#my brain feels like goo i am deranged | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purityoflust · 3 years

Text

The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.

#Jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #part two #part 2 #yandere #male yandere #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #gender neutral #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #small series

230 notes · View notes

turquoisephoenix · 4 years

Text

What's A Little Galaxy-Wide Destruction Between Friends?

A Ratchet and Clank One-Shot

Five days after saving the galaxy from the Deplanetizer, Elaris is greeted by an old friend, who wishes to talk to her, vent a little, and give her life advice. Unfortunately for her, her old friend also happens to be a freshly transformed robot version of a dangerous criminal madman that everyone believed was dead. Elaris & Dr. Nefarious friendship Characters: Elaris, Dr. Nefarious, Lawrence, Qwark (mentioned) ————————————————-

Author's Notes: I saw the movie and immediately made the connection between Elaris and Nefarious, and by god, I was going to get this down. I realize this isn't the first "Nefarious talks to Elaris about her job" fic out there, but I kinda wanted to write a version where Nefarious and Elaris were friends before the whole evil thing kinda split them apart and, despite everything, they still have positive feelings about each other. It was a challenge writing Nefarious as a mixture of absolutely terrifying and also completely vulnerable and a bit in a fragile state. It's been a bad last couple of days for Nefarious. Also I was going to explain where Lawrence came from but it also came off as more "fitting" that he just *has* Lawrence.

-----------------------------------

"Yep, this sure is Umbris alright."

Elaris, technical support of the Galactic Rangers and one of the saviors of the galaxy a mere five days ago, was doing a menial patrol shift above the atmosphere of Umbris with no one to keep her company.

Despite not being in her expertise and despite this being a rather boring shift, Elaris had asked to be on Galactic Ranger patrol today. She got a few questions from her coworkers - after all, today was double XP weekend and a holiday event in League of Legendaries and they expected her to be holed up in her lab for days - but she won out in the end. She took the same spaceship she normally did, a beaten up little thing that could be best described as "dependable" and "cozy" and nothing more.

She didn't want to admit it out loud, but she was getting cabin fever from being in her in the lab, just a glorified broom closet, all day. She was kinda hoping that, by helping with the Deplanetizer and helping to save the galaxy, she would at least get a bit of a laboratory upgrade as a reward. Instead, with the media breathing down their necks and Qwark doing his big apology tour, her tiny comments of "can I please get a proper laboratory?" were written down as "things to do later" as they asked the new rookie Ratchet question after question of his upbringing and his mysterious past.

And she couldn't help but feel that she was going to be in that broom closet for quite a while now.

Sitting alone in a spaceship - with no sound to greet her but the steady hum of all the ship's computers - while keeping an eye on the airspace of a muddy, near uninhabited planet was at least brightening her mood a bit and allowing her to clear her head.

Anything to get her mind off the fact that the weapons technician before her died in the process.

That was the biggest bummer of the whole Deplanetizer ordeal in her eyes. At the end of the day, Dr. Nefarious was dead. He fell from a space station onto the surface of planet Umbris and that was that. Elaris was hoping that they'd be able to arrest him and that she'd get a chance to talk to him somehow, but instead they found a barely identifiable pile of flesh that had his DNA.

She couldn't help herself. She felt sad that he had to die like that.

Her other coworkers in the Galactic Rangers thought that she was being too idealistic about her old science partner and friend, that Dr. Nefarious was too far gone even before he tried to blow up the entire galaxy with a giant laser. But she wasn't asking for any miracles. She just wanted to ask him why.

And if he was thrown into a maximum security cell for the rest of his life after she asked him what was going on in his giant skull of his, that would be enough for her. They haven't spoken in two years and it'd be nice to hear his voice again, even if his voice could not be described as pleasing to the ear.

But now she couldn't, because he was nothing but a pile of squishy goo on planet Umbris.

Fitting to her mood, as she contemplated her now dead friend, the lights in her spaceship began to flicker ominously. "No, no, no, no-" she pleaded with the ship's computer before the lighting system went dead.

"Oh come on!" she shouted to the spaceship as she was enveloped in darkness. The universe sure knew how to tell sick jokes sometimes. Muttering about budget cuts, she got up from her seat and walked towards the back where she could probably whack the power supply with a wrench until it began working again.

She didn't get that far. She entered the hallway connecting the cockpit to the other small quarters of her spaceship while complaining about how she should've checked the fuses before she left headquarters when a shape with glowing eyes detached itself from the shadows, skittered over to her position, and then suddenly pressed her against the wall in the span of two seconds.

"Don't. Sound. The Alarm."

Elaris stood paralyzed, a cold metallic claw wrapped around her face. The main source of illumination in the dark hallway came from piercing red eyes set in black, empty eye sockets of the most terrifying robot she's ever seen. It was a bony creature with sharp metal claws and fearsome wings, looming over her even in its hunched over position, smelling of the same harsh cleaning chemicals used to remove blood stains off of metallic surfaces. Acid green lighting came from the creature's skull, transparent and revealing the many horrible devices whirring within.

Her immediate thought was that some horrible zombie robot had risen from the grave and came to wreak vengeance for his fallen crew as she stared at the skeletal features. Her mind racing, she wondered just what ancient pirate curse was roaming around this sector as the creature watched her squirm.

"Elaris, it's me." the horrific creature said in a electronic voice that sounded oddly familiar. The voice was high and gravelly and grating to her ears, but it unlocked memories of several years ago when her fellow Galactic Ranger Dr. Nefarious was yelling at Qwark from another room that yes, he was still working on the Combusters, Qwark, and that if he continued rushing him he was going to shove them right up his-

"Nefarious!?" Elaris shouted, which sounded like "Mmmarmemous?" through the hand placed on her mouth.

"I am going to let you go now, and when I do, I want you do not run away or to scream or anything like that! I just want to talk!" Dr. Nefarious continued. "Got it?"

She nodded, her brain immediately noting the cosmic irony in this situation. Gently, he removed his hand from her face and quietly backed up a step, watching her as she shrank against the wall. Immediately he cackled in the kind of laughter that sounded more anxious than joyful.

"Good! Good! You're not calling the Rangers or trying to pull a weapon on me! You're actually going to listen to me that's-" he quickly broke out in a giggle that sounded both nervous and utterly deranged. "You know honestly I didn't expect to get this far!"

As the panic melted away to be replaced with a more cautious fear, Elaris could examine him more closely. She worked with sentient and non-sentient robots on a daily basis - hell, one of her coworkers was one - but he looked...uncanny.

He was breathing for one, something even the most realistic robots never did. His movements were too lifelike, from the way he could set his jaw to the movements of his eyes. He was very twitchy, his parts fidgeting in a way that was normal with organic lifeforms but looked neurotic on robots. This was not a simple consciousness transfer into a robot double as a back-up in case his organic body was destroyed; this robot clearly worked from the same blueprint as his original body.

Or was his original body, just horrifically modified.

Mentally she placed her memory of Nefarious over this creature and could pick out places where things were missing. He was skinnier, his facial features gone as if forcefully removed. If Nefarious had built himself a robot double, he would've remembered his ears and nose. Something about this robot creature seemed...wrong.

'He didn't plan this,' Elaris thought. 'Something else did this to him.'

"What....happened to you with the Deplanetizer?" Elaris asked. 'I thought you were dead' remained unspoken but very much implied. She reached out to touch him and he flinched away from her hand with a tiny yelp, a very fresh and vivid memory of pain flashing through his databanks. She withdrew her hand and he exhaled - there he was doing more things that was really creepy for robots to do - and ran a hand up his glass dome of a head.

"I survived the fall from the space station to the planet's surface. Thankfully my prototype armor suit was able to keep me from not dying, falling from a great height like that, but I was badly injured, and I was swarmed by a bunch of repair droids. They're programmed to help with situations like a rescue but they were confused. They mistook my armor's energy frequencies as a part of me so they..." a tiny sob got caught in his throat from the memory as his shoulders sagged and he looked down at his hands. "-ha...thought I was a robot..."

He paused and looked up at her and a heavy silence fell between them. The very implications of what he said hung in the air. She said nothing but judging by his changed expression, which looked absolutely wounded, her face was betraying just how horrific she found this. Another not-quite-a-robot sigh.

"...I kept telling them to stop. I would black out at times, so I don't even remember how long I was being operated on. Even when my vocal cords weren't online yet, I was pleading for them to stop. They...left a big SQUISHY pile of my removed organs and skin and bone in a corner and still I was screaming at them to reverse it!"

Suddenly he slammed the palms of his hands into the wall and his voice turned into a harsh, metallic yell.

"AT ONE POINT THEY PULLED MY BRAIN OUT OF MY SKULL WHILE I WAS STILL CONSCIOUS!"

"Oh..." She wasn't sure what else to say beyond that. Sorry? Ouch? She wasn't sure if a friendly assuring pat on the back would do it in this situation either since he seemed very adverse to touch right now.

"I needed to talk to someone - besides Lawrence -and well, I knew what your spaceship looked like, figured, oh hey, might as well talk to an old friend!"

And climb into the spaceship uninvited through an airlock and mess with the programming for the lights so that he could surprise her in the cloak of darkness without the risk of her shooting him first (because who can blame her?) but he didn't mention that.

"That's why I'm here. To vent a little and finally tell you stuff I've been meaning to tell you! You know, before my mind snaps and I become a mindless creature of destruction with my new robot body."

Elaris stared at him, trying to decipher if that last part was a joke or an actual worry of his. Nefarious always did have a dry sense of humor. It didn't help like his smile looked absolutely terrifying.

"Like...?"

Another deep robotic breath. Did he have lungs? Did the repair bots keep some of his organ systems intact?

"I want you to quit the Galactic Rangers." he said, pressing the tips of his fingers together.

"Wait, what." was her immediate reply. The gruesome metal skeleton of her former science partner was going to give her career advice?

"Hear me out! I've been meaning to have this conversation with you for a while now after I left but, wouldn't you know it, I was tied up with work." The word "work" was doing a lot of heavy lifting in this conversation. He said it real casually, like the prison escape and the faking of his own death in order to join up with a criminal and start blowing up planets was just another blip on his resume.

"Elaris, I know how they're treating you. They gave you my old office after all. You know, the one that's just a glorified converted broom closet!" She winced, his words cutting deep. "I know exactly how they behave and I know for a fact that they just treat you like a doormat and like an automatic weapon dispenser! They call you a Galactic Ranger but you're not a part of their little friend group! They see you as a nerd, a passive little thing they can push around! You're not one of them!"

"I'm a little confused..." she started, saying the understatement of the century. She didn't get this patrol shift to get a pep talk from an undead robot after all. "You come onto my spaceship, back from the dead, all the flesh torn from your bones, but...instead of asking me to join you, get the recognition you truly deserve and have all your dreams come true by storming the galaxy side by side, yadda yadda, you...just want me to hand them a pink slip and leave?"

"Elaris, despite what it looks like, I'm not trying to sound like a lunatic here." he said, dragging his hand across his face.

"I just want you to get a better job than the one you have now! I don't want you to continue to be abused by those people - by QWARK - until the bitterness inside of you grows and grows until you snap and become just. Like. Me!"

"And I'll be honest - I don't want what happened to me to happen to you! LOOK AT ME!" he said, gesturing at himself.

She was about to respond with a retort that she was positive she wasn't going to land on a planet full of repair droids while wearing highly experimental armor that confuses them and they turn her into a robot in an incredibly gruesome and long surgical procedure, but Nefarious could see she was thinking just that and held up a hand, silencing her.

"Please....just get a desk job or a job working at a computer repair store. Anything where you don't have to work with Captain Qwark. He's using you the way he did me! And trust me, he's never going to stop! He's never going to change! He'll abuse you and think nothing of it because no one cares about people like us!"

"But I won't end up like you!" Elaris shouted back, their faces so close that they were nearly touching.

Nefarious's voice suddenly dropped to a normal speaking volume.

"How can you be so sure?"

Silence fell. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, withering under his gaze as he folded his hands underneath his chin and examined her. The worst part about it was that he didn't look smug or mocking. He just looked tired.

"Why do you even care?" she asked, dodging the question.

"Because I like you, Elaris. All the other losers in the Galactic Rangers can go end up in a black hole for all I care but I don't want you getting hurt!"

Elaris had to admit, she was a little stunned hearing that come out of his mouth. 'Well, chalk that up as one positive trait for Dr. Nefarious, he actually has the capacity to care about other people while he's going about trying to blow up other planets.' she thought to herself as she tried to decipher his concern as genuine or just an insane whim.

"That's all?" Elaris asked.

"That's all." he replied. Elaris couldn't help but make a little snort of disbelief in response, causing the robot to instantly be defensive. "What?"

"Oh nothing. Just a little amused that you look like the specter of death and climb into my spaceship after returning from the dead, emerging like a horrendous butterfly out of a fleshy mound of rotting flesh, one of the most wanted criminals in the entire galaxy, but you came into my spaceship to admit you still have feelings for me."

She immediately regretted saying that for two reasons. The first reason was that she realized that she shouldn't be making fun of the madman who had just been turned into a robot. The second reason was that caused Dr. Nefarious to start ranting very loudly, and that made Elaris realize that one of the side-effects of being turned into a robot was the loss of the ability to have an indoor voice.

"Yes, YES, it sounds crazy!" he screamed. "I sound crazy right now! That's the problem with this new robot body! Instead of being emotionless, like what you'd expect when you're transformed into a robot, it's like the exact opposite happened! All of my emotions have been intensified a thousand degrees! This worry became a paranoia! My hatred is now burning with an intensity of a thousand angry suns! My bitterness is like raging venom in my heart!"

"You have a heart still?"

"I DON'T KNOW!!! See? SEE? I'm SHOUTING! I'm MONOLOGUING! I don't MEAN to shout but then it just comes out ALL LOUD AND INTENSE AND GOES ON FOREVER aaaaaand oh GOD I am losing my mind aren't I?" His last vestiges of sanity - tiny and rapidly going extinct, but still there and doing a valiant effort to keep him from being totally lost to reason - suddenly halted his rant in mid-sentence, causing him to drag his hands across his face. It's been a week for Dr. Nefarious, where being hit in the face with a wrench by a Lombax was the least of his worries.

"-please tell me I don't look like a complete nutcase right now."

Elaris sucked in air through her teeth and looked away from him in embarrassment. "Uh...do you want the truth or a little white lie?" she asked.

"I don't know! Give me whatever makes me feel better!"

"You don't look like complete nutcase."

Nefarious narrowed his eyes at her as she smiled innocently back and he looked ready to say something when suddenly a very crusty, digitized version of the pop song "Your Eyes Are Like Quazars" started playing.

"Hang on." He pulled out a cell phone out of his belt - flip phone model - and held it to the closest thing on his metallic skull that could be called "an ear". He shot her a "I'm sorry I know this looks rude but this could be important" look at her as a very dignified voice rang out from the other line.

"I do hate to bother you, sir, but you might want to wrap up whatever it is you're doing to that Galactic Ranger-"

"We're just TALKING, Lawrence!"

"-right. Anyhoo, there is another patrol ship heading your way and I'd hate for your current plans of lying low for a couple months to plot out your next scheme of horrible vengeance to be ruined because you wanted to talk to your old girlfriend."

"SHE'S NOT-ugh, fine. FINE, I'm GOING!" he said, and hung the phone up with an undignified clack of the flip phone closing in-between two metal claws.

"Just think about what I said, Elaris!" he yelled dramatically while pointing at her as he shoved his phone away in his back pocket. She wasn't going to question why he had pockets as a robot. There were a lot of things about this situation she was just not going to question.

"I wouldn't do this if I didn't have this fear that you're going to walk the same path that I did! Call it weakness or the last remaining thread of my former organic self! ...or craziness. I dunno. I'm kinda playing it by ear at this point." he said, twirling a finger in the air, as he started to move his way towards the airlock.

"Wait, before you go-"

She reached out and grabbed his hand, and when he turned to glare at her, eyes filling the hallway with a harsh red light, Elaris briefly wondered if she made a horrible mistake and that this was going to be the moment where he snaps and uses his cold metal claws to claim his first victim in a gruesome robotic rampage. But then his expression softened and he just looked grumpy, the killer robot expression fading away.

"I know you're planning something! Just promise me that your next mad scientist-"

"-Vengeful-" he corrected.

"-Vengeful scientist scheme doesn't involve the mass murder of millions of innocent people like last time. Do something, I don't know," she gestured in the empty air as she looked for the right word, "-nonlethal this time? I'm asking for the bare minimum from you. Please?"

"Why Elaris, I'm shocked." he said, placing his one free hand on his chest. "I'm surprised you didn't aim for something higher like 'quit being evil' or 'turn yourself in'. You could be saving the whole galaxy right now by stopping me!"

"You asked for something smaller, so I'm asking for something smaller. I'll keep what you said in mind. At the very least, I'm going to ask for an actual office rather than the broom closet the next time I come into work. I'll quit if they-" The 'they' meaning 'Qwark' in this case, "-start pushing me around again, I promise."

"If they push you around, push back. Push back until they bleed." he hissed.

There was something in that statement that reminded her of a day that happened at Galactic Rangers Headquarters two years ago. Dr. Nefarious - the Nefarious that still had flesh and skin - was busy stirring his coffee and talking to his trainee Elaris about the new episode of Annihilation Nation when Captain Qwark 'accidentally' bumped him while walking past, spilling it on his shirt. This caused Nefarious to throw down his coffee mug down on the ground and yell "It's a good thing we're on the same side or else you'd be DEAD, Qwark! DEAD!"

He quit several days later to start plotting an evil scheme that involved atomizing all of Aleero City.

"I will." she said with that comforting memory still hanging about in her brain. "Thanks for still looking out for me." And with those words, she let go of his arm and let the supervillain go.

He stood there, looking like he had something more to say, but then he decided to turn around and skitter into the shadows, disappearing from her sight. There was the sound of an airlock opening in the distance and then he was gone, disappearing like a bad nightmare.

Two minutes later, Elaris was able to get the lights working again in her little spaceship just as Cora radioed in and asked if everything was alright. Elaris cheerfully lied and said "sure, everything's fine, nothing's happened since you last checked in, lighting's a bit funky but otherwise nothing new!" and then she was alone again, still staring at Umbris.

As she sat back in the driver's seat and stared out at the endless sea of stars and planets stretching out in front of her, the rest of her patrol shift weighing down on her shoulders, she had to give voice to a lingering thought in her head.

"If this is just a really weird dream I'm going to be so mad."

------------

Back in the current makeshift lair of Dr. Nefarious (a repurposed garage situated on the surface of planet Umbris littered with the broken corpses of several dozen repair droids), the vengeful scientist-turned-robot was brooding dramatically in a chair as his butler Lawrence polished him. He sat there, hand propping up his skeletal chin, and sighed. Giving an old friend some helpful life advice never turned out the way you wanted it to.

"So how did it go, Sir?" Lawrence asked in a tone of voice that implied that he really couldn't care less.

"I asked her to quit the Galactic Rangers, and in return, she asked me to not kill anyone in my next evil scheme." he said nonchalantly as his butler sprayed him with cleanser and started wiping his glass dome of a head. "I think she's worried about me, Lawrence!"

He didn't say it out loud, but he was worried for Elaris too. Maybe he should've asked her to join him after all. He saw the news articles coming out involving the Deplanetizer incident. All the praise was aimed at Ratchet and Qwark with nothing mentioning Elaris. He was certain that she had a hand in moving the entire space station. At least if she was working by his side, two vengeful scientists, both outcasts from the Galactic Rangers, she'd get the recognition she'd truly deserve!

The irony of him plotting out her delightfully evil future after warning her not to become evil like him didn't even cross his mind.

"Did you tell her 'why don't fret, my dear, my next evil scheme merely involves turning all organic lifeforms into robots with a giant non-planet destroying laser'?"

Dr. Nefarious laughed maniacally.

"Of course not!" he yelled, springing from his chair and knocking Lawrence aside. He was practically strutting like a peacock, his feet crunching as he stepped on discarded robot parts, as he marched his way towards a wall, where a giant red button just waited for him to slam his fist into.

He cackled in glee as the room was suddenly illuminated with the hologram of a massive, planet-sized device, the latest of evil concoctions pulled from his brain, now converted into wires and chips by the cruel hand of fate.

He called it the Biobliterator.

"I want that part to be a surprise!"

---

END

#ratchet and clank #elaris #Dr Nefarious #Ratchet and Clank Movie #turquoisephoenix tells a story #Dr. Nefarious #Fanfic #Lawrence #this takes place in the reboot universe #Implied gore #some headcanoning going on here in regards to how Nefarious got turned into a robot

14 notes · View notes

mittensmorgul · 5 years

Note

Do you think it's better for views/comments/kudos to post a fic one chapter at a time or wait until it's finished and post the whole thing at once? I don't want to overwhelm readers with a lot at one time but I also wonder if it encourages audience engagement more if i take away the uncertainty of "am i going to get invested in this only to have the author not update?"

I’m gonna be completely honest here... I... personally... don’t really pay much attention to hits/kudos/comments. They’re nice, and I like getting “You have kudos!” emails and literally save every last one of them (I have a gmail folder called KUDOS where I stash them and weep about it occasionally), and I hoard comments like some sort of deranged dragon, but worrying about how and when I’m posting something might affect kudos and comments? Nah, sorry, I just... don’t care?

I will attempt to explain how *I personally* think about this.

I personally post stuff when I’m done writing it, and when it’s convenient for me to post.

I personally NEVER post a work in progress. First off, it’s entirely incompatible with the way I write. I actually, you know... edit what I write... before I post it. Not just chapter by chapter, but the work as a whole. Not everybody writes the way I do, though, and some folks are perfectly happy to post a chapter and call it done. I just... my brain will not let me do that. That’s not how I write.

I personally almost never read works in progress, either. Not out of worry that the author might not continue to update the fic, but more because I read far too much to try and read long fic in short bites over long periods of time like that. It’s just impractical. I’ve found that I, personally, tend to forget what a story was even about and get frustrated having to go back and skim the story to that point trying to remember. Out of the few fics I’ve started reading as works in progress, I think I’ve actually finished reading a grand total of ONE of them. I find, for me, it’s a really unpleasant way to read. I like to read an entire story at once, you know? Even if it takes me several days, or even *gasp* a week or more to get through the whole thing.

Part of that is due to the fact that I’m constantly writing my own fic, too, and once a fic I’m working on reaches a certain length, I feel like I’m using all my available brain space storing *THAT* work in progress. One unfinished fic in my brain is all I can handle at a time, apparently. :P

But I do know that some people love reading works in progress, and will read and comment throughout the entire process. Some folks really enjoy the feeling of participation, watching the work grow week by week and being along for the ride. So really, how you post is entirely up to you. If you want to watch that hit count jump every time you post a new chapter, if that motivates you to keep writing, then absolutely use that to keep yourself invested in telling the story.

I guess I can kind of understand about not wanting to overwhelm readers with a huge fic all at once, but you know... it’s a fic... they don’t *have* to read it all at once. It won’t self-destruct if they have to close AO3 for a few hours or days and come back to finish reading when they have time. If it’s split into logical and convenient chapters, they can pace themselves and read at their own speed, just like any reader of any commercially published novel would. Nothing says they have to read it all in one sitting, you know? Word count has never been something that has stopped me from reading a fic if the premise was interesting, and the storytelling was enjoyable to me.

But if the hit count is important to you, and you want to see it rise quickly, then posting a chapter at a time will artificially inflate that number for you. AO3 generates a new “hit” on a fic when someone opens it again after a few days. If you space out your new chapters to twice a week, or even weekly, then that will typically be more than enough time for AO3 to generate a fresh hit as all your previous chapter readers return to read the next installment. They aren’t technically “unique hits”, is what I’m saying. But it will drive the hit count up faster and higher than posting an entire fic at once will, especially if you’ve cultivated a loyal reader base.

If kudos are important to you, bear in mind that some readers don’t leave kudos until they’ve finished reading the entire fic (so won’t leave kudos on a WIP), and if someone leaves kudos after reading chapter 1, they won’t be able to leave additional kudos for successive chapters. Posting serially will very rapidly drive your “hits to kudos ratio” down, because returning readers generate hits but no new kudos. This does happen eventually, over the very long term, to long fic posted all at once, if you have readers return months or even years later to reread your story. But posting serially, you might go from a 10:1 hits to kudos ratio in the first week of posting to a 5:1 ratio in the second week. If you do post serially, bear this in mind, and try not to let it bother you. It just means all those returning readers like your fic enough to stick with it.

If comments are important to you, engage your readers. Some folks will never comment, some will leave a “Thanks” and some will write you novels. I consider all comments a bonus, and while I’m personally terrible about replying to them (see my comment above about hoarding them like a dragon... I save them up for a month or two at a time and go on reply binges, because I’m an emotional trainwreck who enjoys reducing myself to a wibbly puddle of goo and nothing does that to me quicker than people saying nice things about my writing), but if you start conversations with your commenters, it can foster a nice dialogue and inspire even more people to participate in the comments.

So for me, the quality of what I post is far more important to me than worrying about any of that^^. I post fic when it’s ready to be posted, when *I* am happy with it, and if other people like it enough to read, kudos, or leave comments on, then that’s fantastic.

I will, however, make a nice, hopefully attractive tumblr post for what I write. For short fics like the old 600~ word oneshot I tidied up and threw on AO3 yesterday, I’ll just post the whole thing on tumblr with a title in the header and a short description. For longer fic, I’ll make a graphic and provide rating, wordcount, tagging, and a synopsis in the post, maybe with a bit of teaser text from the first chapter below a cut, and a link to read it on AO3. And I will reblog it several times over the first few days after posting, and then again at the weekend if I posted during the week. That tends to give it as much exposure as possible to folks, and if it looks enticing enough (bearing in mind I make really awful graphics, but using a site like canva helps some), hopefully folks will reblog it and spread the word. Then occasionally I’ll reblog one of my old fics if I’m thinking about it, or when it’s seasonally appropriate, or whatever. Sometimes an old story finds an entirely new audience that way.

I hope this is in any way useful to you. It definitely won’t apply to everyone, but this is how I approach posting, at any rate. Since you asked me, I tried to answer as best I could.

Good luck with however you decide to post, and congrats on your writing!

#writing is hard #but only as hard as you make it on yourself I guess?#Anonymous

23 notes · View notes

freedomfighterposts · 5 years

Text

Spider-Gwen x Reader.

Symbiosis refers to two organisms co-existing in perfect harmony. That was the idea behind the so called ‘symbiotes’. However, many times have these symbiotes showed that they cannot live with humans. The symbiotes are an alien race called Klyntar and only express the emotions of its host. When Venom plagued the world, it was because Eddie Brock wanted to kill Spiderman for inadvertently ruining his life. Next, the asexual offspring of Venom the Carnage symbiote bonded with Cletus Kasady a known serial killer and deranged mind. However, these symbiotes can be shown to do good as well. This is the case of Conquest. The silver symbiote had never bonded with a host before and hadn’t been corrupted to neither the side of bad or good. So, when Conquest broke free of containment and bonded with Oscorp scientist (Y/n) Hill the pair didn’t turn out like the others. The first few weeks was full of adjustments and lifestyle changes. Later however, (Y/n) found that his symbiote was aiding him in his botany research. Despite being only eighteen years old, (Y/n) has been crowned the brightest mind of his generation. Discovering groundbreaking research on how to grow plants without oxygen to help colonize space. Then after bonding with Conquest, (Y/n) researched the Klyntar in secret… Sadly before (Y/n) could complete his research one of his colleges, who worked in interdimensional travel accidentally sent (Y/n) to dimension sixty-five. When (Y/n) first arrived, he didn’t know what to do. Luckily, he wasn’t alone. Conquest was literally a helpful voice in his head that pointed him toward meeting his mother. Maria Hill. Thankfully, SHIELD existed in most dimensions and after a few days Maria enrolled (Y/n) in Midtown high school. Where he met Gwen Stacy in his first and last year. But two years have passed since then.

“And because Z equals X to the power of negative three point seventy-six that means Q equals… negative twelve…” (Y/n) looked over the equations scribbled over the whiteboard in front of him. A frown spread over his face while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But then that would render the solution non-applicable.” Suddenly (Y/n) felt something slip over his shoulder. Then the liquid like, silver alien head of Conquest leaked out and floated next to (Y/n), connected to his shoulder by tendrils of moving symbiote.

“But gravity cancels out does it not?” came the inquisitive, deep voice of the Klyntar symbiote.

“How does gravity cancel out?” Asked (Y/n) “Gravity affects all things within the atmosphere” There was an amused hum from Conquest.

“Not if you could walk on walls…”

“Like our resident Wall crawler.” (Y/n) smiled to himself. “God, I’m an idiot sometimes. So really Q is 1.3… So, the ratio is 1.3 to 1 to 4.6.”

“Exactly” replied Conquest “I must ask, why are you doing all this? I thought you wanted to grow plants in space.”

“Spider Woman will need as much help as she can get, if she is to go through similar experiences to the Spider Man in our universe.” (Y/n) replied smoothly as he began to write yet another equation on the whiteboard in his lab. Conquest hummed yet again.

“You like her.” The Klyntar accused. (Y/n)’s hand slipped in surprise causing him to draw a line through his equations.

“What? No, I do not!” (Y/n) defended himself, if he had pupils instead of soulless red eyes (Y/n) was sure Conquest would have rolled them.

“What do you humans say? Something about denial being a river somewhere… Hold on, someone’s coming” Suddenly the symbiotic goo that created the liquid like Conquest head seeped back into (Y/n)’s body leaving behind no trace of the symbiote at all.

(Y/n) worked in a S.H.I.E.L.D. sanctioned lab and worked with the semi-secret organization closely as one of the leading scientists regarding the Symbiotes. Thankfully, not one agent not even (Y/n)’s mother from Earth sixty-five figured out that Conquest had bonded with (Y/n). The S.H.I.E.L.D. lab that was designated for (Y/n) resided on the top floor of an illustrious apartment complex that had been completely purchased by S.H.I.E.L.D. for housing agents. Due to (Y/n)’s expertise with the symbiotes he was given the task of helping Spider Woman also known as Gwen Stacy. Suddenly there was a knock on (Y/n)’s door. Leaving his equations and ratios for the moment (Y/n) walked across the room, stepping over empty pizza boxes and almost tripping over a pile of reports just to open the door. On the other side stood a woman with stunningly bright, short blonde hair and bright baby blue eyes. Dressed in blue jeans being held up by a brown belt, a white tank top and a light brown overcoat Gwen Stacy stood with a smile on her face, twirling a drumstick with her fingers.

“Hey (Y/n)” Greeted the wall walker, (Y/n) smiled at the woman before him.

“Hey Gwen, come in.” (Y/n) stepped to the side, allowing Gwen to walk into the apartment turned lab. As (Y/n) closed the door he heard the taunting voice of Conquest in his head.

“If you don’t want to mate with her… Then why are you staring at her lusciously thick rear?” Conquest asked as innocently as his gruff voice would allow. (Y/n) scowled at the wall behind Gwen as he thought back an answer. Because Conquest bonded to (Y/n)’s brain instead of body like Venom, the pair are able to communicate by thoughts.

“Shut up!” Was (Y/n)’s eloquent reply. Gwen looked at (Y/n) with confusion.

“Uh, hey. Why the frowny face?” Desperate to keep his symbiotic friend a secret (Y/n) said the first thing that came to mind.

“Just thinking.” He replied vaguely, Gwen raised an eyebrow.

“Right… Anyway… Me and the Mary Janes are playing a concert this Friday down at central park. And I get to give away a backstage pass… I was wondering if you’d like to go?”

(Y/n) was so stunned by this news that even Conquest was at a loss for words. His facial expression must have been humorous as Gwen started to chuckle.

“Relax dude, I’m not asking you to marry me. Just, be my plus one?” she spoke with confidence but (Y/n) could hear the worry in her words.

“Hurry up and say something!” Yelled Conquest from inside (Y/n)’s thoughts.

“What about Harry?” Asked the botanist. Inside (Y/n)’s mind, Conquest groaned.

“Harry… Osborn?” Asked Gwen

“Yeah, I thought you two were…?” (Y/n) rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he picked his words carefully

“Going out?” Gwen answered for him.

“Yeah.” At (Y/n)’s weak reply Gwen gave a small laugh.

“We broke up a few weeks ago, and I don’t really feel like inviting my ex so, yeah.” Gwen’s smile never faded giving (Y/n) a small confidence boost.

“In that case sure, I’d be happy to come.” (Y/n) smiled, Gwen sighed with relief.

“That’s awesome. I’ll swing by at seven tomorrow” Gwen sent a flirtatious wink (Y/n)’s way.

“Speaking of swing, follow me.” (Y/n) walked back over to one of the spare bedrooms in the apartment that had been changed into a chemicals lab.

(Y/n) led Gwen over to a titanium plated desk, which was sporting more than a few burn marks. Three vials were held in place with metal claws above the table and each vial was filled with a different coloured substance. (Y/n) placed a beaker on the table and gingerly grasped two of the vials.

“I was doing some calculations and…” (Y/n) started but Gwen’s groan interrupted him.

“(Y/n) I like you, I do. But please, you know science hurts my brain.” She pleaded, (Y/n) grumbled something about science being cool but didn’t argue out loud, too busy trying to drown out Conquest’s constant laughter. Gwen smiled as she stood beside him.

“So, what’s gonna happen?” She asked, pointing to the beaker.

“I thought you didn’t like science” (Y/n) mocked.

“Oh, burn!” Yelled Conquest in (Y/n)’s thoughts. Gwen feigned shock, holding a spread hand to the top of her breasts over her heart.

“I am hurt (Y/n).” But her words had little meaning and her infectious smile betrayed her.

“Right… Anyway, if I’m correct…” (Y/n) started as he began to mix the chemicals

“And you usually are” interrupted Gwen again

“Then this should make…” (Y/n) didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as the chemicals inside the beaker reacted and shot a giant spurt of white goo straight up which stuck to the ceiling. “Stronger web fluid” (Y/n) finished with a sigh. Gwen was so surprised she dropped her drumstick on the ground, the wood clattered on the tiled floor.

“Woah. That’s awesome!” shouted Gwen in awe at the giant pillar of web fluid.

“Yes, anyway. This web fluid should be as strong as titanium while still being able to be easily shot from your slingers” (Y/n) explained as he poked the webs with a pen.

Gwen opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the ringtone of her cell phone. Taking the pink mobile from her jeans pocket, Gwen saw that it was her friend, fellow band member and roommate Betty Brant. Looking back to (Y/n), Gwen pursed her lips as if to say something but (Y/n) bet her to it.

“Take it. I need to finish this anyway. You said it yourself anyway, you’ll pick me up at seven tomorrow.” (Y/n) smiled at the blonde vigilante who muttered a quick ‘thank you’ before running from the apartment, closing the door behind herself as she answered the phone. When the door clicked shut, tendrils of moon like silver spiraled from the back of (Y/n)’s neck before twisting together to reform Conquest’s symbiote head. A ghoulish looking head similar to the other symbiotes with his long red eyes that allowed for a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, and a mouth that stretched from one side of his face to the other whilst being filled with black, razor sharp teeth.

“What’s wrong?” asked (Y/n), knowing that Conquest wouldn’t have manifested if something wasn’t wrong.

“Gwen smelled different.” Conquest said, his voice raspy, yet clear at the same time.

“And you smell Gwen, often?” asked (Y/n) with a raised brow. Conquest’s demonic eyes swiveled to stare into (Y/n)’s own.

“Do not pretended you have never done the same. You’re like a puppy in need of affection.”

“Okay, that hurt me where I live” (Y/n) said, placing a hand over his heart.

“She reeked of Venom” The words hung in the air, a mixture of a statement and a threat.

“Are you sure? Last time you thought Venom was the old hotdog salesman on the street. Turns out you were just hungry.” (Y/n) asked, hoping that Conquest was wrong and he wouldn’t have to hurt the woman he cared about.

“That was one time!” Conquest argued

“You cost me fifty bucks!” (Y/n) countered.

“No matter, Gwen is a perfect host for Venom. She’s strong, agile and in desperate need to clear her name.” (Y/n) cursed under his breath, Conquest’s reasoning was undoubtedly reasonable. Gwen had been accused of murdering Peter Parker after fighting him when he turned into the Lizard. However, Peter died not because of Gwen but because of his injuries and Gwen had not forgiven herself. Yet every night she strived to do good where she could and thus had gathered quite a formidable size of followers ranging from creepy basement dwellers who made her into hentai comics. All the way to people who cosplay her at Comic-Con.

“I don’t want to hurt her.” (Y/n) said, looking in the fridge for the tater tots “But if I know Venom. It’s not going to leave Gwen willingly”

Friday came sooner than expected. (Y/n) hadn’t seen Gwen since last night. However, she had called and said to wait for her on the roof of his building. (Y/n) had wanted to tell her to use a car but before he got a chance Gwen had ended the call. So, as the sun started to set behind the concrete jungle, (Y/n) locked his apartment laboratory dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. Jingling his keys into his pocket and bringing out his phone, (Y/n) called Gwen.

“Hey Gwen” (Y/n) called when the blonde punk star picked up her phone. By the sounds of things, she was on her way, if the sounds of cars honking and wind whipping past the speakers were anything to go by.

“Hey… (Y/n)” Gwen managed to say between grunts “I’m almost there… Two minutes tops” (Y/n) smiled to himself as he looked towards New York’s busiest area, Times Square, where Spider-Gwen was most likely swinging past.

“Take your time Gwen. There’s no need to rush.” (Y/n) squinted his eyes as he saw something fly past a building.

“Almost there!” Came Gwen’s reply. Suddenly there was a whoosh of air and a flash of pink and white as Spider-Woman flew up (Y/n)’s apartment building and landed on the water tower of the building, legs crouched and a phone to her ear.

“I’m here” She cooed cockily.

(Y/n) ended the phone call, slipped his phone into his pocket and smirked up at Gwen, who was dangling one of her legs off the side of the water tower.

“So, will you be going as Gwen Stacy or Spider Woman?” (Y/N) asked, gesturing to the fact that Gwen was wearing her Lycra, white and pink heroine costume. Although her mask was off revealing her blonde hair and bright baby blue eyes. Looking down at herself Gwen chuckled at her appearance. Brining her feet onto the tower roof, Gwen flipped down beside (Y/n) who then saw the bag on her back.

“That’s what this is for dummy.” Opening her pack, Gwen showed (Y/n) that it was full of normal clothes befitting a punk drummer, including the two mahogany drum sticks (Y/n) had gifted Gwen as a show of thanks for her saving his life after a Green Goblin incident. Zipping up the bag, Gwen smiled at (Y/n) who smiled back. The glow of the New York skyline silhouetted the pair slowly inching closer. The only thing (Y/n) could focus on was Gwen, even the excited roaring of Conquest was ignored as Gwen placed her hands against (Y/n)’s chest and leaned in.

“Gwen” (Y/n) gasped, breathlessly. Gwen moved one of her Lycia covered fingers to (Y/n)’s lips and shushed hum.

“No more talking” Gwen whispered, sending shivers down (Y/n)’s spine. “Only… action” Gwen moved her body until it was pressed hard against (Y/n)’s own. Gwen’s lips pursed together as (Y/n) and Gwen both closed their eyes and leaned forward.

Until they were interrupted by Gwen’s ringtone. The cherry jingle was Gwen’s newest, most hated thing in existence. She groaned in frustration as her romantic moment ended with the man she had been crushing on, now stepped away from Gwen.

“It’s okay, you take it” Said (Y/n) with a smile, Gwen gave an apologetic one back and glared at her friend and another member of her band Glory Grant’s caller ID.

“Kill her!” Screamed the voice in her head

“But she’s my friend” Countered Gwen softly, so softly that she hoped (Y/n) wouldn’t hear.

“She’s ruining our chances with (Y/n)!” yelled Venom. The symbiote living in Gwen’s body had been very troublesome. Ever since the two bonded, Gwen had been plagued by the endless, unrelenting need to let the symbiote take control. But she knew this would only lead to her killing innocent people. True Venom helped her in her fights, but Gwen wanted it gone… Trouble is, she doesn’t know how. And she doesn’t want to scare (Y/n) away.

Answering Glory’s call, Gwen was bombarded with her friend’s worried and angry voice.

“Where the hell are you!” Yelled Glory, her anger easily recognizable through the phone.

“I’m in the middle of something!” Whisper shouted Gwen with a nervous smile directed at (Y/n).

“Oh, is it (Y/n)… Wait no, I don’t care. Our air headed leader is badgering me and Betty because you’re not here!” Gwen groaned at the news. When they had first formed the Mary Janes, the lead singer Mary Jane was pretty much a normal girl. But over time turned out to be an A-grade bitch. The red head was nosey, commanding and bratty… and those were her best qualities!

“Fine” sighed Gwen “I’ll be there in five”

“Make it four!” said Glory before the call was ended. Gwen huffed angrily as she dropped her phone into her pack, zipping the bag up and slinging it over her shoulders, Gwen turned back to (Y/n).

“I’m… sorry about that.” Gwen said nervously, a light pink blush creeping across her cheeks as Gwen fought against the embarrassment. (Y/n) shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s fine… But it sounds like we should go.” He said. Gwen cursed Glory in her mind.

“Yess” Hissed Venom “Kill Glory! Then Mary Jane! Then (Y/n) will be ours, forever!”

“You’re right” Sighed Gwen

“Wait. I am?” Asked Venom in surprise

“Not you!” Whispered Gwen to herself. Shaking her head and ignoring her symbiote, Gwen held out a hand to (Y/n) who took it. The pair smiled at each other before Gwen used her free hand to zip them across the city to Central Park.

Central Park was about a thirty-minute drive from (Y/n)’s apartment, but by web slinging it was only three. Unfortunately for all parties involved, (Y/n) wasn’t the best with heights. As soon as Gwen held him in her arm and leapt of his apartment, he shut his eyes tightly. He could feel the wind rushing past him, hear the short bursts of gas from Gwen’s web slingers and his stomach churned at the feeling of swinging through the air, knowing that it would be death if he fell or something happened to Gwen.

“Stop being a baby” groaned Conquest as (Y/n) wrapped his hands around Gwen’s waist.

“I’m a scientist, not an adventurer!” Screamed (Y/n) in his mind

“You’re embarrassing us!” Conquest countered

“Shut up!”

When Gwen felt (Y/n) hold onto her waist tighter, she smiled gleefully.

“Maybe I should do this with him more often” She thought to herself, relishing in the close contact with (Y/n) and how tightly he held onto her.

“Look at him” came Venom’s raspy voice “So, vulnerable. We could make him our pet.” Gwen frowned in annoyance, why is it that she could never just be happy for more than two seconds now.

“We are not making him our pet” Whispered Gwen, shooting a web to the corner of the nearest building and pulling. While swinging with one hand wasn’t hard, it wasn’t exactly easy with someone weighing her down.

“Why not? He looks so cute. So… delicious.” The alien yet somehow feminine voice angered Gwen with its words. “First we kill Glory and that bimbo redhead. Then we show (Y/n) who we truly are and he submits to our love!” Gwen frowned but said nothing. She really wanted (Y/n) to love her… But how far was she willing to go to get the love.

The concert in Central Park was being held at a moving sage. People were filling the area in front of the elevated stage dressed in punk clothing. Stands of various foods, drinks and other questionable substances lined the ring before the stage. The backdrop of the stage was a blood red curtain with the words “THE MARY JANES!” printed in the middle in a font that looked like wet paint. On the stage was a set of drums, two mic stands and a keyboard. Gwen, still dressed as Spider Woman, swung down behind the stage and away from prying eyes. (Y/n) was holding onto her tightly as to not fall and breathed a sigh of relief when his feet landed on the ground.

“Oh, it’s not that bad” chastised Gwen as she unzipped her bag. (Y/n)’s stomach was doing flips but even Conquest was not impressed with (Y/n)’s less than graceful display during their transport.

“Oh god. Do not be sick. You’ll ruin our chances!” Conquest commanded.

“Then can you help me so my stomach doesn’t feel like it’s in a tornado?” (Y/n) asked.

“Fine. But you need to start exercising. Brains can’t solve every problem.” Reminded Conquest. Because Conquest had bonded with (Y/n)’s internal organs and blood stream, the symbiote was able to easily repair any damage done to (Y/n)’s body, which included fatigue and nausea.

Meanwhile, Gwen had leapt into the branches of a nearby tree and pulled out her clothes. All she had under her Lycra and Spandex suit was her pink bra and a pair of white boxers because she hated panties. Hidden beneath the foliage of the tree, Gwen unzipped her suit and peeled it off her body as quickly as she could. Which caused her to lose her balance and she almost fell to the ground mostly naked but luckily her feet managed to stick to a tree branch and she was still hidden. Gwen saw (Y/n) leaning against the base of the tree she was in as he sucked in air.

“So cute” Gwen thought as she slinked back up into the tree. Pulling out her red shirt with black, diagonal stripes Gwen pulled the shirt over her body as she shimmed on some black skinny jeans before hurriedly pulling some slip-on shoes on and stuffing her spider woman costume in her bag, followed by her mask of course. Taking the drum sticks (Y/n) had given her, Gwen zipped her bag closed and jumped down to (Y/n) with a smile.

“Let’s go.” Was all she said.

Gwen led (Y/n) backstage where Gwen’s friends Glory and Betty were waiting, as well as Mary Jane the lead singer. The red haired stuck up, snobby, pompous bane of Gwen’s existence had her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Glory and Betty shuffled off to the side as Mary Jane glared harshly at the drummer.

“And where exactly have you been?” She asked acting high and mighty. (Y/n) stood awkwardly behind Gwen who stood in front of him in a protective stance.

“I was out getting my friend. You see, unlike you, he actually wants me to play.” Gwen barked back aggressively. Mary Jane scoffed at the accusation and turned to Glory and Betty for assistance but the two rolled their eyes at the red head and looked away. Growling, Mary Jane threw away the microphone she had been holding, it flew in (Y/n)’s direction and he had to duck to avoid being hit. Gwen growled at Mary Jane for this.

“What the hell, psycho!” Gwen yelled

“You’re the psycho if you think you can do this gig without me. You know what, fuck it, have fun without me losers.” Mary Jane yelled back as she stormed off leaving the three band members and (Y/n) alone.

Out in the front, the audience had begun chanting “M, J. M, J” over and over as time crept forward. Gwen looked to Glory and Betty.

“What do we do know?” asked Gwen in panic, she hadn’t expected Mary Jane to storm off like that.

“Don’t look at us girl. You did the talking” Glory reminded Gwen. Peeking out from behind the curtain, Gwen saw the mass of people waiting and wondering why she and the others weren’t on stage yet.

“We’ll have to cancel” Said Betty when Gwen turned back around.

“No, you don’t” reassured (Y/n), the three band members turned to (Y/n) in confusion.

“What do you mean we don’t? We just lost our lead singer and also the reason we’re called the Mary Janes!” said Glory, (Y/n) stepped forward.

“So? Call yourselves something different.” (Y/n) said turning to Betty. “Gwen always goes on about how good of a singer you are compared to Mary Jane. I bet you’ll do better than she ever could.” Betty blushed at his compliment.

“Why thank you.” She said, (Y/n) nodded and turned to Glory.

“I don’t think you need anyone to tell you how awesome you are Glory, I mean it’s in your name.” He said. Glory beamed at the man.

“Got that right sugah.” She said. And finally (Y/n) turned to Gwen with a soft smile.

“And you Gwen. Well… You’re perfect in my eyes.” At these words, Gwen couldn’t help but blush. Glory and Betty both screeched in happiness as their number one ship just sailed. Even Conquest joined in.

“Aww, that’s nice” he said in (Y/n)’s mind. When Gwen finally got over the shock of (Y/n) basically saying he liked her back she smiled back at (Y/n).

“You know, you still owe me a kiss.” Gwen declared as she linked her hands behind (Y/n)’s neck. The man in her arms smiled and placed a soft kiss to her cheek but nothing more. “What was that?” asked Gwen slightly annoyed “I thought we were having a moment? You missed my mouth.” Glory and Betty laughed in the background.

“We’ll finish our ‘moment’ when you finish this concert.” (Y/n) promised. Gwen pouted but relented as she let go of (Y/n). Turning to her two friends Gwen brought out her drumsticks and twirled them in her hands.

“Right girls… Let’s do this thing.”

(Y/n) watched as Gwen, Glory and Betty all made their way onto the stage. The crowd erupted into applause and cheer as Betty slung her guitar strap over her shoulder, Glory stood next to her keyboard and Gwen sat down at her drum set. Gwen gripped the microphone near her head and spoke clearly into it.

“Alright everyone listen up, my name’s Gwen and we got a killer show tonight!” she yelled, in response hundreds of dedicated fans screamed in appreciation. “Luckily for us, our bitchy lead singer left and so you got yourselves a new band. We are… The SPIDER WOMAN!” (Y/n) and Conquest couldn’t help themselves, they burst into laughter. A few people in the audience mumbled to others in confusion or anger at the name. But the vast majority only screamed louder with applause. Gwen, Glory and Betty all smiled at each other. Gwen twisted her sticks and crashed them together.

“One, two, three, four!” At ‘four’ all three women started expertly playing their instruments in such a way that it was impossible for (Y/n) to not dance to.

(If you guys want… There’s this for reference. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mBXOcNcZvs)

Gwen poured her heart and soul into her song and drums. Playing music had always been a conduit for her, having no one to really console her feelings with, Gwen had often hidden behind the lyrics of songs to express her emotions. Tonight, Gwen and the SPIDER WOMAN played a song that Gwen felt was about her. Every note, lyric, beat and breath were perfect and the crowd’s cheers only grew louder. At one point, Gwen looked to the side to see (Y/n), hidden behind a curtain, smiling away gleefully at her and she couldn’t help but smile back. This only spurred her to play harder, better. Gwen felt as if she was on another level, nothing could go wrong, she was untouchable. This was a feeling Gwen never had when Mary Jane had been with the band. Gwen’s new demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Glory and Betty. The keyboardist looked to the guitarist with a surprised yet overjoyed look and a smile graced each of their lips as they played.

Hours later and the concert was still going but Gwen and the others needed a break from the constant playing and so let another, lesser known band take the stage as the SPIDER WOMAN walked backstage. As Gwen and the others came into view (Y/n) started clapping and whistling catching the attention of the three girls.

“Now that’s a show to behold.” Exclaimed (Y/n). Gwen, who felt undefeatable, rushed forward and jumped onto (Y/n)’s body, sending the pair crashing into the sofa of which (Y/n) had been sitting in moments ago. Glory and Betty looked at each other.

“Let’s give our girl some privacy” Said Glory with a smile, Betty smiled back and nodded. Together the two left to give Gwen and (Y/n) some much needed alone time. Now laying on top of (Y/n), Gwen felt in control… Just how she liked it. She could tell Venom liked it too as all it was saying was ‘Yes.’ Over and over. Gwen breathed in (Y/n)’s scent deeply, loving the earthy smell he had from working with plants.

“I believe you owe me something” Breathed Gwen, her face inches from (Y/n)’s own. (Y/n) smiled looking up at the beauty on top of him, Gwen’s short blonde hair shimmered in the dim lights of the concert stage even from behind the curtain.

“Of course” (Y/n) closed his eyes and leaned forward with his head, Gwen did the same and tried to silence the giddy feeling within her. And finally, it happened. After close to two years of waiting, yearning Gwen Stacy finally got to kissed (Y/n) Hill. And the best part? He was kissing back.

After thirteen minutes of consecutive ‘marking territory’ as Venom said, Gwen and (Y/n) finally separated. Gwen curled up on (Y/n)’s body like a cat. In (Y/n)’s mind a full blown fiesta was going on between Conquest and (Y/n) as they both celebrated ‘getting the girl.’ Sadly, the good time was not to last as one of the stage hands walked over.

“Miss Stacy. You’re on now.” He said before walking away. Gwen groaned in annoyance as she rolled off (Y/n)’s body and into a standing position.

“And I was just getting comfy too” She moaned. (Y/n) chortled at this remark and stood as well, stretching his arms as he did so.

“Will a kiss be enough?” (Y/n) asked slyly, a coy smile appearing on his lips. Gwen smirked back.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I might need further convincing” Gwen said challengingly

“Nope, deals off then.” (Y/n) said with a confident smirk of his own. Gwen’s smile fell away, replaced instead by a look of shock.

“What? That wasn’t how this was meant to go.” She outraged but (Y/n) kept smiling.

“Then you best finish this concert” Gwen opened her mouth to say something, but the unyielding shouting of the waiting fans stopped her.

“You better not forget” Warned Gwen as she started to walk away.

“I’ll be here when you finish.” (Y/n) said.

Gwen turned around, intent of saying some kind of snarky remark. But what she saw chilled her blood. (Y/n) stood happily, a smile on his face and without a care in the world. Behind him, a man dressed in all black from head to toe, with a small firearm in his hand, the gun barrel was pointed directly at (Y/n)’s head. Time seemed to slow for Gwen, willing Venom to her aid she reached out with an arm molded by the Symbiote as it stretched towards (Y/n), intent of pushing him out of harm’s way. The man fired his gun, a flash of fire erupted from the barrel as the empty shell flew from the gun and the deadly bullet started its journey. (Y/n)’s smile slowly dropped and his eyes widened as he saw Gwen using the Symbiote and Gwen couldn’t help but feel the hurt in her chest at this. But she needed to save (Y/n)… Even if he hated her afterwards. Gwen and Venom yelled with defiance as they surged towards (Y/n)… But the gunman was closer. The bullet entered the back of (Y/n)’s head with an explosion of blood and gore as it travelled through his skull and into his brain. Gwen screamed in sadness and rage as (Y/n) fell lifeless to the dirty floor.

At the sound of the gunshot the crowd outside quieted before most screamed in shock and panic, running for the exits as security guards swarmed the grounds. The mysterious invader fled the scene, knowing his contract was finished. Venom wanted to go after the villain but Gwen was too distraught with sadness and loss to do anything more than rush to (Y/n)’s side. The White Widow looked into (Y/n)’s dead eyes and tears left her own.

“No, no, no.” Gwen muttered, rolling (Y/n) to the side she noticed how irreversible the wound was. (Y/n) was gone, forever. And the was nothing Gwen could do about it.

“Catch him.” Hissed Venom “Kill him, rip him apart! Make him suffer!” And for once, Gwen couldn’t agree more.

Venom overtook Gwen’s body. The symbiote’s black body encased Gwen, turning her into a living weapon. Serrated blade like teeth covered Gwen’s face as they shifted to form a mouth. Two milky white, curved eyes curved around the top of Gwenom’s head as her body grew slightly bigger, leaner and deadlier. Now fully morphed into Gwenom, Gwen relinquished control of her mind. Sadness, guilt and anger coursed through Venom’s mind, making it stronger. Sniffing the air around it, Venom locked on to the scent of the attacker and blocked all other thoughts from its mind.

“I’m going to shred you into an appetizer” It growled, leaping from where it stood, away from the stage.

Meanwhile, as soon as the bullet hit (Y/n), Conquest hadn’t stopped working. Because Conquest had bonded with (Y/n) organs and primarily his brain, Conquest was able to fix most wounds. But a direct headshot from almost point black range was proving to be difficult. The Klyntar worked as fast as it could to repair damage, luckily because Conquest’s home is inside (Y/n)’s brain, the symbiote had taken the piercing and brute force of the bullet, stopping it from actually hitting the brain. But the wound could still prove to be fatal.

“Come on. If you die, I die” Conquest muttered to himself as the wound on (Y/n)’s head slowly but surely stitched itself back together. “Alright, heads working… Thirty seconds until complete body failure… Need to restart heart.” Conquest listed. Tendrils of silver rushed through (Y/n)’s veins, heading for his heart. (Y/n)’s heart had stopped beating, Conquest could feel (Y/n)’s life drift away and doubled his efforts. The tendrils of silver spun around inside (Y/n)’s heart like a typhoon. Slowly, the muscles of (Y/n)’s heart began to expand and contract. Slowly at first as if the muscle was being driven by a cautious snail, then the beats grew faster and faster, suddenly (Y/n)’s heart was racing and Conquest could feel the blood pumping again. And his hard work paid off as (Y/n)’s eyes snapped open.

Venom had only one goal in mind. Slaughter the person responsible for (Y/n)’s death in the most gruesome way possible. Cars and trucks passed underneath Gwenom as they zipped across building tops. The smell of nicotine and gunpowder led Gwenom across the city, for just one man living in New York, he sure knew how to move. But Gwenom didn’t falter, the anger and rage spurred her on like a combustion engine of pure fury. Venom’s symbiotic abilities allowed Gwen to move faster and hit harder. And so, when Gwenom leapt through the air and saw the masked murderer that had killed their (Y/n), they shot their symbiotic limbs around the individual on the streets, trapping them in a jail of inky darkness. The other civilians on the streets screamed in terror as Gwenom pulled herself to the ground, her legs outstretched towards the assailant. Gwenom could feel bones breaking under their feet as their target slammed into the ground. The tendrils of Venom’s flesh snaked their ways back into their host as Gwenom crawled atop the murderer.

“Who. Are. YOU!” Gwenom screeched, ripping off the assaliant’s mask revealed a man with short black hair and terrified black eyes. The man tried to reach for his gun which had skidded across the sidewalk. But Gwenom saw this and, taking the man’s hand in her own clawed one, broke every bone in the man’s hand. The man screamed in agony as Gwenom slowly started to pull his arm out of its socket.

“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT!” He shouted, gritting his teeth in pain. The pulling stopped. “I’ll tell you everything… Just please stop” The man pleaded for his life and sanity, but Gwenom wasn’t even half finished with him.

“Too late.” She growled. With inhuman strength, Gwenom leapt into the air pulling the man by his already dislocated and broken hand. With their free hand Gwenom crawled up the side of the nearest building and threw the man onto the roof. He tried desperately to crawl away, even trying to stop the pain by crawling to the ledge… But Gwenom was faster.

Gwenom’s arms bubbled and twisted, changing shape and form until they were no longer hands. But the blades of scythes. The assassin looked on in fear as the vigilante stalked ever closer, weapons set to kill. He closed his eyes and prayed to every religion he could think of for forgiveness as he awaited his death… Which never came. The assassin opened his eyes and saw two swirling points of darkness directly in front of his eyes and the only thing between them and himself, were two tendrils of silver. There was a loud crash as something crawled up the side of the building, following the two silver tendrils. And as it appeared over the ledge, the assassin couldn’t help but faint. Another symbiote. This time its body was a lustrous silver with swirling red eyes of similar shape to that of Gwenom. Rows of black razors filled its mouth and despite having a male appearance was exceptionally lean and built for speed.

“Stop! Now!” Warned the Silver Symbiote, its voice sounding like the other symbiotes, a mix between Klyntar and its host, two voices acting as one. Gwenom took a step back in surprise, its scythe blades crossing over their chest in a defensive stance.

“Who are you?” asked Gwenom, the silver symbiote stepped forward, walking over the unconscious man and stepping closer to Gwenom who growled in warning.

“We, are Conquest.” Conquest explained “And you need to stop Gwen.” Gwenom recoiled in shock.

“How do you know that name?” they asked cautiously.

“Because I know you. Venom is controlling you Gwen. Don’t let it take away what you already have.” Conquest tried to negotiate terms.

“We work together. I don’t control her!” Gwenom said

“Gwen wouldn’t kill for revenge. The Gwen I know would do everything in her power to find another way.” Conquest continued, taking another step forward.

“Then you don’t know me at all!” shouted Gwen, her voice acting on her own and sounding close to tears.

“I know you love music. I know you love your friends… I know you hate pickles with a scary passion. Let me help you Gwen.”

Gwenom screamed in pain, their scythe hands turning back to claws as they gripped their head. Conquest stood nearby, watching the scene unfold before him with a curious gaze. Finally, when Gwenom looked up, Conquest knew it wasn’t going to be fun for the next few minutes. Gwenom launched themselves at Conquest and together the four flew off the side of the building, smashing through the glass of the account’s offices across the street. The two symbiotes rolled through the boring grey cubicles, razing everything in their paths. Papers, files and computers flew and smashed around the offices as black punches were traded with silver kicks. It looked to be a stalemate, neither Gwenom nor Conquest giving in but as Conquest sent a devastating uppercut directly to Venom’s head it seemed Conquest had the upper hand. Until Venom’s arms morphed back into scythes and with one swift motion she cut everything in the room clean in half. Seeing the attack coming, Conquest’s whole body twisted together until it became a swirling mass in the form of a ball. Gwenom’s usually powerful attack, bounced off harmlessly. Venom’s attack triggered the alarms, sirens started blaring and the fire suppression system kicked in, showering the two combatants with water. As Gwenom stumbled back in confusion, Conquest uncurled from its ball and sprung at Venom. The mad Symbiote could do nothing as Conquest pushed it to the ground, straddling its waist and pinning its limbs and any other tendrils it formed to the ground.

Gwenom screeched in disapproval. “Last chance Venom. Leave Gwen.” Commanded the silver symbiote.

“NEVER!” hissed Venom, staring directly into its opponents red eyes. With a growl of defiance, a small tendril of silver, snaked its way from Conquest’s chest. It moved slowly, carefully through the air towards Venom who withered and flailed underneath its captor. Gwenom watched as the small tendril slithered its way around her face before suddenly jabbing into the space between her eyes. From a third perspective it was a sight to behold. As Gwenom screeched and withered in pain, the symbiote was actually being forcefully, removed from Gwen’s body. The black form of the Klyntar swirled around the silver body of Conquest, molding together with the other symbiote forming inky black, constantly moving rows around its body. Eventually, as the last of the Venom symbiote was extracted from Gwen’s body, the drummer laid on the ground her breathing heavy, a look of fear on her face as she backed away from Conquest having no way to defend herself. She didn’t get far, barely three inches before Gwen felt a wall pressed up against her back.

“Who, who are you?” Gwen managed to stammer, despite the majority of her strength being sapped away with the Venom symbiote who now swirled around Conquest’s body like moving armour.

“You need not be afraid Gwen. We wish you no harm.” Conquest proclaimed, kneeling down in front of the drummer. Gwen watched with fear as black tendrils swirled in with silver before Conquest began to shrink in size. If Gwen was scared before, it was nothing compared to now, when she found that not only was he alive, but (Y/n) had a symbiote. His kind, friendly face seemed so alien now. Gwen felt as though he had lied to her since the beginning.

“You’re… alive?” Gwen whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder.

“I just got you. I’m not losing you.” (Y/n)’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. It was a miracle that Gwen could hear him over the sounds of the sirens.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gwen asked, caressing (Y/n)’s face, leaning against the wall with the man she had just recently fought standing over her, protecting her from the downpour from the sprinklers. Even though Gwen’s body was already soaked, from her jeans to her top.

“I could say the same thing” was the answer (Y/n) gave. Gwen trialed a smile and, for her efforts, received one back.

“Touché. Mister Hill.” Gwen spoke.

“Wanna get outta here? I think I can hear police storming the building.” (Y/n) offered Gwen his hand. Blue eyes looked into (Y/n)’s own. And by the time the police kicked the doors down, (Y/n) and Gwen were already long gone.

“SINCE WHEN CAN SYMBIOTES FLY!” Gwen screamed as she clung to Conquest’s back, two insectoid-like wings keeping the pair in the clouds.

“Since they realized that shape-shifting is the coolest power ever.” (Y/n) replied “No more swinging around for this guy” Gwen had to admit she felt a little saddened by this, remembering the time (Y/n) had clung so tightly to her body on the way to the concert. The city of New York seemed akin to a painting, as Gwen and (Y/n) flew over the city. Gwen looked at the swirling black marks on Conquest’s silver body and grimaced.

“Do, do they talk to you?” asked Gwen over the sound of rushing air.

“Conquest keeps Venom in check, most times. I dunno, it’s weird. Never heard of two symbiotes on one body before. Although I must admit I’m flattered that you and Venom had so many plans to get my attention.” Gwen blushed at the last part and slapped the black lines on the body beneath her.

“Bad Venom.” She muttered.

Two months had passed since Gwen and (Y/n) became more than friends. During which they talked about each other, telling each other their secrets. Gwen learned that (Y/n) was from another universe and (Y/n) learned that Gwen wanted to dye her hair pink. Gwen didn’t apparently have many secrets besides being Spider-Woman. Today the pair were taking a day off, that led to them taking the entire week off from work with S.H.I.E.L.D. Gwen had taken (Y/n) for a drive out of the city, to a nearby lake side cabin she used to frequent with her parents. The cabin itself could have down with a makeover but it was the lake that made the two want to stay. With crystal clear, sparkling waters filled with life it was no wonder that most of the day was spent in the water, which was conveniently heated by a series of tiny, underground, harmless lava rivers which made the water a comfy twenty-two degrees Celsius. Gwen had wanted to surprise (Y/n) on the trip and so she brought her special swimming suit. It was fashioned after her spider-woman uniform with a pink inside covered with neon blue ‘webbing’ lining. The outside was often white but the bikini top that was attached to her hood had two black diamonds covering her breasts and her bottoms had a large black patch covering her nether regions while two white straps held the garment securely to Gwen’s body. When (Y/n) had first seen Gwen wearing such astounding clothing he had immediately submerged his lower half in the water. Likewise, Gwen felt aroused often due to (Y/n) physique. While he wasn’t a ripped jock with bulging muscles. (Y/n) still had a somewhat defined stomach with only hits of fat and Gwen smiled to herself thinking he was just more cuddly, despite hosting two of the most dangerous living aliens on the planet inside himself. The two spent their days, having fun in the water and the nights roasting marshmallows over an open fire. After a strenuous make out session which involved Gwen wearing her Spider-Woman outfit, (Y/n) was resting his head atop Gwen’s breasts, her arm wrapped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“That was great” Said Gwen, looking at the webbing hanging from the ceiling. “I always wanted to try that.”

“I think you need to work on your Spiderwoman kiss. Considering that you dropped a few extra inches.” (Y/n) said remembering the first time Gwen had tried to perform her new favorite kiss only to misjudge the distance and shoved her crotch in her boyfriend’s face.

“You liked it” Cooed Gwen. (Y/n) decided not to dignify that with a response. The pair laid there on their bed, content with each other. Neither of them knew that when they would next wake, their lives would never be the same again.

#Spidergwen x reader #Gwen x reader #Gwen stacy x reader #readerinsert #marvel #submission

93 notes · View notes

colitisandme · 4 years

Text

Acceptance.

Before I start this blog post ... I have my face set to super excited mode. My little blog has been nominated for an award! (eeeeeep) I am incredibly surprised and blessed that it has reached and resonated with so many people and I want to say that if you enjoy my writing, Iwould be incredibly grateful if you click on the this link. https://www.wegohealth.com/Jess2/awards and click endorse me. Thank you all. Love and light to you xxxxx

It’s 1.00am and I have bid my husband goodnight 3 bloody hours ago which is where I should be but no, no such sodding luck because at around 7pm with no warning at all, my unco-operative body decided to defy my wishes, pleading, nice, cozy, relaxed state of mind, and for a lovely surprise give me the middle finger and twist itself up like a pretzel. As a result of this joyous turn of events I have hobbled off to the freezer, trying not to fall over and rigorously stuffed ice into every place I can stuff ice without turning myself into a human icicle. As a result, my lovely relaxed evening has turned into me balled up, shivering, blue, alone and making noises like a disgruntled quivering moose. I have used up all the swear words in my arsenal and I am seriously thinking of limping off into the garden lying down and letting creatures of the night gnaw my bloody leg off.

If you ask anyone who knows me, I have a very high pain threshold. I am quite a placid person. I once had an experience where I had to have my wisdom tooth out and it was so twisted and embedded, my kind and gentle dentist had to pretty much put his own knee on my chest to get it out. Huffing and puffing to yank out the little blighter saying ever so helpful things like ‘ooh it’s really stuck in there isn’t it’ whilst my mum was crawling the walls desperately trying to escape the room, situation and possibly County, becoming the colour of an aubergine every time she looked in my direction. I endured this WITH NO ANESTHETIC! And I didn’t bite him which I would say was a win for him and a shock for me the nurse, the waiting room and my Mum. But I hold my hands up and admit, living with Fibromyalgia has changed this. On my worst days It is like having your nerves set on fire, whilst having a very enthusiastic bass player twanging you’re tendons and nerves to a lively melody. Demons turn you on a spit at the same time putting clothes pegs on every part of your flesh all day long. As well as the pain level, which is at worst searing and best annoying, Phyllis Fibro likes to test me by making me forget the word for socks, putting my keys in the fridge, slurring words like I have had 12 pints of beer and lost power of speech,facial functionality and equilibrium and not being able to lie down coz it feels like I am roasting alive every time my limbs touch any surface.

So trying to live, work and generally function with this absolute baffling, nite mare of a condition is testing to say the least. Anything that is a normal task for someone else, takes me the capacity and concentration of a bloody brain gymnast and scrabble champion to complete and complete it to a high level. It is also incredibly frustrating when you are having a nice normal conversation with someone and suddenly Phyllis decides to bounce about on the language centre in my brain like a bloody trampoline, so when I speak I sound like I have forgotten what a sentence structure is, thrown the odd word in the shredder and am instead forging ahead with my own Jess language wondering why people are backing away into a corner, with extreme alarm, worry and sympathy , explaining they have to go because their cat is on fire, Grandma has exploded and trying to hurriedly open their car using their lipstick instead of their key. Forgetting someone’s name, birthday, name of tv programme you just watched, film you just saw and developing the inability to identify every day objects - by garbling words together to describe something you need like “it’s .... oh you you know five fingers, woolly - hand - glove” is not a way to make friends and influence people.

My day to day routine becomes a sadistic game show where the alarm goes off the music starts and the host starts talking: ‘She’s been such a good sport let’s see what she has won ... Well we had this 3 days ago and it’s back, yes it’s new, it’s exciting, it’s..... (drumroll) I step out of bed and hold my breath ‘imbalance’ (crowd cheers) ‘yes that’s right, this morning you have won trying to get downstairs without breaking your neck, walking like a drunk person and not falling face first into the basin/shower/toilet ... (more cheering and laughter) Join me later folks to see what else our wonderful contestant has won...’ Spoiler I never get the cuddly toy.

Because I have to work so hard to not sound, smell and look like a deranged aardvark... (some days it takes momentous strength to haul myself into the shower and not fall asleep under the faucet) I get very tired. Imagine not sleeping for 3 days and nights and then doing a normal day. For me this is my reality. I have always let my successes define me. My work defines me, my work ethic define me. It was absolutely imperative that I be the best daughter, friend, wife... The harder I worked and the better my results, the better person I was. The more worth I had. The problem with this really unhealthy way of being is, that it’s never enough and if I fall short of my own expectations which I do sometimes I see it as my condition beating me and me failing. I have touched on this on my other posts about my own view of myself but in short I do not deal with it well. So I push myself harder and harder until I become a big pile of goo. I realised this very recently when something I was not expecting happened. It was such a shock my body went into shock and Phyllis went mad. It was like she had drunk 47 cups of coffee, red bull, taken a lot of mind bending drugs, and caused absolute havoc. After my body imploded, and Phyllis had tore me apart then collapsed in a drug addled heap. I realised that i was hurting myself more than Phyllis is. I need to slow down. In trying to ignore my condition, plough on regardless and be ‘perfect’ I am missing out on all the joy and small moments I should be experiencing. I outwardly promote kindness and finding the joy in the small things, loving yourself and taking time for you and it’s a message I wholeheartedly live by. But I forgot to apply this to myself. I forgot to stop. To breathe, to not worry about being perfect, and I stopped thinking about what was important. My bubble, my husband, my friends, my family, my joys, my wellbeing. The simple and beautiful things that make my soul full and happy. In trying to fight back I became an enormous, green She hulk, digging my heels into the ground to hold back the onslaught of this illness and the Microscopic colitis I have already lost because that effort has already meant that I may win that fight but ultimately I will lose the war and that is not something I am willing to do.

So I know that I need to practice what I preach and hold my hands up and step back. It’s soooooo difficult. I can’t tell you because the need to be the best version of myself is ingrained in my being. But I guess being the best version of myself means I have to accept this new version of myself fibromyalgia, Microscopic Colitis and all. So I now vow to love myself in sickness and health and not push myself to breaking point and I guess as part of this new reality I will just have to accept that there will be days when my pain levels smash my current pain ometer and I will invent new swear words to express how I feel. But this is okay I guess, and as one of my favourite Singers Pink rightly says ‘Never ever feel like your less than, less than perfect ... you are worth it to me’.

0 notes

emmaemmag33-blog · 6 years

Text

A Sunday in the middle of June, 2018 Heney Lake was where I was headed before the stroke struck. I was going there for peace and for quiet. For help. I never made it that February. I went to the hospital instead. Now, four and a half years later, I’m here. In the middle of the lake, surrounded by deep green Canadian trees and cold blue water. And I feel peace and I feel quiet. I can see where I’ve been and where I am. A moment of clarity. Though they don’t tend to last long and I’m still seeking help, always with the help. I’m just back from four weeks of desperate help-seeking in San Diego, with Waleed, his Neuro IFRAH hands. It’s Father’s Day. Before I came out here to the middle of the lake, Dad was helping me load stuff into the boat––lifejacket, purse with notebooks, pens, watercolours, bag full of snacks, towels. I’m in my white cotton dress with the big pink roses on it that’s more like a shirt with a frilled skirt falling at the tops of my thighs. My worn out coral hanky-panky underwear have slipped down from my hips because I failed to lift them all the way up when I stood from the toilet–– I tend to pull my stuff up quickly and only on one side often leaving shirts, skirts tucked into underwear, toilet paper in in the waistband. I pause before stepping onto the dock feeling the thong slide down my thighs unable to pull them up since my right hand is full. I stand frozen and crack up, my thong now drooping from my knees to my ankles. Dad’s piling my things into the boat. “Sorry dad,” I say, “my underwear is falling I’ll fix them in a sec.” He turns around shaking his head, smiling the way he’s smiled at me forever, half ignoring my situation while lifting my bags and water bottle from my arm. I bend down to adjust my underwear. In the middle of the lake now. Moving slow, the motor puttering behind. I love how it looks, my bare legs under this white cotton jumper with pink roses and green stems, feet in my white Velcro extra-large-on-the-left-side New Balance shoes and my scratched-up leg brace adorned with faded stickers propped up on the wooden ledge straddling the wide metal steering wheel. I feel pretty and like me in this outfit. Pretty olden day floral print old lady stuff. And my legs and pretty socks. There’s a green and scuzzy film on the water’s surface––pollen; springtime. I don’t mind. Dad does; he’s bothered, aware of every detail. I look around and take stock of this place: to my left the cottage up a steep hill where the Van Wycke’s rented one summer. Turtle Island to my right where we beaded endless bracelets perched on those rocks and dove into the water, made fires for roasting hotdogs on sticks. I always had one hand deep in the marshmallow bag. Marshmallow gum: mash the marshmallow by squeezing its insides with both sets of thumb and index fingers until you’ve mashed so good the marshmallow is now a shiny glob of goo, delicious marshmallow gum, and I was never without. Once pretended it was cottage cheese so no one would ask me for any. My fingers white and flecks of dirt on my face smeared with goo. I took Chris there to that spot at Turtle Island last summer just over a year ago from right now. We jumped naked off those rocks. I loved him blind. Even with all the signs. Signs like when he downed red wine at Gagné Road cottage and I nearly sent him home, away from my family, from me, but instead we took a boat ride to the bay, a quiet talk, another try, touch and tears and love, lying awake at night trying to soothe his shakes, I walk across the field in midnight black to get him an Ativan from my parent’s bathroom. His sick white face, my isolated panic, in the midst of this brand new trauma. Another fail. I still do love Chris, by the way, a year later. That man is a love. Is my friend. Loves and sees me all the way through. Full and full and it’s a beautiful, alive feeling when we get together. I become hyper and giggly running like a deranged person down the street at Sunset Cliffs where he took me for an evening nature moment in Ocean Beach a few weeks ago. I posed by a garden wall filled to bursting with Bougainvillea deep shades of fuchsia purple pink and red. I breathed. That was my first week of San Diego out of this previous four. Waleed mentioned not writing about my rehab perceptions from that time mainly the second week when Gina was there and I was sad and stressed and Waleed talked to me on the Friday but I want to share where I went, where I go in my mind and heart during those difficult rehab weeks, tunnels they are, I try so hard, to stay positive and light and grateful for what’s here. I should share those times, how it interferes and twines with my therapy. My healing. For rehab is a state of mind. So many frustrations about Waleed that I must write about whether to include or not will come later but for now I must get all my stories out, all bits and pieces this theme of wanting help, so desperate for help. Like I was before too… like when I was in London pre-stroke and found an acupuncturist online and he told me about empty spaces where people just dance dance and dance and I think about how now I would like to do that. Chris is my friend. Eloise is my friend, Noah my buddy, Lua my baby. Mommy my Mommy. Lee, Lee and Dad on the wooden boat with me last night after six hours dealing with scammers on the phone. Tequila and a hug from my brother. Dad puffing on his cigar. Our favorite spot on the lake “there they are” we turn our heads to the jumping rocks, the cliffs we’ve all jumped from over the years, memory stored in each shaded rock and crack of that hunk of nature. Lee says to dad “You certainly know what you like: views, light, privacy.” Lee and I list all of dad’s property priorities. I love these men. All the irritations and nuances involved. But how often it ends up being us three, out on a boat, far off in the lake. And now, a solid week after my return from four weeks of a hard-marathon-but-did-it-with-a-smile-San Diego time I am here in dad’s funky red boat, feet up, cruising through Heney lake. This place that is a home, a safety, a paradise. A love infested green treed happy place. Gratitude: for being in nature and looking. Quiet stars at night and loons infusing us with sense memory as they sing and water laps like baby’s breath flowers against the rocks. Early in the season like this mid-June we see a duck family, a train of fluffy yellow babies following their mom/dad, and as summer goes on we throw chunks of stale bread into the lake for them and watch as they change with every visit, the babies lose their fluff, growing older and by the end they’re grown. Just like us humans do. Like Eloise, the same age as my stroke. Born four months before. Enough time for us to bond sans- stroke like when I changed her diaper in the white master bedroom office with the view of blue ocean by the window, cleaning her bum while she looked up at me quiet and happy and we bounced on an exercise ball until she fell asleep in my arms, her precious face warm against my chest. Next I’d see her is the garland of photos in my hospital room then six months later while I convalesced and Jess and family came and it hurt me bad that I couldn’t lift her. I made my first goal at TMS study to be able to lift and carry my niece with two arms. But then her first birthday came and another summer together at Heney Lake when she called me in her high-pitched angel baby voice: Em? EM! And we followed Lua and she fell for my cat calling after him Ca! ca! Now she’s 4 1/2 and we talk and take drives to the bagelshop and visit the river to look for driftwood under the melted snow, we take scooter rides and bike rides where she sits in the basket of my tricycle and we ride to the Green Park where she runs and I watch, we cuddle we play. I think of that quote I heard once about how The last time you pick up your child you don’t know it’s the last time but there’s always a last time. I thought of that the other day watching Lee struggle to scoop and lift her into a hug. She mocks me for liking flowers I point them out all the colors in neighbors gardens while we ride through our streets on my red scooter. We sit in my closet upstairs and she asks about dying why Abby died if Ian died why I am not married did my brain break because it is delicate? She points to a picture and says that’s not you but it is me, it’s me in a life jacket with Ian a decade ago from now I’m holding a paddle and Lulu says it doesn’t look like me and why don’t I have my stroke anymore. She asks questions about how it happened her questions evolve as she grows. “I want to go inside your head and see what’s wrong” she jokes but wow what a concept. And when I correct her to say I had a stroke not have a stroke she insists I’m wrong. No, Aunty Emma, you have a stroke. See because look at your arm and your leg and you still can’t run fast. And so, I suppose she’s right, I suppose I have a stroke still. And at night curled together in my parent’s big bed for a sleepover she asks how long until my stroke is gone and I confess I feel/fear/believe it will be with me for life. We haven’t hid under the covers to be close and snuggly like we used to constantly, pretending to be baby dogs or cats, in a while. I wonder if the last time for that has already passed. I’m now looking at the bay I wrote about recently for the summer of 2015 chapter — Nymph Bay and how I swam off the white boat and then got stuck like a naked loonytoon trying to climb back onto the wooden plank —what did that all mean to be in the bay that day in the summer, where was I? And where am I now? Just be. Be here. Are the two different? Four weeks in San Diego inside my head I repeated: at least I have a hand. A hand I can try to heal and recover movement. At least I have a hand, it wasn’t amputated. I stare at my left arm and hand then. All the young girls in therapy and how their presence shook me. All girls with strokes, all younger than me. I’m nearing thirty. Libby a teenager; staph infection gone wrong. Alison, 22; surgery fail. Three from Hasidic New York. Their own world. I feel less alone in my story with these girls near me. But I stay separate, and something off putts me about them. Something ugly I imagine… like the feeling I get when I see another article or memoir written about girls who had strokes and holes in their hearts. Every movement, progress, release is a victory, a mini miracle: Just do it, keep working, dissociate: no memory no desire, just movement, come on, release my mind, drop down into my heart, just be, let go and move. Ahggg… fingers and brain, brain and fingers, signals we’re trying so hard. Abby’s hand holds mine. She holds my right hand and I turn my head to the window and feel her light while Waleed’s got my left hand. Abby, Abby, Abby, I feel, and try hard not to cry, but hold her strength and move just move. Open fingers, now close gentle, gentle, now open. That Yin and healing yoga class, and driving through Encinitas along California Highway One, a new experience for me, music playing, ocean at my left, Del Mar ferris wheel lit up at my right, and Chris my love my friend our struggle and our resolution. He hadn’t realized how officially out I was. Even though I love him and I do I do, like a dear friend, a love buddy, but my gut, my mind over the line, no consideration for fresh starts and I told him this and he’s sad. And I was too, am too, but different. Because of what we had there for a moment, a tacit knowing, a connecting of soulmates. I always felt You found me when I looked at him. The tiny cottage on the rock at the north end, where I’m passing now, where I took Chris to show where we would live, how I imagined asking owners about buying it. This tiny hut I wanted for us, more his speed. I’m staring into the bay, I feel okay…for now. Exhale, release jaw. There are many layers piled high in me, inside the deep well that’s been around since stroke struck. Just before this past tunnel-month in San Diego, I had Mara’s wedding, Mara from childhood, from summer camp and highschool. I bawled when she walked down the aisle, painful tears that lasted all night, memories of the last night of camp and afraid of goodbyes, on stage with her friends lip-syncing to Spice Girls I hid in the back like my 11 year old insecure self, now insecure with my big white Velcro shoes and black boot-like hand brace. My heart thudded hard all evening and I hated that tomorrow all these people would leave. Sophie to her life in Toronto, Lindsay to LA, Carly and Mara and all the rest Toronto. I drove to the river the next day and looked into the branches still bare from winter, and realized it was Abby’s four year anniversary. That she’d have turned 24, but she will always be twenty. Just twenty. And I howled for Abby. For her life that has gone and for mine here without. I stared empty into the river water current moving fast, bare branches and cool sunset breathing slow and quiet. Went home and slept in my fluffy pink bed like a cloud, my black and white Lua baby curled at my feet. Probably I watched a few episodes of Gilmore Girls, to escape and not be with just me. One week later I’m back up at the cottage, the whole family is here. I’m picking dad’s purple flowers and squinting into the lake at the silver boat in the distance. My contacts aren’t in, I can barely see. But closer they come in it’s Britt and Jim and their two little ones. Jess and Dad with Noah and Lu stop to say a quick hello (Dad later unable to let go of the fact that Mila and Nolan weren’t wearing life jackets. I mean… did anyone else notice?! Shock eyes). I kneel next to their boat and hug Britt, my friend since forever, from down the cottage road. She and Jim have two kids already but are getting married this summer. By the way, I tell her, I actually don’t have a plus one. I selected so on the website but I don’t! Just FYI. And my stomach is flipping even though I really don’t care that I don’t have a plus one! Or do I? No friends in town… Lulu my best friend I joke, but…And while Britt explains it’s no big deal I can bring anyone they gave everyone a plus one it’s a casual party they want everyone to have fun, my well is overflowing and I feel that sad that pain that cringing self loathing and I want to cry and go home and I’m not feeling good inside. We wave goodbye and I sink into the Adirondack chair under the tree and curl into a ball and cry and hurt. But just for a moment, then breathe and lift my head and let’s get out of here for a moment. I’m upstairs trying to pack a bag with things to take out on the red boat. I’ll get out on the water again like I did last weekend, find quiet and clarity, smoke a joint. Breathe. But Mom is writing me a cheque for Spain, because she’s Mom and truly the greatest even when I’m pissy, even when I’m annoyed. I’m pacing across the downstairs gathering puzzle pieces and books, a snack a---What’s wrong Em? Are you ok? I look this way and that, pacing back and forth, the pains from last few life events boiling at the base of me, but I don’t look at her, my mom sitting on the big soft couch. Em? Come here, sweetheart. I’m beside her on the couch aware of my dad at the kitchen sink, uncomfortable. It’s just these triggers, I say, and whispering: I don’t want to cry in front of dad, my mouth curling into crying mouth. “It’s not actually about the plus one,” and at that first tear mom wraps her arms around me and I collapse into her arms my face against her chest the place I always long to be, collapse into her warm body like a pillow the most familiar cozy mommy pillow and I cry loud and hard like a baby, my mom holding me tight, somehow both of us configured into the perfect position. She holds me tighter and I holler cry that unstoppable weeping kind that amazes me every time it comes, so loud and strong, a life of its own, no stopping it, especially with your mom rocking you, her own body heaving and crying above mine, Aware of my Dad in there with us too, standing somewhere close, and I see Abby without Sandy to be held by and Sandy without Abby to hold and I’m so aware of how precious this moment is to be held by my mother. After it quiets down Dad walks over and kisses the top of my head. Woah, I say. And to mom: “We’re all just babes who want our mommies to hold us, rock us, no words, make it all better.” I lift myself up from Mom’s lap and she starts laughing, taking me in. Look at you she says, pointing at my ridiculous white cotton pantaloon set outfit. The one I bought while a bit stoned from the garden sale lady in La Jolla, these much too large white pantaloons, those pink roses green stems, frills below my knees and the matching jumper on top frills at the waist. Like a clown I am, yet this is typical me. And we laugh. Were you on drugs when you bought this stuff, Em?? And I said that yes indeed I’d been stoned but don’t you just love the fabric, the roses, and individually the pieces work! Not long until I’m back in the red boat, lake so still, raindrops pitter patter perfect on its glass surface. Dark green blue, this magic place. This place in life.

0 notes