Author's Note: I can't pretend I've read the comics, spoiler alert - it's because I haven't - but I can say that I've recently watched all of the Spiderman films from the past 20 years, so I feel that that's basically all the qualification I need to write this. I'm trying not to copy any film iterations; rather I'm taking inspiration from all of them and smushing them together with Gwen from Into The Spiderverse to create a totally-not-convoluted origin story because I've found no better way to procrastinate from writing my HG fic than by writing for a completely different fandom. Welcome to the depths of the internet, where today I'll be taking you on a totally-not-self-indulgent ride through my barely cohesive plot threads. Please enjoy, and strap in folks. This will definitely be… something.
P.S: I have a few recommendations for the 2 other Spider-Gwen fans out there: 'The Spectacular Spinnerette', 'Closing In' and 'Pre-Nexus: Spider-Gwen' are all fics on here that I've used as inspiration, so go check them out!
Gwen takes the train home.
The all-too-familiar atmosphere of the Queens train-line was not one that Gwen Stacy appreciated. She'd already tried to drown out the sounds of groaning drunkards and rowdy toddlers by blasting indie rock through her headphones; but now she could not only smell the swirling compounds of day-old vomit, bargain beer and string cheese, but taste it. Feeling her stomach clench, Gwen fumbled around in her tattered coat for some emergency mints, yet her hands refused to grasp at anything but crumpled receipts and warped hairgrips. In one final effort to stop herself from dry heaving on public transport, Gwen found herself lost in her music: the syncopated rhythm, the wistfully discordant melody, the way the drummer trilled the cymbals like they were bouncing across the walls of her mind. It was almost enough to make her forget about the huge presentation on electrolysis that was due the next day, or her DT coursework that was already a week late, or the algebra homework that sat untouched at the bottom of her bag. Or the fact that a sticky child had just wiped a green bogey all over the gum-stained pole opposite her.
And then the train squealed to a stop at the station near Gwen's favorite bodega store. Luckily, today wasn't the day Gwen Stacy revealed her mild emetophobia. She jumped off the gap between the train and the platform without the blood curdling in her veins.
A threadbare tote bag slipped and slid underneath Gwen's armpit as she hurriedly updated her online study schedule before the ticket girl could roll her eyes into the back of her head. Now back on her feet, Gwen charged through the crowds at the train station, only to be slowed down by the viscous swathe of exhausted blue-collars and exasperated businesspeople flooding the pavements at the surface. Interspersed among the emerging train-goers were a few uniformed officers who offered Gwen a friendly wave as she bounded past Delmar's to her usual backstreets route.
Of course, they only knew her because of her father.
Captain George Stacy was, as his title suggested, police chief extraordinaire - keeping the streets of the Queens borough safe and sound for all those lovely law-abiding citizens out there. At least, that's how the news portrayed his job description. They didn't show the torn bulletproof vests or the blade-scratched badges or the bloodied trousers, but Gwen got to see it all from the front row. All those times he came back in the early hours of the morning with white bandages wrapped around him, or the sinking relief etched across his face when he invaded Gwen's room every evening, or the tossing and turning that thumped through the walls at night.
Gwen can't remember a day that went by without an obtrusive feeling that he might not come back.
She shook off the odd heaviness in her chest as the crunching of the beige parking lot gravel started beneath her clunky boots. Gwen had been a world away from what was in front of her eyes: an unfortunate habit for someone who desperately needed to soak up every bit of information put in front of her. There was always catching up to do - not to her classmates, of course, they were mostly miles behind - but to The Stacy Expectations. Those pesky bars keeping Gwen from worming her way out of the harsh limelight, from slithering into the warm shadows, from leaping off the stage into the safety of the audience. Was it really so bad to be unremarkable? Gwen's father thought so.
And so, Gwen Stacy hugged the fraying tote bag closer to her shoulder, the uneven texture of her drumsticks slotting comfortably between her ribs. The more pressing question wasn't whether Gwen cared or not - obviously, she craved the acceptance of her father - but rather if Queens would care that the Stacy heiress was going to dismantle the stage that breathed reputation into her, filled her lungs with sawdust, choked her with aspirations that weren't really ever hers. Would they care?
Probably.
That's why, for now, Gwen was going to stay right where she was: tied for top of the year at Midtown STEM Academy.
The canal traced a pin-straight path to the Stacys' apartment block. About two-thirds of the way home now, Gwen passed a small decrepit warehouse on the way that was rundown by mosses and lichen and caked-on rust - one of the many landmarks of the backroads and why she preferred it to the pristine checkerboard of the highstreet. Everything breathed with so much more life. Even the chipped bricks strewn about the occasional alleyway had more personality than the sickeningly symmetrical twigs that the council planted by the roadside 5 months ago in an effort to appear more 'eco-friendly'. Queens was ever-so-slightly more real over here, whatever that meant.
Gwen wasn't sure whether that was a good thing.
Her usual brisk pace slowed a little as she inhaled the sharp fall air, tainted with the mustiness of flaked paint and petroleum. Distant honking belonging to the horde of rush hour traffic beat to the rhythm of Gwen's pulse, with the not-so-dulcet squawking of ravenous pigeons acting as the signature tune of the backstreets. Gwen slipped her headphones off, her ears freshly ringing with the passionate humming of the wind. Perfectly chaotic, just how she liked it. Gwen smiled to herself. A dark gray hue seeped into the overhead clouds as she watched those pigeons scarper into the sky, replaced instead with the ferocious revving of a highschooler on a motorcycle.
Gwen's head jerked to an alley somewhere on her right, her jaw tightening in frustration. Flash Thompson, progeny of two snobbish and apparently neglectful parents, had recently acquired a deliciously shiny Harley Davidson - a fact Gwen only knew because he wouldn't shut up about it. And he wasn't going to stop not shutting up about it until everyone had gotten an eyeful of his ego-on-wheels. Including the one and only Peter Parker, who had tried at all costs to avoid Flash since the start of the term, but who had also been placed in all of the same classes as him. If the chilling tales of ruthless vacation-killing and trip-canceling hadn't already cemented the admin lady as a complete asshole, this was Gwen's conclusive proof.
A random woman at the end of the next alleyway huffed in loud indignation, presumably because of the combustion fumes now spilling out of the narrow gap between Dickie's DIY store and Domino's Pizza, accompanied by the unfortunate sound of Flash's wiry voice. The prying side of Gwen Stacy had been piqued like an LED torch in the pitch black: she crept behind the pizza-filled dumpster, tote bag clutched to her chest, ears perked.
"How do you like my new ride, Parker?"
"Did you seriously hunt me down just to boast about your stupid bike?"
"First of all, Parker, it ain't stupid and second of all, that's the point."
"...right. What part of this makes you think I want to be boasted to?"
"I don't know, maybe the way you worm your way out of earshot whenever I'm talking? That's pretty rude, you should get on that."
"It's called having a life."
"That's funny, coming fr-"
"What part of wanting nothing to do with you is funny?"
"Parker, maybe you should have a little respect for your superiors."
"Just because your parents love money more than their own child doesn't make you better than me"
"Just because your parents preferred to be in a plane crash than-"
"Fuck off."
"Ooh, I made Parker use the naughty word, did I?"
"Stop being a toddler. I said. Fuck. Off."
"How about you fuck off, eh? What are you even doing here anyway? Dumpster diving for the remainder of your self-worth? Dream on, Parker."
A scuffling of sneakers on concrete. A fierce grunt. A hollow blow. Then, almost silence.
Thwack.
Something thudded against the heavy duty dumpster before sore cursing lost itself in the furious whirring of a motorcycle engine. The usual soundscape of Queens resumed to the song on the wind it had always been. The inside of Gwen's cheek throbbed tenderly as she quit chewing it. She unpeeled herself from the clammy plastic even though the air had been brisk. Perhaps it had been something other than temperature making the back of Gwen's neck damper than a thermal sock in the washer.
Smoothing down her static-y hair, Gwen inched forward to peer down the passage. Fumes seeped into the shadows rapidly washing over the slumping figure of Peter Parker. The buzzing of streetlights funneled down the alley, making Gwen's head pound a little as she approached. A trickle of blood oozed from Peter's lip. Even in the dusk, she could make out the swollen lump that had risen on his face. Crouching down, Gwen's stomach dropped to the concrete below. She couldn't be here.
Gwen was supposed to take the main road where it was safer, or so her father said.
Gwen shouldn't get involved in this - what if the Stacy name got interwoven with backroads shadiness?
Gwen couldn't see anyone through the blinding streetlights and severing shadows, and they couldn't see her.
Gwen had known Peter since they met in 2nd grade; if he was awake, he would have turned her help away.
Gwen had to get home to study - more time meant more revision meaning better test scores - there was no room for mistakes when she flew this high.
Heaving herself upwards, Gwen dragged her eyes from the injured Peter. He didn't need immediate medical attention and a split lip and a swollen cheek were nothing May couldn't heal. He lived less than half a mile away and walked this route back every day. He'd dealt with plenty of similar incidents before: Gwen had seen them herself. So what reason other than senseless pity was keeping her here?
The last of Gwen's bootsteps echoed down the passage as Peter began to stir. The dim glow of a phone weakly illuminated the shadows, accompanied by the whispers of his Duel Of The Fates ringtone. Surely he could look after himself, right? After all, he was the only one who could keep up with Gwen in school; why couldn't he use some of those brain cells now? She turned the corner back onto the path by the canal as she swallowed those remaining fragments of conflict. Nobody knew she had been there, did it really even matter? She was a ghost at the scene - invisible, but present. She'd just have to deal with it, like everything else.
So, Gwen placed her headphones back over her burning ears, and began to trudge the remaining half-mile through the pebbles back to the Stacy residence.
Author's Note: That's the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this little introduction to Gwen along with a slice of her life before the plot really kicks in. I've planned this fic to be pretty long and I'm not sure if I'll complete it, but it's worth a try - I've never successfully written a multi-chapter story before, so this is pretty ambitious for me. Anyway, I've had fun, you've (maybe) had fun and have a great day, week, month and year wherever you are :)
Also, TL;DR - Gwen Stacy has a fun time on the train, followed by intense self actualisation and culminating in what is usually considered a dick move by letting her classmate bleed out in a dark alley.
Also, also - The day this is uploaded is May 1st, which just so happens to be the 121st day of the year (and the same issue in the comics - though I'm not sure which run - in which Gwen dies, a bit ominous, but I love playing with dates and things like that). Also in the UK it happens to be the May Day bank holiday tomorrow, which is also a cool coincidence since Mayday is Peter and MJ's daughter. Probably something you already knew, but that doesn't stop me from telling you anyway.