DO NO HARM. BE NICE. YOU CATCH MORE FLIES WITH HONEY THAN VINEGAR. BUT WHAT IT I DON'T WANT TO CATCH THE FLIES? WHAT IF I'D RATHER SEE THEM SWATTED?
Mindy McGinnis, THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIESPRAYING MANTISES come from an order of insects comprising over 2,400 species in approximately 430 genera. Easily recognised by their bulging eyes and enlarged forelegs—perfect for trapping their prey—they are, perhaps, most notorious for their posture. Upright, stationary, with forearms folded, insects of the family Mantidae look as if they are in prayer.
The females of the species are also known for their sexual cannibalism. (That's not a phrase you hear often, is it?) Interestingly enough this sexual cannibalism, characterised by female mantids ripping the heads off their male sexual partners just after mating, is exhibited in captivity only—perhaps, there is something to be said about putting women in cages.
Perhaps.
If you saw the Mantis of New York City, however, you would see no such decapitation—though Mantis can't say without lying that she's never been tempted. Vicious and violent, Mantis is no hero: she's the unpaid pest control that moves through the underbelly of Queens at night, exterminating every wannabe criminal, squashing every injustice under her heel like a bug. Unrivalled in her ferocity, determination, and sheer skill, Mantis is the indisputable apex predator: vigilante incarnate, she is a force of nature, a weapon since birth that has evolved into combative perfection. Daughter of elite mercenary the Huntsman, who boasts a 100% success rate as well as a cruelty hand-carved, Mantis has found a way to put her father's brutal training to use: protecting the innocent.
(Well, to be honest, it's more like punishing the guilty.)
During the day, though, when the sun shines on the city and its shadows retreat back into their corners, Mantis becomes Spencer Sato—anger in the shape of a teenage girl, her entire life is waiting waiting waiting, for the sun to set, for the city to come alive, for the mask and gloves to come out of the box in the back of her closet. For the blood to splatter and the bones to break.
The sad, stale stasis that is Spencer's civilian life can be punctured only by a select number of outside factors, and Spencer can count them on one hand.
1) Her sister, Scout Sato, who has protected Spencer since day one, who has taken the worst of their father's fury, both in words and beatings, in an attempt to keep her younger sister safe,
2) Music, specifically music she played with the band Murder Face before it, as well as her relationship with front-woman Mary Jane Watson broke up, and
3) Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy, initials GMS, Spencer's best friend and the living embodiment of reprieve.
Gwen is the only person—save for Scout—who has ever tried to understand Spencer. The only person who has ever really cared. Blonde, brilliant, beautiful, Gwen is so perfect that Spencer can't decide if she wants to be around her or if she wants to be her. Either mission is interrupted, irritatingly so, by Gwen's boyfriend: the social outcast Peter Parker, who despite his own superior intellect, can only ever find himself in one of two uncomfortable positions. A) with his head shoved down a toilet bowl (or inside a locker) by one Flash Thompson, or B) with his lips on Gwen's and his hands around her waist—which Spencer does Not Appreciate, for normal and conventional platonic best friend reasons.
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American Animals
FanfictionInside my network of blood and bone and their network of tendon and meat we have, you and I, our histories of hunting and being the beast. earth-65 au GWEN STACY / HARRY OSBORN © 𝖇𝖆𝖞𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖘