Give me Superman with an awful southern accent. Give me Clark Kent sounding like he grew up on a farm (oh wait). Give me Superman the Journalist using y'all and all y'all and ain’t. Basically just give me Superman from Kansas
I'm going through a real rough patch and if you want to write something cheerful you have no idea how grateful I'd be.
Flash sidled up to Superman on one of the Watchtower’s mezzanines, leaning against a rail. They looked at each other sidelong, then away.
“Wanna hear my new time?” Flash asked sideways, swaying as he alternated which foot held his weight, hands on his hips.
“There’s no way you beat my time,” Superman muttered, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were in the other direction, and both men went silent as the Lanterns walked too close. Superman and Flash gave them a nod of acknowledgment, then waited for them to be at a safe distance.
“What!” Superman dropped his arms, whipped his head around to where Flash was grinning and bouncing on his heels. “No way.”
“Flat,” Flash said.
“There’s no way.”
“Check my heartbeat if you don’t believe me,” Flash said, tapping his insignia with his thumb. Then he frowned. “Actually, don’t, I’m pretty excited about this so my pulse is probably crazy.”
His heart always sounded like an angry hummingbird trapped between his lungs, but Barry was also a notoriously terrible liar, so it wasn’t as relevant as it could have been.
“Dangit,” Superman said, crossing his arms again. He leaned back to scope out the area around them. No one seemed to be paying them much mind. “What time?”
“Eleven on a Saturday,” Flash said, looking even more smug. “You know I don’t mess around.”
“Tch!” Superman made an irritated sound, licking his canines. Then he snapped his fingers. “You forgot about–”
“Nnnope,” Flash interrupted. “I’m including the new ones in that, that’s the whole reason we had to reset our times, otherwise I’d still be at seven-point-four.”
“Tch.” Superman drummed his fingers against his bicep. “Nine seconds,” he repeated, torn between irritation and awe.
“You know what that means,” Flash said, waggling his eyebrows.
Superman sighed. “Alright, where are we going?”
“I want soup.”
“Uh-huh.” Superman waited. Flash was waiting for him to ask. Superman was not going to give him the satisfaction.
“… in Saigon.”
“You’ve been watching Bourdain again,” Superman accused.
“It looked like really good soup!” Flash said, defensive.
“Fine,” Superman said, “but I am going to beat your time, and when I do–”
“Beat what, now?” Wonder Woman asked, having managed to approach them while they were distracted by negotiations.
“Nothing!” Flash and Superman said at once.
“We were just talking,” Superman said.
“About stuff,” Flash added unnecessarily. “Private, personal, man stuff.”
Wonder Woman’s eyebrows shot up. She was close enough for her lariat to hum on her hip. She looked Flash over. Flash started to turn red.
“Okay bye!” Flash said, and he was gone in a streak of red.
“Superman?” Wonder Woman asked.
“I should, uh. Hal…”
He wasn’t actually making any definitive statements, just stringing words together, and yet somehow it still managed to ring false. She watched him go, putting her hands on her hips.
She could practically sense it when Batman came up beside her, even quiet as he was.
“Do you want to know what they were talking about.”
“Do you know?” she wondered. He said nothing, so she turned to look at his face. It was as expressionless as ever, but she got the impression that he did not consider the question worthy of dignifying with a response.
He was Batman. He would never be so rude as to say ‘of course’ – but of course he knew.
“I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy,” Wonder Woman said cautiously.
“He’d tell you if you really asked,” Batman said. “They just like feeling like they have a special thing.”
“I see.” She tapped on her lower lip as she watched Superman talk to one of the Green Lanterns. “So what’s the special thing?”
“Pick me up in the plane on Saturday and I can show you.”
She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at him. As always, being able to see him helped not at all. “Like a date?” she asked.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “More like a stakeout.”
“That could be like a date.” She was mostly saying it to tease him. Sometimes if she did it right, he turned pink and had to find a shadow to hide in.
“It’s usually not.”
“I’m usually with the kids.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean–”
She put her hand out to rest on his shoulder. “I would never imply–”
She took her hand back. “I’ll behave,” she assured him.
“You don’t have to,” he said, and she grinned.
“I’ll pick you up at ten,” she said, and she gave him an exaggerated wink as she walked away.
“It’s a date,” he murmured.
“Why,” Wonder Woman asked, “are we in Florida?”
Batman was sitting beside her, and the plane was in a low hover. “Because as far as anyone can tell, this is the single biggest and busiest Walmart in the world.”
“I don’t think that explains as much as you think it does,” she said.
Batman held up a phone. A clock took up most of the screen. 10:59. “Watch,” he said, and he pointed out to the parking lot, vast and terrifying and teeming with people. She watched, and she had no idea how she was supposed to see anything in the crowd.
Finally, she spotted it. The motion too quick to be anything mortal. Would anyone on the ground notice anything more than a strong breeze?
“Oh! It’s the–” She snapped her fingers, couldn’t remember the word.
“Carts,” Batman supplied.
In almost no time at all, every cart in the parking lot had been returned to one of the designated corrals. Batman pointed to something that he must have been using technology in his mask to see, because otherwise his eyes should not have been good enough. Wonder Woman was much better equipped to see Superman, standing beneath a tree and checking a stopwatch and scowling. He did some kind of motion with his arms and one leg that suggested he’d have thrown his hat to the ground, if he’d been wearing one.
“They introduced new carts,” Batman explained. “They don’t fit with the other ones, so it slows them down. Ruined their whole system.”
“They had a system?” she asked, giggling.
“No, here,” he said, tapping her arm to point again. “This is the best part. He’s frustrated.”
“That’s the best part?”
“Watch what he does.”
She watched. Superman was gone again, more impossible-to-follow motion through the crowd. Things were moving. Large things.
“He’s fixing the cars!” she said, clapping her hands together.
“He’s fixing bad parking jobs,” Batman confirmed. “Because he’s mad.” There was a brief crooked curve to his mouth.
“He moved that one to a different space!”
“Illegally parked in a handicapped spot.”
“How fun.” Wonder Woman watched the people wandering through the lot, wondered how many of them had noticed what was happening and how many had disregarded it as nothing worth noticing. “Flash is the winner of this contest, then?”
“Is there a prize?”
“Clark buys him lunch. Usually somewhere he saw on a food show, since he can’t normally do that.”
“Barry can run anywhere, can’t he?” she asked. “I see no reason he couldn’t run to these places on his own.”
“He doesn’t like being alone in foreign countries,” Batman explained. “It makes him anxious.”
“Oh.” She returned her gaze to the parking lot. “How nice, then, that it all works out.” She frowned. “Is this weird?” she asked. “Spying on our friends like this.”
“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask.”
“Do you do this often?” she wondered. “Watch people have fun without you?”
Wonder Woman held up a finger in warning. “Zatanna taught me a trick.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“She says that if you ask me to define the parameters, it means the answer is bad.”
Before he could respond, there was a thump.
Superman was standing on the nose of the invisible jet.
He tapped a knuckle on the glass, until Diana opened the hatch. “Hello!” she said cheerfully.
“What are you two doing here?” Clark asked.
“We’re on a date!” Diana said.
“We’re not on a date,” Batman said.
“If you’re not on a date, can you give me a ride?”
“You’re out of our way,” Batman said.
“Nah, just drop me off in Gotham,” Clark said, slipping inside the plane, awkwardly floating between the two front seats into the back.
“You don’t even need a ride,” Bruce said, having to fit himself as far as possible into the edge of his seat so that Clark would have room to get by. “You can fly.”
“Yeah, and you can walk, but I don’t see you giving up the Batmobile.” Clark made himself comfortable in the back seat as Diana closed up the plane. “I’m craving Dimitri’s.”
“You’re too sober for Dimitri’s,” Bruce said.
“I’m always sober. You’re lucky I can tell this wasn’t a real date, or I would be really creeped out by the whole spying on me thing.”
“Don’t tell Barry we know about your special thing,” Diana said, pulling the plane out of its hover to ascend. “I don’t want to ruin it for him.”
“I won’t,” Clark assured her. “Hey, you know where we should go while we’re here?”
“No,” said Bruce.
“Where?” asked Diana.
“No,” said Bruce.
Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You can’t have come all the way to Florida just to see me,” he coaxed.
“I’m banned from Walmart, strongly discouraged from visiting Disney parks, and my parents are dead. I have no other reason to visit Florida.”
Because we’re all disgusting sadists and I obviously have issues. Trigger warning for kidnapping, torture, and some cruel language from the kidnapper’s side … I have a lot of problems …
Bruce has a crapton of enemies, even without the members of his Rogues Gallery being taken into consideration
From the nameless thugs to the morally bankrupt dirty cops to the
monstrous traffickers, everyone wants to take down the Bat of Gotham
But for Bruce, it’s a nearly entirely different crowd…
Overzealous competitors and enemies of Wayne Industries, people who
just want to slander his name to detrimental effect, people who’ve never
met even met Bruce yet have an intense obsession with his existence
that could easily tread into murderous territories, even a few villains
from his moonlighting job who simply want to take a crack at the Prince
Of course, being that Bruce is a taller-than-average guy with pretty
decent coverage, there aren’t many opportunities that can be taken to
You, on the other hand…
You, the significant other of one of the richest men in not only
Gotham, but the entire world, the one people liken to Cinderella, who
still keeps an apartment in the city as well as the humble job they’d
had even before dating the billionaire… You’re easy pickings
Hiatus is over my guys! Hope you enjoy as usual and don’t be too hard on me for being inactive so long, it’s been a few hard months.
looked up from your spring cleaning when you heard a shattering sound
and your boyfriends tame version of cursing.
He had already begun to pick up the broken pieces of porcellain. You
looked at your boyfriend with the amused fondness at your partners silly antics that only came
from a long term relationship.
do realise that you could have caught that right? I’m used to your
super speed already.” He blinked at you owlishly behind his glasses
and threw away the shards.
sometimes forget that you know… it comes so narurally to pretend in
front of humans.” He confessed and smiled at you with a faraway
look on his face which you didn’t like at all.
you are human. At least to me. It’s not as if you landed fully grown
on earth and disguised yourself to blend in.This
is your home just as much as it is mine.” You proclaimed a little
bit embarrassed and scrubbed away at a stubborn stain on your little
glass table. Suddenly you felt strong arms wrap around you from
is it you always know what to say to cheer an alien guy up?” Your
boyfriend asked right next to your ear and you took the opportunity
to turn around and wrap your arms around his neck.
be my special superpower to be able deal with you crazy Kryptonians.”
You teased him and felt him gently squeeze your hips. You were never
afraid of him hurting you although it took iron control on his part.
seems to think so too.” He remarked innocently and you
supressed your smirk.
“You’re not jealous of your genetic offspring
are you?” He bend down to encompass you in a full body hug.
“What do you
think?” He answered in a playful voice.
kind of makes me wishful…” You proclaimed and began to draw
little circles on his back.
He sounded confused now.
“You know..that I had known you when you
were younger, like when you were in high school…”
laughed and let you go. “Oh you wouldn’t have liked me back then. I
was even more of a dork than today.” You raised your eyebrows
lie to me Kent, that is impossible.” You picked up your cleaning
what is your hypothesis then, would we have dated or hated each
other?” He questioned and poked your side. You swung your rag in
the general direction of his face which he, of course now finding it
okay to use his speed, dodged.
think it’s impossible not to love you, Mr. Kent. Even though you’re a
giant dork” You rolled your eyes at his happy grin and tried to shoo
him away. No table should ever need that much time to be cleaned.
were you like in high scho- now that I think about it, I’ve never
actually seen a photo of you back then!” He looked at you with
suspicion. You shrugged.
for good reasons too, I had the most unfortunate haircut.” You
shuddered at the thought of these years.
From this request: Could you write a song fic on the song waiting for superman by daughtry… the reader is Sam & Deans kid sister and its basically all the times the boys play ‘superman’ (like save her life- like if she gets tortured or severely injured on a hunt)
When you’re little, everything seems so… big. That’s why the smallest accomplishments make you feel like you’re invincible. But it’s also why the smallest upsets seem like the end of the world.
John had told Dean to take you and Sammy to the park, to burn off some of your excess energy and to give John some time to go talk to some witnesses. Dean watched from a bench as you and Sammy played—he was too old for that kiddie shit.
Sammy was pumping away on the swings, laughing. You were climbing the steps to the slide.
“De!” you called. “Look! I’m as tall as you!”
Dean couldn’t help but smile.
You slid down the metal sheet, laughing, arms up in the air as though you were on a rollercoaster. You waved to Dean as you sat on the end, legs dangling. You started to scoot yourself to the edge, your feet nearing the ground little by little.
And then the other kid came crashing down behind you.
You sprawled out on the ground while the other kid ran off, paying no mind to you.
“Hey!” Dean yelled, running toward you. “Get back here you little jerk!”
Dean would have chased after the kid but he heard you sniffling. He turned and saw you sitting on the ground, tears streaking your face.
“Hey, it’s okay, Y/N,” Dean said, crouching next to you.
You let out a small sob as you looked at your scraped palms and knees. Sam ran over, slightly out of breath.
“What happened?” he asked, even the concerned-elder-brother at this young age.
“Nothing,” Dean said. He could see blood trying to seep through your torn skin and he didn’t need Sammy making a ruckus about it; it would only serve to work you up even more.
Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill. “Here. Go over to the ice cream truck and get you and Y/N something.”
Sam looked as if he wanted to argue, but he took the money and jogged away.
“All right, come on, Y/N.” Dean carefully slid his arms under you and carried you off to the bench he’d previously been on. He sat you down and crouched once more, looking into your eyes.
“I’m going to check you out, okay? I promise it won’t hurt.”
You sniffed, the tears still in your eyes, but you nodded. You trusted Dean with your life.
Dean examined your palms and knees; the skin wasn’t torn too badly. It would heal in a few days. He blew on it, trying to get the excess dirt off. You winced slightly but didn’t cry.
Dean poured a little of the water from the bottle he’d brought onto your wound, which made you whine. “I know,” he said. “Almost done.” He carefully patted your skin with the shirttail of his flannel. Then he pulled a couple Band-Aids from his wallet and stuck them on. “There. Good as new.”
Sammy stepped up at that moment, two popsicles in his hand. “Here, Y/N.”
You smiled as you took the treat, carefully sucking on the tip. You checked out Dean’s handiwork, your tears nearly dry. “Thank you, De.”
Dean smiled. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”
“You were like Superman,” Sam said in awe.
Dean laughed. “I’m no superhero, Sam. But it’s our job to always be there for Y/N, you got that?”
Sam nodded, eyes wide. You smiled and held your popsicle out to Dean, which he gladly took a bite of.
Sam shifted slightly. He was unused to wearing a suit, but John wouldn’t let you go to the school dance by yourself and he needed Dean to help him with the hunt.
Sam looked around. He hadn’t seen you in a while. He walked the perimeter of the gym; you weren’t by the punch table, you weren’t on the dancefloor. He finally spotted you sitting by yourself on the bleachers, head in your hands.
Sam bounded up the steps and carefully sat next to you. “Y/N?”
“Go away, Sam.”
Sam knew that was a lie. He slowly reached forward and started poking your arm, once, twice, three times, four times, five times…
After about twenty times you looked over at him. “Will you stop?”
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. It’s… I was stupid.”
You sniffed. “I thought….”
“I thought Josh wanted me to come to the dance so he could ask me out.”
“Turns out, he just asked me here because he wanted all the popular kids to make fun of my thrift-store dress.”
Sam’s blood began to boil. He scanned the floor, finally finding Josh and the rest of the popular crowd in the corner. “Come on, Y/N.”
“Where are we going?”
“Back home. But there’s something I have to do first.” Sam slipped his hand around your elbow and pulled you up. You followed him down the bleachers, wondering what was going on.
Once you reached the floor, Sam gave you a gentle shove. “Go outside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
But Sam had disappeared into the crowd. You climbed back up the bleachers, looking in the direction he’d gone. You spotted him just as he reached Josh. It looked like Sam was saying something to him and Josh laughed him off.
Then Sam punched Josh in the nose.
You quickly got down from the bleachers, meeting Sam on the floor. “What the hell was that?”
“I thought I told you to go outside.”
“You just punched Josh in the nose!”
“I know,” Sam said, looping his hand around your elbow and leading you toward the door. “And now we’re leaving.”
Sam led you out to the car, glancing behind him for security guards.
“Sam,” you said. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did. He hurt you.”
You smiled to yourself, watching as Sam dug in his pocket for the keys. You bounced up on your toes, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re my hero.”
Stiles’s used to yogurt handprints on his shirts from where he picked her up, and he’s used to snot on his shoulders and neck from where she cried after a bad dream. He’s used to her legendary tantrums when she doesn’t get her way, her eyes glowing ferocious gold. He’s used to being the village it takes to raise her, and the pack she longs for.
Except, he needs the pack’s help, and Derek’s protection when a particularly power-hungry pack wants his cub. And he isn’t used to sharing.
Derek hears Stiles before he sees him. There’s anxious, wheezy breathing coming from the next aisle over in the grocery store, accompanied by a racing heart and the smell of unwashed sneakers and hair gel. He turns the corner and Stiles is standing frozen in the dairy aisle, knuckles clenched around the metal of his shopping basket.
RATING: Teen and Up
WARNINGS: panic attacks, anxiety, depression, post 3b, pre-sterek relationship
The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone’s tried to burn down his home with his son inside.
“I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes,” John can’t even call that a whimper, it’s clearly a whine as Derek’s hands tighten against Stile’s hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek’s hands can hold him into one piece, “and that thought was worse than dying.”
RATING: Teen And Up
WARNINGS: so much angst, stiles nearly burns to death
He’s never noticed it before; it’s always just been second nature to him these days, does it out of habit, but it’s not until he stops to actually think about it that it becomes abundantly and embarrassingly clear to him that he is in love with Stiles and that they are practically dating without the actual dating part…
The hair, the buttons and the general happy and slightly tired disposition with which Derek came back from his secret exploits were as obvious as a glaring neon sign flashing the words JUST GOT LAID.
A sign that Stiles ignored because he had a seven year plan god damn it.
(OR: in which Stiles assumes things, gets accosted by the sister he never/always wanted, discovers he was horribly wrong, almost dies via Derek Hale with kids, can’t handle all that collarbone action, uses tickling as the ultimate mode of revenge, and gets a boyfriend. In that order.)
WARNINGS: misunderstandings, because stiles is dumb, lots of pining
“Thing is, Stiles,” Derek says, his voice hard and unfaltering. “I didn’t sign up for you. You just hung around until we got used to you being here.”
That stings. He hadn’t realised how Derek feels about him. They’ve been getting on quite well, teaming up on little missions and bantering back and forth without malice. Stiles sometimes lets Derek crash in his room after a big fight, trying not to let on how intriguing he finds the werewolf.
“Well now we can get used to you not being here. You’re a liability, Stilinski. You can’t protect yourself and we always end up having to help you when we’ve got more important things to do. You’re out of the pack.”
The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit.
WARNINGS: stiles gets kicked out of the pack, derek is stupid, like, so stupid, stiles gets hurt, theres so much angst in this like wtf, stiles is sad, the pack sucks
Stiles mentally curses Erica, because in all of her warnings about how brusque this guy could be, she forgot mention that he’s also hotter than the fucking sun. If Stiles had any lingering questions about his sexuality, they’d be completely settled by what this guy is doing to him. In fact, he might not even be gay anymore. He might be in the midst of crossing into some yet-to-be-named sexuality that’s all about a scruffy black beard and alarming green eyes and muscles and tattoos and this guy’s everything ever.
The guy’s name is Derek, his lust-addled brain supplies distantly.
Well that settles it, then. Stiles is Dereksexual.
COMPLETE: it says no but they havent updated in like over 2 years so im guessing its done
WARNINGS: everyone is stoned all the time, also in work 2 stiles is hurt because he thinks derek is getting it on with parrish, they’re dumb, age difference, derek has a beardddd
Derek hadn’t even realized that the words had left his mouth until the whole room went silent, including Stiles, who until about five seconds earlier was busy yelling at him for putting himself in danger yet again.
Derek Hale is a mechanic in the sleepy town of Beacon Hills, where he has lived all of his life. He spends his day in a simple routine: wake up, fix cars, go home, sleep. It’s what he’s good at, and it keeps things simple and uncomplicated. Derek doesn’t let people in and remains emotionally distant from everyone except his sister, Laura, and her daughter. This all changes when Boyd tows in an old blue Jeep that needs a lot of work and Derek meets the owner of said Jeep.
Because once Derek meets Stiles and his kids, he can’t stop himself from caring. And he doesn’t want to stop.
WARNINGS: angst, pining, emotional hurt, stiles has a lot of baggage.
Derek knew the moment he opened the front door of his clean and pristine apartment to Stiles Stilinski holding a small boy, a cluster of bags, and a suitcase, he was screwed. In every way possible. Undone by the big brown eyes of a small child and his annoying, witty, and attractive father.
“So, I’m Stiles.” he smiled warmly once he had put his unannounced patient down on the exam table. “I will poke and prod you a little bit to check for internal injuries, those that I can’t see because they’re inside you, and some of it might hurt but it will pass, I promise. I will tell you everything I’m about to do and why I’m doing it so just stay calm and this will go like a breeze, okay?”
Now, Stiles wasn’t stupid in any way, shape or form, he knew a were when he saw one… although he had obviously never seen a werecat before, and definitely not one as young as this one.
When Stiles left Beacon Hills, he never thought he would be coming back. Eight years later, he is coming home for Christmas, with a small passenger in tow. Old feelings, never forgotten, are rekindled.
“Daddy says that when I’m in trouble I should get the police because they always help us. You’re going to help me, right?” Stiles smiles at her, happy that today he decided to stop by the grocery store to buy milk after his shift instead of going straight home. At least now he’s able to help the little girl, who knows what would have happened to her if he weren’t around.
“Of course I will.” He smiles again. “What’s your name?”
“Rebecca Hale.” She answers proudly. “My daddy is Derek Hale.”
Stiles is at the Hale house, lounging on the front stoop watching Isaac, Erica, and Boyd wrestle, when the baby comes running out of the woods. Derek becomes instant father to a magically appearing baby and falls in love. Stiles can’t take the cute and worries Derek’s heart will break if he loses the kid.
or, a dragon gives derek a baby, stiles is oblivious, steve just loves his bright pink rocking unicorn and his da and ma
All they’ve given him is the guy’s head shot. And it’s terrible because now he is ridding the world of one more ridiculously attractive, instant pants dropping- take me now, if you please- regulation hottie.
Even if he has a scowl to rival Kirsten Stewart.
Or the one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.
WARNINGS: so much violence, they literally try to kill eachother, enemies to lovers pretty much
“It depends entirely on how you look at it, I guess,” Stiles shrugs. “On the one hand, instant healing and the apparently inherited ability to pull off leather at all times. On the other, serious attitude problems and a suspicious disappearance of eyebrows.”
“Even Derek’s?” Danny snorts, “that’s a lot of eyebrow to lose.”
“I know,” Stiles agrees. “You should see, it’s so weird. Every time I want to ask him where they go, except he’d totally eat my face off.”
Spider-man: Homecoming basically stole from Miles Morales
I’ve been seeing some willfully obtuse shit regarding this where Marvel fans essentially ignore that Peter stole traits from Miles’ origin and story. So here is the list of the ways it was done.
1. Ganke Lee/Ned Leeds
Of course, I had to start with the most obvious.
Not only that he looks like Ganke, but he fucking acts like Ganke. Has Ned Leeds been Asian before? Yes, in Spectacular Spider-man Tv Show, but it would be hilarious that Disney and Sony actually stole from Greg Weisman after they both collectively screwed him twice. The thing about this character is that he acts more like Miles’ Ganke than he does Peter’s Ned Leeds.
Peter’s Ned Leeds was never a close friend of Peter’s, let alone went to the same school as Peter. He was an acquaintance at best or a fellow work mate at the most.
..Is Miles’ best friend. He was introduced in Miles’ second issue ever. He has been a constant character ever since. That is Miles’ number 1.
If you noticed that Ganke was playing with Legos, guess what hobby Ned Leeds’ favorite hobby is?
That is a Lego Deathstar. And before you say, well in the panels’ he’s just playing with it. He doesn’t seem that interested in Legos.
And why Legos are integral to Miles and Ganke? Miles is not as Science smart as Ganke or Peter Parker so he cannot remake the Web fluid. Ganke is that smart and Legos are suggested by Chemists as great toys children to play with because it helps them visualize molecular models. Ganke is as important to Miles’ Spider-man as he is to Miles.
For all intents and purposes, Ned Leeds probably is just his best friend on account of Peter not telling Ned Leeds that he is Spider-man. Speaking of which, the whole Peter having a confidant in on his identity situation…
He never had one. Peter never told anyone that he is Spider-man. He never once shared that info with Gwen Stacy, Mary Jane(she always knew, but never revealed that she knew), Harry Osbourne, or anyone. In Ultimate Spider-man, Peter did confide in Mary Jane, but that was a case of her being his only friend.
Miles only revealed his identity to Ganke and eventually his father. Well in the case of Ganke, Miles never had to reveal anything because Ganke was there to help him become Spider-man. It just the scene how Ned leeds found out.
The same parallel as Peter’s.
Also, Ganke is girl obsessed like Homecomings’ Ned Leeds is. And yes, you are a little too infatuated with the opposite sex if you know by heart what a woman has worn previously and what she hasn’t.
The first thing Ganke does when Jessica Drew presents Miles with his new costume is to declare that he will start talking to girls.
After a deep conversation about what to do with Miles’ thieving ass Uncle, Ganke is pressed to go with Miles’ not to provide comfort, but to stare at his mom(who is really attractive).
As soon as he meets Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy, Ganke immediately switches gears and starts hitting on them.
Ganke making a gift out of Legos for Gwen Stacy.
And it working…
Ganke trying to use Miles to hook him up with Dagger, and refusing to believe anyone is too hot for him.
Ganke is girl obsessed. It’s part of his charm.
So Peter took Miles’ best friend. Great.
2. Miles motivation of proving he is a superhero
I remember when I called this out and some moron said Peter had to prove himself to the Fantastic Four in his debut. No.
He wasn’t trying to prove himself with the Fantastic Four. He wanted to join the Fantastic Four so he can earn money.
The FF did not have an opinion on him, except Ben who did not like Spider-man for being a show off like Johnny.
Just for your closure…
Miles’ however, had to go through a proving ground to not just be Spider-man, but also be qualified as a hero.
Instead of Tony Stark being the one supervisor of Miles, it is Captain America. It’s a long story as to why Cap feels the need to restrict Miles, but he is the one Miles has to prove his worth to.
After fighting with Captain America, Miles pops the question.
And to tie it into the Civil War, Miles’ asks to be the Ultimate equivalent of the Avengers, the Ultimates.
This is not a coincidence. You may say that they needed Peter to join MCU somehow, but how they are going about it is eerily similar to how they went about it with Miles. Peter never once had to gain recognition from his fellow superheroes. He never once had to ask to join the Avengers because they respected him as a hero. Miles’ did.
This is not the first time Peter took this from Miles either. The Ultimate Spider-man cartoon has Peter,again, taking Miles familiarity with Nick Fury and forming a super team just like Miles Morales. It’s annoying.
3. Younger Aunt May/Parental figure and having stability
Before I start this, yes, Ultimate Spider-man had a younger Aunt May and Uncle Ben. I know this. You seen her above when she is talking to Miles and you see her when Gwen kissed Ganke. But she did not look like this.
Now Marissa Tomei is a young looking 52 year old woman. Girl fucking looks good. Slay.
But Ultimate Aunt May did not look like she was pulling dates off tinder. Ultimate Aunt May also did not stay in an upscale Queen suite. Peter was not raised in an economically stable environment. There was always bills to be paid and Aunt May did not work.
Miles however lives in Brooklyn. His mom is a nurse and his father a cop. It is a stable household.
As you can see, Rio is hot!
Anyways, what contributed to Peter’s anxiety and neuroticism was that he never had a stable household. They were always just above the red. With Ben gone, Aunt May had to take care of the household in spite of Peter’s new adventures. Peter is lower middle class. Miles’ is middle class when it comes to living in Brooklyn.
4. The charter school
This especially pissed me off.
Miles goes to an advanced charter school for gifted children. How he did so?
You ever see the documentary, “Waiting for Superman?”
Okay, so there is a literal lottery for gifted urban youth(usually youth of color) for them to attend advanced schools. If they do not get the right lottery, then they are sent back to attend the shitty Inner City schools where they most likely won’t excel in life. They will most likely excel if they go to Charter School. It sucks, but that is a reality youth face.
Miles had to enter this lottery to attend his charter school(with the number 42, Jackie Robinson’s number to mark the significance). Peter has never been placed in a situation where his race and environment did not cheat him out of a future or reduce his options. His intelligence has always gotten him out of academic situations and guaranteed his success. Miles had to enter a fucking lottery to ensure his future was stable. And that is highly fucked up that Peter just took that trait from Miles without the significance of it being appreciated and realized.
That is four things that Spider-man: Homecoming leeched from Miles Morales and his story. And people want to act dumb as if these characteristics have always been attributed to Peter. Bull fucking shit. They wanted a relative character that was not presented on screen or the audiences did not already know. They exhausted Peter’s story, characters, and even abilities through 5 movies, several cartoon, and several video games and a fucking live action play.
What pisses me off is that people have called Miles the inferior Spider-man or not the real Spider-man, yet Peter, this motherfucker, is literally taking aspects from Miles and no one is calling it out. You love everything about Miles when it is on a white character, huh?
It is also an aspect of Marvel canabalizing off of legacy characters. DC gave Wally a chance to be the Flash over Barry Allen. DC gave several Robins a chance and did not create an amalgamation of Robin. DC gave Jon Stewart a chance ahead of Kyle Rainer and Hal Jordan. Fuck, Marvel you gave Scott Lang a chance over Hank Pym in spite of making Hank Pym’s main villain the villain of Avengers 2(And Hank Pym fans did not deserve that).
We heard every excuse in the book as to why Miles could not be the first to enter MCU when Peter’s story has been told 5 fucking times on screen. Miles Morales was trending when it was announced that Marvel was making a Spider-man film. People wanted his story to be told. And we heard every excuse in the book as to why Miles could not be selected. There was fucking press release that basically said Peter Parker had to be white yet you don’t mind diversifying the rest of the cast. We heard that his story was too new, but that did not stop you from making Robbie Reyes the new Ghost Rider. That Miles is a legacy. Yet you made Scott Lang, the legacy to Hank Pym, the first Ant Man on screen while acknowledging that Scott Lang is the second Ant Man. You just did not want him on screen because Miles is not white. End of story. You liked his story so much that you attributed to Peter. You took his cast. You took his financial situation. You took his precarious school situation. You took one of his arc. And you gave them to Peter. By doing that, you all but ensured that Miles would be stuck in his comic book and not being getting a damn thing.
The only reason I am interested in this film is Zendaya because black women, even bi-racial women, are hardly romantic leads in super hero in general. They are rarely presented as such and that sucks. I really don’t are about this movie outside of that. It looks good, but whatever.