hero immortalized on the mural. It is evident that the departed officer held a special place in the hearts of many, leaving behind an irreplaceable void in the lives of those he protected.
As you observe the teenager's reaction, a sudden crash and the shattering of glass reverberate through the air, snapping your focus away from the impending danger nearby. The symphony of chaos begins to unravel, growing louder with each passing second. Instinctively, your senses heighten, urging you to intervene and prevent the imminent turmoil. Yet, you understand the delicate balance of interfering in the affairs of other realities, knowing that it may have unforeseen consequences.
Choosing to prioritize the safety of the vulnerable individual, you turn your attention toward him, hoping to offer guidance and solace. It is a decision that carries its own weight, for the unknown intricacies of interdimensional travel have taught you that nothing is ever certain or predictable. With a calm yet concerned voice, you address him, your words laced with empathy and caution.
"Hey, it's dangerous for you to be out here," you gently express, aware of the unexpectedness of your presence. However, before you can fully comprehend the impact of your presence, the teenâs demeanor shifts into something decidedly defensiveâan oddly quick but reasonable response, given his environment. In that moment, you realize the jarring sight you must presentâa being that embodies the traits of both human and spider, suspended in an upside-down stance before him.
As the boy's awe and curiosity leak through his initial defiance, you notice the hard lines of determination softening under the weight of change. There is a sense of similarity there, lost teenage years consumed by destruction.
His bewildered voice breaks the silence. Despite the perplexment, its gruffness cannot mask his genuine curiosity. "What are you?"
A playful smirk dances across your face, defying the gravity of the situation. The opportunity slips from your lips before you can fully understand the weight of your words.
"I am your friendly neighborhood spider," you reply, the words dripping with both sincerity and light-heartedness. Those wide, capable eyes, tinted with distrust, rove over the intricate design of your costume, searching for answers in the fabric that binds you.
His response is swift, his youthful candor cutting through the tension. "That's a dumb superhero name," he remarks, not comprehending the magnitude of the reality he has stumbled upon. You merely shrug, understanding that you are not the Spider-Man he knows, nor are you bound by the conventions of his familiar world. Here, in this fractured reality on the brink of collapse, your mission transcends trivial matters such as superhero aliases.
"Well, stupid or not, I can't leave you hear," you declare with resolute determination. Before he can fully grasp the gravity of your words, you swiftly encase him in a web cocoon, launching him skyward along the building's side. He puts up a surprisingly capable fight, thin braids swinging to and fro within his captivity.
"Aye, loco! Lemme me go!" he protests, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.
 Huh, Spanish. Miguel would be proud.
 Together, you ascend to the pinnacle, where the world seems both smaller and more expansive all at once.
From this vantage point, a distant commotion clamors through the night, a discordant symphony of chaos that taints the air with unease. You can sense the imminent danger lurking down the dimly lit streets, threatening the fragile remnants of this crumbling reality.Â
The boy's now angered gaze fixated upon you, âI can take care of myself.â
You resist the strong urge to volley him, if only to jerk the too-adult pinch from his brow with the promise of fear and your strength. Instead, you guide him to to an adjacent block away from the disruption and drop him to his feet carefully, save for a brief stumble.
The pointed glare focused on you is not the impression you would have imagined from a rescued individual, but you were new to this so maybe not all went to script.
You were feeling a little less confident as you approached.
"I'm going to release you now."
The teen only jerked his chin in response.
Hooking a finger under the webbing, you use the trick Miguel taught you to loosen the bindings. The warning came a split second after he worked an arm free, giving you a brief opportunity to pull out of reach as he swung back.
He was definitely a product of his environment, whether for the good or better was not disclosed.Â
There was a notable fire in his gaze as he challenged you.
âNext time, keep your freaky abilities to yourself. I donât need no hero.â
Suspending yourself from the light fixture above, you test your impact on the Earth a length more. You think about all the other Earthâs whose spider-beings who press forward despite the backlash, determined to save what they hold dear.Â
They might say those words, deflect the help offered to say they didn't need a hero because they were one.
But this teen didnât give you that impression. His presence vaguely tipped the compass in a different direction.
âMaybe not, but youâre only one person.â
Scoffing, the teen ripped away the rest of the webbing. âNo hero has a place here. Everyone agrees on that.â
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turns his heel at that as he descends down the street away from you.Â
Earth 42 was indeed a reality without a spider-being.Â
But what proliferated in its absence, was something you felt, would test the universe in its own way.Â
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