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

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? ]

[droide]

Yes?

[ Does she really need to repeat herself? ]

Lava planet in my galaxy. Generally best left avoided.

[construing]

[ gwen's internal monologue: very cool. she survived a conversation with luke skywalker without bursting into tears or hunting him down to hug him, she can be normal here. probably. maybe. she's trying her best, and therefore no one can criticize her. ]

Just— [ her voice comes out an octave higher, which she wrestles back to her normal range. this is going well. ] Just checking.

Anyway. The floor is Mustafar. You gotta traverse the room, every movement's fair, but you can't touch the lava.

[droide]

[ Elthree stands there for a long, loooong moment. Her optic stares unwaveringly at Gwen for several lingering seconds.

Then, in a complete deadpan. ]

Oh no, I'm melting. Whatever will I do. [ She throws her hands up in mock defeat, striding across the room to the bookcase to grab the book she came in here for. ] How will I ever escape such torture. I will surely be reduced to bare minerals.

[construing]

[ netflix is shaking and crying. gwen is…significantly less upset. ]

See, your tone feels a little unconvincing. Meanwhile, I'm up here, forced to bear witness to this unfolding tragedy.

[droide]

[ L3-37 largely considers herself above simple little games like this, but...

Oh, fine.

She looks up at Gwen, then climbs up atop one of the chairs next to the bookshelf. The chair creaks somewhat under her significant weight. ]