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 question posed is said in all SINCERITY, her words laced
with genuine curiosity as she seeks an answer. of course, it’s not the
deep philosophical question she’d built it up to be when she had told him
she needed to ask him something, butclose enough. INNOCENT
gaze drifts upward to meet his own, hands fidgeting awkwardly as she
awaits an answer.
she can tell by his expression alone that he’s not
taking her seriously. not even he can mask the evident AMUSEMENT etched
upon his features, from the twitch of his lips to the quirk of his
brow. slender arms fold across her chest, aquamarine hues narrowing as
she huffs out a sigh.
❛ c'mon! I’m being serious - this is an IMPORTANT question. ——— how d'you come up with a cool name? ❜
He can’t help it, really
—
It’s the combination of an exasperated mess of ginger hair and narrowed eyes that leaves him fightingback a mild laugh. She was the only other pdfxon who had his kind of troubles as far as he knew, and that was the reason he left his contact info. When she called him spouting off some rushed importance, he couldn’t believe that this was the issue he was staring back at right now.
Lips threaten to curl into a dopey grin, already on the verge of smiling before he bows his head to try and unsuccessfully hide a chuckle, cursing his luck as he tilts his face back up towards her.
❝
Well
—
I dunno, it was pretty EASY for me. With the spider-bite ‘an all. The hardest part was the costume. Was gonna put a big ‘ S ’ on my chest and wear a cape before I realized that was a dumb idea.
❞
Silvered brows furrowed, brought together beneath consideration’s stave. Sokovia had cared little for the heroes of America, fighting instead with blood and innocent lives’ ruin where the West believed in suited saviours and holy, noble knights; his presence amongst them, counted erroneously amongst those to fight and live for the defence of all humanity ( a defender was he, a protector of Sokovian masses, but nevermore would he lay down his life for a construct of the unknown), had conjured no will to learn, no drive to remember, which ignoble saviours donned which tattered robe.
“Surprisingly, yes,” Pietro countered, accent thick and memories thicker at remembered Sokovia’s flight. “Or have you not heard of the fate of Sokovia? Continue with your spiel, no doubt I shall pretend to listen.”
Head bows in surprising remorse, his lips singed with the dry burn of an idea that he may have hit a nerve. He can feel disdain in the air, an eloquent reminder that he can still be one of the most out of place in the motley crew of self-proclaimed heroes; labelled as the loner more often than he would like. He recalls small details, enough to help him remember that not everyone could be as lighthearted as him when they have faced the horrors of war, terrorism and violence.
❝ Ah jeez I
—Look, I didn’t mean it that way. Sorry. ❞
Blackness runs through his veins like a disease, another wince crossing him as bones visibly shift within his body, but it’s only met with a rather pleased and cruel looking smile.
❝
Can’t let the world know who you really are, right?
❞
His voice transitions into more of a growl as the last word escapes him, seething through clenched teeth as he endures the last few seconds of pain before his features become blatantly more rotted and scarred. Long fingers flexing as they seem to adjust to the new formation of their bones and a softer chuckle escapes him.
❝
You couldn’t even tell me!
❞
It’s practically a hiss, eyebrows knitting together in his anger and his body tensing automatically. Ready to leap at a moment’s notice.
Once soft features have gone cold in his presence, unfazed like steel in the face of such a disgusting thing. Every breath he takes bleeds anger, but he will not let him have the satisfaction of his wince, the victory of his recoiling gut.
He keeps eyes trained on him, considering the possibility that if he were to slip away to change, he would be long gone, or what was more likely: ready to face him. But he knew this day was long overdue. That night he was baptized as Spider-Man, all over again, no longer the teenager that played hero. He had to be one.
But seeing the snarl, the snaggleteeth and blotched skin, there is now only the bluest tinge of sadness, tucked away at the corner of his eye, to see what his friend has become.
❝
HARRY
— what have you become.
❞
He doesn’t know what to say, he really doesn’t. He knew he had to diffuse this somehow, he owed the public that much. But it was more than that. He owed Harry this much. What stood before him was a culmination of all his mistakes, staring back at him with a finger on the trigger.
What hurts is knowing he would have taken that bullet for him, once upon a time.
i’m very attached to my muses. that means, i want to see them grow. i want to see their personalities expand far beyond that which was provided in canon ( or, if they’re an oc, i want to see their personalities cultivate beyond anything i’d ever planned out for them ). i want to be amazed by my muse when they do something i never thought they’d ever do. i want to be surprised. i follow them through their relationships with other muses, i watch them develop. when a muse that my muse cares about disappears, i feel the hit just like my muse does.this is nothing against the other muse, and nothing against the mun. i grow very attached to my muses; they become my best friends. they become a part of me.
james is naturally not a very trusting person; he’s quiet, reserved, and keeps to himself unless completely necessary. he barely even trusts his own system — the only solid reason that he’s doing his work under the canadian government is because he doesn’t want to get pinned under the law.
there’s… complications.
he tries to make the best of it. but with the government, resources are far from scarce, and that’s a privilege that james isn’t sure he wants to give up.
at the mention of poutine, he actually gives a little laugh. way to go, spider.
❝ HONESTLY, I’m so happy you guys figured out how to put cheese on fries.
'Betcha this is all part of the Canadian Master Plan. Win over their stomachs and you’ll win over their LOYALTY.❞
He paces the room, looking around with eyes filtering between burgundy and mahogany, realizing just how little he actually knew of James, glancing at him to watch cheekbones that could cut glass, the reserved eyes that held much more delicate info then poutine recipes.
