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bird-in-a-cage · 5 years ago

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18 or 45! 💖

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to get back to you but I’m sure this will more than make up for it. Also two in one day? Look at me go!

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to drop a prompt from the list or just spout an idea off the dome!

I’ll get around to doing both. But here’s one just for now.

#18: “This is… exactly what it looks like”

Sailor Boy

Billy knew Steve’s routine as if it were his own, written all over his arm in permanent ink. He knew Monday was inventory day, Tuesday was delivery day. Wednesday and Thursday were Steve’s days off. Friday and Saturday Scoops Ahoy stayed open late, to coincide with the mall’s longer opening hours due to the movie theatre on the top floor, owners of the nautical based ice cream franchise clearly hoping that maybe movie goers would want to sneak in a cone or a tub mid flick.

Friday was when Billy finished early. His last swim class was at three. He could easily be done by five, shower just enough of the chlorine smell off his skin, change and be parked at the mall by six. He had taken the same route so many times now he could do it with his eyes closed, knew every stop sign, the rhythm of the traffic lights. How the cops liked to hide behind that low billboard on Maple to catch potential speeders heading out of town.

Even if he’d spent all of Thursday with Steve, rolling around his parents fucking mansion like the both owned the place, Friday was Billy’s favourite day. Friday he got to see his little sailor boy at work. Steve hated his uniform, he wasn’t shy about ever saying so. Hated the dumb hat, hated the dumb shirt that got itchy after two days of wear if it didn’t get washed in between, hated the socks he had to wear up to just below his knees that would constantly fall down, hated the fact his whole uniform felt wipe clean even though it wasn’t in the slightest. The one thing Steve hated and complained about most though, were the shorts. They were long and baggy and unshapely.

“It’s like wearing a sown up trash bag man, honestly!”

Billy loved those shorts. He loved the deep but not navy blue of their colour, he loved the white stripe that ran along the bottom of each cuff, he loved the deep pockets than ran much further down Steve’s thighs than they had any right too, he wasn’t carrying all that much around with him day to day, but most of all Billy loved the elasticated waistband. Always hidden almost halfway up Steve’s stomach the shorts were so big on his skinny frame.

Well, not skinny. Just skinnier than Billy. Steve still had plenty of muscle definition even if he was eating spoons of ice cream all day now, stealing maraschino cherries straight from the jar and rolling them with their juice in little cups of chocolate sprinkles, swearing blind he’d invented the greatest semi-healthy snack of all time just because at one point it had been a fruit.

Billy also knew that 6:15 was when Steve’s little work friend, that smart mouthed girl with too much eyeliner, went on her final break even though the store shut at eight. He knew to time it so good that sometimes he’d stroll in and Steve would still be talking like it was still her.

This day wasn’t one of those days. He strolled through the big open doors, that stupidly cheery music playing on a constant loop that must have driven Steve completely mad sometimes, to find him scooping up ice cream to display on their tubs. The place was dead. It always was. No one ever left the movie theatre mid picture to come down two floors just for ice cream, when the concessions were right outside. He kept scooping and piling even though Billy knew he had seen him. The corners of his lips twitched just a little then damped back down. Hiding a grin. Billy could play this game. He leant over the counter, pressing his chest up to the glass, knowing it would smudge just a little. No longer perfectly clear. Streaked with the last stubborn remnants of suntan lotion a crappy public shower couldn’t remove. Steve raised his head after a few long minutes into their stalemate and was still trying not to smile.

“Sir,” Oh he had on his customer service voice too, Billy loved that, it made the game more fun and he couldn’t hide the grin it caused to grow on his face. “Can I help you with anything?”

“That depends,” he pushed himself off the counter and slowly started spinning around the container of rainbow sprinkles, unscrewing the cap. “I’m looking for something specific.” He sucked on the tip of his finger and rolled it in the first layer of sprinkles until his fingertip was completely coated. Billy knew Steve hated when he did that. Both hated and loved it. Hated it because it was kind of disgusting, but loved it, cause, well, Steve was kind of disgusting. Under all the rich daddy’s boy front he was willing to try some kinky shit and Billy just drank up every last drop he could squeeze out. Billy wiggled his sprinkle coated finger around, watching Steve’s eyes follow it around like fish to bait, growing darker by the second.

“Well, I think I can be of some assistance….” he spoke calmly, and walked around more to the side of the counter. Billy matched his steps. He wasn’t quite over the invisible ‘employees only’ line just yet. They locked eyes and Steve’s were nearly black with desire. He took Billy’s hand in his cold ones, they had just been in a freezer after all, and he pulled gently. He popped Billy’s sprinkle covered finger into his mouth and let his eyes get hooded, in the way he knew drove Billy crazy, especially when that perfect wide tongue started cleaning up the sugar speckled digit and with his pretty boy pout sucking further down to the second knuckle, then the third with clear intent, firm muscle sweeping back and forth and around Billy’s rougher skin, rendering his brain fucking mush every time.

Steve let the finger go with a wet, but soft, pop, letting his eyes open again. Billy glanced a look down and there was a definite tent in those hated shorts. They both crashed together at the same time, kissing feverishly as Billy pushed and Steve pulled, both of them stumbling through the swinging door and up against the wall next to the always empty notice board. Billy pinned Steve up to it, knocking the cap off his head in the process as they kissed deeper, licking into each other’s mouths and sharing the taste of chemically coloured sugar. Steve’s needy hands found Billy’s hips easily and pulled, hard, letting out the sweetest little desperate moan as Billy’s thicker thigh found its way between his own. Billy let Steve’s lips go, kissing over his jaw heavily, and moved his leg higher, tighter, to ring out more delicious sounds.

His little sailor was always so cute trying to be quiet, especially at work, but Billy knew him inside out. Had made it his job to know every button Steve Harrington had, how and when to push them, which threads to pull at to watch him completely unravel. One of the first things they ever did, out in the quarry in the back of Billy’s camaro, Steve had humped his thigh like a bitch in heat. Steve loved his thighs. He was never shy in showing so. They were one of the big flashing buttons to push, to the point of Steve couldn’t come to the pool if Billy was on shift or risk popping a semi then and there just seeing a flash of red covering not very much leg.

Like this though, pressed up against the wall, Billy had all the control. Steve was pliant, warming his cold hands on Billy’s sun soaked stomach under his shirt, going over his abs with needy thumbs. Billy worked his thigh harder. Steve groaned biting his lip so not to let it all come streaming out loud and hot. He started grinding his hips at long last, all the layers of fabric between skin doing nothing but adding deliciously painful friction, as Billy nibbled his earlobe.

Yeah, Harrington had a lot of buttons. And god if they weren’t fun to press.

Deep down Billy wanted to ruin Steve for good. Even if what they had, whatever it was, wasn’t a long term plan and just a way to blow off steam for the long hot summer months, Billy was determined that no one would ever rock his little sailor’s boat like he could. No one would ever make Harrington come like he could, no one would ever make him cry out in the middle of the night with his peachy ass burning with hand marks like he could, no one would make him choke on a cock behind the arcade in broad daylight where they could be seen at any moment and still have those swollen come shiny lips beg for more like an angel’s prayer like he could.

Whether he knew it or not, Steve was going to be ruined for the rest of his days.

Billy growled next to his ear possessively. His sailor melted and ground his hips harder, starting to get desperate so soon. God if that didn’t make Billy’s dick kick something horrific in his jeans.

“Needy tonight huh baby?” Billy grunted roughly in his deepest voice, the one he knew that if Harrington had a pussy, it would make him gush buckets and ruin those shorts. “Did I not do a good job filling you up yesterday?” Billy pulled Steve’s hips off the wall to get his hands on that perfect peach, where he knew it must have been difficult to sit down all day, what with how red and sore it looked the night previous. He felt Steve’s hips stutter for just a moment, hissing around a moan as his body wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain or both it wanted to express. Billy wanted to laugh. He did keep singing harder god please harder so had no one but himself to blame for the mess he was in.

“Too good,” Steve sighed out as Billy worked his hands down the back of that elasticated waist, past his own briefs Steve had stolen that morning, grabbing handfuls of tenderized meat and squeezing rough. The noise Steve made was exquisite, his hips starting to rock again faster and stronger, pushing forward and pushing back in equal measure with no set rhythm. Billy loved when he was like this, his little plaything, teetering on the edge of no return.

“Let me see baby,” he muttered, dripping with heat and desire. “Don’t wanna get your uniform all messy. Captain will be mad.”

Steve scrambled to push his shorts and briefs down just enough for the thick, gleaming head to pop free but the rest still be trapped and untouched, pushing his shirt up over his stomach, fingers trembling and lips quivering around a sound that couldn’t be kept quiet as Billy’s sucked on but now dry digit found his sailor’s well used hole. His cock throbbed visibly between them, pushing out more shiny clear liquid that threatened to stain Billy’s pale denim jeans. God it made Billy’s mouth water. And if he wasn’t rock hard before he definitely was now.

But later. That was for later. They were running out of time.

Billy worked his thigh harder still, trying to keep up with Steve’s erratic hips which was no easy job, drinking down his noises of pure ecstasy, until his whole body stuttered and tensed and he came with a cry that couldn’t be contained, creamy white come splashing up his torso and staining his already pale skin. Billy smirked like the devil, kissing Steve deeply as he tried to pant coming down, taking his hands out of his boy’s shorts, only just managing to tuck him away and let his shirt fall over the mess when the door swung open and there was eyeliner girl, right on time. As always.

Steve had the dignity and had regained just enough mental function to look embarrassed, even if he was still panting like a mutt trying to speak with Billy all up in his space, greedy for it all. No one laid eyes on his sailor boy.

“It’s… fuck… I’m sorry Rob…”

She stared back blankly at the two of them, setting a Burger King milkshake, if Billy had to hazard a guess it would be strawberry flavoured, on the counter they had back here, simply saying “You’re scraping the freezer tonight,” before going back through the door from where she’d came.

Billy didn’t let Steve stand back up straight away, even as he knew the messy spatter of come was starting to dry and cause the uniform to stick to his slender body. He cupped Steve’s cheek and kissed him, rough but sweet. As sweet as Billy did really. Steve melted for it each time. Another button. Another step of ruining.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, getting Steve solid on his feet before letting go and walking away like he wasn’t painfully hard. The girl scowled at him blankly out front, especially when he took a cherry from the jar and grinned with it between his teeth while holding the stem, walking backwards out of the store and giving her a two finger salute from his forehead.

“Captain...”

Billy walked with purpose back to his car out front, having parked in his usual spot near the back where it wasn’t under one of the tall lights that illuminated most of the area, getting straight in to sit on his backseat and wait. He checked the time on his watch and lit up a well needed cigarette.

He had 45 minutes to wait for his little sailor to pull into harbour.

#prompt list #my writings #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #also on my ao3 #boy howdy this is a dirty one #uniform kink ahoy #power kink ahoy #lots of ahoys

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theshatteredrose · 4 years ago

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Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 8) - Original Fiction

AN: Thanks for being so patient! My health still isn’t the best, but I hope to maintain the weekly updates. And I hope you’ll enjoy reading~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

Chapter 8:

Eishirou wasn’t entirely believing what was occurring right in front of him. He didn’t have that much experience with ShadowDwellers. No firsthand experience. Only knowledge from documents and data. He had no idea that they could be so…big.

The black centipede shaped ShadowDweller curled its entire body along the outer edges of the expedition site. Even with the sun nothing more than a splash of colour in the sky and the forest now a maze of twisting trees and shadows, the ShadowDweller itself was so much darker.

It was so black. It seemed to absorb light, distorting energies around it.

The noise that it made was just unearthly. Air vibrated around it. Skittering. Shrieking.

However, it was its size that was the most dauting. What he found difficult to fathom.

It was just so…huge.

Jacob suddenly placed his hand atop of Eishirou’s head and forced his head downwards so that he was staring at the ground where they crouched.

“Don’t look at it,” he commanded firmly. “Just ignore it.”

Ignore it? How was be going to simply ignore something like that?!

“Just keep your head down and trust the Elites to do what they do best.”

At the mentioning of the Elites, Eishirou gaze immediately darted toward them. Zayne was the centre of his gaze, but he could see Ernesta and Tatsu as the three of them stood there. Unflinching, even as the ShadowDweller clacked and snapped its pincers at them.

With mana wings of blue, yellow, and red; the three Elites lunged toward the centipede. Zayne’s twin gun-blades of blue mana, Ernesta’s lancer of yellow mana, and Tatsu’s duel pistols of vivid red mana.

They all attacked in unison. Directing their attention toward the head of the creature. The most dangerous part, yes. But aiming for its body was to do no good. By destroying the head, the body would be rendered useless.

Zayne and Ernesta took turns sending attacks toward the ShadowDweller’s head while Tatsu bombarded it with rapid fire from his pistol at a distance. Distracting it. And agitating it.

The ShadowDweller thrashed its enormous head back and forth as it released a deafening screech. It then started to move. It was running around in a giant circle, staying to the outskirts of the clearing. Sending dirt and debris into the air. Preventing them from attempting a retreat.

Jacob suddenly forced his head to face away from the sight and instead directed him to look at his chest as he kept an arm around his shoulders. “Leave them to their work. Are you all right?”

“I-I’m fine.” That was kinda a lie. Though, physically he was all right. “Zayne protected me.”

“Good. He immediately jumped in to follow you when that ShadowDweller appeared,” Jacob explained.

So, he did jump down after him.

Despite Jacob ordering him not to look at the ShadowDweller or the battling Elites, he just had to. The urge to look for Zayne was just too strong for him to ignore.

It didn’t take him long to find said Elite.

However, it also didn’t take him very long to realise that he, along with the other two Elites, were becoming increasing frustrated. Their attacks were having little effect on it. Little outside effect. Maybe inwardly? Though, the ShadowDweller showed no sign of slowing down. Literally.

A dreadful thought soon occurred to him.

It was too strong.

It was winning.

Zayne darted forward to deliver another attack to the ShadowDweller’s large cranium. But the ShadowDweller reacted unexpectedly by thrashing his head to the side and its pincers slammed into Zayne. He barely had enough time to raise his gun-blades in front of him in a defensive manner when the tusk smashed into him.

He immediately flew backwards and hit the ground, skidding across the grass a couple of feet. He laid there, on his back, as he breathed heavily. Winded by the attack.

He soon sat straight up, however. And in his hands were his gun-blades once more. Though his breathing was still laboured as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Zayne!” Ernesta called out to him, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine!”

That was a lie.

Eishirou tore himself from Jacob’s protective hold and rushed toward Zayne. He placed his hands on his back and offered him some healing. The stress of holding back such a ShadowDweller had to be a great strain on him. Elites were strong, but not invincible.

Zayne stiffened at the touch, but didn’t immediately pull away. He must have needed that healing more than he let on.

As Eishirou pulled back his healing, Zayne abruptly spun around and snared his hand with his. He abruptly pulled him toward him, causing Eishirou to fall silently against his chest.

“Stay back,” Zayne ordered him, his tone highly stressed. And with a sense of desperation. “I’ll make an opening and you run like fuck when I tell you too.”

He then released him, took a step back, and turned around. He then launched himself into the air once more. Throwing himself back into battle.

It was…really going to come to that, wasn’t it?

As Jacob grabbed him once more, a thought occurred to him. He quickly crouched down onto the ground and pulled out his communicator. If he could get a message out to the rest of the expedition that were at the landing site, maybe he could get a hold of the rest of Team 3. Two more Elites were sure to be of help.

Eishirou fumbled with his communicator, trying to get it to work. But tensed almost violently as a dark shadow fell over him.

He immediately looked up. And his eyes widened.

The ShadowDweller had stopped its violent trampling.

It now towered over the both of them.

Its gaze was on them. And only them.

It almost felt…as if it was staring at Eishirou directly. As if he was the one that it wanted all along.

The ShadowDweller’s pincers seemed to clatter with excitement as Eishirou stared up at it. He couldn’t look away. Even as Jacob tightened his arms around him in a futile attempt to shield him. Even as the ShadowDweller began to lower its head in a painfully slow manner.

Even as its pincers snapped open to reveal an ungodly number of razor-sharp teeth inside its blackhole of a mouth.

…Was he going to die?

“No!”

There was a flash of blue and suddenly, the ShadowDweller was no longer towering high above Eishirou’s head.

And it took a moment or two for him to figure out what had happened.

Zayne had recklessly thrown himself at the ShadowDweller, forcing its head to lurch to the side from the impact. It was a desperate attempt to get the ShadowDweller away from them.

But he wasn’t done there. He managed to climb onto the ShadowDweller’s back. The mana sustaining his blades unexpectedly flickered to that of a dark blue as he raised them over his head.

With an expression of rage, Zayne brought both blades down onto the back of the ShadowDweller’s head. The mana-tipped blades somehow extended in length inside of the ShadowDweller’s head, the tips poking through to the other side.

With a loud grunt of exertion, Zayne twisted the blades before slicing them in a wide arch away from the body.

The ShadowDweller gave one last flailing death cry, coming out as a sickly gurgle, as its enormous head fell to the ground. In reaction of its head being severed, the body flailed back in an eerily possessed manner. In doing so, it threw Zayne back.

Time seemed to almost stand still as Eishirou watched as Zayne’s limp body arched through the air.

A second later, Zayne crash-landed on his back, hitting the ground hard. His arms spread eagle to his sides. His wings and mana weapons flickered and disappeared suddenly.

And he didn’t move.

No…

Eishirou pushed himself away from Jacob once more and ran over to him. He instantly dropped down to his knees next to him and placed his hands flat against Zayne’s chest in order to do a medical inspection.

Fast heart rate. High blood pressure. Unconsciousness. Laboured breathing. Stained muscles in his arms and chest.

He wasted absolutely no time in gathering his mana and urged it into Zayne’s chest to heal him. He had to heal him slowly as he knew that giving too much healing too quickly would cause more harm than good.

Nothing else seemed to exist. His surroundings faded from his mind as he put all his concentration and effort in healing Zayne. Easing each ailment. Ensured that his pulse remained steady. Ensured that he kept breathing.

Please…please be ok…

Finally, Zayne opened his eyes.

Eishirou nearly cried with relief when Zayne rolled his head toward him and peered up at him through hazy eyes.

Thank the heavens…

He slowly pulled back his healing and fell back to sit on his heels. His sudden healing left him feeling a little drained, but he was relieved. “How are you feeling?”

Zayne swallowed thickly. “I could totally go for a five-course meal right about now.”

That got a small laugh from Eishirou. “I don’t know any restaurants like that. But I do know a place offers an all you can eat. I’ll…take you there some time.”

He raised his arm and unexpectedly poked Eishirou’s forehead with his index finger. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Tears of relief welled in Eishirou’s eyes, but he blinked them away. He managed to give Zayne a shaky smile and simply nodded his head. He didn’t trust his voice to verbally respond.

He had no idea how long the two of them just stared at each other in a semi-comfortable silence. It wasn’t until the soft sound of approaching footsteps prompted to lift his head.

Ernesta crouched down near Zayne’s side. Her usual peaceful expression was replaced with that of true concern. “How are you feeling?”

Zayne rolled his head to his other side to look up at his team leader. “Fine,” he said simply. And then made the effort to sit up.

Eishirou instinctively reached out to help him. Ernesta made to do the same, but Zayne waved her off. He allowed for Eishirou to aid him, though. He finally sat up and bent his knees toward him so that he could lazily rest his arms against his legs. He then rolled his neck and shoulders, allowing for a couple of pops and cracks to be heard.

“Probably feel that tomorrow,” he said simply, casually.

Seeing that Zayne was going to be ok, Eishirou finally allowed himself to look around the impromptu battlefield. There was no sign of that ShadowDweller. Only the torn-up trees and deep gouges within the forest floor was left as evidence of its presence. The ShadowDweller itself had dissipated into ether. Like all ShadowDwellers did when defeated. Especially defeated so soundly.

They were mysterious creatures.

Ernesta sighed and pushed herself to her feet. Though satisfied that Zayne’s condition was nothing to be concerned about, a frown marred her face. She folded her arms idly under her bust and took a moment to survey the surroundings, too.

“That was quite the formable foe,” she murmured to no one in particular.

“Bit of an understatement,” Jacob added in a disgruntled manner. “This whole expedition was a near disaster.”

Yeah, it nearly was.

“But it wasn’t. We actually discovered something potentially important,” Eishirou pointed out in an attempt to find a positive out of the situation.

“You disappearing down that god damn hole took ten years off my life,” Jacob counted as he roughly scratched the back of his head. “I’ll be having a very long chat with the one who opened that chest without permission…”

That person was going to be suspended from joining expeditions for quite some time.

Though, it was understandable. That wooden chest truly was the cause of all their troubles on this assignment. Whoever put it there certainly had malicious intent. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow connected to the broken stone tablet.

Eishirou was pulled from his musings when Tatsu paced over to them. His expression was unreadable as he stared intensely at Zayne. It was as if he had trouble understanding something. Or perhaps he was just agitated.

“Area is clear now,” he said as he tore his gaze from Zayne to regard Ernesta.

“Yes,” Ernesta nodded. “I think it’s time that we escort Professor Chryses and his assistant from this forest, don’t you?”

Yes, that sounded like a good idea. The sun had well and truly set now. And only the source light was that of Ernesta and Tatsu’s mana wings.

Zayne grunted lowly as he moved to push himself to his feet. Once again, Eishirou immediately went to help. He took a hold of Zayne’s arm and placed it behind his neck as the two of them stood on their feet.

He was unsteady for a moment, but managed to right himself. He made no attempt to pull his arm back from Eishirou, and Eishirou made no attempt to loosen his hold on his arm either. After everything Zayne had gone through, what he had to do to protect him; it was nice being able to offer the Elite a bit of support.

Honestly, though, that was all he could do.

“I will lead with Professor Chryses. Tatsu will follow at the back. Zayne, you continue your protection of Eishirou,” Ernesta ordered, leaving no room for argument.

“That was a hell of a first day,” Zayne commented both casually and dryly as they fell in formation and began their trek out of the forest in the dark. “I wonder what tomorrow will bring.”

“Well, hopefully a sleep in and a hearty breakfast,” Eishirou replied.

That got a short laugh from Zayne. “Sounds good.”

#scifi fantasy #young adult #adventure #mystery #action #treasure hunt #Relic Keepers Awakening of the Red Lily #original characters #original story

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freedomfighterposts · 6 years ago

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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

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olwog · 5 years ago

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Visitors

The people of who pass my door seem to be of three varieties. There’s the visitor that’s read some of my missives here and have come to search me out and take some photos, there are the passers-by who happen upon me and look surprised that the planners should demolish all around me and build a couple of brick boxes with no architectural merit as my bookends and there are the concerned locals who are interested ensuring that whatever is happening it needs to be right. They all have one thing in common, they’re interested in every stage of my renovation. George encourages them to call in and Lee always makes some time for them unless his work is time-critical. Some of the tasks over the last few weeks have been just that, very time-critical. My floors under the kitchen and to a lesser extent under the stairs had been affected by a collapsed drain. It’s all sorted now of course but the re-laying of the limecrete, once mixed, had to be done fairly rapidly. Lee had sent the lads out to acquire three mixers and they were all running side by side in the yard. They looked like hungry cows chewing the cud and working in parallel to produce the amount of material required to fill the carefully prepared kitchen floor.

I’m pleased to say that we get concerned faces at the window and, when the front is open, a ‘Hello!’ at the door. George or Lee (Waring) invite them in.

Mary and Glen Portier dropped in when Lee was laying the limecrete floor and he showed them around. They’re from Houma, Louisiana although Mary’s maiden name was Dixon and she hails from The Ropery, a street that runs parallel a couple of hundred metres behind me but they’ve been in the States for 50 years and follow the updates – Hi Mary and Glen, I like the colour of your top!

Many others have called in over the summer and they all have a story. I really enjoy listening to them. They seem to have lots of questions especially about when I was built and how I got into the semi-derelict state that was caused when the roof caved in. It wasn’t noticed for several years and the furniture and other soft furnishings absorbed the rain. Sadly, once wet, they retained the moisture and fed it back into my floorboards, joists and walls over many months even when the weather outside was dry or even warm and that’s what caused the rot. That’s in the past though.

A few weeks ago George showed two ladies and their lovely little girl around the ground floor and he was told about granddad who spent some happy childhood years growing up here. They told him about the bakery next door and George showed them a little hatch in my southern wall with a message written in pencil during the 1970s.

I’ve had the first coat of lime plaster on my walls and it feels good. For many years when the concrete sucked the life out of my bricks but now they’re breathing again and will continue to do so under this beautiful, lime based, blanket. The electrician’s been busy too and George has been investigating electric heaters to keep me warm as winter sets in.

They’ve been listing the snagging jobs and I’m looking forward to an outside step at the back so that the rear door can be fitted.

Martyn Cana is doing that and it’s interesting what thoughts contribute to the planning. On the face of it, it’s a simple task. i.e. how many steps, size of step, how big the landing area should be, dealing with rain and snow, leaving a fall for the drainage of water so it doesn’t enter the cottage, there’s lots to take into consideration and they’re doing that in detail.

Martyn Canna

The plan is to finish the plastering then the final fix electrics then do the painting so there is no necessity to cover the floors, they’ll be fitted after the painting then the skirting boards. There is still lots to do but we’re getting there.

George has been using local labour and suppliers where it’s been possible and I’d say that’s been about 90% of the time. They have pride in their work and are often family members. It’s also handy when one trade needs to call on the services of another at short notice. On the odd occasion one trade or another has been able to come at short notice and alleviate a hiatus that could have caused a complete halt for the initiating trade.

Initially, there was some surprise at being asked to repair stuff rather than replace it but everyone is working on that principal now although a lot of the plumbing and all of the wring were exempt from that clause.

Tim of ‘Barn Antiques’ dipped my doors and did a sterling job on them. He was also professional enough to advise against dipping some of the others as he thought it wouldn’t work and I’m happy with that. He and his lovely wife Elizabeth have a business out on the Scarborough Road which is worth a visit if only for its quirkiness – boy is it quirky. George has included a few photographs of the yard. All towns should have things like this, nothing is wasted and if you need a ‘widget for a whatsit’ there’s every chance you’ll find a second hand one there and if you can’t then Tim or Elizebeth will. He dipped my internal doors and removed seven layers of paint off one of them; if they could talk you’d get a tale, but then, you’re getting that from me anyway!

Mark, Luke and Nathan Storr have been busy with the lime plaster. They’re family; Mark is dad and Luke and Nathan, his sons. They work as a close team and seem to know what the others need or are thinking. I listen to their interaction as the first coat is ‘thrown on’ and thrown on it is. The idea is to get the base layer into all of the tiny cracks and porous elements of my 250-year-old bricks to form a key; however, the idea of the lime base is that my walls will still breath. The last 50 years or so have been very difficult when my inner walls were rendered in concrete. My bricks were suffocated and my walls, particularly the ones exposed to the elements were drawing moisture in but not able to release it due to the cladding.

All of that stopped last year when the concrete was removed by Lee and Ash Waring and team. Some hold-ups inhibited work for several months and in the case of my brickwork, it worked in my favour and allowed natural drying to take place so my walls are now ready for the luxury of proper lime render and this is where we are.

Mark, Nathan and Luke are now working on the second coat which is much finer and you can see some of the results on the photographs of my top dormer floor. I’m looking and feeling good!

George is in the process of ordering the kitchen which should be here in about a month. My ground floor still has a lot of first fix stuff to take place especially the electrical work prior to plastering. I’m hoping it will take place over the next couple of weeks so that Mark can return and complete the plastering downstairs as he has with the upper two floors.

So, what’s to do? Well, quite a lot really. All of the above plus the fitting of the kitchen, rear door, step, floors and heating and there’s a fair amount of work for Jack Atkinson, my joiner as he works on my stairs and floors. Jack is another local tradesman from Goathland. I think I heard him say he’s sixth generation and married to a lady that’s fifth-generation from Goathland so he really knows the area and understands old buildings. He’s clearly proud of his work and this was underlined when George asked him about a particular panel under the stairs that has some damage on one of the frames. George asked him if we need to replace the frame and his answer was music to my ears, “No”, he said, “I can repair that” and he explained what he could do. I like tradesmen that are craftsmen and I’m delighted with the team that I have.

I’ll tell you a little bit more about all of the people that have worked on me in a few weeks,

More to come…LYC..x

Please feel free to share.

Little Yellow Cottage – Update 16 – Local Trades People, Visitors and Progress Visitors The people of who pass my door seem to be of three varieties. There’s the visitor that’s read some of my missives here and have come to search me out and take some photos, there are the passers-by who happen upon me and look surprised that the planners should demolish all around me and build a couple of brick boxes with no architectural merit as my bookends and there are the concerned locals who are interested ensuring that whatever is happening it needs to be right.

#Barn Antiques #Church Street #Grade 2 Listed #Little Yellow Cottage #Waring Building #Whitby

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preserving-ferretbrain · 6 years ago

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No Exit from Fantasyland

by Alasdair Czyrnyj

Monday, 22 February 2010Alasdair tries to come to grips with the Fencer Trilogy~

Before I begin, I have a confession. Up until a few years ago, I had never read anything of that great amorphous genre of fantasy. It was a matter of bad timing, really. I spent most of the pre-teenage years most sensible people spend reading children's fantasy reading Star Trek tie-ins, and the years after that saw me shifting through classic science fiction and history in rapid succession. By the time I started to get serious about revisiting fantasy I'd hit university, meaning that my choice of fantasy has tended to fall in line with my other literary interests. When people talk of fantasy, my mind hearkens to the glacial machinescapes of Ian R. MacLeod, the Marxist surrealism of China Miéville, the savage deconstructions of Michael Swanwick, the humanist comedy of Terry Pratchett, even the bureaucratic terror of Franz Kafka.

And K. J. Parker.

K. J. Parker is something of an odd duck. She's been writing for over a decade now, though she's only gained any recognition in the last couple of years. Her output tends to be fairly modest; normally a new book a year, with no short stories or other external writing. We don't even know who she is; "K. J. Parker" is a pseudonym, and about the only things anyone knows about her is that she's a woman, she hails from a farming family in Vermont, she likes history and skilled trades, and she's married to a solicitor in southern England.

So, what it is about Parker's work that merits serious critical attention? What would compel me, a reader who normally avoids trilogies like grim death, to work my way through her entire bibliography in the space of a year?

In short, it is because she writes fantasy the way no one else does. And it is

horrifying

Here, I'll explain what I mean.

Colours in the Steel, or How to Besiege a Late-Medieval Metropolis in One Easy Lesson

Parker's first work, the Fencer Trilogy, has something of a misleading format. While there are three books that describe the journey of a particular group of characters, it doesn't really

read

as a trilogy. Each book is set in a completely different location from its predecessors, and each is separated from the previous book by an interval of several years. The books also ignore the classic conventions of genre by redefining the relationship the characters have with their world. Rather than commanding their narratives and acting as the centers of the universe, the characters of the

Fencer

books are forever bound to the material and economic forces that drive their world, where success is determined by a comprehension of these forces which, due to human nature, can never be total.

To understand this world, we are given the mopey (if initially sympathetic) character of Bardas Loredan, ex-farmer, ex-soldier, fencer, bowyer, and occasional general as a guide. We meet Bardas in

Colours in the Steel

(1998), working as duelist at law (a profession, surprisingly enough, that Parker renders as plausible, or at least as logically illogical) in the Constantinople-flavored Triple City of Perimadeia. Like all great cities, Perimadeia has its enemies, chief among them Temrai, leader of the plainspeople whom Perimadeia has traditionally dealt with through the time-honored strategy of butcher-and-bolt. A modernizer in the style of Peter the Great, Temrai has traveled incognito to Perimadeia to school himself in the construction of heavy machinery, so that his people may devise the weapons they need to bring down the Triple City once and for all.

While this sounds like a fairly generic setup for a fantasy novel, Parker's prose gives the story a unique bent. While most authors would bring their worlds to life through architectural tours and history lessons, Parker builds her world with machinery. Through all three books, great care is lavished on the step-by-step forging and assembly of material goods. In the course of reading the

Fencer

books, a reader will learn how to forge a sword, how a water wheel works, how to assemble a trebuchet, how to assemble a bow, and how to subject armor to destructive testing. While this would normally read as mere authorial self-indulgence, it is a credit to Parker that these passages serve to drive the story. After reading page after page of construction, the reader begins to reinterpret the story appropriately, reading the plot not as a simple clash of personalities, but as a conflict between great, grinding forces made up of millions of people, animated by a single goal, and fueled by the prosaic things we take for granted in our world. Rather than magic or the feudal privilege, Parker's world operates by economics, political struggle, logistics, and, ultimately, by conflict. While Perimadeian culture is kept somewhat murky, by watching how its inhabitants use and interpret their machines, we see how Perimadeia operates and how its citizens interpret the world.

This is not to say that there is no magic in the books. Indeed, one of the main plotlines of the trilogy concerns the operation of magic. Early on in

Colours,

a young woman approaches Patriarch Alexius, the chief lecturer at Perimadeia's magical college, asking that he place a curse on Bardas Loredan to punish him for his role in "murdering" her uncle during a duel. After applying the curse, Alexius spends the rest of the story trying to undo it, revealing a hidden truth about magic:

no one knows how it works

. Despite studying it for decades, Alexius does not understand anything about its operation, as he freely admits. Even Parker's description is hard to puzzle out; it appears to operate on a sort of system of universal balance dubbed "The Principle," and it can be used to alter key decisions through precognitive visions, though it's never made clear if the visions are prophecies or simply hallucinations. Oh, and they might be manipulated by someone none of the characters know about.

The book builds slowly for the first half, with Bardas drifting from job to job, Alexius trying to figure out just what he did, and Temrai transforming his nation into a mechanically-competent band of semi-settled tribespeople. At the halfway mark, Temrai's people approach the gates of Perimadeia, and a great siege begins. The depiction of the siege is one of the high points of the novel, and one of the areas where Parker's writing shines. The whole enterprise is gloriously messy. There's uncomprehending denial on the part of the Perimadeians, skirmishes that devolve into rugby scrums, artillery duels that don't accomplish much, illogical politics, and even a decent secret weapon. Despite his dislike of the military life, Bardas is conscripted into the defense of Perimadeia, managing to fight the plainspeople to a draw.

At this point, the book explodes.

Throughout the book, there are references to an unnamed bald, bearded figure who seems to have a hand in every major development of the book, acting as an advisor to Temrai and haunting Alexius' visions. In the final hundred pages of the book, a name is finally put to the face: Gorgas Loredan, estranged brother to Bardas. However, as he explains to Alexius in a somewhat out-of-place monologue, his motives are simple. It turns out that years ago, he, Bardas, and the rest of their family were all living on the farm off on the island of Mesoge. However, after an unfortunate incident in which Gorgas pimped out his older sister to two visiting noblemen, only to kill them, his sister (failed), his father, and Bardas (failed again) when the latter two caught them in the act, Gorgas fled home, while Bardas left later to join the Perimadeian army. However, what's past is prologue, and all he wants to do is reconcile with his brother.

Then he opens the gates of the city.

It's shocking. It's totally unexpected. It seems like Parker is cheating. At yet, as the city falls and the cast flees, it doesn't seem like a cheat. Perhaps there's more going on than meets the eye. Maybe the next book will have some answers.

The Belly of the Bow, or Bank Vs. University: Blood on the Ledger

The Belly of the Bow

(1999) opens, there is a bit of a shock. Two years have passed between books. The action has shifted to the environs of the late city of Perimadeia, specifically to the island of Scona, the peninsula of Shastel, and an island-based trading community know as "the Island." Fortunately, most of the characters from the first book have escaped the fall of their city to make new lives for themselves.

Once again, war dominates the novel, but it is a rather odd type of war. The cause, it seems, is philanthropy. Some time ago, a great charity and center of learning based with the august title of "The Grand Foundation of Charity and Contemplation" started a homestead program in Shastel that, due to a misunderstanding of basic economics, ended up creating a peninsula of indentured peasants. After a civil war or two, the Foundation became a regional political player, only to be undercut by a new bank on the island of Scona, which buys out tenant farmers and offers loans at less ruinous interest rates. However, since this is the days before the World Trade Organization, the two groups are forced to resolve their differences in the only civilized way: by cross-border raids against recalcitrant debtors.

The bank, incidentally, is named the Loredan Bank, after its founder, Director Niessa Loredan, and with sergeant-at-arms Gorgas Loreadan handling the management of the day-to-day bloodshed.

While

Belly of the Bow

departs from the setting of the previous book, it uses the opportunity to examine the dynamics of the Loredan family. In a genre that has gleefully abused the concept of rape for the purposes of titillation or for ill-advised stabs at profundity, Niessa Loredan is a welcome change of pace. In the years after her experience (and her hounding out of the family at the hands of Bardas and her other brothers), Niessa has remolded herself into a vicious utilitarian, focused solely on securing her bank's future. It is through Niessa that magic makes a return to the story, becoming in her hands an instrument in which the will can directly manipulate the future, with no consequences worth considering. (Alexius is conscripted by Niessa into this precognitive war effort, with the result being a sort of magical war between the two polities that may or may not be affecting the actual war.) Overall, while a functional human being, Niessa still endures her past, neither capable nor all that interested in escaping it.

Bardas, meanwhile, continues to wander. He spends most of the book setting himself up as a bowyer (i.e. Guy Who Makes The Bows Archers Use) in a secluded hut on Scona, quietly pretending that his livelihood isn't dependent on his siblings' charity. After that illusion proves impossible to sustain, he escapes and returns to the family farm in the Mesoge, to the two brothers who never left. What follows is a rather heartrending sequence, as the three attack each other with waves of mutual recrimination and deflected self-loathing. In the end, Bardas is spirited back to Scona, a man with no home.

The real driving force in

The Belly of the Bow

however, is Gorgas. In the initial pages, Gorgas appears as having truly reformed, becoming a beloved general and a family man to boot. However, there is something off about his character. Gorgas routinely moves heaven and earth for Niessa and Bardas, despite the indifference of the former and the outright hostility of the latter, while remaining curiously detached from his own family. Indeed, as the book progresses, Gorgas becomes a terrifying figure, not so much for his actions but for his outlook on the world. For Gorgas, the entire point of his life is to make restitution for his crime and reunite his family. Unfortunately, that's the only purpose to his life. For Gorgas, opening the city gates for an enemy army or assassinating complete strangers or riling an island into a futile rebellion is justified, for it is always the Loredans against the world. What's past is in the past, but family is forever, even if the family no longer exists.

As the Loredan family disintegrates, the greater gears of war and money grind on. The war between Scona and Shastel continues. Scona wins a great victory against a Shastel raiding party, dooming itself to eventual defeat at the hands of the Foundation. Scona is invaded. Battles repeat themselves. Meanwhile, Bardas discovers Gorgas' role in the fall of Perimadeia and his twin motivations (wipe out the Loredan Bank's bad debts, and get Bardas back with the family), and proceeds to do something so horrific that it will forever destroy Gorgas' love for him. It doesn't work. The book closes as the first did, with the main cast fleeing the fall of Scona across the waves.

The Proof House, or Things Are Smashed Apart

Just as the appearance of Gorgas drastically altered the end of

Colours in the Steel

, so too does

The Proof House

(2000) drastically alter the course of the

Fencer

story with the introduction of the Empire. This great polity was never mentioned in the previous two books, apparently being landlocked out of sight and out of mind. However, with the fall of the city of Ap'Escatoy (a joyful accident care of Bardas Loredan, working the saps for three years since the end of the last book), the Empire now has a western coastline.

In many ways,

The Proof House

is the grimmest of the three books. The tale it tells is one of imperial conquest and consolidation. In the previous book, much care was lavished on the depiction of the various societies that inhabit the waters around Perimadeia: the bibliophile factionalists of Shastel, the easy-going disorder of Scona, the frivolous horse-trading Islanders, even the backwater dullards of the Mesoge. However, in

The Proof House

, it's suddenly revealed that this great, varied world exist in a space no bigger than the Aegean, and that it is all fated to be consumed by a great foreign power, not out of malice, but just because imperial expansion is what they do, and that's that.

This process of absorption and assimilation is illuminated through two main plotlines. After spending his new promotion at useless assignment at an imperial proof-house (a place where plate armor is made and tested to destruction), Bardas is given honorary command over an Imperial army sent to drive Temrai's semi-settled people out of the old Perimadeian hinterland. After the Imperial commander is killed, Bardas takes command, returning, for a while, to the one place where his skills were put to constructive use. The second plot thread concerns the fate of the Island at the hands of the Empire. The whole affair starts out as a sort of comedy, with the merchants of the Island essentially selling the Empire a fleet, never realizing that the Empire might decide to not give them back. Events soon spiral out of control, and comedy fades to annexation, rebellion, incompetence, and death.

As the center fails, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. In the early chapters, many of the characters are in magic-based communication with Alexius whom, it is quickly revealed, died between books. Figures seen in the dreamscape grow increasingly blurred, claiming to be students from the future watching a critical turning point in the past. Eventually it appears that the voices are none other than the voice of the Principle itself, which is not so much a force of magic as a metaphysical avatar of entropy itself. As for Gorgas, free of Niessa's control and set up as king of the Mesoge, the time has come to reunite the Loredan clan by every means necessary. By the end of the book, cities have been stormed, beloved secondary characters have been drawn and quartered, the future is nothing but boots on human faces, and Bardas Loredan has, in essence, been condemned to hell.

So, What Is It?

One of the main problems any reader will have the

Fencer

trilogy in trying to fit it into some sort of rubric from which it can be judged. Using the Romantic framework of classic fantasy is out of the question, and "dark" fantasy is more of a marketing contrivance than a useful critical tool. In her 2008 work

Rhetorics of Fantasy

, Farah Mendlesohn described the trilogy as an "immersive fantasy," a fantasy story that (to vastly oversimplify), is set in a coherent self-contained world within which the characters inhabit and critique. For the longest time, I had tended to think of these books (and Parker's work as a whole) as materialist fantasies; stories not set in our world but which obey all of its physical and sociological parameters. All these terms are helpful in describing the

Fencer

books, but they don't really tell the whole story.

In the end, perhaps the best way to look at the

Fencer

trilogy, and K. J. Parker's work as a whole, is as absurdist fantasy. To crudely simplify something I cribbed from Wikipedia, absurdism is a branch of existentialism which holds that the universe does not hold any fundamental meaning pertaining to the individual, though individuals can construct their own meanings if they so choose. For the characters in the

Fencer

trilogy, life is deeply absurd. Their world is one bound by great impersonal material forces with individuals can only influence intermittently, assuming they even recognize what those forces and when those critical turning points occur. There are no deities, literal or otherwise; aside from the plainspeople, the peoples of the

Fencer

books are overwhelming atheistic. Furthermore, because the world is bound by material systems of infinite number and complexity, there is no safe haven. Everyone's action affects someone else, with the end result being that the vast majority of mankind is nothing but grist for the mill of history. Even when decisions are made, they are often made by people who are under the grip of some illogical idea, or who simply don't understand the implications of their choices. This point is driven home in the second book, where an argument over a reprisal against Scona swells from a small reprisal raid to an invasion on the scale of Operation Barbarossa all so one faction of the Shastel elite can one-up the other. It's hilarious and horrible at the same time.

The

Fencer

Trilogy does not make sense. Intentionally. And that is why it is brilliant.

Is It Worth It?

Compared to Parker's later books, the

Fencer

trilogy is very much a first work. While the description is evocative, the sudden twists are suitably shocking, and the jokes are funny (Yes, there are jokes. Can't have an absurdist novel without a good joke or two.), the books do have a uneven feel to them, as if too many ideas are being assembled into a framework that can't quite hold them. While the characters are interesting and sympathetic, at times they seem to be reduced to mere viewpoints, rather than being individuals caught in the grip of great external forces. There is also far more "down time" than in Parker's other books, with scenes just designed to just worldbuild rather than worldbuild and drive the story. In the end, while I would recommend it, I would suggest that newcomers to Parker start with the later

Engineer

Trilogy, which covers many of the same themes with a far more efficient mechanism.

Also, after you finish the

Fencer

Trilogy, you may feel the need to drown yourself in a nearby lake. This is normal. Just wait a few hours and it will pass.

Oh, and:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Women raped: 1 Women mind-raped: 1, maybe Number of women who suffer from their experiences: 1 (it's hard to tell just what happened with that second one. 'Course, that's probably the point.)

Themes:

Fantasy Rape Watch

Books

Sci-fi / Fantasy

bookmark this with - facebook - delicious - digg - stumbleupon - reddit

~Comments (

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)

Arthur B

at 17:28 on 2010-02-22This review is awesome, but I'm wondering whether Parker's philosophy is as unique in fantasy as you imply. The

Vlad Taltos

series by Steve Brust has always had a good line in the sort of materialism/absurdism and social/economic critique you talk about here. There's some bits of Erikson's Malazan series which seem informed by a "no meaning but what we impose ourselves" philosophy, and Jack Vance's books are almost all characterised by peculiar social constructs, raw economics and greed, and the necessity of people to find their own way in a world that doesn't make sense to them.

I will be looking into the

Engineer

trilogy though, if you feel it's genuinely better than the

Fencer

books. Does it need much knowledge of the earlier series to fully appreciate?

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Andy G

at 20:43 on 2010-02-22Dare I also mention Ursula le Guin again? ;)

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Arthur B

at 23:01 on 2010-02-22LeGuin is always worth a mention...

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 00:02 on 2010-02-23Well, as I said Arthur, I'm still feeling my way around the fantasy genre (hell, I read literary criticism, for cripes sake), so my idea of "generic fantasy" is still a collection of broad stereotypes I've picked up from people bitching on the Internet. Still, I would say that Parker has a gift for taking those elements you mentioned above and making them as these great, terrible things that will consume all in the end.

As for which books to start, I'm biased towards the

Engineer

books because they're the ones I started with, and they're the ones I had the easiest time trying to figure out (Having a decent amount of sustained online criticism helped a bit too). Fortunately, all of her trilogies and her recent singletons are set in completely seperate worlds, so there's no risk of missing anything wherever you start.

Still, I would recommed waiting before you get to her

Scavenger

books. They're one of those trilogies you have to read twice just to figure out what the heck was going on.

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Wardog

at 09:18 on 2010-02-23I read The Colours in the Steel and quite liked it ... but I had really trouble shifting from that to The Belly of the Bow. I think it was more a question of my expectations than the books though - this article inspires me to revisit and re-evaluate.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 21:06 on 2010-08-08Random K. J. Parker news!

If there's anyone out there who wants to sample her writing, she recently did a short story for Subterranean Press' seasonal magazine, which they have thoughtfully posted on their website.

http://subterraneanpress.com/index.php/magazine/summer-2010/fiction-amor-vincit-omnia-by-k-j-parker/

She's also got another short story out in a sword and sorcery anthology,

of all things

, and

a new book

coming out next winter.

#Ferretbrain #Alasdair Czyrnyj #Fencer Trilogy #K. J. Parker #Fantasy Rape Watch

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liza-wr12 · 8 years ago

Text

Submission to Class Anthology

Memories as Thin as Water:

Drops hit the ground rhythmically, one after the other, from the leaky pipe on the roof of the old house. The puddle of the floor had been growing steadily since last night. A damp, musty smell had filled the room.

A week later the leak still hadn't been fixed. The old man that loved in the house could no longer muster the energy to patch the hole in the pipe. The pool of water had rendered the floorboards soft and mushy, dangerous for the man that lived in the house. Reluctant to call his children to fix the problem, the dripping continued.

The man had lived in the house for many years, spending countless days in his childhood, raising four children, living his best years. Sentimental value grew with each passing year. The man had refused to move to a retirement home each time one of his children asked, eventually they stopped asking. The framed and dusty photos that lined that walls reminded the man of better and happier times, but as he aged the faces grew more unfamiliar.

The leaky pipe continued to drip on the floor, a pail was place under it to stop the puddle from forming again. After a particularly violent storm the pail overflowed with water. The force of nature had caused a larger hole to develop in the pipes of the old house. The old man didn't mind, he forgot about the leaky pipes almost as soon as they were brought to his attention. Memories leaked out of his decaying mind like water from the pipes, once escaped they never returned.

Amazing Grace:

All of the mourners stand in a neat semi-circle, black umbrellas form a domed shield around us. The rain pours down relentlessly, the angels are crying for my grandmother today. This would mark the first time I had felt grief. Earlier than all of my friends at school. “Amazing Grace” plays softly over the speakers in the mildew-smelling reception hall. The priest speaks but I do not hear the words over the ringing in my ears and the tightness in my throat. It was then when I realized that all life is precious and should be treated with respect and maturity.

My grandmother and I were never very close but the time I did spend with her was lovely and meaningful. She was ill, my mother had taken care of her in her final weeks. She sheltered her, kept her sickness hidden from our family. But in the end, my grandmother died suddenly and unexpectedly. My mother cried for weeks, didn't eat or work. My father tried the best he could to console her but in the end, he did not help much. So I felt comforting her was my responsibility and that is quite a feat for a shy nine-year-old.

On a rainy night in November, I couldn't fall asleep, I didn't know why I just couldn't. I stepped out my room and walked to the couch where my mother was reading. She sat with me as I fidgeted with the blanket draped around her.

The phone rang and my mother sprang up to stop the ringing that would wake my father sleeping in the next room. “Hello?” she whispered in the phone. It was her brother on the other end. “No... when... alright” she pressed the phone against her body to cover the speaker and tells me to go back to bed. I get up off of the couch and tiptoed to my room and I strain my ears to hear the rest of the conversation. I can just make out my mother sighing but that is all I am able to hear.

There is silence for many minutes, then my mother walks past my doorway and steps inside, leaning against my desk. She brushes my hair behind my ear not knowing I was still awake. I turned my head and she looked back at me with tears in her eyes.

“Your grandmother,” she said to me softly, “had a heart of gold.”

“Had?” I ask. My mother turns on my light and nods. She explained in the best child-friendly way she knew, she told me that my grandmother was sick and was so sick that she would never get better. She told me that she was sitting at home, alone and she fell but had been too weak to get up. She told me that the paper boy had noticed her on the living room floor through the large bay window, and how he came in through the open patio and tried to revive her- but it had been too late. My mother started crying and I held her hand, she kissed my forehead and turned off my light.

The next morning when I woke up my mother look so tired, she had stayed awake all night I assumed. I decided that I would still go to school what day and I walked there by myself for the first time. My teachers didn't know and I didn't tell them; nothing was different to me. My mother, on the other hand, was distraught. She cried and sobbed and I never knew what to do, I was trying my best but always felt as though I was doing something wrong.

The funeral service was held the next month. It was small, respectful, and tasteful. My grandmother was buried in out family plot at the local cemetery, it overlooked the mountains and was beautiful on a crisp fall day.

On the day of the service, I wrote a letter to be placed in the grave. In my messy and unorganized child's writing I confessed that I was sorry. I was sorry for being a bad grandchild, the only one she had. I should have visited more, talked more, wrote more. She loved me and I did nothing in return. I was selfish, uncaring, and indifferent. To this day I still have regret. I make a plan to visit her grave site that never gets fulfilled. I tell myself I will spend the time with her that I never did when she was alive, but I don't do it. I still haven't gone, and I have made plans to go and sit down next to the grey stone marker and clean it off and to talk. It sounds strange, I know, but there are some things that I know I will never be able to tell my parents, that I need to get off of my chest. Even more strange is that the things I would confess to my grandmother she would be even less accepting of than my parents could ever be. But I think she would hear and judge me, and not be able to say anything back because I am living and she is not.

Grief is a funny thing. Until now I had not felt it in its full force, not until years after her death. Now I think of my grandmother every day and the things I would tell her. I would take her out for lunch and we would talk for hours and hours about my life and hers. And she would listen and love me.

The truth is that I had been a terrible granddaughter. I never visited her, our talks on the phone were short and uninspired, and I actually dreaded going to see her. If I had that chance today I would take it with no questions asked. My mother has never disclosed much about her life; I used to sit and wonder what she had been like at my current age. My own guilt has stayed with me, especially since I had every opportunity to visit or talk.

Today I like to think that I am a good person, that experiencing this loss at a young age has made me kinder and more considerate. The truth is that I probably would have turned out this way anyways. People don't really change. Knowing how grief affected me in a far different way than my mother made me feel as though my own feeling weren't valid. That I wasn't sad enough, crying enough, mourning enough, feeling enough. However, I know that loss and sadness can change the mind and body in all sorts of different and equally vital ways and we will not know until we experience it in full. I do believe that the grief we feel teaches us something, perhaps I was unwilling to let myself feel this or perhaps I was afraid of how it would change me. I am grateful for the short time I did spend with my grandmother and the lessons I obtained from her passing. All life should be treated with respect and maturity because it is fragile and fading.

Dandelion:

Kissed by the sun, warm wind blows to and fro;

The essence of spring, the season of growth,

Renewal and clean air. Fresh things to show

Fasciated children, with open mouths

And wider eyes; they see all with delight.

Multicoloured flowers, shining sunshine,

And not a care in the world; not a fright

To be seen. Buds bloom new on the green vine

That surrounds the fence, below it something

Sprouts from the soil; bright, yellow, clean and new

Dandelions grow each spring beginning

The time of vibrant colours and bright hues.

Yellow flowers dance in the gentle wind

And standing near by the young children grinned.

#term 3

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sickchickenstudios-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Guard Duty: A Development Retrospective - Devblog #4

The Art of Guard Duty - Pixel Practices

Howdy. Today I would like to take some time to talk to you about my process when creating art for Guard Duty. I’m going to be focussing on pixel art and practices you need to be mindful of when creating your art. Hopefully this will give you a bit of an insight into my process for creating the many pixel packed locations in Guard Duty.

Let’s start with a few basic things you’ll need to keep in mind when working with pixels. My advice here is geared around creating pixel art in Photoshop, but most of the rules will apply to other art packages.

First thing’s first - Decide upon a resolution and stick to it.

The problem I see a lot of people run into when starting in pixel art is in consistency of resolution, that is they often mix different resolutions within the image (or game). Mostly called ‘mixed resolution’, it is a where pixels in the image are not all of a consistent size, often leading to an undesirable look. Traditional pixel art is based on the foundation of a grid, where each pixel acts like a grid square. The pixels are unable to be placed outside of these grid squares, therefore keeping a consistency throughout the image. The hardware used to render pixel art in it’s heyday was unable to handle high resolutions, meaning that each pixel had to be carefully placed to make up the intended image.

See this graphic for example, the image on the left is using a consistent pixel density whereas the one on the right is using a different density between the character sprite and the background (mixed resolution).

You see the difference? The larger pixels on the right-hand image look messy compared to it’s counterpart, this not only looks a bit strange but does not keep with the traditions of creating pixel art. You want to stick to the resolution you started with. There are some examples of modern games which used mixed resolution pixel art successfully, but these are normally used sparingly and are scaled in-engine, mostly to benefit gameplay.

Platformers often use sub-pixel movement to make gameplay smoother, which can lead to character sprites not lining up correctly with background assets. Sprites however are very rarely scaled in engine as this is far more jarring to look at.

Either way, you will save yourself a lot of hassle if you decide on your game’s resolution at the start and stick to this resolution throughout. Guard Duty uses a similar resolution to many of the early LucasArts and Sierra titles using a 4:3 ratio of 320 x 240px. It might not sound like much but that’s 76,800 pixels you’re going to have to wrangle. More than enough for me!

Moving on - Do not use anti aliased tools

Another problem I see that newcomers often run into is the temptation to use tools designed for high resolution artwork, things like the brush tool, smudge, burn/dodge and gradient fill are all inherently anti-aliased and will give you a heap of extra clean-up work. These tools create way too many pixels, with a massive array of shades and colours. You’ll find that tweaking your artwork becomes increasingly harder when using these tools. So just forget them, resist temptation to smudge your wall texture, or use your neat grass brush, It’s really not worth it if you want to create pixel art. The easiest way to keep track of anti-aliasing is to use (almost exclusively) the pencil tool, the pencil tool can be found by click-holding the brush in the toolbar and selecting the pencil from the drop-down menu.

I also recommend turning off the anti-alias setting on the marquee selection tool, transform tool, paint bucket tool and magic wand tool. All of these can be used in pixel art, but with the anti-alias checkbox active you will find that they create a lot of different coloured pixels around the edge of your selection, again causing issues when flood filling areas, or otherwise editing the image.

So as a general rule, make sure each pixel that is going onto your canvas is intentional. Photoshop isn’t really geared towards creating pixel art and you want to make sure it doesn’t do anything without your permission. Bad Photoshop! Behave!

Try to avoid scaling your pixel art

This is similar to my first point, but can often catch you off guard. Once you’ve drawn something on the pixel grid you may find that it doesn’t fit in a scene you’ve created previously, despite both images having the same resolution. You’ve drawn the sprite too small and although the pixels are consistently sized, it just looks tiny in the scene. Well, you’re probably going to have to redraw it, somewhat.

When you scale pixel art Photoshop will try to scale the pixels to match the resolution’s pixel grid, anything under a 200% scale will result in only some of the pixels being larger than others (some will become rectangular) and at 200% the pixels will be twice as big, but still fit into the grid. This is because Photoshop has to keep to the bounds of the canvas resolution and doesn’t know what to do with the new space between pixels.

You can see from the image that some of Tondbert’s upscaled pixels have stayed 1px wide/tall whilst others are now 2px wide or tall. His eyes, nose and left shoulder have suffered the most. Poor Tondbert. This is because Photoshop doesn’t know what to do with the pixels, at the chosen scaling it only has ‘small’ (1px) or ‘big’ (2px).

Anyway, to combat these issues you should always draw your pixel art with other assets in mind. When working on a game you don’t want to have to be scaling the character sprites differently between locations, so you should paste your character sprite into the blank canvas for the new location, so you’ve got something to reference the size. If you stick to a consistent resolution with all your art and be mindful of other assets you’re intending to use together you shouldn’t run into any of these problems.

When scaling pixel art, always use Nearest Neighbour interpolation and scale in multiples

Pixel art is kinda small and most modern computers are displaying a 1920x1080 resolution or higher. This means when showing off your pixel art on a website, it can often look reeeeeally tiny. So, you want to be aware of your image resize settings. You need to make sure the image is scaled in exact multiples of itself, 2x bigger 3x bigger etc. So if your canvas is 320 pixels wide and 240 pixels tall, the upscaled image would need to be 640 pixels wide and 480 pixels tall. To keep it simple scale the image to either 200%, 300% or 400% depending on how big you want it, but never 250% or 225%.

There is also a setting at the bottom of the ‘Image size’ box in Photoshop that has a drop down list of interpolation types, next to the ‘Resample Image’ checkbox. Set this to drop down to Nearest Neighbour(preserve hard edges). It will make sure that your pixels always stay crisp when resizing.

There is a similar drop down box when using the transform controls which you will also need to change, if you do not your sprites will become blurred.

Note the amount of pixels Photoshop has added when trying to smooth out the sprite to 121%, this would make the sprite near impossible to modify beyond this point. Using the Nearest Neighbour interpolation solves this issue.

Stick to a limited palette

When starting out with an image I try to keep the colour count to a minimum, this way you won’t get bogged down with tweaking the finer details and can focus on the bigger picture. It also makes tolerance selecting bits of the image a lot easier. Try to keep to three or four colours per texture, dark, mid and highlight colours. You can add extra colours later if needed but removing colours is a bit of a pain.

Now we’ve gone over the basics, let’s get started on a creating a scene.

Start with a basic thumbnail sketch

This technique applies to both sprite and background creation, but for the purpose of this post we’re going to work with a background.

I like to sketch out a few different compositions for the scene before committing to one. I usually find I get something decent by the third sketch but it may take longer, just stick with it. Each sketch shouldn’t take more than a minute or two, we’re just establishing where the shapes in the scene are going to sit. I use a black 1px brush for this stage but the colour is mostly irrelevant (we will be changing that later). I liked the composition in the second sketch and decided to make the opening more central, adding a fallen tree to the left similar to the first sketch.

Develop the thumbnail sketch

I was pretty happy with this so decided to roll with it. The next image shows how I developed the detail in the image, sticking to the sketchy black lines for now. I occasionally use a dark grey colour to show objects that are further back in the frame.

Establish clean 1px outlines

In the next step I set my sketch layer to semi-transparent (20-40%), lock it and create a new layer then begin to outline each of the individual elements. Remember to use a 1px brush and the pencil tool. About 80% of the time I’m holding shift whilst click two points on the canvas to draw a 1px line between the two points. This saves a lot of time and really helps when drawing straight lines, or long curved ones. At this point in the process you want to keep your pixels as clean as possible, avoiding ‘double pixels’ where the line becomes more than 1 pixel wide.

For the time being I’m using a different colour for each of the elements in the scene, this will make it easier to colour them in the next step and helps to cut down on having lots of layers at this early stage. It’s not necessary, but if you’re drawing everything on the same layer I would recommend it. Plus this is probably the only time you’ll get to use bright pink, vomit green and orange in the same scene!

Separate the outlines and block in the colours

Once I’ve outlined the each of the elements in the scene I pick one and start detailing! I don’t worry about the finer details, I just aim to block out the main shapes and colours. What I have done below is use the magic wand tool (anti-alias turned off) with the tolerance set to 0 and contiguous turned off. This way it will select just that colour from the scene. I cut out the element and paste it into a new layer.

I decide upon a highlight colour and start blocking out the parts of the trunk that are raised, drawing these on the same layer as the trunk outline. Underneath on a new layer I am able to fill in the darker base colour of the trunk, as seen in the third image. This leaves the outline and highlights intact and allows me to use a larger brush size to block in the colour underneath.

You can see where I’ve added some trees and foliage from another background in the top right of the image, this is to get a feel for the colours used in those backgrounds, to help consistency between scenes and because I’m too lazy to draw new trees.

Apologies for the slightly blurry images, they were pulled from the timelapse video.

Add definition with shadows and fine highlights

This is the fun part, giving the object volume. First you want to add another layer above both of your previous layers. Then by carefully placing your shadow colour you can add heaps of definition to the shape. Here I’ve used it to bring out the cracks in the wood, as well as help the branches stand out against whatever will be behind them.

Thanks to having the colours on separate layers I am then able to tweak the balance between the three colours, ready for adding an extra fourth colour for fine highlights.

After adding the fourth colour we’re about done, the object has a nice shape to it with a decent amount of detail. You could work on it further from this point, maybe adding a second dark colour for shadows but I tend to leave it here. Remember, every step of this process was done with the pencil tool and a 1px brush, the only exception was the use of a 10 pixel brush for blocking in the colour. You can use this technique for everything in your scene, I like to merge the layers once I’m finished on each object but that’s personal preference. If you do decide to merge them you have the option of using a Brightness/Contrast or Hue/Saturation adjustment layer to tweak the contrast between the highlights and midtones etc, this won’t affect the pixels or add any anti-aliasing.

Okay! That’s about it. There’s nothing particularly fancy going on once you’ve setup Photoshop to handle pixels appropriately, you just need to follow the process I’ve laid out above and you’ll be creating rad pixel art in no time. If you’ve got any questions feel free to drop me a line on one of our social links or email me on the contact form @ www.sickchicken.com.

Here’s the finished image:

You can watch a timelapse of the process on Youtube here:

youtube

For a bit of additional learning, I highly recommend watching the ‘8bit & 8bit-ish’ Graphics GDC talk by Mark Ferrari:

youtube

Cheers!

-Nath

#games videogames gamedev indiegames gamedevelopment retro pixelart

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