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smth i love about spider-man ( 2002 ) is peter's connection and love of nyc and how nyc loves him back. i think eventuallyyy its smth i want to explore here, especially with how involved she is? she's the chief of police's daughter, she's in the arts district a lot for music and dance, she's working in biochem, she loves baseball games
and she’ll drag u along too ? watching shitty improv shows, the ballet, her band’s sets, thrifting in soho, walking in central park w sandwiches and wine
smth i love about spider-man ( 2002 ) is peter's connection and love of nyc and how nyc loves him back. i think eventuallyyy its smth i want to explore here, especially with how involved she is? she's the chief of police's daughter, she's in the arts district a lot for music and dance, she's working in biochem, she loves baseball games
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for a while, i didn’t have a faceclaim for gwen! truthfully, i don’t think i’ll ever find one that captures all the features i see for her in my head. so instead, here’s an amalgamation — a breakdown of the way i envision her appearance. piece by piece, stitched together from my own personal headcanons.
¹ ) face & physique.
gwen carries most of her mother's features, delicate but sharpened enough to keep her from looking cherubic. her skin is pale and easily burns in the summer, with light freckles on her nose and shoulders. her nose is a button nose, small and slightly upturned, with a rounded tip that gives her face some softness, even when her jaw is set. george and gwen's eyes are matching sets in chlorine blue, large and forward, with light lashes. there's a small chip in one of her canines, noticeable only when she grins widely.
she stands at 5'5, her frame stretched into long lines she didn't always know how to carry. in middle school, her long torso made her feel gawky. like her body was growing faster than she could keep up with. she eventually grew into it, finding balance in the proportions that initially felt awkward. her chest softens the otherwise angular stretch of torso, balancing the length of it. waist narrows neatly into a gentle flare of hips, while her arms and legs are long and lean and defined by repetition from ballet and drumming.
² ) hair.
naturally platinum blonde, falling halfway down her back in long layers. once she hit college, she stoof in her dorm kitchen with a pair of scissors and cut wispy bangs for herself unevenly, but now it settles into something that frames her face. she doesn't fuss with it much, purple shampoo during the summer to upkeep it.
³ ) makeup.
gwen doesn't have the patience for a long routine, fifteen minutes, max. no foundation, she never liked how it felt on her skin. she'll wear concealer, mascara, and a cool brown shadow and lines her bottom lash line with a pencil liner, and flicks it out to a small wing. dark rose pink gloss and keylime chapstick are kept in her jacket pocket.
⁴ ) wardrobe.
though born in new york, gwen is almost always cold. layering is common. her closet is in tones of grey, black, light pink, denim, white, and brown. lace or knit tops or off the shoulder long sleeves and bootcut jeans are usually gravitated towards, stripes and plaid make their occasional appearance. on the days she doesn't have labs, short skirts and sheer tights are favorites. her most worn piece is a black leather blazer, a thrifted find with the color faded a bit at the collar and elbows. ballet practices see gwen in wrap tops, sweats, crewnecks and leotards. during gigs, comfortability is preferred, and since she's on drums, she doesn't see a point in drawing any particular focus towards her. jeans and a baby tee are probably opted for. shoes are an afterthought, but a consistent rotation. beat up high tops, low doc martens, and heeled black boots. jewelry is simple and silver. small chains and hoops, so they don't snag. gwen has doubles in their ears.
thinking about miss gwendy's laugh .. it's not smth she gives away easily, most of the time it's small ones, underneath her breath. but her rare one is sooo girlish. a complete string of snorts, and a giggle that makes her gut ache :(
gwen wedges her shoe on the rung of a chair, roosted like she could spring out the door at any second. sticks lay lazily against her thighs. sweat and smoke weave around the walls. the greenroom carries its usual sprawl. cables coiled like snakes in the corner. a stick of eyeliner with a missing cap. a tangle of jewelry in knots that look permanent. a half - full beer sweats through the cheap paper coaster beneath it, bleeding ink until it smears. all familiar clutter, but not enough to be a shield.
@luckstole asked, “ i know more about you than you think. ”
a breath drags through her nose. it's a small thing. a freeze, that feels longer than it should. jaw works, so she doesn't look at felicia right away, blinking her eyes closed to quit them from rolling. safer to keep chlorine colored gaze on the table, with the scars of old burns and digs from drum keys. “ people talk. ” the words fall flat, like they're a fragment of a memorized monologue. phrasing it as twenty - something gossip. nothing more. not what makes her an insomniac. “ i'm not gonna hold it against you, fel. ” leg shifts, boot pressing flat to the floor, gwen's chin lifts enough to glance sideways at her bandmate, meeting the shine in her eyes. “ alright, hit me. two truths and a lie. but you have to play too. it's fair enough. ”
the kitchen is a small, intimate mess: plates stacked like a sleepless skyline on the draining board, a pan cooling with a ribbon of congealed sauce, a cloth bunched carelessly near the sink. garlic and basil hang in the air thick like breath, while the counter wears the evidence of a dinner both deliberate and poorly improvised. gwen perches on the counter's edge, gaze studying as he stands among it all, as if he belongs here, sleeve still folded at his elbows. her fingers find his wrist without much consideration, curling over the ridge of sleeves where the fabric creases lightly. “ you could just stay. ” the offer spills easy, ordinary enough to pass for convenience, but there's hidden freight. blonde brows lift, teeth grazing the inside of her cheek. “ it's late. too late to drive, right ? ” amusement catches his lips, and for a second she considers swatting at his chest, a cross of impulse and something older.
@bludbird asked, an abrupt kiss that you melt into after a moment of hesitation.
it lands swiftly. despite the uncertainty, she can feel her pulse snag against her throat. the counter cools against the backs of her legs while the rest of her warms, heat coiling sharp through her ribs, the room narrowed down to the singular of him. gloss stains and catches against his mouth in shades of rose, stickiness left behind when she pulls away, to catch breath against the angle of his jaw, lips grazing the hinge of it, pressing them there, once then twice. “ on the couch, grayson. ” a rule to replace the one just broken.
✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ( a collection of various location prompts categorized by certain environments. feel free to adjust phrasing as desired. this prompt is likely to be updated in the future. )
[ 1. ] — URBAN :
the graffiti - scarred underpass of an old railway bridge, echoing with distant trains.
the fire escape of a towering high - rise, overlooking a vast grid of sleeping lights.
a forgotten alleyway behind a row of storefronts, bathed in the glow of a neon sign.
the window booth of a greasy diner, blurred city lights reflected in the glass.
a sheltered bus stop tagged with old stickers & graffiti, drenched in midnight rain.
a food cart on a busy street corner, steam rising into the cool night air.
a 24 - hour laundromat, fluorescent lights humming above rows of idle machines.
amidst the initial trickle of commuters through a sprawling subway station.
a park at the city's center, made up of grassy knolls & playground equipment.
the shadowed corridor of a parking garage, footsteps echoing in concrete silence.
the elevated walkway over a busy intersection, offering a bird's - eye view.
a vibrant street art mural on the side of a decaying brick building, alive with color.
[ 2. ] — RURAL :
a cramped stall within an empty stable, moonlight shining through the rafters.
a neglected orchard where wind - blown fruit rots beneath gnarled trees.
a winding gravel path leading all the way to a secluded farmhouse.
a field of wildflowers buzzing with bees, bordered by split - rail fencing.
a street temporarily shut down on behalf of a bustling farmer's market.
the sleepy main street of an eerie town, a single streetlight casting a warm glow.
a dry creek bed winding through brittle grass & sun-bleached stones.
a rickety wooden bridge arching over a narrow stream, frogs croaking all around.
a quiet paddock under bright starlight, farm animals peacefully grazing.
the middle of a deep, vast corn field under a brilliantly shining moon.
a dusty, unpaved road stretching endlessly through a landscape of rolling hills.
a yard sale with patrons trickling through beneath the hot sun.
[ 3. ] — NATURE :
a moss - covered trail leading deeper into a dense, mist-shrouded forest.
a windswept cliff overlooking a turbulent gray ocean, gulls crying overhead.
a secret lagoon with crystal blue waters & flourishing flora on all sides.
the shifting golden dunes of a vast beach, meeting the endless blue of the sea.
the banks of a swift, rocky river cutting through a vibrant forest.
a lodge / cabin in the middle of the woods, seemingly unoccupied for years.
a cluttered camping site deep in the middle of a national forest.
the edge of a marsh, thick with reeds & the distant calls of unseen birds.
the tranquil, glassy surface of a mountain lake reflecting a clear blue sky.
a hidden clearing bathed in dappled light, exuding the scent of damp earth.
a fork in the hiking trail, each path offering different adventures.
a foggy moor where the land rolls endlessly beneath a grey, heavy sky.
the deck of a cozy cottage bathed in sunlight & blooming flowers.
a grove of ancient trees, their roots exposed & twisted like veins in the earth.
[ 4. ] — SHOPS & ENTERTAINMENT :
a warm, dimly lit antique shop overflowing with forgotten treasures.
the too - cheery gift shop near the front entrance of a hospital.
a comic book store sporting bright posters & dozens of tradable goods.
amid long aisles lined with thrifted goods at the local consignment store.
a cluttered, cozy bookstore smelling of old paper & freshly brewed tea.
the incense-heavy interior of a well maintained smoke shop.
the warmth of a small-town bakery, pastries piled high in the display case.
backstage, the space cluttered with costumes, props, & nervous energy.
a shop in an unfamiliar country, every label written in a foreign language.
the chilled interior of an ice cream parlor offering refuge on a hot day.
under the harsh yellow lights of the only liquor store that was open at 2am.
a tourist - trap shop full of cheesy knick-knacks catered to travelers.
an unassuming corner shop concealing the entrance to an exclusive club.
a vibrant flower market overflowing with fragrant blooms & vendors' chatter.
under the flashing lights of a dance club, bass thrumming through the floor.
the hushed, reverent interior of a grand theater just before the curtain rises.
a pop - up carnival at night, rides whirling & distant screams mixing with music.
a karaoke lounge drenched in LED's, lyrics scrolling across a bright screen.
the rewards counter of an arcade, stacked wall-to-wall with countless prizes.
a classy high - rise rooftop bar with countless city lights sprawling beneath.
a brightly lit arcade alive with the sounds of chimes, explosions & laughter.
the neon - drenched interior of a retro - themed diner with a jukebox playing old hits.
a casino floor buzzing with noise; slot machines chiming, cards shuffling.
the open air of a summer music festival, crowd gathered under the twilight.
a classic, dimly lit bowling alley- the crash of pins echoing down the lanes.
the back row of a mostly - empty movie theatre right as the lights go dark.
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spider unravels from thread with an assemblé, the stench of burnt wiring glueing to her. the suit, once seamless, is pronounced with an oil colored scorch. the suit was intended to make her spectral — weaving in and out like a trick of the eye. now, it only buzzes waveringly, opacity controls fried, limbs too visible in the places she had meant to vanish.
@bybeast asked, “ you're not here to visit me? ”
gwen's brow arches, sharp as the line of her hood, but a snort manages to tumble out. “ oh, you caught me. ” the words are weightless as she peels their gloved hand free, flexing digits, knuckles crunching secondly. “ sort of, i guess. ” she tilts her head to flit eyes over the threshold of his room, “ i figured maybe you'd have a screwdriver lying around. or duct tape. ”
developing gwen’s slides further .. after the bite, her senses never settled the way she expected them to, vibration sensitivity picks up and keeps her a step ahead
the escape had not been dramatic — just a slip through a side door, the party spins behind them, servers balancing silver like gymnasts, laughter and crystal floating in sticky clusters. shoes tuck underneath her arm, prod at the fabric of her dress. much like the people, questions pinning her and him like specimen under glass. their performances are seamless now. the air out here cuts softer than what inside can provide, but she misses knowing where his hand will fall before it touches, staining in splotches of wine across her cheeks. inside, gwen almost forgets the artificialness. outside, the cold bites.
feet press against the stone, chlorine gaze flickers up, before picking up some half wilted rose fallen, petals bruised. fingers brushing it clean with a thumb and forefinger, tucking it into jacket. the thorn catches until a prick of garnet swells.
@bludbird asked, “ i really want to kiss you right now, but i'm worried that if i try, you'll think i'm the worst friend in the world. ”
the words land heavier than the cold, uncharacteristic silence coils between her. gwen's eyes betray her first, pupils flaring wide and overtaken, blooming like they have been pulled into his orbit without permission. he is magnetic — not in gesture, or effort, but being. paints her in transparency. her tongue wets her lip, dragging out the quiet. steadying herself before steadiness vanishes from underneath, “ if you're the worst, then, i'm a liar. ” her pulse presses, “ not very true. or fair. ” gwen chews the inside of her cheek, as if it'll reel her words back in, and still she feels a grin unspool against her will. “ but you're making this difficult — ”
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the ache blooms sharp across her ribs, every time gwen breathes in too deeply. her hoodie rucked up clumsily around her chest, skin's bare in the steady wash of low lamplight that warms each corner of apartment. the walls are narrow and thin, hold like shelter -- are dressed up into something theirs. irises and daisies stuffed in glass sits on sill of the window. the fridge is scattered with homemade magnets made of clay, post-its scratched and between lines of poetry in black and white tiles. half baked thoughts and slanted stanzas left for each other in between classes. candles glow in glass that coat the air rich with oranges and vanilla. somewhere soft to land. iron coats her tongue when teeth clamp hard into her cheek, but maeve's hands are steady. the cat winds between her legs, big brown eyes blink upwards, an amicable mirror of her friend.
@norgodly asked, [ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds.
her chest unwinds an airy laugh. “ we could just chop it off. ” humor creases, voice catching against the pull of gauze. “ the whole thing. my torso, ribs. and you could tape where my lungs could be. ” quiet presses, heavy in the poky kitchen. gwen exhales unevenly. “ i hate giving you more practice. you're an angel, you know that ? ” she knows she would fish out her bones if maeve ever needed new ones. “ i thought you were out tonight. ”
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