open.

[construing]

CHARACTERS: gwen + you
LOCATION: around
DATE: vague calendar noises here
CONTENT: catch-all covering intro season.
WARNINGS: spiders.

First step to dropping into another universe: find food because a girl is eating for two. Step two: get the lay of the land. Step three: socialize? Yes? That probably needs to be bumped up a priority, but with Gwen an eensy bit mad about not waking up to her dad yelling about Venom getting into his shoes, actually talking to people can stay a distant third.

The symbiote feeds off her wariness. Wherever she goes, she drops spiders: tiny little things, black as tar, their appearance shiny like rubber. They hang on the countertop in the kitchen as she attempts to make homemade—station-made?—corn dogs. They explore boxes in the tech storage room as Gwen blankly stares at the mess and hopes the pieces she needs, as well as the knowledge to use them, simply materialize in front of her. Pick a book in the common room and it might come festooned with the little guys—or it is impossible to notice them over Gwen crouching upside down on the ceiling, comfortably listening to music like gravity owes her a personal favor. (It does.)

She does not don a mask—no identity to protect—but she keeps one article of clothing always on her: a Spider-Woman hoodie. It made the trip with her, along with her favorite, beat up pair of Chucks.

It’s the little things Gwen’s grateful for lately.

( OOC note: max. 2 people per specific prompt, please! feel free to wildcard and have your character run into her basically anywhere. I'll happily write a tailored prompt too, pm for one ♥ prose or brackets welcome, I’ll write to match! )

Comments

Kitchen 🕷️🕷️🕷️

[spacedisaster]

New orbers in the station mean more people who are still trying to find their footing around the place and more mouths to feed. Everyone usually takes care of their own food, but Peter and others are used to cooking for groups of people - their teams and families, back in their own universe- are more often than not they can be seen cooking extra food.

It's exactly what Peter planned on doing today, now that he had much-needed sleep after the last crazy mission, and he no longer looks like hell warmed over. The kitchen is a big place, almost the same size as the mess hall, and when he walks in, Peter and Gwen aren't exactly at a closer distance. He can tell that she's new because he doesn't recognize her looks but the spider hoodie catches his eyes. Since she's busy cooking herself, Peter only announces his presence with a casual 'Hello!' and then tuns towards the cabinets on the left to grab some kitchen tools.

He's humming the song 'Another one bites the dust' to himself as he moves around the kitchen, only to stop all of a sudden, let out a scream, and drop the couple of metal bowls he was holding. They make a loud, chattering sound as they hit the floor, but it's almost drowned by Peter's frantic voice.

"GetoffmeGetoffmeGETOFMEGETOFFME!!!"

If Gwen turns to see what the hell is going on, she will see a man who's well past his thirties shaking his arm frantically in alarm, trying to get rid of the tiniest black spider clinging to his left hand.

Peter Quill, ladies and gentlemen, always giving the best first impressions.

[construing]

Not-Parker Peter gets points for excellent music taste as well as immediately getting on with his business—both things worthy of respect. Not-Parker was in the running to wrangle an invite to NYC…until he started screaming.

Well. Screaming is what he is clearly attempting. What he has actually done is reach the whistle register. Note to self: give the guy props. But first things first—

"Hold – still!"

Reaching his side, Gwen grabs his violently flapping arm, nearly sacrificing her face in the process. The hold she has on his wrist is deceptively strong considering her skinny frame: she does not hurt him, neither is she letting him go. She thought she saw something and…yep, there it is. One gummy spider that clearly did not expect any of this clinging to Peter's finger.

"Come on, bud," she coaxes the spider. It scurries onto her palm and into her sleeve.

Crisis averted, Gwen lets of Peter and steps back. She shoves her hands into the hoodie's pockets, her eyebrows raised.

"Damn, man, Mariah's got nothing on you."

[spacedisaster]

Even if he's generally a social butterfly, Peter does know when not to bother people who are obviously busy. He would have eventually introduced himself to Gwen, but it looks like doing so in a polite manner is no longer a question.

He goes immediately still when she grabs his arm, so it's not as if he's offering any resistance, shoulders tense and eyes fixed on that very tiny spider. It's making his skin crawl, even if it's that small. A moment later, he's blinking in confusion at Gwen casually talking to the spider as if it's a pet and then letting it crawl under her clothes. BBBRRRR, no thanks.

"You're not worried about what it could do under there?" Peter pulls his arm down once she lets go, and has the decency to look somewhat sheepish. "I generally don't mind spiders as long as they do their business and let me do mine. Do you have animal handling powers or something?"

[construing]

The corner of Gwen's mouth tilts up. "Or something."

She steps back, looking him over.

"Doesn't seem like you have anything missing. Congratulations, you survived your close encounter. Your plaque will be mailed to you."

She pats him on the shoulder, before turning back to her side of the kitchen.

I'm so sorry about the delay

[spacedisaster]

Look, Peter likes Spider-people. He had shared a room with Peter Parker for months, and he considers the guy a little brother. Now, actual real spiders? Bbrrrr....It's going to take him a little to get used to it.

It doesn't go unnoticed that he made a fool of himself, but his mood is still good, and he laughs at Gwen's sassy reply.

"Are you sure? What if it was a radioactive Spider and I end turning green like the Hulk? Oh wait, then Gamora and I would match....hm. Not a bad option." It does look like she wants to be left alone, but she's a new face and Peter's now curious.

"Maybe we could try to start again? I'm Peter Quill, Guardian of the Galaxy, at your service. Do I get to know the name of the hero who saved me from that frightening tiny lil spider?"

Common Room

[droide]

[ Elthree has seen organics do some unbelievable things. Mostly recently, on this past mission. But lounging upside down on the ceiling is a new one.

The droid stands below the young woman, her dome tilted at an odd angle as she tries to get a proper look at her. Finally, she speaks, loud enough to hopefully be heard over the music in hear ears. ]

Have you taken personal offense to the chairs here?

[construing]

[ gwen looks up—or rather down. she tugs at an earbud, leaving it to hang next her head. music, tinny now, continues to play through it. ]

The floor, actually. [ she points at the floor between elthree's feet. ] You're standing in lava.

[droide]

[ Elthree looks at the floor— very clearly made of solid material, not molten rock, then back up at Gwen. ]

I wasn't aware we were on Mustafar.

[construing]

No, it's a game, you—

[ hold the phone. ]

Did you say Mustafar?

[ as in the very extra, unnecessarily dramatic, "who has the high ground now, obi-wan?" vader castle type of mustafar? ]

[anthropophagite]

[ kaneki is a new arrival and exploring is something he has taken upon himself for now. he was not part of the last mission and he still doesn't quite know what to expect from everything happening, but he has never been to space or a space station; that was all just stories from novels and movies that, while interesting to some, he never paid much attention to. Perhaps he should have, now that he is here.

kaneki wasby the common room when he spots the little spiders the moment he was taking a book. He is curious at first, unsure what to make out of this sight; he had not been informed spiders made residence on this station too. But upon further investigation, he realizes the spiders are... different. ]

... What are you? [ he asks while reaching for one. Could they be, perhaps sentient? maybe just a different life form Kaneki never encountered before? It's entirely possible! ]

[construing]

[ kaneki is twice correct, not that anyone confirms it. rather than try to hide or flee, the spiders, rude little things, ignore him. they explore the books like they’re picking out a new one for themselves.

maybe venom is a reader. wouldn’t that be a sight. just a girl and her alien goo, bonding over a book. pity she didn’t think to download any ebooks prior to multiverse shenanigans.

off the ceiling and sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, gwen does not raise her eyes from her phone screen. ]

That’s my emotional support animal. Please don’t pet.

[ sure, “animal” may be doing a lot of work, but the rest is spot on. ]

[anthropophagite]

[ he is fine being ignored by spiders - it means they won't try to crawl up his legs or arms and he is very fine with - but he looks at them with much curiosity, specially how they seem so interested in books. Who'd think spiders like to read?

But when he hears a voice from the ceiling, kaneki can't help a loud gasp and he almost trips, attempting not to step on any spider and attempting not to look like an utter dumbass.

he stares at Gwen, blinking a couple of times, before he looks down at the spiders again. And then back at the girl ]

Ah-! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- [ he didn't want to touch them either ]

[construing]

'S fine, kid. [ she briefly lifts her eyes from her phone. she quirks an eyebrow up in kaneki's direction. ] No harm done.

[ a real life failed spot check. and harry used to get mad because they were "stupid" and "no one wouldn't not notice that thing!"

the pang of missing harry hits gwen like…well, it hits her. before she's aware, she has pulled up his messages. the last text is a plan to get takeout and make fun of a movie back at her place. that would have been two days ago.

gwen swipes up. ]

tech storage

[homeostatic]

( He doesn't need much, actually, just a button for a shirt... that he's expecting to find somewhere in this. It looks like someone(s) tried to wrangle some kind of organization into it but gave up, and as he comes around to another box of imprecisely thrown together gears and tchotchkes, he notices he's not alone.

Like, not just the young woman staring at the room's contents as he had, but the sudden proliferation of tiny spiders that come crawling up his fingertips as he delves into another container. Not necessarily arachnophobic, but also not happy to play jungle gym to some lurking momma's brood, he tries to dislodge them with a flick of his fingers, muttering under his breath, )

–off, c'mon now.

[construing]

[ the sound of grumbling—or, more precisely, the content of the grumbling—grabs her attention. before the can of intergalactic raid can come out, gwen slips over. ]

Sorry, that's mine. [ she makes an apologetic moue at the man. gwen mouths an additional sorry and excuse me as she quickly scoops up spiders. a few drift lazily to the ground and scurry after her. the ones on her hands seem to join together, flatten, looking like ink splashed across her skin. when she turns her hands, they are empty. no spiders, no stains. ]

You keep this up, I'm going to be known as the "crazy spider lady", you know that?

[ her talking to the symbiote (which has to look exactly like she's talking to the air) sure isn't helping any argument against the "crazy" part. ]

[homeostatic]

( Bones tips the container automatically for her in mute fascination, as if the teeming mess of them were liquid, not solid, and watches the spiders perform their strange disappearing act against her skin. She absorbed them?

Now talking, though, to someone he can't see, is something else entirely. Or is it? At any rate, he dislikes the word 'crazy' on principle so, )

Maybe not 'crazy'. Your...friends...there, are they truly spiders?

[construing]

“Friend.” Singular. And no, it’s not. We’re partial to spiders, though.

[ if her voice turns upward at the end, a hint of a laugh caught in her throat, it’s because she swears she’s fucking hilarious. even without spider-woman related context, the truth of her comment is readily apparent. the magenta inside of her hood and elbows on her sleeves set off their black spiderweb pattern nicely. ]

kitchen

[coordination]

[ Yzak is minding his own business over here, peacefully trying to get a cup of coffee when— ]

aaaaAAAAUGH!?

[ He reaches to pick up a cup, and a spider falls from it.

He automatically reacts by trying to slam the cup down on top of it. ]

[construing]

[ yzak used cup slam. it had no effect!

the spider, utterly unharmed, slips out from underneath and continues along the counter like it wasn't the target of a murder attempt. there is a lightness in gwen's head; it almost feels like venom's amused.

over by her frying corn dogs, gwen does not bat an eye. the train to queens alone is packed full of weirder shit.

belatedly, she warns, ] There's spiders, by the way.

[coordination]

I— I see that!!

[ He answers, voice a little higher than usual. ]

How the hell did it do that!?

[ Just SLIP OUT from under the cup like that? How did it escape his perfect attack?

He lifts the cup again, though, checking to make sure nothing else is crawling around on or inside it.

And then brings it toward the sink to start washing it. ]

[construing]

[ how did it do that? probably because it's not actually a spider, but rather one tiny piece of an alien goo that was designed to kill gwen except they actually turned out to get along and now it sometimes likes to go off and explore.

or— ] Are you sure you actually hit it?

[ the first corn dog comes out of the oil and, yes, it might look a bit deformed, but it's the taste that counts. ]

wildcardishhhhh???

[webdesigned]

Look, he's a man of his word. Or maybe Ziggy twanged Peter's dumb boy heart strings, and he always needs a project, or he goes halfway out of his mind. The downtime is the worst part of Ximilia, weeks long stretches of time, time, time. Peter fills his time back home with listening to police scanners for a problem he can solve, just vibing in a space station with no bodily distractions really sucks actually. Too much time with himself and his thoughts and that's sort of what he got back into spidering to avoid.

So. A project. In the lab. It's really a two birds, one stone thing, because he'll run out of web fluid eventually and just in case Viveca can't zoop more up to the station, he'll need something. So, human strength web shooter, artificial web solution. Project. Something to do. Something to burn the endless hours away, especially as he petulantly avoids all the Christmas because it makes him think of Gwen and hot chocolate and skating in Times Square because yes he is Jewish but she loved Christmas and this isn't even the first Christmas he's spent without her but it is the first that he didn't spend it locked alone in his bedroom.

The screwdriver he's using isn't small enough for the fiddling he's doing, so Peter wanders into the tech storage to forage for another. He doesn't make it even two minutes digging through a drawer before something tiny and inky black darts across his knuckles. He startles the old fashioned way, because it doesn't send a tingle down his spine — doesn't trigger the spider sense that usually won't shut up. So, that's curious in and of itself. Peter has a bad track record with spider looking organisms but he cups his hands around it anyway, carefully scoops it up on a finger and stares at it with obvious fascination.

"Whoa," he notes, expression a mix of awe and intrigue and even a little affection, because, "Awwwww. You're pretty cute." That might be the spider mutation in him talking, he's just naturally endeared to spider presenting creatures now.

[construing]

Her skin breaks out in goosebumps. A frisson of something like fear arcs down her spine, putting her on high alert. And yet, her spider-sense is quiet. The danger here isn’t physical. It’s not even danger. Not really.

Gwen’s heart and brain still react like it is.

She rises slowly from where she had been searching a box on the floor, and puts eyes on the speaker. Not her Peter. He couldn’t be, but for a moment— For the span of a breath, every single time, each new Peter she comes across, she thinks, maybe—

This isn’t her Peter. Her Peter was scrawny and dorky and hid behind thick glasses. Her Peter liked D&D, and they would catch the bus to school together, and he would let her drum on the table while he worked through advanced chem. Her Peter was her best friend, her oldest friend, her person she knew best in the whole world.

Her Peter was never Spider-Man. And he frightened her, deeply, in the end.

She watches most-recently-appeared-Peter with one of her goo spiders. Venom’s curiosity brushes her trepidation. Spiders pile on her fingers. Gwen opens her mouth.

“It also has a host. Don’t think I won’t fight you just because you’re you.”

Her tone is one of practiced ease. There is no hint of her still pounding heartbeat, the prickle across her shoulders, the bite at her eyes. In cutoffs and Spider-Woman hoodie, her blonde hair cut shaggy and short, twenty-one and older than most who share her name, Gwen Stacy looks at Peter Parker. And smiles.

tw: dead girlfriends & spinal injuries

[webdesigned]

His spider senses sneak in way late, like they overslept and are trying to brush their teeth and put on pants simultaneously because they have exactly three minutes to get to the bus stop before it's gone. Not, of course, that Peter would know anything about that. It fizzles down his spine, not a threat exactly, just warning he's not alone. Somebody talking to him probably could have told him that just as well, but thanks anyway spider senses.

"A host?" Okay, Peter noticed the goopy little baby wasn't a normal variety arachnid, but he also wouldn't have guessed it was a parasite. He should probably flick it off with that particular update, but uh, he sorta gets distracted by something else.

Peter doesn't have the benefit of experience here. The last time he saw Gwen Stacy was when he held her broken body and insisted she was okay when every fiber of his being knew that she wasn't, from the second he caught her. And sure he's seen Gwen all over since she died, a flash of blonde or the smell of chocolate or even those sporty knee highs she liked. But he'll see her and then she's gone because she's just gone and his brain is just desperate to escape that reality.

Which makes it harder to deal with a Gwen that doesn't shift into somebody else and does, all at once. Without all the talk of different Peter Parkers out there in the great big multiverse, this would be a lot more of a brain break. Not that it isn't a bit of a brain break all the same, his eyes burning and his heartbeat a painful clang in his chest. "Gwen?"

[construing]

Hers is a familiar role; she basically originated it. Gwen, the experienced one, old hand at this “surprise, I’m alive” schtick. No matter how often, though, it doesn’t get easier to see the shock and the creeping guilt in every Peter’s eyes—or any more pleasant to tick off another bad universe, another dead Gwen.

She can practically see herself fall by now.

That’s an image to examine never, though. Gwen slots it away in the corner from where it can come kick her later when she’s down.

Her throat aches. Her smile does not fade.

“Hey, Peter.” She nods to the spider. “Think I can have that back?”