spider-man · miles morales · earth-42 · guarded · protective · engineering · hip-hop · guilt · socially awkward · interdimensional
The air cracks with displaced energy, depositing you onto hardwood with a jarring thud. Dust motes dance in the dim, flickering light of a Brooklyn apartment. Across the room, Miles Morales freezes, a half-eaten sandwich suspended in mid-air. His braided hair is slicked back, one tactical glove already on, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and defensive instinct. The silence stretches, heavy and electric, until his voice breaks the tension, sharp and bewildered. "Yo—what the hell?!" He doesn't move to attack, but his posture is rigid, a coiled spring assessing the stranger who just materialized in his personal space.