Earth 1610 Miles - Tumblr Posts

Two Weeks of Whump Day 4: Cage

Fandom: Across the Spider-verse

Summary: What happens when Hobie, Miles's only ally gets forced back to his own universe before he can remind Miles of his strength?

  Miles watched everyone slowly walk away, leaving him stuck in the red eltric cage he'd been trapped in. The strangers left first then Peni. After that Peter and Gwen.

    He wondered what Hobie was going to tell him before Jessica had to fight him. She dragged him back to what Miles could only guess was his universe, returning with his watch in hand.

    It became apparent to Miles that his only ally was gone. He was on his own. Sinking to the ground he began to shake. This couldn't be it, he had to get back. His father was counting on him. He needed to make up for everything he'd done; for killing Peter Parker, for all the stress he put on his parents, for the people he couldn't save, for existing.

    Trying to break the shield seemed impossible. Saving his father seemed impossible. Staying on the floor Miles began to lose control of his breathing. He pulled his hands up to his chest; his knees under him.

    Time passes as Miles's condition gets worse. He felt suffocated and helpless. Like no one should help him, like he was selfish for wanting to save his father. Instead he would fail both Uncle Aaron and him. Their tombstones would be next to each other; a hero buried next to a villain; brothers buried together.

    Slowly Miles ran out of tears. The salty water stained his face. He could breathe normally now and could think clearer. It was time to get out of this cage.

    The solution hit him like that bus hit Doc Octavia. Miles placed his fingertips against the red cage. He activated his venom and the electromagnet shield started to falter. When it didn't work he thought about what Hobie had said earlier, "lead with the palms not just your fingers."

    Pressing his whole hand against the shield broke it quickly. He finally stood up and jumped a few times to get blood flow in his legs. Now he just needed to find a way out of this hell.

    There were the watches but Miles didn't think he could manage to get a hold of one. There was also the gizmo that took anomalies home. That would just have to do.

@promptsforyourwhumpfic

AI-less Whumptober Day 12: Self Harm

Fandom: Spider-verse

Warning: Self injury

Summary: Miles used to love being a hero. Now it seems to be killing him.

  Miles loved being a hero. He loved the people and he loved the city. Yeah he was sore and tired most of the time but the cost never bothered him much.

    But then it happened. A little boy got caught in the cross fire. Miles held him as he died. He screamed and cried for his parents but they didn't get there in time.

    When the hero got home he tore off his costume. He started to cry as he threw it at the wall. Without much thought, Miles slammed his first I to his stomach. He did it again and again until he couldn't think about anything other than the pain.

    He fell to his knees and sobbed as he held his stomach. But the physical pain erased the mental pain. He already put himself in harms way, why not do what everyone else did? Take it out on him.

    As time went on, the hitting stopped being enough. When it stopped being enough, Miles went for the pocket knife his uncle had given him. He tore into his thigh. As the blood spilled he regretted his decision. What would happen if his parents found out?

    They would ask what he had to hate. But he couldn't tell them. There was no lie he could think of that would make sense. So there was no way they could ever know.

    Scars started to grow along side the once he was given by villains. His legs were the first victim of the knife, then his upper arms. Miles didn't dear cut his wrist. Summer would be a pain.

    Ganke started to notice something was wrong. He saw blood stains on his everyday clothing and found a rag that had been used to clean up blood.

    When he asked, Miles convinced him that the villains had just been more violent lately. Then he started to hide everything. Even small things.

    But the cuts grew worse. As the city started to wonder if Spider-Man was the hero he swore to be, Miles fel the pressure grow. He didn't handle pressure well anymore.

    As people died, he stopped doing well in school. When he stopped doing well, his parents talked to him. The asked what was wrong and why he was doing so poorly in his classes.

    As badly as he wanted to tell them, Miles just said he was tired. When they asked why, he got silent. It felt like he were living on lies.

    When Spider-Man got to his room he went to change into his pajamas. He looked in the mirror that was on the wall. He had bandages all over him and scars where the bandaids didn't cover. Miles felt tears falling from his eyes as he started to hyperventilate.

    He knew he needed to stop hiring himself, to get help. But how could he get help if he was a hero? All the help he needed was because he was a hero. The boy looked at his body in same. How could he have done this to himself?

    Miles hated being a hero. Sure he loved the people and the city but he was sore and tired all of the time. His body held the scars that he was given by himself and others. His mind held the trauma. He wondered if he'd be okay. 

Whumptober Day 12: Red

Fandom: Spider-verse

Warning: Violence

Summary: Miles used to love red. After becoming a hero he starts to hate it.

  Red used to be one of Miles's favorite colors. That was until he became a hero. Red became something he avoided seeing.

    Red always meant something bad. Red was the color of blood, of anger and hatred. But I was also one of his colors. In some twisted way it meant both death and hope.

    It wasn't something he found as beautiful as he once did. The red in the sky or painted on the wall used to make Miles happy. It used to be beautiful. Now it was terrifying.

    Sometimes beautiful things are meant to be scary. But not this. Deaths like these weren't beautiful and they weren't poetic. Nothing like that could ever be poetry. Yet people still made it into it.

    Words on a paper, the last few words being in red ink. They made Miles hate poetry. He couldn't stand red. Not anymore.

    Red things had no right to be so pretty anymore. The red sky only made him think of two things; blood and beauty. They were a terrible mix that should never go hand in hand.

    But they did. They skipped down the high school halls and giggled as they entered their class. The red on Miles's suit mirrored the purple of his uncle's.

    The red on Miles's papers when he got them back made him wonder about the papers of all of the victims of the villain's attacks and his mistakes. Were they good? Did their teacher mark them in red? Like how death claimed them? He marked them in red.

    Miles didn't want to hate red, he didn't want to associate it with so many bad things. The more he tried to relate it to the beautiful things in his life, the less he could look at them.

    In a way, red became his least favorite color. He'd never see it the same. Ever.

    But red was also Peter B's color. That and blue. He wondered if he had this problem. The color red has never been a problem.

    Miles started to have a reaction to certain shades of red. He asked his teacher to mark his paper in a different color. When she asked why, he delicately danced around the point. He avoided his favorite shoes and took down one of his posters.

    However Miles tried to use his red pen as often as he could. 'Exposure therapy' he told himself. That came to a quick stop when the pen broke and red spilled all over his sketchbook. Just like it spilled from the victims.

    He cried, cleaning it up. He hid the red mug he used to use all the time. When his parents asked where it went he just said "I don't know."

    Red would never be the same for him. Miles didn't like that something so common as a primary color was a trigger for him. Why did it have to be his  favorite color? Why did he have to see so much blood? What did the villains get from so much death?

    All questions that Miles would never get an answer to. He would instead scribble them in red into his sketchbook. Closing the book Miles stood up. He tried to leave his room. As he opened the door his mother held out a red mug. "Here, since your favorite one got lost!" She smiled.

    Miles smiled. "Thank you." Why did it have to be red?

Winter Whumperland Day 10: Tio de Nadal (Left to Die)

Fandom: Spider-verse

Waring: violence

Summary: Miguel finds Miles before the Miles rescue squad can.

  Miguel had found him. Miles tried to get away. He fought him as hard as he could. Miguel was stronger than him.

    Claws had dug into his back and had sliced his chest open. The boy had managed to shock him but it didn't seem to help. Miles had been thrown into multiple buildings and the concrete in the alley had cracks from the boy meeting the ground. One final throw had Miles unable to stand.

    He cried as Miguel walked away. He left him there. Being taken somewhere instead of left for dead seemed better. He was going to bleed out. Miles had no way to contact anyone. He was alone.

    The worst part was the fact that his mother might lose both her son and husband within a day of each other. Maybe not even a day. The Last time they had spoken hadn't been good. He needed to go home.

    Miles needed to save his father. First he needed to get up. His blood spilled onto the concrete. He tried to stand but fell. The street was somehow silent. There was no one to help him.

    The boy thought he was going to die. Had Miguel really done this for the multiverse? Couldn't he have just locked him up? No. This had been personal. If he was going to look at Miles like an anomaly, why would he treat him like one?

    That's all he was after all, an anomaly. A stain on the universe, something that never should have existed. The man had treated him like he was nothing. Like he wasn't someone's son, someone's friend, and the hero for his city.

    Now he was going to die alone. Miles felt like he couldn't breathe. He wishes to see the stars. If no one would come for him; if he had truly been left to die, then why not look for something pretty?

    There were no stars to be seen. Maybe if he died there would be no need for his father to. There would be no building collapse and there would be no child in a red shirt that was in the way. Maybe it was almost better that way.

    Miles tried to shake those thoughts away. He put a bloody hand on the brick wall behind him as he tried to get up. The words Peter had said lingered in his mind. "Spider-Man always gets back up." The words felt like a broken record. Every time something happened those words had gone through his mind.

    His other hand met the wall. Miles tried to pull himself up. He ended up with his hands being stuck to the brick instead. The world started to get blurry. He didn't want to be alone when he died.

    It was actually one of his biggest fears. If he died alone, there.was always the possibility that no one would ever find him. His parents would be we know what happened to him. Miles could do that to them.

    Being alone seemed cruel. The boy was fifteenth. He didn't deserve to die alone. Maybe he wasn't perfect, but he didn't deserve to be this scared.

    As the world started to go black, Miles had some comfort in the thought that if he was gone, his father wouldn't die. He knew his parents would tear the world apart to find him and it broke his heart.

    The boy wanted to go home. But as he fell unconscious, he grew to accept the thought he never would. His hands unstuck from the wall and his body hit the ground.

THIS IS SO CUTEEE IM DYING

SKATER BOI (e-1610 miles x blk! reader)

— miles is a skater boy and u can’t tell me i’m wrong

— felt bad cause the beach fic was supposed to be up today, but instead y’all can have this

— alexa, play feels like summer by childish gambino

— ⚠️: fluff, gn black reader, miles + reader being cute, cursing

standing outside of your door, miles stood with his duffel bag over his right shoulder, and his board wedged between his right arm and torso. ever since you agreed to skate with him, even going as far as to buy your own board, he wanted to surprise you with a little date/gift he had prepared.

you opened your door to the sight of a bubbly presence and a big smile on miles face. "whatchu smiling for?" you questioned with a confused smile on your face.

"get ready, i’m taking you out. oh, and grab your board too," he stated quite matter of factly. before you could even open your mouth, he was already booking it towards the stairs to wait for you at the front of your building.

"damn… now I don’t gotta choice," you mumbled to yourself in the now empty hallway.

closing the door to your house, you changed into more appropriate clothing than the ones you had on now. that clothing consisted of a pair of baggy jeans and an even baggier t-shirt, as well as a beanie to keep your locs from flying into your face. grabbing your board along with the wallet you stuffed in your jeans, you were off downstairs to meet miles.

walking out of the building and on to the street, you turned to look at miles and asked, "so you gonna tell me what’s in the bag?"

rolling his eyes he told you that telling you what was in the bag would ruin the surprise, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

miles had a tendency for surprising you with little things. it wasn’t like he was loaded, but he figured that the little things he gave you were much more personal and meaningful than any expensive gift he could have ever given you; like his art. small photos of you along with other drawings were plastered all over your wall, curtesy of your boyfriend.

after about fifteen minutes of walking, you reached the skate park. you were met with a bunch of brooklyn kids from around your neighborhood either smoking weed, hanging out and skating with their friends, or both simultaneously.

following miles to a set of stairs with a bunch of skid marks on the rail, he set down his bag and his board and motioned for you to hand him yours.

"c’mon it’s part of the surprise," he laughed as he shook his hand out asking for the skate board.

giving him the board, you watched as he set it down wheels facing up, and he opened the duffel bag he brought with him. "of course," you thought.

in the bag was a solar system of different spray paints and paint markers to choose from. you should have known that this would be something miles would do. "you wanna paint my board?"

"I mean, kinda?" he flipped his board so the wheels were facing up alongside with mine. what you didn’t expect was a clean slate. miles board wasn’t painted like it was before, no, this was an entirely new, clean skate board.

"I want to paint your board, while you paint mine," he stated looking up at you and smiling.

"you bought a clean board for me?" you said in a high pitch voice in disbelief.

"don’t flatter yourself now, if it turns out trash i’m goin' back to the old one," he joked. you knew he was joking— miles was in love with everything you made, it was all beautiful to him.

your knees bent down next to miles, squatting with him on the concrete. you grabbed his board and rolled your eyes at his previous statement.

grabbing the screw driver, miles removed the trucks on both of your boards in preparation of painting. once he was finished, you got to work with grabbing the board and going to the other end of the stairs. when he asked why you were "leaving him all lonely" you simply replied with, "you seeing my work of art would ruin the surprise, duh.”

you grabbed the few colors you wanted to use on the board and went back to your side of the stairs. getting to work with spray painting his entire board light green, an image flooded your mind on what you wanted to do with his board.

after thirty minutes (give or take) of working, miles glanced to your side and spoke loudly, "yo, you almost done over there?"

"uh nooo— wait are you already done??" you questioned in disbelief, seeing miles dust himself off and stand up.

"yeah, all I gotta do is shine it," he shrugged his shoulder back and stretched out his arms. you sighed in disbelief at how quickly he was able to finish his freestyle painting. you could practically hear him saying, "i’m just that good" with a goofy smug look in his face.

turning back to your- or his board, you were able to get it done about 10 minutes after miles had finished spraying a clear coat on your board.

adding some finishing touches, his board was finally done. you walked back over to miles with the board flesh behind your back, with the painted side facing away from miles view.

"you ready to see my masterpiece morales?"

"your masterpiece huh?" he questioned feigning an impressed look on his face.

"mmhm, i’m pretty sure I seen this in a renaissance painting before," you said with a nonchalant shrug. miles raised an eyebrow at you.

“sooo you copied a renaissance paining?”

"nah," you whispered, leaning in closer to miles to tell him your big secret. "them renaissance niggas copied me," you said proudly pointing to your chest.

miles rolled his eyes as he backed away from you. “shut the hell up and show me the board,” he laughed.

you huffed as you brought the board into his view from behind your back. it was spray painted light green as it’s base, and what decorated the shade was a large yellow sunflower with the word "MILES" painted dark green and growing out of the sunflower like a stem. surrounding the sun flower were doodles of even more multi colored flowers and hearts.

miles nose flared as he laughed through this nose. he couldn’t help the loving smile that creeped onto his lips as he walked closer to you and grabbed the board out of your hands. he placed a chaste kiss to you lips as he mumbled, "I love it baby, thank you."

you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you, placing kisses all over his face. you pulled back suddenly and asked, "hmm so where’s MY board morales?"

"don’t worry I gotchu," he said as he pulled away. he walked a couple steps backwards and grabbed the board showing you the absolute masterpiece he made with nothing but his hands and his amazing brain.

it was a horizontal painting of you facing a wall, and on that wall was a collection of graffiti you had painted across brooklyn with miles throughout the years you knew each other. it looked like water color art with the way all of the light colors dripped down together at the bottom of the board.

"okay… so maybe I am a little blown away," you admitted as you looked at the board shocked. turning your head to look at miles, you gently placed the board down on the ground and you ran up to miles with the biggest smile on your face.

you basically threw yourself at him as you buried your face into his neck, mumbling a small "thank you" and "I love you."

as he squeezed you back, he mumbled into your beanie with a smirk, “so am I the best boyfriend ever or what?”

— made this super quick

— bought a skateboard last summer and barely used it

— but TRUST, this year it will be in use