god help the girl

Despite being a (usually, mostly) completely rational, mature (sort-of) adult, Gwen wanted to run off and join the pirates--or be their new best friend, or date one, which she could really rub in the face of her law-and-order father. She’d seen a few too many pirate movies as a kid, fantasized a few moments too long about being the pirate queen, still took a childish glee at seeing their boat bobbing along the shore. But these were real pirates, the racist, sexist, dangerous, unhygienic kind, and the best she could hope from them was that they’d go away. And maybe leave behind their ship, or at least a really cool hat, so she could still be the pirate queen.

The plan had been to get them back through their portal, but that was shot now, and they were roaming around, angry, hungover, confused. The plan now was--well, she had no plan. So she’d called Cindy for backup and bought a corndog, then perched on a roof, watching the marooned ship. Could they befriend the pirates? Teach them etiquette and how to floss and help them get good paying jobs as members of this weird little society they’d found themselves in? Or tie them all up and hide them in a basement until it all went away--the dinosaurs, the Romans, the Huns, the pirates, the New Gotham, all of it. Until she could be at home in her dad’s house late for band practice, not wherever, whatever this was. Maybe, if she wished hard enough, Peter (her Peter, the first Peter) would be there too.

Her senses pricked up as Cindy approached, and, mouth full of corn dog, Gwen smiled. “Welcome to the crow’s nest,” she said. “Or, like, spiders’ nest, I guess. I’m feeling piratey today--you down for some swashbuckling?”

                  “call it wishful thinking, man, but i’d like to believe at least some of them have had consented sex once in their lives,” she pursed her lips, her face gaining a concerned expression really fast the more she thought about it. not everyone in new gotham was god-like or flawlessly skilled in the art of fighting. and being one with the necessary training to do so, helena felt like this was somewhat her responsability. to aid. to decrease incidents. she wasn’t a hero because she was a role model, a goody-two-shoes in her every action like many others, but because she was always willing to get rid of crime no matter the sorts of violent means used for it. huntress wasn’t one to wait for the bad guy to give a passionate, long speech on why they’re right, she’d just shoot them in the throat, right on sight, and then move on with her life. “pity. i could really use something to calm me down right now. i’m a nervous wreck, you have noooo idea.”

“You and me both,” she said. “I think the answer is to start an all-female pirate gang, no boys allowed, and just start a new and healthy and completely consensual brand of piracy. Maybe teach these hooligans a few manners. And about mouthwash.” Then they could talk. Right now, though--right now, Gwen had to do what she could to keep the city from crumbling to bits. Whatever part of her had ever hoped for normal had long since shut down; she was running on autopilot, on keeping alive and safe until she could finally, finally get home.

Gwen sighed. “I could go for a corn dog. Or, just, like, a giant pause button on life.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been calm, comfortable, sure she wouldn’t wake up to a goddamn Roman battalion outside her front door. She understood where the woman was coming from; she almost wished she smoked. She needed a nap, or a coma. Wake up when it was over and she could go back to being New York City’s most wanted, but at least her dad would be there. “Which ones got to you?”

            “early this morning i heard a girl saying she had a pirate kink and wouldn’t mind if one of these lovely fellas hit on her, i shit you not. her words not mine. i give three days for a syphilis outbreak. like, tops. we’re totally fucked,” helena said nervously, a cigarillo in hand. this used to be her father’s favorite. old-fashioned. the smell of it, even when not lit up, was one of the few palpable things that could still remind her of home. but, god, how she hated it. “…wanna bet? if reality collapsing doesn’t kill us, this bitch will. but hey, any chance you’ve got a lighter?”

“That’s... horrifying,” Gwen said. It was also very much something she would have said. Not in those words, exactly, and she hadn’t had much contact time with these particular pirates (though she was pretty sure she could smell their breath from her apartment), but, still. Getting it on with a pirate? Kind of hot. As long as they were safe. And clean. And--okay, yeah. Fantasy ruined. “Do we think they’ve ever heard the word consent, or is that, like, a completely foreign concept?”

She looked up at the woman, who was holding what was either a very small cigar or a very fancy blunt, and paused “I don’t think so?” she said, not sure why it was a question, because she was almost positive she didn’t cary a lighter on her, but she checked anyway. “Nope, sorry.”

“Because you can’t kill people on the job,” he paused for a second, glancing at her. “You’re not … killing people, right?” Some heroes had strange agendas, not that he expected Gwen to be one of them. “Cause if you are, I’m going to pretend that you aren’t, and we never had this conversation.” 

“I’m thinking that I turn into a t-rex, we approach her, and then somehow guide her back to the portal,” Garfield reasoned, unsure what the dinosaur wanted in the first place. She seemed lost, and scared, but there was something keeping her from causing a total rampage. “You can hop on for a ride, if you want. It’s not everyday you get to uber on an animal like that.” 

“Yes, that’s it, you’ve cracked it. Don’t tell my dad, but I’ve got a murder web in his basement.” She laughed, maybe a bit too loudly. “Oh my god, no. Of course not. Ghost-Spider’s a tie-up and knock out only hero, no murders allowed.” Some of them weren’t so forgiving, Gwen knew that, but she’d never willfully kill anyone--she’d never meant to, at least. Never again. Never again.

If she squinted, the dinosaur almost reminded her of him, before she’d known, after it was too late. Lost and scared and shit out of luck and it was her fault and--stop it. Not now, not here. They were going to save a T-Rex. No one was getting killed.

She blinked, swallowed, nodded. “Okay, one, the fact that you can turn into a dinosaur? Huge flex, very cool, please use it more often. Two, I’m super in, can I please ride you?" A second too late, she realized how it had sounded and winced. "Not like that--shit.”

“Pretty sure there’s a video game for that, Gwen. ‘Sides, better to lose a lifeline on a game than in reality. Those teeth are pointy and they’re like that for a reason, y’know,” Garfield replied, staring at the dinosaur. It would be better to get the animal out of here, no matter how cool it was to see its strength and animal behavior up close. The paleontologists around here must’ve been having a field day! 

“I’m thinking of going full dino and like, attempting to communicate with her? Maybe navigate her to the portal?” 

“Yeah, but isn’t the whole point of being a superhero vigilante not having to waste money on video games? Like, you can do cool shit in real life, why pay 60 bucks to beat up little pixel men?” She shrugged. “You’re right, I know. It’s just--a T-rex? Downtown? That’s wild, dude.” Gwen watched the dinosaur for a moment, enrapt. She wished her dad were here to see this, to yell at her about being stupid and reckless, to realize just how cool and bonkers the world was. 

“Okay, yeah, I like that,” she said. Of course Gar got to live the dream and turn into a dinosaur, while her dream was stupid and dangerous and a very bad idea, Gwen. But he had a point. “What should I do?”

“Whoa, no punching, you might scare her,” Garfield replied, greeting the fellow spider. “I think we can be friends, I mean, I’ve done it with other animals. Sure, some of them bite back but what could go wrong?” He was willing to take a few injuries if it meant getting close to the extinct creature. 

“The t-rex looks kind of lost though,” he noted, realizing that the terrain was probably super unfamiliar for the dinosaur. 

No punching? Not fair. Hadn’t Gar ever been a kid once? Hadn’t he ever just wanted to punch a dinosaur in its incredibly punchable nose? Making friends seemed so nice and mature and responsible and less likely to end in her death. Gwen pouted. “But I wanted to punch some dinos,” she mumbled. “Having her on our side would probably get more street cred, though. Like--hi, this is my friend, Tina, she’s a T-Rex. Can you imagine?”

He was right--the T-Rex was a living creature, out of her time and place, and Gwen hd to sympathize. She was living in a world where she should have been dead, too, where people looked at her like a ghost, a museum artifact. “How can we help her?”

“This is the best day ever!” Garfield shouted, feeling the power of that t-rex roar that seemed to shake midtown. Sure, there might’ve been some damage to the buildings, frantic civilians, and major confusion as to why there was a dinosaur in the middle of the city … but it was still pretty freaking awesome! The green titan didn’t think he’d ever get to see one of these creatures up close, not unless they were cloning dinosaurs in a lab somewhere. Which wouldn’t be the smartest idea if you watched any of the Jurassic Park movies. Still, he could now try morphing into one, finding the chance to be too good to miss. 

“Guess I get to practice my dino-talk.” 

Gwen hadn’t realized that fighting a T-Rex was on her bucket list but, now that she’d seen it, it very, very much was. Could she web its tiny useless arms into its chest? Punch its stupid nose? Ride it across the city? The sky was the limit, and though she really didn’t feel like getting eaten, which was a distinct possibility, she was really enjoying being a superhero again. She swung down next to Gar, grinning. “You gonna make friends with her? Or can we just punch this dinosaur in the face?”

                                                     @ghcstspidr.

❛❛  i’m taking you to breakfast,  ❜❜   his head rests on her shoulder,  feet half tucked under a blanket — tv blaring something incessant.   ❛❛  i’m thinking pancakes or waffles?  any input?  maybe eggs and bacon?  ❜❜

She’s been dozing on and off on the couch, happily watching trashy TV, lamenting about the lack of decent food in their fridge (a girl can only live on baby carrots and Oreos for so long), and she smiles. “Ooh, yes please. Both. All of the above. Anything greasy that I can drown in syrup. Also coffee, so much coffee. Buckets of coffee. Waffles and coffee in an IV.”

“So I’ve heard, but I’ve only had an encounter with Spiderman, I am not sure who the rest are as of yet.” He nodded his head and looked at her with a chuckle, because he knew that it would have been hard for her to be unique among many spider-people.  Bucky looked at the girl and nodded his head with a chuckle. “Supposedly the plague was started by a medieval villain, but who truly knows, ya know? These people have power and selfish ambition, ain’t no telling what they’d do to someone in their way.” He nodded his head and holstered his gun. 

“Yeah, pretty much. Just as long as Captain America, even longer.” he smiled, remembering the first time he met his best friend and saved him from getting his ass severely kicked. “I was in the army and a mission went wrong, I feel out of a plane, lost my arm, some evil people with Hydra found me and gave me the serum, brainwashed me, sent me to kill Steve and the Avengers… and after much fighting and reconciliation… I am here.” 

"Me neither, honestly. I mean, I know Spider-Man, of course, but-- back home, it was just me. Now we’ve got a whole damn spider army.” Peter, and Jess, and the... other Peters? Other other Peters? Did she need to get her own clones to be her backup dancers? Gwen liked the idea of having a team; she was a drummer, not a solo artist. Still, it was an adjustment. “Wait, really? That’s wild. Who? Why? Where did you hear this? Tell me everything.”

Bucky was older than her, clearly (most people were), but he didn’t seem that old (then again, neither did Captain America; grandpa looked pretty good). She’d have pegged him for former assassin, maybe, not World War II era ex-Hydra weapon. “Damn,” she said. “That was a joke, but holy shit. Makes my sob story feel pretty pathetic.”

@ghcstspider​ !

you had to make the best of a situation or it would eat you alive. in this case, the situation they were in could’ve actually consumed them whole. was it a dream? maybe. it would be quite the dream, if that was true. instead of harping on what could have been, mj decided to use her time by trying to learn about their new reality. what was out there? new people? things? places? if she wasn’t going to find out, no one was. 

with a loud thump, her presence inside the small apartment was made quite obvious. “oof, fu - !” a ray of pain ran up her leg for what seemed like minutes, but was only a second. their coffee table shifted when her body hit it, a soft “sorry gwen!” coming between her lips. in reality, mj had no idea if her roommate was home. but if she was, the loud thump of her body hitting some furniture probably wasnt making her night any easier. 

The shower had been life-changing. Thirty-five minutes of sweat and lake water and rime seeping from her bones, her skin, her hair; curling onto its floor and letting the steam wash over her in waves until her limbs stopped trembling, until the water ran cold and Gwen didn’t think she could plausibly get any cleaner. God, it had felt good, and so had swaddling herself in sweats and eating ice cream and painting her toenails on her bedroom floor. She felt almost human again--almost normal, not quite. Nothing would ever be quite normal here.

The thump and the shout startled her, upsetting the bottle of nail polish, but her reflexes caught it before it spilled black varnish across the floor. She stood up, padding carefully into the living room. “Hey,” she said. “What happened? Is everything okay?"

“great so that makes two of us out of god knows how many,“ rhodey responded sighing as he ran his hand over his head. he was tired, very tired and all he wanted to do was to get back home, take his leg braces off and relax. giving a bit of a smile and laughing, he pointed over at her, “you watch the good place too? yeah, i agree this is the bad place.” he glanced up towards the sky and frowned, “michael? or whoever is in charge? i forfeit, just put me in regular hell, i think that’d be better!” he yelled up before turning to look back at gwen, “i really don’t want to know what’s next in store for us.”

"Does anyone have any idea what’s going on? Is that, like, humanly possible? Or inhumanly, I don’t judge.” She smiles, glad that someone’s finally picking up on her jokes (she needs to stop hanging out with old, pop culture-deficient people). She’s spent long enough working through Netflix in this dimension, trying to figure out what’s different; it’s about time someone caught a reference. So she joins in, calling “Janet, I’d really love a nap!” into the echoing void of the city. “What did we do to deserve this? I mean, I know I wasn’t perfect, and I was into ska for a second too long in there, but I tried.”

“ I like beer when I do drink. I’m a simple guy apparently, but I’m too young to actually be in a bar.” Not that it mattered the times he did manage to sneak in. Which was how he met his first friend! She was the bartender! Kaine wasn’t given anymore alcohol once she found out he was under the age of twenty-one, but continues to look out for him anyway. Which is why he ended up at a rodeo and rooftop parties looking at the stars. He couldn’t believe it sometimes.

“Gwen.” His eyes widen, not seeing things after all. This couldn’t be, but his own memories just thinking about the clone of her that has ceased to exist. “I’m sorry — you just look like someone I knew once. It’s uncanny. She was there when I was created, it’s a long story. Now that we know each other better we can be friends can’t we?”

"Don’t tell,” she whispers, “but so am I. That’s why you get yourself a fake ID and don’t ever tell your cop father.” She didn’t drink that much--definitely not at home, she didn’t have a death wish--but enough. A normal amount. Back when she was normal, so many lifetimes ago, sitting next to another boy who had looked so much like this one. A drink now would probably make this easier, too. 

Created? What does that mean? Who is this boy, if he isn’t Peter, if she’s as much a ghost to him as he is to her? She wants to say you look like him too, she wants to hold him close and pretend that she’s sixteen again and he’s Peter, her Peter, and nothing has changed, but she knows she’d just look like a crazy person, so instead she nods and says, “Yes, let’s. Be friends, I mean.”

“ugh,” jessica mutters, as if she has a clue. cool aunt… she can deal with that, she supposes. then she shrugs. she’s been through enough to know that yeah, the water was no joke, but it wasn’t an existential threat. not to her. probably not to the young blonde girl, either, but knowing that does little to ease her. “it’d take more than a bit of ice and some like, super-genetic-freak sharks to kill me. trust me on that.”

she laughs. “friends didn’t really catch me, i’ve gotta say. jurassic park was fun, though.” she’s not about to comment on the romcom - but more because she’s reluctant to admit that it got to her, a little bit. “sure. i’ll put it on the list.” she rolls her neck, sets forward. “hey - even i know that saying. glad to see some things are timeless.”

“Oooooh, super-genetic-freak sharks? Can I adopt one? I’ll name him Fred, and we’ll be best friends. We’ll have an Instagram dedicated to our crime-fighting adventures and everything.” She’s glib largely to cover the fact that she is afraid, just a bit. She won’t admit it--she needs to keep up appearances, obviously--but she’s too young to die, and she refuses to accept that maybe this was a monumentally stupid idea.

So she bounces and starts inland, towards the strange, creepy, looming fortress. “We can work with that,” she says, her every step careful across the frosty ground. “So--what d’you think is up there? I’m hoping not dinosaurs.”

@ghcstspidr​ asked: “Can we have just one relaxing day? Just one? No? Fine. I guess I’ll perish.” (from gwen!)

Barry lets out a low groan from his spot on the ground, he was exhausted and had collapsed on the ground. “Somethings gotta give. We’re gonna die, trying to keep everyone safe.” He lifts his head up to look around before laying his head back down. “I’m just gonna lay right here..”

"Yeah, that’s a mood,” she says. She wants to flop down melodramatically beside him, but that probably wouldn’t be especially productive or helpful for any of them. “We could just give up and nap until our inevitable terrible deaths, and I am very on board for that, but I also want to live long enough to get my participation trophy, so.” Gwen shrugs and holds out her hand. “Want some help?”

“i am not crazy!! i am telling you that the buildings and everything have shifted to the left! don’t look at me like that!”

Johnny is hovering in the air, flames coming off of his feet as he looks over at Gwen. “I guess I just never took notice, but maybe you’re right!” He hasn’t been able to memorize the layout of this place. Some of it reminded him of New York, but it really wasn’t so the boy wasn’t about to pretend that it was the place he called home. He misses the Baxter Building,  his family, and the race track. He places his arms in the air, smiling as the fire uncovers his body from the face to his hips. “I’m not judging. If you’re right, why would the city shift like that? Some powerful magic at play maybe?”

[ @ghcstspidr​ ]

Navigating New Gotham had been hard enough--fragments of a New York that wasn’t quite hers patchworked with a city she’d never heard of into a horrible urban funhouse mirror--and shifting it all over slightly is just a cruel cosmic joke. Not for the first time, Gwen wants to go home, to lay in her own bed in her dad’s house, to endure his awful jokes and mediocre cooking and stop narrowly avoiding foreign buildings. “You know that whole hell is other people thing? It’s wrong. This is hell. Hell is getting slammed in the face by an office building’s fire escape when you’re just trying to scope out a half-decent bagel.”