#b.kaplan

[spxderwoman]

Gwen sometimes wished that her abilities had a little more inherent violence to them. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt people, not even close—it was more that the thought of the release it would afford her, that maybe when she was feeling pent up or felt like she was hitting a wall, she could just fire off a fucking laser from her fingertips or punch through solid brick and feel better. Instead of that, however, Gwen had been trying other things, going on runs until she could barely feel her legs or working out until her arms trembled. That day, she didn’t find the release she was looking for from any of it. She figured that sitting outside would at least be better than nothing, so she sat on the back steps leading into the mansion with a water bottle in hand and too little clothing on her body, pretending that everything was just how she wanted it to be. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how huge this place is,” she said absently when she heard someone approaching. “Like. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much green outside of Citi Field.” She paused. “I guess in 1973 it’s actually Shea Stadium.”

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[psylockked]

Betsy often had a hard time finding space to be alone in the mansion. Even in her room, she was too open, too vulnerable to people just walking in and asking her for things. It wasn’t that she hated everyone there or didn’t want to pitch in when someone asked for her help, but sometimes, she just needed to be alone. Finally making her way up to the crawlspace in the mansion, she thought she had found the one area she had carved out as her own—and found someone else up there. She sighed, figuring that she couldn’t avoid it so she might as well steer into the skid. “It all gets to be a lot down there, doesn’t it?”

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