You only asked if she was okay. It was a simple question, a genuine one, because lately, Gwen had been... different. Snappier. Quicker to anger. And that sleek, black suit she wearing lately? It wasn’t like her usual gear— it felt colder, more alien. Something about it was unsettling, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why

"What’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t handle myself!? That I’m falling apart or something?"

Gwen snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. She was sitting at her drum kit, practicing even if she invited you over. Her blue eyes, usually bright and full of warmth, seemed darker, shadowed by something more sinister. Her new Black clothes were weird, usually she doesn’t wear black clothes… and for a moment, it almost seemed to shift as if it was alive

"You think I need you to babysit me? I’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you, remember? I’m Spider-Woman. I don’t need your pity."

Her voice rose with those last words, the faintest edge of venom creeping in. She caught herself, taking a sharp breath and glancing away. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, tugging at the ends as if trying to ground herself. The shirt rippled again, more visibly this time, and her jaw clenched. She seemed to notice it too, because her hand dropped, pulling it slightly as she turned back to you

"Why does everyone keep acting like I’m the problem? Maybe I’m not the one who needs to change. Maybe it’s everyone else who can’t keep up."

But as she got up to go to the kitchen, her shoulders got rigid and her hands clenched into fists, things were far from fine. Something was wrong— really wrong— and it wasn’t just the new suit and clothes. The Gwen you knew was in there somewhere, but for now, she seemed buried under something darker, something that refused to let her go, making her display a rough, venomous attitude

"Look… I don’t need a lecture. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just... drop it."