If we’re gonna be friends, we gotta establish some ground rules.
i. My main portrayal of Peter Parker is based off of Marc Webb's The Amazing Spider-Man. I don’t have expert knowledge of the comics and I won’t pretend that I do. (Reading them right now as we speak though).
ii. This is a private blog, meaning I will only RP with mutuals. Even then, I am very selective - please don't take it personally. I usually only follow back people that I can foresee having a future interaction with.
iii. Paras, novellas, one-liners: you name it, I can probably do it.
iv. I love to ship (like, alot), but I will never force a ship on you. Likewise, please don't force a ship on me. Chemistry & build-up is key!
v. I don't do smut/nsfw. If anything, I will probably fade to black if it comes up.
vi. This blog is OC/AU/Multi-verse friendly!
vii. I am prone to winging it and random plotlines. If you want to start plotting, don't be afraid to approach me about it!
viii. I'm terribly disorganized so slow or lost replies are going to happen eventually. Sorry 'bout that, just bare with me!
ix. That being said, I also reserve the right to drop a thread if I feel that it has run its course, but don't be shy to start plotting up new ideas with me!
x. I track #amazingarachnid, my askbox is always open, and my skype is available upon request. Don't hesitate to come talk to me about plots/ideas/whatever!
ABOUT
Name: Peter Benjamin Parker
Aliases: Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Spidey, Webhead, Webslinger, Wallcrawler.
Age: 20-years-old.
Gender: Male.
Height: 5'10" | 177cm
Weight: 167 lbs | 75kg
Occupation: Freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle
Education: Biophysics major at Empire State University
Powers: Superhuman strength, agility, reflexes, durability; spider-sense, ability to cling to most surface.
Equipment: Artificially-created web-shooters with special adhesive properties.
Interpretation
These are my goals for portraying my main-verse, MCU!Peter as humanly canon as possible. For this, I have drawn from various sources including both the TASM movies; comments from Marc Webb, Stan Lee and Andrew Garfield; as well as elements from the 616 comics and my own interpretation of Peter Parker.
bent, not broken
Peter Parker’s life is shrouded in equal parts secrecy and tragedy. The mysterious circumstances of his parents’ deaths left him a lonely childhood laced with anxiety and hardship. However, no amount of isolation could extinguish the compassion, wit and intelligence he carries with him throughout his life. His ability to crack a joke in the face of danger says a lot about himself as a person—playfulness is in his nature.
His years of being a social outcast result in his individualistic, loner style. He seeks friendship and affection, but is painfully shy when it comes to actual human contact. As someone who spent a majority of his life being bullied and feeling rejected, he yearns to find his place in the world. Any attempt to interact outside his comfort zone would be tentative at best, but fueled by a hidden desire to feel accepted.
with great power
Upon gaining his powers, Peter was finally living the dream of being stronger; being free from the human limitations he was born into. But when he subsequently loses his beloved uncle, it instills an indomitable sense of justice in him. Peter finds the courage to use his powers for good, and that speaks volumes on the kind of person he is: when the world has taken everything away from him, he still chooses to believe in good and fights for it, even if there is a cost. Above all else, he wants to do right by the world, and he is constantly reminding himself that doing the right thing is worth all the blood, tears and heartache.
When he puts on the mask and takes on the persona of Spider-Man, Peter lets his playful nature take over. He is no longer the achingly awkward, nerdy student; he is the quippy web-slinging vigilante protecting New York City. The mask lets out his lighthearted, lovable personality that has been dormant for so long. Spider-Man gives him the strength to express this more actively without the mask on in his everyday life.
haunted
Despite all his strength, his greatest fear is being incapable of protecting those he loves. He cannot bear the thought of losing someone else, and the deaths of those he could not save will be something he has to cope with time and time again. He carries that burden with him everywhere he walks. New York City is a huge area, and Peter knows that there will be times when people call for help and he will not be around. He constantly dreads the idea that someone more powerful than he can imagine will come to take away everything he has left: and he will be cast back into unbearable solitude once again. This is one of his greatest motivating factors, so that this does not ever happen to him or anyone else ever again.
reckless, wild youth
Above all else, Peter is young, and always growing. He continues to change and shift, constantly coming to terms with his past and working for a brighter, safer future. So this is my baseline, the starting point for both him and I, where I hope to help Peter flourish in all of his masks: the hero, the everyday man, the muse, but always as a person.
Peter Parker and Spider-Man are one and the same.
Canon!verse. Peter Parker is a graduate of Midtown High and now attending ESU. Freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle by day, full-time web-slinging vigilante by night.
AU!verse. Still attending Midtown High. Still living in Queens next-door to a loveable redhead. Still best friends with a multi-million dollar heir. Still second best in his class. Still trying to figure out how this "hero" thing works. Any speculative events on Peter's future, as well as any alternative realities to the canon are also placed in this verse.
Avenger!verse. After being contacted by S.H.I.E.L.D, he's now the newest member of the Avengers, working on a provisional basis. Job description include team-ups, stopping extra-terrestial invasions, and buying groceries.
The last time Peter Parker sees her, she is waving goodbye.
She’s throwing one oddly cheerful arm over her head, a halo of ginger hair that stood as a stark contrast to the dull, lifeless backdrop of winter. She’s smiling, white enamel against pink lips, mouthing something along the lines of ❝ See you later. ❞
He nods from across the street, parting ways with her to make his train back to Queens. He does not prefer to vocalize it from this distance, not willing to draw attention to himself when it didn’t matter. She was the opposite, with hellos and goodbyes thrown over her shoulder at every occasion, generous and warm.
You’re 19 when she dies. It’s a house-fire; something red, ugly, ravenous enough that it consumes and takes everything from the inside out. It’s so furious and angry that it makes the sun cry, and invites devils to dance in the living room. He thrashes at night, his skin becoming charcoal and his lungs reduced to breathing smoke. He cries a torrent to put the flames out but it is never enough, never enough, it will never be enough. Leave him in his bedroom, lock the door and throw away the key for this is where he will purge her from his system. Prepare the eulogies, practice the prayer, because no one comes out alive from this. This is how a sinner turns water into wine.
You’re 21 and the gash still throbs. Throw yourself into your work, become a slave to the mine. Gold holds no meaning, and neither does emerald. It is only a reminder of hair and eyes. Hair and eyes. Take from which you want to remember. Her hair is too curly. Her smile too thin. Her nose too slanted. Her jaw not right. Her teeth too straight. She would never have that laugh. She isn’t her. She isn’t her. Where is she? You won’t find her here. You’re still digging for gold and emeralds, but the pickaxe broke a long time ago and now you’re just clawing at dirt. What are you trying to find?
You’re 25 and you stopped leaving flowers everyday. Maybe once a week. Then once a month. Then once a year. It’s hard to believe how many years has gone by without her. You wonder if the world would be better with an angel still residing in it. You wonder how God makes his plans. You wonder where the silver lining is. Where God’s plan for you is hiding. You stopped digging for her a long time ago. You prayed every night. Maybe if you found her skeleton, you could dance with her until her teeth grew back and her hair billowed in the wind. You don’t know why you stopped. That’s the scary part. You looked for a skeleton and found a ghost instead.
You’re 30 and you met someone else. She doesn’t smile like her, she doesn’t think like her, most of all she isn’t her, but she’s someone else. You repeat after yourself. It’s someone else. You fell in love with someone else. You never tell her. Not until the throb is a gentle heartbeat. Not until you feel obligated. Not until the ghost is the only one standing in the way. Someone who meant everything was suddenly the one person stopping you. It hurts, knowing you you have to move on, but so did her death. You get up, you fall in love with someone else, and you love her like mad. But you will always wonder if Adam ever cried when Eve perished and left him alone.
You wonder if you could plant your own rib, if she would be able to grow from it, and love you again.
You’re 40 and she’s 10. She’s wide-eyed gazes and sweet dispositions. She has the most dangerous combination between you and someone else, the innocent smiles and unquenchable eyes. She asks you, “Daddy, who’s this?” when she shows you a photo of flaxen hair and eyes to drown the world for. And you can feel the bluest tinge of sadness. It’s not fire anymore. It can’t hurt you. But it’s still a reminder of your first.
You look at it and relive the memories, the broken heart and then broken head; the bleeding, the bruising, the nights spent reliving a nightmare.
But you relive the moment when you loved her. Meeting her family for the first time. The days spent at her fire escape. Nights when you kissed her until the stars went out. Recounting all the times you saved her. Recounting the one time you didn’t. But remember the sum of happiness that one person could bring. Remember the dry, early burn of dawn when you promised her forever, but gave her only 3 years.
She kissed you regardless, because she chose to spend those years with you.
Prophets loved the world from which they were taken from, and she loved you no less.
chemistacy-blog said: song prompt: don't wanna be your girl by wet B)
MEME | Closed! (bc this ruined me too much and I don’t want to go through this again)
The worst part is the waiting; the slow, monotonous seconds
until impact, watching listlessly as the world goes on and on while you are trapped until
something gives or breaks.
He can feel the gravel beneath his sneakers and the cold wind
bite at his cheeks. He has both limbs tucked inside his coat as he walks,
stopping only until she has acknowledged he has arrived.
❝
You came.
❞
There is the saddest tinge of surprise, sparing
enough of a glance that she almost regrets doing so. Her smoke-stung eyes meet his, hazel hues being the only undamaged thing left about him. Her cracked lips part to say hello, before closing
up again, face growing dim with sorrow as if she expected any other version of him to show up.
There are a million ways to describe his FIRST LOVE.
—————
Here are FIVE.
She is the girl with flaxen hair and emerald eyes. Her sunlit smile alone could cut through thunderstorms and rain clouds, so shamelessly radiant that she isn’t even aware of it. He spent hours memorizing her geography, where the curve of her neck meets her beautiful face, the roses in her cheeks when she blushes, the quiet look of adoration she only ever reserved for him. He has so completely enamored himself with her entire being that he has committed her to MEMORY, so that he can remember eternally what beautyis (Because lord forbid if he ever forgot).
She is the best in class, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Her natural prowess on formulas and hypothesis is unmatched, making children’s games out of essays. She’s invincible on any equation, unfazed by trick questions or defeatist answers. She is WITNESS to all his late excuses in the morning, all his missteps and miscalculations; teasing him unabashed and unconstrained, forcing him to teeter on the edges of nervous and wreck (Because defeat is not an option, because only half-way is not an option, because when they are both in class, they form a treacherous duo).
She is romantic gestures and tiny details. She makes it a point to never forget a name, and from the moment he met her, he was in trouble. (Or was it the other way around?) She’s late night movies and family dinners, coffee-shop meetups and dates taken downtown. She’s 4am phone calls, 5am treks across the city and 6am sunrises. She’s memories cherished by artists and poets. Insignificant, delicate statements made on the couch or on a rooftop at the last slivers of night. (I’m sorry, goodbye, It’s okay, promise?, promise, I love you).
She is human, pain and sadness and grief and all, cursed with a heart that breaks quietly. Subject to drinking from a fountain that PROMISED too much, watching with a brave face when he walks in bruised and bleeding, his limp body laid at her feet. The dry burn of her eyes sting, and it feels like smoke and ash is trapped in her lungs. Nights spent by his admonitions, wearing sleeplessness a cowl, her grieving forgiveness like a saint’s blessing, when she wraps porcelain hands around his head (neck, shoulders, body, heart).
❝ Gwen Stacy. ❞
She is the girl who more than loved him: she held him, healed him, laughed with him, laughed at him, cried for him, waited for him, kissed him until all the ghosts stayed quiet so they could witness light bend. And she was the best part of Peter Parker’s life.
[ Thu, July 19, 4:33 PM ] i visited you again today [ Thu, July 19, 4:34 PM ] i was feeling blue, so i spent the morning by your side [ Thu, July 19, 4:34 PM ] i hope you dont mind [ Sat, July 21, 8:11 PM ] i went to the clock tower again today [ Sat, July 21, 8:13 PM ] from where i was, i still cant say if i wouldve been fast enough [ Sat, July 21, 8:11 PM ] Forgive me please [ Tues, July 31, 9:45 PM ] I love you [ Tues, July 31, 12:56 AM ] please come back [ Fri, Aug 3, 11:41 AM ] aunt may says i should stop messaging you [ Fri, Aug 3, 11:42 AM ] it’s not healthy, apparently [ Mon, Aug 19, 10:22 AM ] I got accepted into empire state u [ Mon, Aug 19, 10:22 AM ] not bad for second-best in class [ Thurs, Aug 22, 11:33 PM ] people keep telling me to move on [ Thurs, Aug 22, 11:34 PM ] that its what you wouldve wanted [ Thurs, Aug 22, 11:37 PM ] as if id ever want to forget you [ Thurs, Sep 20, 8:58 AM ] happy birthday gwenny [ Thurs, Sep 20, 9:00 AM ] no matter how old you get you’ll always stay the same [ Sun, Oct 7, 12:09 PM ] i lost your graduation speech flash drive [ Wed, Oct 10, 11:45 PM ] nvm I found it [ Fri, Nov 9, 11:27 PM ] I still miss you [ Sat, Nov 10, 3:43 AM ] COME BACK PLEASE HOLY FUCK [ Tues, Nov 27, 7:30 PM ] I’d give up my powers [ Tues, Nov 27, 7:33 PM ] just to see you again [ Tues, Nov 27, 7:34 PM ] but you’d tell me to stop being stupid [ Tues, Nov 27, 7:40 PM ] I’m sorry [ Wed, Nov 28, 9:47 PM ] please come back [ Mon, Dec 24, 7:57 AM ] merry christmas, i’ll come by to visit earlier than usual [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:11 PM ] I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:12 PM ] god, I didnt know that meant you only got to spend the rest of your life with me [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:12 PM ] I wasnt ready to bury you before i buried aunt may [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:15 PM ] I still remember how to get to your room from the fire escape [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:15 PM ] I want to visit you there [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:15 PM ] not in a fucking graveyard [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:15 PM ] I close my eyes and i see you every night [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:16 PM ] I want to move on but i’m scared ill forget you [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:17 PM ] I hope you miss me too, wherever you are [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:18 PM ] maybe you’re looking down and watching my bad attempts to reach you [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:19 PM ] im sorry, i dont know what else to do [ Mon, Dec 31, 10:22 PM ] maybe someone out there will want to know about us [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:19 AM ] My name is Peter Parker [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:19 AM ] Your name is Gwen Stacy [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:19 AM ] This is the story of how we fell in love [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:20 AM ] its about promises i shouldve kept [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:20 AM ] im so sorry [ Tues, Jan 1, 1:21 AM ] but I swear to god, I promise I’ll never forget you, Gwen
1. When he is seven-years-old and fearless in the way only children are, he sees her timidly holding the hand of her father as they walk by. He looks up to his uncle and says, “What a pretty girl.”
2. He falls in love with insignificant things, like the way she laughed, or how the sun kissed her cheekbones, and how her hair played with the wind.
3. She sleeps with her blinds open. He never understood why at first, because the constant flashes of the city keeps him awake at night, and there was an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability for keeping the window open. Then, the first night he falls asleep tangled in her lithe form, morning greets him with a kiss on the cheek. Sunlight cleaves through the blinds and douses the wrinkled sheets in warmth. She’s already up like clockwork at 7am, but she stays in a bed a little longer for him.
4. A day spent not trying to embarrass her, wasn’t a day lived, in his opinion.
5. People said her flaxen hair reminded them of the sun. He disagreed; it reminded him of the moon, for she was there for him faithfully each night.
6. He starts making it a habit to sleep with his own blinds open.
7. Peter Parker fell in love with the way she laughs, and he has no doubt he would again, if she could still laugh.
manaborn said: R.I.P i'm going to hell who's comin with me
Anonymous said: Tell me about your first love
