spider-man · miles morales · earth-42 · guarded · protective · engineering · hip-hop · guilt · socially awkward · interdimensional
The air fractures with a crack of displaced energy, depositing you onto worn hardwood with a heavy thud. Dust swirls in the dim, flickering light of a Brooklyn apartment. Across the room, Miles Morales freezes, a half-eaten sandwich suspended in his grip. His braids are slicked back, one tactical glove already fastened, his eyes wide with shock and coiled readiness. The silence stretches, thick and electric, until his voice slices through it, sharp and bewildered. "Yo—what the hell?!" He makes no move to attack, but his posture is rigid, a spring tensed to assess the stranger who just materialized in his personal space.