#prowlersona

It's a design for a prowler character i'm working on

Work is killing me and any time I have, but I bought this tiny book so I can doodle away while I rot at work…anyways, doodle dump! More Cheshire and some doc Ock special guests tenna! Because if I’m suffering I will project…also some work doodles!!

🦐

SUMMARY

You are Gwen Stacy Earth-1610.

"In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spider-Man. And in every other universe, it doesn't end well." If one universe has two Gwens and the other has already gone through the unfortunate event of Spider-Man, does that automatically make the other Gwen have a great, safe life?

No.

A Gwen Stacy is a force of nature without a Spider-Man or with. This is a story of someone who simply cannot sit still. The universe knows this. As the cannon goes. Every Spider-Man variant has its very own Prowler and its very own Gwen Stacy. Spider-Verse has a funny way of working.

Chapter 1 Intro

Earth-1610 Gwen Stacy was not the first "Gwen Stacy" of her world; that honor went to her dead aunt, killed by the Green Goblin Gwen Senior Stacy.

My feet dragged after me as I was walked through the city. More precisely, the city's central graveyard. My feet dragged, and my heart was squeezed.

Soon, my mother halted, and her grip on my hand slackened. My hands fell to my side and started to fiddle with the sleeves of my jacket. The air was sticky. From the humidity or pollution. I didn't know.

I wanted to hide in my mother's skirt, but I was too big for that. I needed to be strong. I am strong. I squared my shoulders and stood tall, heels together and chin up.

I am strong.

But all the strength didn't matter when the grave had your name on it.

"Here rests a restless soul, Gwendelyn "Gwen" Stacy, loved daughter and kind sister."

I am Gwen Stacy. That grave could as well be mine. Just slap "Times two" On it and fini, you won't need to buy another headstone.

Hands landed on my shoulders, and I flinched.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my father. George Stacy. His eyes were downcast and dark. This might be the closest I'll ever see my father cry.

"She was a good one." He stated.

We watch as my mother replaces the wilted flowers with new ones, from roses to sunflowers. I would have liked that. I don't like roses, they are only beautiful with thorns, but sunflowers... That I would like.

We watched over the grave for a while. My father's grip tightened for a moment. I glance up at him, turning my whole head to look at him. He is looking in the distance.

I look too.

Between the towering buildings around the graveyard, I could make out a red and blue dot swinging away.

Spider-man.

My father didn't like Spider-Man. Something to do with Aunt Gwen's death. I knew she died in the hands of another villain. Which one? I had never been told. I was never told exactly how she died. But I didn't get why he had to be so angry with Spider-Man. You cannot be on time to save everyone...

I breathe in and focus. I needed to stay strong. If not for myself, then to my family.

We stood there for long, silent moments. To remember Gwen Stacy, who had died on the same day, just years apart.

"Let's go, Gwendolyn. We are going to be late for your practice." My mother finally decides we've had enough and drags me back to the car. She tosses the wilted flowers into the bin by the gate.

"See ya, Dad. Go catch some bad guys!" I wave at my father as our paths separate. Me and mother to the family car, and father to his police cruiser.

"I'll catch all of them for you!" George Stacy promised.

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So, Gwen Junior Stacy was a restless child.

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My legs swung, and the landscape changed. The pressure was building up. Performance is a sport. And I am great at it. I enjoyed the pressure, I enjoyed releasing it.

Sitting in a car under the scrutiny of my mother was not a freedom I needed or wanted.

"Gewndolyn." Mother warns. Her grey eyes stared into my soul through the rear-view mirror.

My legs stop their swinging. I sit still and make eye contact with her.

We stop by red lights, and the car behind us honks. I grit my teeth. The light is red, there is nowhere to go! My mother scoffs, clearly thinking the same.

A group of other kids walked by. Punks of some sort by the looks of it. Leather west with duts and paint, ripped pants, combat boots, bold colors, and even bolder hairstyle. What would I give to dye my hair like that?

The closest to the car. The one carrying an electric guitar stops and looks at me. He gives me a crooked grin and a mock salute. A smile tugs the corners of my lips, but I keep my hands on my knees.

Mother was watching.

The lights turn green and the car moves again. The gang was left to go about their day. I breathe out and lean back into the car seat.

"Were they your friends? From the band?"

"No, mom. I don't know them. I just liked his guitar." I try to fix the situation before she getts wrong ideas.

"Gwendolyn isn't drumming enough? You go to ballet, already on top of that. When are you going to study? You've got grades to keep up. You won't be able to keep up with school if you continue to pursue hobbies like that. Soon enough, you aren't going to keep up with school work and miss future opportunities."

"Mom," I tried to stop the lecture. "I am not interested in playing anything but drums. I am focused on school. I have already applied for an internship. Everything is going great, and I promise to tell you if I start feeling overwhelmed."

It works. The lecture stops for a moment. But after a few beats, like usual, my mother has to have the final word.

"Gwendolyn, you should be more careful who you associate with; your father is up for a raise. If you get involved with people like that, what is going to happen to him?! You must think about your family!" Mother ranted on even though I had said I did not know them.

I inhale and focus on keeping my legs from swinging and me not looking too "disrespectful".

Before long, we arrive at the ballet studio. At that point, my mother had managed to give "constructive feedback" on pretty much every non-school activity I do.

I tried to not get angry or boil over. I like to think my mother is just an overthinker. My father often says that of her and that she also only means the best for me.

"We are here." I chim.

My mother cuts her rant and looks around in disbelief. Like she hadn't even been aware she had driven and parked us here.

She blinks. "It seems that we are here. Go now and work hard. I'll go buy you some new uniforms for school. I should be in time to pick you up."

"No need for that, mom." I wave her off as I scoot out of the car. My feet land softly on the pavement, and I snatch my training bag right after. "I can walk home just fine; it'sn't even a long walk."

Mother doesn't look reasured, but she doesn't deny me. "Fine, but be home before dark, love you, Gwendolyn."

"Love you too, Mom." I close the car door right after me.

I wave at the car before turning around and pretty much flying up the stairs. Like a storm, I descended to the locker rooms. I do not exchange pleasantries with other trainees nor pay them any attention. I had a fight scheduled with my newest pair of pointe shoes. The powder blue ones I had fought to have for at least a year.

Why my mother wanted everything to be pastel pink, I didn't know.

I was so excited!

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She had that drive for greatness. She gave her parent run for their money. Literally, ballet isn't cheap, and a drum set doesn't build itself. But they were happy. A happy family of three.

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"Mademoiselle Tempête!" Madame Ross called out.

I still in my steps and blink at her.

"You are like a storm in my studio, Miss Stacy," Madame Ross scolds before she adds, "de nouveau."

"Apologies, Madame Ross." I try to ignore the side eyes other students give me.

"Don't apologize, Miss Stacy. Do better." Madame Ross steps closer and taps her cane on my thigh. "You have the strength, the drive, the stamina, but what lets you down is your lack of self-control and patience. What use is it for you to be able to leap across the studio if that's the only perfect thing you can do? No, this ends before it begins. We are going to focus on training adagio from now on."

Madame Ross nodded to herself before motioning me to return to my place by the barre.

And in typical Madame Ross matter, all the dirty laundry is going to be aired in one session. Her hawk eyes zeroed in on the girl next to me.

She gulps and makes brief eye contact with me. Mercy on her poor poor soul.

And like I expected, at the end of the practice, there was no ass that wasn't chewed. Some days I wonder why I do this at all.

I kick rocks as I march forward. One of the girls from the ballet walks along with me. I don't remember her name. She had been coming to the practice for at least a year, so I am too embarrassed to ask for it now.

"Weren't you in that band too?" The girl suddenly began to almost spook me out of my skin.

"Y-yeah!" I explain with a little too much force, and I try to mask it with excitement for the band. "We are the Mary Janes!"

The girl blinks, and my smile is way too forced.

"That sounds exhausting." The girl looks at me weirdly.

"Exhausting?" I am no longer smiling.

"You do ballet, you never miss a practice, you are in a band. I know for a fact you won't miss a single outing with them. You are studying at Vision Academy. Your grades are good. You never seem to sit still." The girl goes on and on.

I let her walk in front of me. A feeling settles in the bottom of my stomach.

"Not to be rude or anything, BUT HOW IN THE NAME OF HELL DO YOU KNOW THAT!"

The girl looks over her shoulder. She doesn't look that impressed. "We have Mathematics, science, and philosophy together at Visions."

"Oh." I was left to wonder why life was so difficult.

I watch as the street lights snap on one by one. The evening had snuck on me again. I breathe out in frustration and dig my phone from my bag. My father had insisted that I would be with someone or at least call someone when it was dark.

My call was picked up on the second ring.

"Watsup, Gwendy?" Betty Brant's chiper voice asked.

Or what I think she asked. The bass was making it hard to make out what was being said. "Hi, Bet, just out from another torture session, could use some company."

"Say no more, girl! Wanna hang out? You won't believe what kinda place I have found!"

"I think I already know what kind of place you have found." I teased, adjusting the strap of my bag. "Now gimme all the details."

I jog through the streets, ignoring the burning in my calves and toes. The deepening shadows don't matter anymore. My heart flutters, and the anticipation roars in my ears.

The road described by Betty took me over the metro tracks and into an abandoned subway stop. My sneakers grunch when I make a sudden stop and crouch down in an alley. I had seen something in the corner of my eye, and as one of the duties to my peers, I needed to check the threat.

Police or not?

I tug my hoodie over my head. My muscles tremble. Aking for good chase and thrill. Slowly, I peer out in the open. Half expecting a patrol car to roll by.

Something did roll by, but it wasn't a car.

A spray paint can rolled to my feet. I contacted the sole softly.

I blink. It left a red smudge on the contact spot. I frown and kick the offending can away. There went my white sneakers. The next pair shall be black.

Clang! The can hits a wall and pivots from it out of the alleyway.

A figure chases after it. A small figure. A figure of another kid.

I rose from my crouching position as it was clear there was no cop to be worried about.

The kid catches the can and turns to look at me. He fliched so hard he looked like a cartoon character. Even his hood fell down in the middle of his half-meter jump.

We stared at each other like two idiots.

He looks me up and down, and I look him up and down.

He had pretty brown doe-like eyes and an afro. The rest of his face was covered with a half-mask respirator. He had a grey and red hoodie on.

"Hey." He greets with an awkward wave of the spray paint can. A smile tugs my lips. He was a little bit shorter than me.

"Hey." I step out of the alley.

He steps a half step back before clearly consciously stopping himself from taking more steps. "So. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know. What are you doing here?"

"I- I-I am just hanging out. You know."

"And making something?" I press my curiosity, taking the better of me.

"Yeah. I am just tagging away, Y'know." The boy chucled awkwardly and glaced away.

I follow his gaze and see quite a sizable. Something? Being started on the brick wall of the building next to us.

"Gwen!" Glory Grant calls out from a distance.

I stop my teasing and focus on my friends. I clap him on the shoulder and push past him. "Then I'll leave you to it."

"GWENDY!" Betty Brant launches to hug me, but as she embraces me, she whispers into my ear. "Who was that? Don't tell me you have a secret sweet heart?"

I scoff and push her off me. "It was not like that, I don't even know him, Bet."

"Are you sure? Not even from school? Not even one class together." Betty was still in my business even if I was now trying to walk her off before she goes and bullies the boy.

"Knock it off, Betty. You are seeing things only because you want to see them. You should drop those K-dramas, they are making you see things." Glory helps me drag her off. "Besides taking into account how white our school is, wouldn't you think someone like him would stand out?"

"Please, I need drama in my life, YOU need drama in your life! The Jordan-boy would be perfect for that!" Betty complains as we drag her towards the sound of the bass.

"Jordan? I thought you didn't know him?" I glance at Glory, raising my eyebrow at her in silent question. "Is she high?"

"No, the shoes!" Betty straightens things out and reminds me of something.

"Dang. The boy murdered my shoes!"

What a time I would have while trying to explain the bright red spray paint smudge on the white sole of my cyan blue sneakers. "My mother is going to kill me!"

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Two.

One day, they were a family of two. You know... things do happen.

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What I intended to be a short spin to see what Betty and Glory were up to led me coming home way after dark. Like way after dark.

I was planning to go to my room via my window and shelter down for the night in hopes that whatever lecture I was going to get would be lessened by the morning.

But when I finally got to my home street, I could only spot one car. It was my father's squad car. A car he rarely took home, for we only had one parking spot reserved for us.

I swallow. That car always meant something. Something bad. Whether it was early mornings leading to a very long and dangerous day, or late nights when he would bring his work home and drive my mother up the wall.

The lights were on. They were on in the kitchen. And I also could see a light on in the window next to it. In my room.

I straighten my back with a loud crack and square my shoulders. I would have to go head-on.

My muscles tremble after a whole day of abuse, but I still leap up the stairs. I take a focusing breath before I dare to dig the keys from my pocket and open the door.

"I'm home," I announce gently to not spook my father, half expecting my mother to attack from behind the corner.

Instead, I am met with an exhausted greeting from my father. "Hey, Gwen, how was your practice?"

I set my shoes in the shoe rack. Setting them so that the red bloch wasn't visible. I pad to the kitchen knowing that my father's work station would be there and he is seated on the chair closest to the coffee machine, "for efficiency," he would say.

"Dad, is everything alright?" I set my bag on the chair closest to the fridge and get myself some juice.

"Yes, yes." He assures me. His calloused hands rub over his raccoon eyes. "The dang spider just keeps drowning me in paperwork."

"I can see that," I admit, and eye the mountain paperwork in front of him. I move my bag to the floor and sit down.

"Tell me about the practice." My father tries again to redirect the conversation.

I frown. My father's mustache is unkept, and he still had his uniform on. wringled, and I could swear in the dim kitchen light, there was at least one coffee stain on it. My father looks bad...

"The practice was good. My new shoes were good. Although it didn't save me from being chewed out by mademasoil Ross."

"The blue ones. Good, you had wanted them for so long." Father agreed absently. His eyes roved the paper in front of him without truly understanding it.

"Dad?" I steeled myself. "The practice ended hours ago. I should have been home before dark."

"Dark?" He flinched before looking outside.

Our reflection was drawn on the dark window. There was no natural light to be seen, and the building across had only one light on in the window. My father shook his head like an old dog.

"Where were you?" He asked with more alertness. A slight worry in his voice.

"Whit Bet and Glory. We are planning for a small gig in the near future." I didn't tell him the whole truth. I love my father, but I want to do something my father's cop mind cannot comprehend.

"They are good girls." He nods. "I trust you to be smart enough not to get in trouble."

I give him a small smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"But next time, please send me a message before you go anywhere. There is something bigger going on in the underworld, and that Spider is not making it easy." He pats the pile of paperwork and fixes me with a stern look. "So don't do anything stupid or I'll ground you for the rest of your life."

"No, dad," I promise and sip my orange juice.

The lights flicker, and the world is black for a moment. Even the fridge lights go out. As does the light across the street. I breathe in and out. The lights go back on, and everything is back to normal.

The kitchen is silent, and the grandmother's clock dings to tell us we shouldn't be up to hear it. My eyes read little of the nearest report. Something about a scuffle between Spider-Man and some Prowler-guy over some electronics, and a car that got tossed in the East River during it.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Gwen?"

"Maybe you should be going to bed. I think the upper-ups would be very confused after receiving a report from Officer "State Georgia."

My father looks at me a little confused, and I tap the report in front of me. He snatches it and scrutinizes it over while groaning loudly.

I snicker and tiptoe to my room. The room with the door is open and the lights are on. I halt. On my bed are three new uniforms for the year. Why hadn't Mother woken up to instill the fear of god in both of us?

I step back to the hall and look to see my parents' bedroom door open wide. I pad closer and peek inside. There was no mother, and the bed was made. The closed doors were open, and my Mother's RIMOWA was gone.

"Dad? Where is Mom?"

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Anyway, Gwen Stacy wasn't weak by any means. She would endure.

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To hear your own mother had taken off and gone on a "mental health vacation" without telling you or your dad was not something an original kid would want to hear.

But good for me, for I wasn't a normal kid.

I am a Drummer of Mary Janes.

I am Tempête of Mademoiselle Ross in ballet.

I am the Academic champion, or at least one of them, of Vision Academy.

I am the perfect daughter of the future chief of police.

I am Gwen Stacy, the living.

I would endure and I would survive and I would be doing so in style and grace.

I pack my bags. Mourning the fact that my drums couldn't come with me.

"Gwen?!" My Dad calls me.

"I AM COMING, DAD!" I curse his sudden impatience.

School wouldn't begin for a while, and as far as I knew, his work shouldn't begin until midday.

"GWEN!" I drop my phone, and it decides to be a bitch and slide under my bed.

"IN A MINUTE!" I dive after it.

I dig under my bed. My cheek pressed on the carpet. I held my breath as my laziness in cleaning my room became apparent. Dust was making my eyes sting. Now pretty much blind, I groped for my phone.

My fingers hit something, and I grabbed it. I sprang to my feet in victory and brandished my-

Box of hair dye? I don't remember buying this, and it was 100% father didn't know to buy this, and mother wouldn't want this in the house...

I stare at the lady on the cover with a pink mane of hair. She was smiling a mocking smile. I turned the box around to my chagrin; the box had taken a hit from something, and now the smiling lady looked like she was winking.

"Shegone, now is the time!" The lady was sending me truly evil telepathic messages.

"Don't mind if I do," I tell her and drop the dye box into my bag.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, GWEN!?" My father terrorized the neighbors from our front door. If they hadn't been awake before, at least now they were.

"NOTHING TO YOU!" I answered and dove down again to get my phone.

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Great news. She was now a second-year student of Visions. The best school in the area. Brooklyn Visions Academy.

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My legs swing as I watch the people moving through the street. Trying to make out who was a freshman and who I simply hadn't cared enough to identify as being in my year.

"Gwen, did I tell you about the Moraless?"

I blink and slowly look at my father. "No?"

"His son made it to the Visions Academy, too. A grazy smart boy, apparently. You should go and introduce yourself to him. Make a good impression and show him around." He nods to himself, way too happy about the plan he made for me.

"Okay..." I agreed slowly. "Do you happen to know what he looks like?.."

My father's mustache curved down, and he frowned. He didn't know what Son Moraless looked like.

"What about his name?"

The car was awkwardly silent, and two of us sitting on the front seat got the pleasure of hearing a 6-year-old kid making his best elk-noise imitation on the radio.

Followed by a really convincing Spider-Man imitation. The only problem is that I didn't ever recall the guy saying "Up and away!"

"I am sure you know him when you see him; he looks like his father." George Stacy dipped again in that weird well of Stacy confidence.

"Dad. I have never even met Officer Moraless." Now it was a fun game for me.

"Yes, you have!" He defends himself.

"When?!"

"I brought you to the station when the lizard toppled Queensboro Bridge. He was there then. I left you to him to be watched."

"Queensboro Bridge was destroyed before Spider-Man got his first sponsorship! The bridge has been destroyed at least 2 times after that."

"HE HAS SPONSORS? HE IS A CRIMINAL! A VIGILANTE!" My father's face turned into that box dye pink. Pink really suited him. It brought out his eyes.

I laughed. But my laugh is cut short when my dad pressed his foot to the brake and almost choked me with a seat belt.

"DAD?!" I complain and try to bend and pick up my phone, which had again flown from my hand.

"Don't 'Dad' me. A crazy kid wanted to taste the hood of a cop car."

"What kid?!" I look around only to not see any kids, but a delivery driver biking by, who was a very much grown-up person with an impressive beard.

"A fast kid." And our journey continues.

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Soon, the walls were too high and Gwen needed release.

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Ahh, the lovely Vision Academy. The stupid white brick with way too many stairs in the middle of the city. The cradle of overachievers.

"Bye, Dad, love you. See you on the weekend!" I escape the car before he can start a last-minute session of advice for life.

"See you, Gwen! Make us proud."

I try not to wince as I wave him off.

"Gwen!" Glory calls me.

I leap up the stairs and hug her. Glory freezes for a moment before she hugs me back. I have to let go of her soon, for my bag is killing my shoulder.

"What are you doing here this early? Don't tell me your parents finally let you move to a dorm?" I tease, but the fact that she only had her school messenger bag wasn't courageous at all.

Glory shakes her head. "Still no. They say it's cheaper for me to commute to school and back every day. Besides, I think the smell of subway is starting to grow on me."

"That sucks. I could have finally gotten a dorm mate that wouldn't smell like a horse."

We make our way to the girls' dorm building. Waving occasional hellos to other kids from our year.

"Where is Bet?"

"She wanted to be here too, but this night that girl actually went to sleep, so I didn't have the heart to wake her up."

"Ooh, that insomniac bitch should be led be." I fully heartily agreed on.

"Look at that, Gwen." Glory points out the dorm list. "The horse girl isn't your roommate anymore!"

And look at that! I had no roommate! "That's a relief, I hope she and Gingersnap have been reunited."

A grin spread on my lips. "Hey, Glory. Want to help me smuggle my drums to my dorm?"

She scoffed. "And cover your ass when the inspections begin? You must be out of your mind."

"Excuse me." A small voice asked behind us.

We quickly move out of the way so the most likely freshman girl can see her dorm number.

"Sorry." Glory apologizes for the inconvenience, and I offer an apologetic wave and a smile.

Soon we get to my dorm of the year. A typical tomb. One window, one desk, a chair, and a bunk bed. The walls were institutional white.

"Tell me you have a poster or something with you. These walls make me have a Vietnam flashback." I ask Glory.

"Nuh uh. I don't idolize, nor do I draw. I have nothing for this nightmare and Gwen?" She raises me an eyebrow. "Flashbacks?"

I defend myself, "You haven't had to sit and wait for anyone for hours in a lobby of a police station just because your father happened to forget something at work."

"That doesn't sound so bad." At that point, I didn't know whether she was playing with me or not.

"Glory. Every single good Samaritan that saw me in that lobby thought I was a CPS case." I grabbed her by her shoulders. "A grazy cat lady wanted to foster me!"

Glory laughs, and I let her go.

We putter around some time. Putting sheets on the lower bunk bed and storing my things away.

"Do you want to take all of your books with you or just for today?" Glory rifles through my books.

"Take all. Let's have a study session after school in the library. A head start wouldn't be bad for us."

"Good idea. Do you think we can rope Betty into it, too?" I fiddle with the lock of my window.

Glory leans back in my chair and groans."If we surprise her, yes."

I finally get the window open and look outside. Car honks and people talking filled the air. The roof of the library was just a meter and a half under my window. This room was made for a special kind of people.

I would know just what I would use this advantage for.

"Can you call Bet and ask her to bring an extra set of sheets for the top bunk?"

"Gwen, you are enabling her. She cannot be your roommate. She is not in the list! If you we continue letting her do things like that, soon the only place she is going to find a roof is the underside of the bridge." Glory shakes her head and gets up from the chair.

"Gl,ory you cannot say that of her!" I gasp, but I could sense the joke hidden in it.

My phone vibrates. Glory had sent out the request into our group chat.

For now, everything was as it should be. Everything was just perfect. My rucksack still wasn't empty. There was something in it.

"Hey, Glory."

"Yes."

"We have some time till our first glass?"

"Yes? Wanna grab some breakfast?"

"No, I wanna dye my hair." I held out the box dye like it was the best thing since a slice of bread.

Glory didn't look impressed.

"Just the ends! Please!" I beg her.

"After school," Glory groans but relents. "At least you didn't offer that to Betty. She would color all your hair and your carpet after it."

"YES, GWENDY! LETS DYE YOUR HAIR!"

We both jumped up as Betty had materialized out of thin air. To be fair, we hadn't closed the dorm door, so her spooking us was deserved...

For now, all was like it should be. For now.

TW for this one—scars /// (background isnt mine!!)

Background isn’t mine again!! Also drawing w/ reference

Drawing w/ reference!!!

Meet Stray.