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mlm-writer · 7 months

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Test Ride Pt. 2 (Peter Parker x Android!Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH ver.) x Android Reader (with a robovagina) Rating: Explicit Words: 1189 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 10 - Robotfucking Note: A sequel to a piece I did for kinktober 2020. Reader is a robot and has no gender. Last time reader got a robopenis and I thought it only fair to give reader a robovagina this time. Reader's chest is unmentioned. Tags: robotfucking, unnecessary use of fancy words to make it more sci-fi, at least I don't put 'quantum' in front of everything to make it science, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, safeword ignored(?), robot tentacles as restraints, vibrating pussy, nipple play and software/hardware updates gone ' wrong'

A new HUD interface greeted you as you booted up after your last upgrade. Your physical statistics and environmental parameters were found in new places, but that mattered little. Your optics activated after a short delay, visual input now also available to you. Your creator stood before you, his lips moving, but you received no audio input. “Audio module connection failed,” you replied to whatever he said. You saw him curse, or at least that was your best prediction of what his expression conveyed. He motioned your head down. You bent at the hips, allowed him to unplug and reconnect your audio modules.

Once the cables reconnected, you could hear Peter clearly. “Please, don’t be ruined, please don’t be ruined,” he muttered to himself.

“All modules operational,” you informed him. He jumped at your voice, but let out a sigh of relief right after. “Awaiting command,” you added. As per usual after an update, Peter started poking and prodding your frame, confirming your sensory input was still operational. When he was done testing your basic functions, he dragged you to his bed.

“Program D.O.M. version V, please,” he spoke nervously. You detected an increase in heart rate and blood flow to the genitals. You confirmed the break command, as it was standard protocol, before you could execute the D.O.M. program. Once the safety protocols were satisfied, you had your digits on Peter’s clothes. You unbuttoned his flannel, revealing his pale chest underneath. There was minor bruising, but a quick scan revealed no serious injuries that were contraindications to the program. You pushed him onto the bed and started running your tongue over his chest, paying extra attention to his nipples.

Peter whimpered as you played with his chest, artificial tongue and teeth taking turns with your digits pinching his sensitive nubs. You kept track of his arousal, only stopping your onslaught once his involuntary noises got a little louder. You sat up, retracting your pelvic panel and rubbing your wet hole over Peter’s crotch. He whined as you slowly soaked through his jeans and underwear, until he could feel your wetness on his cock through his clothes. “Please, I need to be inside you,” Peter eventually moaned, his mind tethering on the edge of madness.

He was hard underneath you, so you deemed him ready for the next stage. With superhuman deftness, you removed his clothes until he was naked on the bed. His cock protruded from his body, the tip red and leaking. You wrapped a servo around his rod, stroking slowly as to tease him. When he started thrusting into the tightness, you placed your other servo on his hip, your mechanical strength counteracting his. He was forced to only take what you gave, which was exactly what he programmed you to give. It was not enough to get him even remotely close to orgasm, but the build-up was perfect to make him start begging. Once the begging got frequent enough, you proceeded on to the next stage; you mounted him, letting his cock slide into your wet and soft hole. Peter moaned, his eyes rolling back as you rode him at a decent pace. “Please, give me more, I’ve been good. I will be even better, I swear.”

His moans filled the room. You took his dick all the way inside and paused on top of him. “I will grant you more. However, unpermitted orgasms will be reciprocated with punishment.” He nodded, promising he would not cum. You decreased the elasticity of your inner walls, giving him a tighter squeeze as you proceeded to ride him. Your movements were quicker than before, fully intending to make him cum without permission. Peter was moaning to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed sometimes and other times wide open. His mouth stayed wide open, tongue peeking over his lower lip.

Just as predicted, your inner sensors detected his cum painting your inner workings. You rode him until the spurts seized. Then you planted yourself firmly on him. Tendrils extended from your body and wrapped around his appendages. “You have disobeyed my orders,” you stated as you held him down and turned on the vibrations of your inner walls. Peter wailed as his sensitive cock was forced to endure the intense vibrations. He writhed against your restraints, but not even his super strength could remove you. Just like he had begged you before to fuck him, he was now begging for your mercy. You bent your upper body, putting a servo around his throat. You put a little pressure on the blood vessels below his jaw. Tears poured down Peter’s eyes as you forced a second orgasm out of him. You detected more cum inside you as he cried out.

After his second orgasm, you ran a scan on him, the analysis showing that he had enough. You removed your servo from his throat and turned off the stimulation or at least… attempted to. “Error: deprecated code, V-module unresponsive.” You stated, your tendrils no longer retracting and your hole vibrating on and on.

“What?” Peter exclaimed, clearly in panic. You ran a diagnostic check, your hole trying to reboot by first ramping the vibrations all the way up, so it could be brought down again. Peter screamed during the process, his brain unable to process the stimulation.

The tactic worked fine, but the module got stuck again at the same level of vibrations you started at. “Tendril module interfering with V-module. Attempting tendril reboot.” Peter did not perceive a word you said. As the tendrils rebooted, they lifted up a little, Peter’s body now hanging in the air except for his pelvis, where you still sat, vibrating his cock.

Peter cried, feeling like his brain had melted away from the intense pleasure. “Stark! Stark!” He screamed the break command. You tried to terminate the program immediately, but the backlog of reboots and diagnostic checks made it impossible. Your creator, against your predictions, came again, barely a drop of cum leaving him. He kept screaming, trying to get through to you. Just after his third orgasm, you regained control of the tendrils. In a flash, they were retracted and you uncoupled the module for now.

Peter’s cock was gradually turning limp inside of you. The poor boy was hoarse from screaming. Without the tendrils, you regained full control, the vibrations stopping instantly. “Thank you, thank you,” Peter whispered over and over as you lifted your frame off him.

“Program D.O.M. paused,” you stated, “do you wish to continue after a delay or shall I proceed with aftercare protocols?”

Peter laid starfish-style on the bed. His chest was heaving. He could use some aftercare, but it was hard to trust you right now. “Terminate the program all together,” he groaned, “initiate shutdown.” A second later, he was met with the sound of your vents shutting down and your pelvic plate closing to protect what was behind it. He was left in silence. As far as updates went, it still wasn’t as bad as that time Windows went from XP to Vista. He counted it as a win.

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clarks-letterman · 1 year

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lost in reality | perv!peter parker x gender-neutral!reader

a/n — this is not what i usually post! there was going to be more smut but i didn't know how far to go with it, so if anyone wants to see something more extended, let me know! (Peter is a bit of a perv in this but i tried to make him get his comeuppance) gender-neutral, i think

warnings — smut! 18+, some brief facefucking, gore (sorta mild, but don't read if you don't like it!)

summary — Peter uses the reality stone to practice his pickup skills. With such a powerful device at his disposal, what could go wrong?

words — 3.7k

~~~

A mesh of red and blue ambled to the quarters of the Avenger's compound. No rush nor worry affected Peter as he kept one foot light over the other, heading into each step, furthering him down the hallway. It was another neighborhood saved and another day where he would be free from the thoughts of letting his powers go to waste, and his life could finally regress into normalcy for the start of the new day. While he had a kick in his step from how smoothly the night had gone—and how much his mentor acknowledged the fact—Peter felt the need for something a little more caffeinated to help him instead.

As Peter returned from his latest venture, taking no rush to get to his room, you were on your way out of the resident android's room. In your hand, a pad of Stark Industries-branded notepad paper with all but one of the Avengers' coffee orders scribbled down filled it. You would not be in Vision's room with the question of coffee being the reason, something he was physically incapable of drinking, but Wanda frequented the room, and it was likely that she was in there. You were right to assume that, and now, you planned to check the door just further down the hall to see if Peter was around.

It turned out that you did not need to go far; the bright colors of his suit caught your eye the second you stepped out into the corridor. Anything resembling Peter's mood of being on top of the world was gone, and so was that little kick that pushed him further—you could almost see him lose it in his eyes once he saw you, even from afar. You approached him with one thing on your mind, the pen and paper used to record everyone's order at the ready.

"He-," he cleared his throat before lowering the pitch of his voice, "Hey."

There was an awkward silence between the following words until you reminded him by tapping your pen to the side of the notepad to draw his attention to it and speaking up, "Your order?"

"What?" He was already blowing it. Peter glanced down to his red-spandex feet and then back to you, his voice returning to its natural pitch, "Oh, yeah, uh—"

Peter paused. He realized he did not know what he wanted, and while you found the evident attempt to appear cool somewhat endearing, you could have already been heading out to get coffee for everyone by now. Almost by reflex, you started to tap the pen against the nearly completed list of coffee orders ranging from simple menu items to oddly specific modifications to non-existent drinks. And in seconds, the pen slipped from your grasp and unceremoniously landed on the laminate of the hallway floor.

"Shit," you reached down to grab the ballpoint, but Peter stopped you.

"I'll get it."

He attempted to bend over, only to find his hand stuck to the wall. Peter quickly stood straight, subtly tugging his hand away from the wall without tearing a new hand-shaped hole in the plaster and paint. In his panic, Peter's hand stuck itself to the wall, and no matter how hard he tried to pull away from it, his hand wouldn't budge. That left you to get the dropped pen, reaching for it without the trouble of spider-centric powers messing with you.

You looked to Peter, scribbling down his name next to Tony's order, "I'll just get you what Tony gets and leave you alone with your hand. See you later, Peter."

With that, Peter was left alone and sufficiently embarrassed as you strode down the hall, and, finally, his hand let him free once you were gone. He scuttled to his room in a bout of shame and locked the door, heading to his mirror with a plan to practice asking you out. It was a simple mirror resting on the opposite side of the wall that had betrayed him, even if it was an inanimate object that could neither sway nor influence his spider abilities. He planned on using the reflective rectangular sheet as a stand-in for you but decided to change himself into something that didn't remind him of the awkward encounter he had moments ago.

Now, he stared at himself in the length of the full-body mirror, dressed in a tee sporting Midtown's gold and navy-blue colors and a simple pair of beige cargo pants. It was more on your level, casual clothes that were unlike the striking symbolism of his superhero suit. Peter hoped it would make him feel more comfortable talking to you, as he wouldn't discern the need to be perfect in everything he does around you. He could be Peter.

The first words he spoke to himself in the mirror were natural, not meant to sound broody or cool. It was how he usually talked: voice cracks and diffidence-galore, "Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to swing me to get coffee with you?"

Peter realized his slip-up and started the question over again.

"Oh my God, that's so funny that you get coffee!" He placed a hand over his chest with a fake smile to match, "I love caffeine and wanted to know if you would drink me. I mean, drink it with me?"

“Hey, I was just in the neighborhood—saving it, and all. Coffee, you-me? Then, we could come back here for. . .” He paused, knowing that he could never be that smug with you—he could barely get his powers to work! How would the Parker-Charm not blow up on ignition? “Okay, dial it back, Pete.”

"I'm hopeless," Peter let his head fall, staring at the floor. He could hardly watch himself fumble in the mirror, but the glint of a red sheen in the mirror pulled him back—the reality stone, sitting on one of the few bookshelves resting against the walls of his room. This one housed various meticulously assembled Star Wars-themed Lego sets, and the stone quickly became an amenity on the set of Boba Fett's Starship. Could he use it for this, of all things? If he did use it, it would only be for a couple of minutes. For practice, he told himself.

Many people would probably ask why a teenager would have one of the most mighty pieces of rock sitting on a shelf in his bedroom, and well, Peter wouldn't know the answer himself as to why he was allowed to keep it. According to Tony, he was a good kid, and the rest of the team knew he wouldn't use it for anything malicious, like obliterating half of all human existence. So, it was a souvenir, a relic that Peter never utilized for anything apart from letting it be some seriously cool decor and a piece he constantly bragged about to his only two friends.

He turned away from the mirror, retrieved the stone from its entrapment in the plastic bricks, and returned to his full-length reflection. The jagged edges dug into the soft inside of his palm in retaliation to the pressure as he squeezed it with a closed fist. With a single thought—one that held details of nearly everything about you—a soft ring of smoke formed a couple of feet away from him on the carpet. His heart thrummed as it quickly moved upward, revealing your form as it went. After a few moments, the puff of smoke faded as it rounded your head, topping off the manifested version of yourself.

Nothing could compare to the real you, but this was close.

The imagined version of you standing before Peter looked like the spitting image of you, almost to the point where, if dressed the same, it would be impossible to tell the two of you apart. Almost. But, there was one thing that let Peter tell the visually deceitful version of you apart from the real one: he couldn't hear a heartbeat. He figured that, while you looked the same on the outside, the inside was missing a few vital features of the real you.

Regardless, Peter struggled to remember that information since your lesser interpretation was still stunning enough to make his heart sink into the never-ending pit in his stomach. His feelings got the better of him, and Peter started his practice in err from the moment he opened his mouth.

He held the stone tight, waving his other hand to you, "Hey—hi, do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're Peter." You stated it as if he should have known that already, and he noted it. From what he could tell, you had at least some part of the memory of your actual self, so maybe this version of you could provide an accurate reaction to asking you to get coffee with him.

"Okay, cool. Cool. Yeah, that's. . . cool," Peter trailed.

"Why do you keep saying cool?"

The only problem was that you were real. Unduly real. Down to the slightest mannerisms that anyone but Peter would be able to catch when they spent time with you, and with your stunning looks and perfect quirks brought about by the stone, Peter could remember everything about you. He could hardly hear the absence of your heartbeat from his' sonority, ultimately distracting himself from his original intent.

"So, what did you wanna ask me?"

"You. . . you ask a lot of questions. But, I wanted to know if you could—"

Peter was finally going to get the words out, albeit to someone who was only pretending to be you. He wouldn't have to worry about finishing that project he procrastinated on—this would be his big success of the day. But his web-shooter had gone off erroneously across the room, spraying against the walls and pouring onto the floor from its canister. He jumped away from the source and nearly dropped the stone in the process.

Peter's mind was fleeting, even his rehearsal was going wrong, and he immediately thought of an old trick for speaking to people that he hadn't needed since a young age—he imagined you in your underwear. He didn't mean for it to happen, but if he thought it, the stone made it a reality for as long as he held the little rock. He watched as a red puff of smoke took your clothes into the air, vanishing from your body in less than a second. Underneath, a simple pair of boxer briefs clung to your nether region. Maybe it wasn’t all about the practice to Peter. His mind had thought of this, so it couldn't be that bad to indulge in it.

"Could you come over here?" He asked, throat dry. He needed to feel you to confirm he had not gone completely insane from one too many hits on the head. Peter defeatedly took a few steps to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it. "Please?"

His heart pounded with each step you took, accepting his wish to draw near. Peter could not help but watch your vulnerability follow ostensibly close behind. In just one beat, you stood directly in front of him. He watched your knees rise and fall on either side of his legs as you sat on his thighs. Peter felt the warmth of your presence, the surprising weight of you on his hairless and sinewy thighs, even if you were empty inside.

Peter was bristling, brown eyes wandering over your exposed form. His body felt immovable, no matter how much he wished to drop the stone and watch you vanish. His head was the only thing not to freeze, the rest of his body turning into a well-sculpted monolith. His jaw moved with a bit of tension, "I didn't ask you to do it like this."

"No, but you thought it."

"How did you. . . ?"

"You thought that, too."

Peter realized that he was practically having a conversation with himself, just through the guise of your face. The details became more apparent; the color of your eyes, the set of your mouth, and the same smile lines appeared as he thought about its utter perfection. He connected that now, asking you to come closer only worsened his issue. Your presence over his prominent bulge made it push the limits of its cotton confines. Slowly, his marble arm broke from his reserved mold, and an empty hand cupped your cheek the same way he had always thought about doing it. He would use both, but one was occupied with creating his living dream. Then his hand slid away and around to the back of your neck, your hair brushing his chewed fingernails and overly scraped knuckles.

He knew that guiding you into the kiss was redundant as he could think about it, but this was far more passionate. As he brought you close, the thought of your smell and the feeling of hot breath joining in concordant timing against each other's skin started to fill his head. At the touch of your lips to his, Peter kissed like someone who had nothing to lose. Like he didn't have the responsibility of seeming to have it all together placed foremost. Like he could be a needy and desperate mess for more than a passing swing around New York. Only now, and only because of you.

His impetuous thinking decided that taking care of his problem now would mean that he could resolve everything else later. He needed to take care of it now; it was the only thought running through his head. Desire.

Breaking away, Peter silently commanded you to slide off your boxers and get on your knees. He caught a glimpse of you as you followed his direction, surprised by how his mind subconsciously filled in the gaps for everything he had never seen.

Your hands worked in a way that left their presence unknown until they were hooked into the band of his boxers, easily tugging down on the well-worn stitching to free Peter's springy dick. He watched your eyes ogle it and how you took it into your hand without a second thought, and while he filled your hand well, he couldn't help but think about his inadequacy. He had seen his teammates' sizes after sharing training sessions with them. Not that he was looking on purpose, but mostly out of insecurity. Peter already paled in comparison to the heights and builds of the others, and while he was far from small, they didn't make him look all that great. Peter started to wonder if the stone affected him in the same way it did you.

With a single thought, he decided to test it. He watched his shaft grow bigger and chub up with a thicker girth. Your hand could barely wrap around it as it had with his true size. It felt like an innocuous veneer to gaining the confidence that he never had. As a result, he was eager to get you on him and make you squirm like one of the criminals he spun webs around.

In seconds, your lips formed an imperfect circle and took the head of the arachnid, and the rest of him, as if it were nothing. Your lips brushed his decent smattering of hair around the base of his cock without convulsion. This version of you had a throat that fit around him like a cock-sleeve, hugging his girth without any of the need for restraint.

"No gag reflex? This is better than any toy I ever made."

Peter's hands found their way back to the rear of your head, controlling the pace at which you took him for his own pleasure. The sheer feeling of something far better than lubed-up rubber made him go wild.

At a certain point, he couldn't remember when his mind started to break reality further than he thought until he was suddenly yanked back to it. Peter started to feel effervescent guilt towards his actions. This is what he wanted, but not how he wanted to get it. Quickly, Peter felt the heavy weight on his chest return, the need to right himself by putting an end to this. He hated that he changed himself to impress something that wasn't even you. He wondered what his mentor would think, what you would think, or how you would react. A small shift inside him sent that weight toward his hand, the one he held the stone in, and it went from its dormant glim keeping the illusion alive to a bright shine, creating something new.

"Get off, get off, please," Peter asked, thinking the words in his head as hard as he could to free himself from his twisted fantasy. You let his stiff, unrelieved dick pop out of your mouth and got off your knees.

"What's wrong, Peter?" He had thought that, too. What was wrong with him?

He could barely stand to face you, but he needed to acknowledge you to make you leave. When he did work up the nerve to look in your direction, the guilt glared back at him. He felt like a creepy monster for even thinking it was a good idea to give in to his urges. The feeling overtook him so much that he didn't even realize your gradual change.

At first, it was your face. The pleasureful expression turned into a sour one, eyebrows funneling together and your upper lip upturned. But, the features of your face pressed forward as if they were made of putty and someone was trying to claw their way out. They stretched out and ballooned until they burst, leaving you headless. Your body went without a head for a few seconds before the more seasoned details of his mentor formed in your absence.

He kept his hand flat, wicking it away from his body and the rest of his arm with the hope that the stone would fall off, but his powers had already made that choice for him. Then, he thought of his suit, his web-shooters, and the communicator that could signal Tony. If he drew attention to the issue, it would resolve itself, but could he successfully explain everything as if it were the typical morning paper arriving at the doorstep? He could try, or at the very least, lie. But that would never solve this issue, though, not in the long run.

Peter formed a mental map of the fastest route to his closet in his head and decided that his backup web-shooters might be strong enough to hold the illusion down and give him time to pry the stone from his nonreciprocating palm. He turned, locking eyes with the monster as it started changing again.

Peter looked on in horror, the stone shining its brightest and shading the monster in terrifying red like a stop sign you see at the last minute when your heart sinks at the thought of being crushed. The soft tear of wet, stretching flesh and its stringy reformation flushed his ears as the beast before him grew. The harsh snap and sound of bones splintering from the fattening weight pierced his sensitive ears; nothing new to him at this point in his life, but he had never heard so many cracks and gushing wounds. Yet, through all the bodily changes, Peter never broke his stare with the amalgamation of his worst thoughts. Its eyes never left him, either. The cold and frighteningly dead stare of non-existent emotion didn't phase him until he heard a heartbeat, one that he believed came from the creature itself.

However, it wasn't the monster's—it was yours, heavy-thudded blood-pumping. The real you and your usually pleasant voice calling for his response. From the other side of the door, he heard you pleading for him to answer and affirm that he was okay. He figured that you must have overheard his distress and the ensuing raucous.

Peter reached for the stone but stopped. Everything was gone. His suit still sat in a messy pile on the floor, but the webbing was gone from the walls. The stain on the carpet was no longer there, and his pants were the only thing absent from his body, but nothing left the confines of his boxers. Had all of it really been in his head?

He quickly answered the door without any precaution, seeing your face still intact.

"Hey, I got you something different than Tony's. I was in line and remembered when you drank out of his cup by mistake and spat it all over the counter. Are you okay? I thought I heard a girl screaming."

“Thank you, and it wasn't a. . . never mind. Do you want to come in and hang?”

“Yeah! But get some pants on first, Spidey. I can't have my thoughts get to me.”

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lightwing-s · 1 year

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the batboys' favorite male marvel heroes

Our golden boy, Dick, is a massive Spiderman fan. He’s not embarrassed in the least to admit it, and he’s also not worried people will think of him as just liking something popular. He has pretty good reasons to like Peter Parker and he’ll defend it to hell and back. He’s young, fun, and lighthearted. Heroic and smart and handsome and sweet and Dick can go on for hours and hours on that topic. At a young age, he sympathized with Peter for a number of reasons: they were both orphans, taken in by someone after this loss; even after all that pain they still grew up to be happy and joyful people to be around; both are very smart. As he grew into his super hero persona, they started sharing a whole lot more, like their flexible fighting style, the way they both deal with villains. And you’d often tell him they share the same bubbly personality. Also, Bruce used to spoil him rotten with spidey gifts. Comics, action figures, school supplies, spiderman shampoo and conditioner, towels… You name it, Dick has had it at home. Truly a spidey fanboy through and through. He also has a costume at home waiting for the day he can go on patrol wearing it.

Let's be honest here, we all know Jason would live for the anti-hero trope. Growing up, he’d always been drawn to more heroic types of antiheroes, like Wolverine for example, who’s hell bent on fulfilling his duty but does not live by the hero standards as some others do. But after a certain incident with a crowbar and a clown, he saw refuge in the spirit of vengeance himself, the Ghost Rider. C'mon, a motorcycling maniac, whose body is completely covered in fire and who fights for justice no matter what? *side eyes a certain somebody* there's no way it isn't up to his alley. He’s in the comic store right after patrol, in the early mornings, to buy whatever issue was released next and reads it like it’s a Jane Austen novel. He also buys older issues, and keeps them wrapped and well stored like his precious babies and he ain’t letting anyone touch them. Perhaps with one dear exception, you. Jay is into the classics though, if he had to pick between one out of all the riders he would have to choose the very first rider, Johnny Blaze. When riding his own bike, he’d pretend to be a rider, spitting lines he remembers from the comics and using them on random robbers he stops on the streets. Don’t talk to him about the movie though, that’s off topic.

Tim Drake is not one to pick “silly” heroes like his older brothers do. Or he at least pretends to do. He’s into the smart supes, with admirable brains and capacities well beyond imaginable. But he’s also a bit of a contrarian, so he won’t go for easy picks like Dick Iron Man. So when he sees a powerful AI turn into a nearly unstoppable android he instantly becomes a fan. Even before living with Bruce and becoming Robin, he would ask his parents to get him the new Avengers issue with Vision in it. However, unlike his brothers he’s very chill about it, he doesn’t feel like he needs to explain why his favorite is the best, or why they're a token of justice or a mad warrior. He knows Vision is good and that no one can fight him about it. He also wishes he could stay awake without the need for rest like he does, but he’d definitely miss the coffee.

Don’t really let anyone know it, but Damian’s favorite hero is his dad. But Batman is a real, flesh and bone man, so it won’t count here. He struggled to have a favorite hero, reading comics is “for children” and he’s too mature for that. He’s an adult. But when he caught a glimpse of Dick sleeping watching the new Moon Knight tv show, this boy got hooked. Not only is he a cool, merciless fighter, he is also intelligent and has a cultural impact on him like no other. Marc’s internal conflict with all of his personalities feels like a reflection of Damian’s own troubles with his families’ contrasting ideals: is he supposed to be a deadly weapon just like his grandfather would want, much like Jake Lockely, or is he a nicer warrior-esque hero like Marc and his father? Anyway, that cape, Dami loves the hooded cape *see that, bats? much cooler!*

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indigosabyss · 3 months

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In my personal headcanon Earth-14512 (the one Peni Parker aka SP//dr is from) is a world maybe a hundred years into the future of regular Marvel time, and now there are fewer heroes. Because Oscorp owns all the heroes. And why invest in a whole lot if you've got a few shining stars in your roster?

So Peni Parker is not an alternate version of Peter, or his daughter, but a distant descendant. The real Spider-man was never discovered.

And the Daredevil we see in the comics is an android version of the actual Matt Murdock, using a digitized version of his psyche.

No I have no proof for any of this. No it's not based on anything. I'm just making shit up and it is ANGSTY

#peni parker #sp//dr #marvel #into the spider verse #itsv #daredevil #matt murdock

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cozm0 · 2 months

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𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ characters i write for ₊˚⊹

Welcome to my "characters i write for" list! Please don't ask for characters that are not on the list, they're not there for a reason. More characters will be available & added to the list whenever I feel like it or feel comfortable enough to add them or some may be also taken away depending on how I feel ! (back to NAVIGATION)

UPDATE: As of right now I have made the decision to only write for the characters I have under BSD & Genshin. This is partially because I have never taken requests so I just wanna give myself a smaller list to focus on but mainly because I have kinda lost interest in those 2 fandoms as of right now. I may put them in the bottom list later but for now I'll just leave this notice up here. Or I may also replace them with the Twisted Wonderland characters (but again that makes a longer list so idk-)

Bungo Stray Dogs (bsd)

Osamu Dazai

Chuuya Nakahara

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

My Hero Academia (mha/bnha)

Hitoshi Shinso

Shota Aizawa / Eraser Head

Shoto Todoroki

Creepypasta

Ticci Toby

Eyeless Jack

Bloody Painter

Genshin Impact

Diluc

Kaeya

Xiao

Zhongli

Baizhu

Ayato

Scaramouche / Wanderer

Kaveh

Al Haitham

Freminet

Neuvillette

Potential future charecters

"Currently I do not write for these characters whether because I think I will be overwhelmed with the already big list of other characters, because I don't fully understand how to write those characters (which tbh I don't fully understand and/or over think most of the others but shh jxchfu-) and/or I just don't feel like it at this current point in time. Non ofthis charecters are guaranteed to be added etheir but it's a possibility. Their also not in any particular order"

Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler)

Malleus Draconia (Twisted Wonderland)

Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)

Riddle Rosehearts (Twisted Wonderland)

Floyd Leech (Twisted Wonderland)

Lilia Vanrouge (Twisted Wonderland)

Silver (Twisted Wonderland)

Ace Trappola (Twisted Wonderland)

Deuce Spade (Twisted Wonderland)

Leviathan (Obey Me)

Belphegor (Obey Me)

Satan (Obey Me)

Hua Cheng (Heaven Official's Blessing/Tgcf)

Hawks (Mha/Bnha)

Present Mic (Mha/Bnha)

Peter Parker / Spiderman (Mcu)

"Human"/Android! Bonnie (tgis will problem be from my Fnaf au that I will tallk about at some point or another once I flesh it out more)

Other "human"/android! Animatronics, I haven't decided yet

Vincent/Purpled guy (a mix of mainly the like rebornica / old fanon Purple guy + like my own au)

More of the fnaf night guards from my AU

Hiccup (Httyd)

Jing Yuan (hsr)

Dan Heng (hsr)

Blade (hsr)

Dr. Ratio (hsr)

Aventurine (hsr)

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vintagegeekculture · 1 year

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War of the Generations: Kyle Rayner vs Hal Jordan Fandom (1994-2004)

Trenchcoat Edgelords vs. Gray Pony Tail Comic Store Guys

There have been numerous vicious fandom wars, but this is the only one I can think of that, with my own eyes, I saw lead to actual fistfights that drew blood. This is one of the few times I describe a fandom battle and it is not a metaphor. You’re probably unfamiliar with this fight if you never hung out at Android’s Dungeon-esque comic book shops, or do not have at least one weird unmarried uncle.

New characters, even replacement characters for established heroes, show up all the time. So it can be extremely hard to explain why this one in particular led to literally a decade of the most ferocious fighting. Why did this battle between fans of a replacement hero and fans of his predecessor become as immense and nasty as it got, when other characters didn’t? Why did young Kyle Rayner, GL replacement, get controversy when Wally West, Ben Reilly/Scarlet Spider, Thunderstrike, War Machine, and US Agent never did to the same scale?

Well, many reasons, but the main reason is that it wasn’t just a battle over one guy, but over a whole idea of what two wildly different kids of fans wanted comics to be, a vision of what superheroes would be going forward. That’s why this otherwise picayune fight had incredibly high dramatic stakes. Where was the heart of comics? Was it in breaking with the past that often locked comics up and fossilized them, moving in dynamic new directions, streetwise, and relatable, or was it found in moving with tradition, with classic ideas of heroes and science fiction? Was it found in relatability, or big idea scifi? In other words, this was not just a battle of a replacement character vs. the original, but over what comics would look like in the future, which is incredibly high stakes, by two groups equally invested in the outcome.

Rather, the crux of the conflict between Hal and Kyle fans was a generational divide. This was, quite literally, a war of the generations. You only need to see the characters to understand that. Hal Jordan was one of the old guys; he was one of a few heroes from the 50s who was allowed to age gracefully, since he got gray hair at the temples in the 1980s. Kyle on the other hand, was a Peter Parker-esque quirky, handsome and relatable young early 20something, an artist in New York.

To be clear, this was a huge, organized fight, not just people snapping at each other in the early internet and in comic book stores (although there was plenty of that). Hal Jordan, the original GL, had die hards so intense that they were in something called HEAT – Hal’s Emerald Action Team. And it was not a little fanzine group, either. It was more akin to a non-profit like the World Wildlife Fund, in that it had dues paying memberships (I was one). HEAT actually sponsored a scholarship for talented young art students called the Gil Kane Memorial Scholarship. They literally put out an ad in Wizard magazine for their group. Imagine a fandom group creating a college scholarship from their dues.

It’s often very hard to discuss motive in conflict like this because we are entering the realm of the glandular, non-rational reaction. Ironic, because these two groups consider themselves rational men, but because they tend to have low emotional intelligence, are unaware that rationalism is caused not by ignoring your feelings, but by understanding them and holding them in balance. Okay, I honestly believe this: if they had replaced Hal Jordan and the other Green Lanterns with a girl, or with a tough black guy ex-army vet, it would have gotten far less hate from the particular group of people who ended up forming HEAT than a hot young guy who lives in New York and is a cool artist with an arty loft apartment like the characters in the musical Rent or the kids on Friends, and gets laid a lot with hippie chicks. Hot young guys are threatening to you if you’re getting older, and cool things are threatening to you if you’re uncool. And I honestly believe that is why, for example, books like the hip-hop infused Milestone Comics and anything by Christopher Priest absolutely tanked in the 90s: the guys who made up the comics store audience were turned off, even if books like the Crew and Static Shock vibed with the culture as a whole.

Add to all of the above the general glandular-level hate born in envy that men have for a certain kind of attractive young effeminate guy like Justin Bieber or Robert Pattinson. People hated Kyle Rayner for the same non-rational, glandular reason guys hated Justin Bieber in the 2010s. Likewise, on the Kyle side, there was a lot of rationalization for why Hal was boring and lame, but in the end, it ultimately came down to a visceral, glandular reaction to a guy that reminds you of authority figures, like your asshole assistant principal who spent high school terrifying you, or your cold, evil dad. And I can certainly understand why, if some cat-piss smelling comic book gray pony tail who is a dead ringer for Gary Gygax corners you and tells you anything, you believe the opposite. Never underestimate the persuasive power of coming off as “normal.”

It’s important to mention that part of the reason this generation gap was so pronounced was that DC had a lost generation of fans. If you started reading comics in the 70s and 80s, DC Comics were marginal. We have a vague idea that DC and Marvel were rivals, neck and neck like Coke and Pepsi, with dueling superguys, but at least in the 70s and 80s, it wasn’t even close to a competition, Marvel was winning hands down. Once Marvel got their own distributor in the 70s, DC Comics were a nonentity, barely making up a single digit percentage of the marketplace to Marvel’s overwhelming chunk. The implication of this is that, if you’re a long time DC fan, you probably started reading in the 50s-60s, since there really wasn’t an audience of DC fans who came in the next few decades. When DC started to revise their image and creative teams, getting rid of the old man workhorse artists (Curt Swan, Jim Aparo, Dick Dillin) and putting out Marvel style books like New Teen Titans, there was a huge influx of people into DC in the 90s, especially with the rise of the comics shop in the 90s as the main place comics are bought. To say there would be conflict between the new guard and the old is an understatement, and this was the flashpoint this conflict happened.

I mean, when Kyle Rayner fans called Hal fans “Hal’s Brigade of Loyal Virgins,” well, I hate to stereotype, but it stung because it is absolutely, completely 100% correct as a description of these people, almost always. If you really got invested in this on the side of Hal Jordan, you were obsessing over 2 decade old comics going back to the 50s, and the people who do this tend to be….how do I put this? Not normal. Especially at a time when comics were really marginal as a cultural force. Now they are at the white hot epicenter of culture, but no grown adult would admit to reading them then. Prior to 2001-2003 (Lord of the Rings feels like a cultural tipping point), if a woman entered the average comic book shop, they would draw gasps and all eyes would probably follow them. Because it seldom happened.

There’s also another element at work that you only see among old DC fans that went into this as well that is underdiscussed. They are often allergic to heroes experiencing temptation, vulnerability, or making mistakes, so obviously they’re drawn to the all-wise noble 50s father figures who are never wrong and resolve everything with some weird science trick (“don’t thank me, thank the gravitational pull of the moon!”), and who tend to always win cleanly. This type of person often enjoys projecting themselves into people like that, to deny any temptations or unpleasant character traits in ourselves. I hate playing armchair psychologist, but this cries out for it. It’s like when Bojack Horseman steadfastly refused to admit that his childhood hero, Secretariat, was anything other than a noble sports hero, when he was involved in illegal betting and was corrupted by fame. So obviously replacing Hal Jordan with a mortal Peter Parker type who was extremely fallible did not give them what they wanted and expected out of this book.

Alright, that’s the Hal Jordan fans, who are the Kyle Rayner fans? Well, like I said, in the 90s, comic book stores were at their peak. The Kyle fans were the young guys where the weekly comic store run was the center of their social world, the Kevin Smith types who tell bawdy Kryptonite Condom jokes. They wanted a relatable hero, and they put more of a priority on characterization and inner struggles over scifi explosions and time travel plots. They were also edgelords (to use a modern term) and loved rebellion. They also loved Japanese sword collecting. They tended to be fascinated by two things that came out at the exact same time: the tabletop game Vampire the Masquerade, and Mortal Kombat. In fact, no less of an authority as Rob Liefeld says that the reason comic stores went away in the 90s isn’t because of a speculator crash from people buying comics as an investment (which I always found utterly unconvincing as an explanation since I barely saw any speculators…how many could there be?) but because this particular audience, the Kyle Rayner guys, who went to comic book stores instead started to play video games instead.

They had very good reasons to want to be edgy and rebel. Since the cold war was won and neoliberal capitalism victorious, the system seemed all powerful and monolithic and invulnerable. As Margaret Thatcher said, “there is no alternative.” No wonder the culture was dominated by both rebellion and conspiracy theories about people in power (e.g. X- Files).

What’s more, in the 90s there was a strong desire to break from the past. It was all seen as slightly embarrassing. If you were a Star Trek fan in the 90s, you may remember that the original series was absolutely fringe and impossible to come across. Next Gen made a point to reference it as little as possible. There were barely any original series toys or merch as compared to today, as people were just embarrassed of the old show. TOS was like a crazy old uncle at the family reunion nobody talked to. And it wasn’t just Star Trek, either. Take the 80s icon, Hulk Hogan, who people absolutely hated in the mid-90s and booed, which is why turning evil was the best decision he ever made. When Doctor Who was canceled in 1989, nobody cared too much because it was seen as cringey and embarrassing and cheap, and the reaction was more surprise it was still on than shock it was canceled.

There’s something else, too. Nowadays, we have a much slower rate of cultural change: something from 2002 is probably more similar to something made today than something from 1982 is to something from 1962. In 1994, a comic from 1964, where Hal was created, must have felt like it came from the Old West or Victorian England.

This weird theme of generational conflict, because comics had a strange dual audience of old Gygax-esque gray pony tail guys and trenchcoat wearing edgelords who love Lobo and Mortal Kombat, absolutely defined the 1990s in comics, which is why comics from that era sometimes don’t make sense when read by normal people. Most of the time, the comics took the side of the gray pony tails because the guys creating this were gray pony tails, the ultimate example of the winners writing the history books. Mark Waid and Alex Ross made a generational battle the theme of Kingdom Come (one of the numerous reasons this comic didn’t age well) and he made an explicit point to not use Kyle Rayner as Green Lantern in a way that was so assholic that I actually kind of weirdly admire it.

There was one guy who used Kyle Rayner a lot: surprisingly, Grant Morrison. He saw Kyle’s Peter Parker like vulnerability and uncertainty as a strength to the character. The fact he was new, and a bit defiant of having to bow to tradition and held back, made us sympathize with him (yet another metacommentary). Kyle was overawed by the League, and in his words, “it was like playing with the Beatles.” To this day, there are a lot of people who turned around on the character because of his role in Morrison’s run on JLA.

This is probably not exactly going to surprise anyone reading this who have followed my blog for a while, but I was on the side of the traditionalists then, and I was a Hal guy. I felt that the best thing that comics had going for them was their history, and to make a break with that, so cleanly, was a pointless waste. Remember: they didn’t just get rid of Hal Jordan, they had to do it in the most alienating way possible, turned a childhood hero heel, and they eliminated the scifi weirdness of all the funny space monsters. Yes, the GL Corps was clearly a product of the 50s and 60s, staffed with bugeyed monsters and Flash Gordon looking planets, but it had big cool scifi ideas in outer space that were at times legitimately breathtaking, ones that the more Spider-Man like Ron Marz GL stories didn’t have. Nevertheless….

As strange as it sounds, looking back and revisiting all this almost two decades later, I find myself having a lot of unexpected sympathy for the Kyle fans and their position. If you’re young, old people are terrifying and the power of tradition is absolute. It feels like their ideas have a death grip on the world and they have the power to crush anything new you might come up with or ever aspire to be or do. I wonder if, in today’s world, where everything is a reboot of the same 10-15 eighties movies, younger people might feel this crushing weight of the past on them even more sharply than ever. “Why can’t we tell our own stories to describe the world around us the way previous generations did? Why is it that if I want to make a dramatic show about relationships, in order to get made, it has to be about friggin’ Archie and Jughead? Why can’t we have our own heroes the way generations before them had?” I mean, after all, even Hal was not the first Green Lantern, but a 50s update and rejiggering of a World War II character. Why does nostalgia have such a grip over us? Hal vs. Kyle was the beginning of that kind of fight and I have a feeling the biggest one is yet to come.

As a rite of passage, every generation gets to kill the previous one’s idols. Why? Because sometimes the old people are wrong. I remember reading Rolling Stone’s list of the greatest albums of all time, and at the top they put Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band. It was controversial (personally, I don’t think it’s even the best Beatles album, really) but what added fuel to the fire was how Rolling Stone explained that decision: “you had to be there, man, the album changed the world.” In other words, it was up there because of Baby Boomer nostalgia and that generation’s total cultural dominance for a long period of time. I think guys who say the Beatles actually suck are unpleasant tedious edgelord shitheads, but I get it, I understand the desire to pit your living will against the dead hand of tradition.

The most extraordinary thing about the Kyle vs. Hal conflict is that it (mostly) ended. I never expected that. This is astonishing to me, I expected the ape inhabitants of a post atomic future earth to continue this fandom battle until the sun winks of existence.

Why did this battle come to an end? Part of it was that a gigantic chunk of the Kyle Rayner audience simply vanished with the comics store collapse, as they switched to video games. In other words, HEAT just ended up winning by default. It’s not just that, though. The other thing that happened was that people acquired a different relationship to the past in the post-9/11, sentimental, non-ironic world as opposed to just kneejerk defiance. People started to rediscover old comics as valuable for their great creative power, and all the great works of the 2000s were like miniature primers on comics history, like Astro City and Alan Moore’s ABC. What changed in the 2000s is that people stopped calling them old comics, and started calling them classics. Around the 2000s, comics started getting a strange veneration about them, possibly because themes of good vs. evil and heroic purpose resonated after September 11th and the War on Terror, when the superhero movie came into style.

Most of all, it got resolved with Geoff Johns’s Green Lantern run. They brought Hal and all the other classic GLs back in a way that was, in many ways, as epochal and consequential as when Hal Jordan was introduced to replace Alan Scott. The GLs were recontextualized in an emotional spectrum with different colors. Nekron and the Weaponeers of Qward, the deep GL lore, as it were, which was mostly untouched since “Stainless” Steve Englehart left the book in the 80s, came to the fore. They simultaneously delivered modern-style action mixed with nerd nostalgia, at the best possible moment, the right book at the right time, when nerd nostalgia became a cultural force capable of moving mountains, right when superheroes became the white hot epicenter of pop culture. I don’t think it’s wrong to say that being on this book, the right one at the right time, paid for Geoff Johns’s house. Kyle Rayner of course, was right in the middle of this, his unique stature as the only GL for a while acknowledged, but let’s not kid ourselves, Kyle was pushed offscreen for Sodam Yat and Simon Baz.

The Geoff Johns GL is now a part of the background, a product of a moment where nerd nostalgia was starting to be a powerful force. It’s not a coincidence that Geoff Johns took over writing GL the same year the first vinyl funko pops were made (around 2004). All that was in the ether. And I think we are now starting to see a reversal of things. There was once something very bold, self-confident, and defiant when Geoff Johns had veneration for classic old heroes, but now they’re everywhere and took over the world, the overculture, the same way the inescapable boy bands were in the 2000s.

I am not sure what comes next, but the pendulum is starting to swing on this. The classic characters created by cigar chomping WWII vets are now a kind of oppressive overculture and things are bound to change, because they can’t continue going the way they used to. I’m not sure what form the next great cultural/generational battle will take, but I expect there to be a lot of anti-superhero stories.

#dc comics #hal jordan #kyle rayner #fandom history #comics history

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