pxterparkour

[pxterparkour]

oflove-andwar:

{ ✉ >> June } You might have a friend?

{ ✉ >> June } That does not sound like the kind of conflict-free mechanic I’m looking for.

{ ✉ >> mystery number - NOT JUNE } …that depends. Is this not June from Arms and Armor?

( ✉ → ??? ): oh man no he’s like the opposite of conflict-free  ( ✉ → ??? ): but he is crazy good ( ✉ → ??? ): and surprisingly non-judgmental?? ( ✉ → ??? ): ahh no i’m not june! ( ✉ → ??? ): i’m peter parker

[pxterparkour]

oflove-andwar:

{ ✉ >> all contacts } mayday mayday

{ ✉ >> all contacts } does anyone know a garage anywhere in the city where I can take my bike and not have the mechanics all assume it belongs to my husband, fiancee, boyfriend, brother, or best (male) friend?

{ ✉ >> all contacts } preferably one that’s not closed due to alien panic like the last five I’ve tried?

{ ✉ >> all contacts } (in definitely unrelated news: I may have started my morning by punching a mechanic.)

( ✉ → ??? ): i might have a friend ( ✉ → ??? ): he’s like crazy stupid good at this stuff ( ✉ → ??? ): but he’s also sort of really rly picky & kinda snobby ( ✉ → ??? ): uh ( ✉ → ??? ): who is this

[pxterparkour]

hcwkguys:

(✉ → all contacts): ok so roll call (✉ → all contacts): are you an alien? (✉ → all contacts): i’m pretty sure you have to tell me if you’re an alien.

( ✉ → bird... dude? ): yeah sorry forgot to mention that ( ✉ → bird... dude? ): it just never came up u know? ( ✉ → bird... dude? ): i’m a vogon i just got rly lost going to school one day and here we are

[pxterparkour]

redheadliss:

“Summer is almost over, the city isn’t in complete ruins, and the curfew has been lifted, I say that calls for a drink right?” Liss smiled to the person sitting next to her, tilting her head and bottle in offering, “Next rounds on me, so what’s your poison?”

The beer in front of him was mostly empty, the label worn down from his rubbing at it. Peter was slumped down on the bar, toying with what remained, the condensation cool against his skin. He straightened at the sound of her voice, forced what he hoped was a smile, lifted the bottle. “I’d, uh-- I’d be up for another one of these,” he said, turning to face her. “Only if it's not a problem, I mean.”

[pxterparkour]

kcldurahms:

Kal mulled over his coffee, tracing his fingers lazily around the rim of his mug. He found comfort among the company of strangers but it was a surprise that the small diner had managed to keep its doors on the hinges. The news anchors chatting on the television set spoke about the recent incident with Orse as Kal listened half-distracted by the cook making his breakfast. “I find it hard to believe aliens are, in part, to blame for these unfortunate circumstances,” he said to the other sitting next to him by the counter. “Next they’ll say mermaids are responsible for the hole in the ozone layer.”

Peter looked up and half-swiveled to face the guy next to him, fork still in hand. The TV was blaring about the end times or something, but it was always going on about the end times, or something. Aliens, jeez, as if his life hadn’t been enough of a mess already. “Nah, dude, the ozone is obviously Bigfoot’s fault. You know yetis, when they go, they go.” He speared a bite of omelette for emphasis, the cheese oozing onto the counter. And then he sighed. “Of course it had to be aliens.”

[pxterparkour]

futzyou:

“So… what do we think the chances are that Orse was just a one-off? Like, an alien-rebel kinda guy, totally working alone?” Kate bit her lip and surveyed the news stand. “Like, okay, he was a total jerk, but one jerk alien doesn’t mean an invasion, right?” 

“I was going to to argue that maybe we could have an invasion of like, half-decent aliens who just wanna hang out with us, but, I mean...” Peter trailed off and shrugged, eyes flicking to the news stand and back. “He was kind of a dick. So, yeah. We’re fucked. Start saying your goodbyes now, spend all your savings, I dunno. Whatever you’re supposed to do to prep for the apocalypse. Hoard soup?”

[pxterparkour]

starter call!! because i am so behind on everything & i don’t even know where to start on my old (very outdated) threads, like this or message me for a starter from peter!

[pxterparkour]

If you lost everything tomorrow, whose arms would you run into to make everything ok?

“If I lost everything, I wouldn’t have anyone’s arms left to run into.” He shrugs, smirks, pauses. “I don’t know. I’ve done it with May before, I’d do it with May again. MJ is a pretty close second, though. Tony Stark’s, like, a distant third? Is that weird, having Tony fucking Stark in my emotional support top three? Yeah, that’s weird. My life’s weird.”

[pxterparkour]

Do you feel pressured to be a hero?

“I guess– I feel pressured by myself. I don’t know, I mean, I have these… abilities. I can make the world better, right? Or I can try, at least. Because, otherwise, it’s just a waste, and I’m a selfish asshole. If you can help someone, you should help them. If you can do something, you have to do something. And I can do something now, I’m responsible, or whatever. That’s pressure, in a way. I don’t know if I’m a hero, really, I’m just trying to do what I can.”

[pxterparkour]

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING

Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text

( ✉ → not mom ): if anything happens to me( ✉ → not mom ): thanks for everything you’ve done for me( ✉ → not mom ): and please be there for may?( ✉ → not mom ): she’s going to need a friend( ✉ → not mom ): she doesn’t have too many right now( ✉ → not mom ): idk just thank you

[pxterparkour]

Peter + Tumblr

[pxterparkour]

Send “@” for a SCARED text. (rhodes)

Send “@” for a SCARED text.

(✉ → stark lackey #2): ok so i don’t want to tell mr. stark bc i don’t want him to think i can’t handle it(✉ → stark lackey #2): but this whole “war” thing is kind of a lot(✉ → stark lackey #2): and i’m like 85% sure ppl are chasing me w guns and stuff(✉ → stark lackey #2): and i don’t know what to do(✉ → stark lackey #2): help

[pxterparkour]

✉ Gwen

Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. 

( ✉ → alt-gwen ): sometimes i forget that you’re not her and i get too comfortable( ✉ → alt-gwen ): and i want to get takeout and kiss you and bitch about spanish homework( ✉ → alt-gwen ): and then i remember and it fucking sucks( ✉ → alt-gwen ): so i’m sorry if i’m weird around you it’s just still rough and i really loved her a lot

[pxterparkour]

Anonymously ask my character a question you'd never ask them to their face.

[pxterparkour]

spidcrgwens:

@pxterparkour

Gwen awoke with a start, Peter’s name still on her lips as the image of his body cradled within her arms faded into darkness. It was far from the first time she’d had nightmares about his death, far from the first time she’d heard his last words repeated over and over throughout her mind like an accusation. 

Truthfully, it had become more frequent since arriving in this dimension. Seeing him every day was like a constant reminder, like the ghost of her biggest mistake walking around and greeting her with a smile. She loved him, and she was so glad he was here, but god, it hurt sometimes. It was something like a punch to the gut followed by a crushing relief each and every time she saw him here.

Sighing, Gwen heaved herself off the couch and wandered into the kitchen, getting a glass down from the sink and filling it with water from the sink. She knew from experience that getting to sleep again wouldn’t be easy. The floorboards creaked behind her, and she glanced back with a small smile, quirking a brow. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.”

Peter didn’t sleep. He tried, and sometimes he was sort of successful, but most nights were restless, stops and starts and fits of nightmares and waking up on the ceiling drenched in sweat. He’d never been a good sleeper, even back before; something about a hyperactive mind, a side effect of the genius, or whatever. Heightened senses, crippling guilt, and a laundry list of tragedies hadn’t helped the situation, and so he ran on power naps and coffee and sheer force of will. 

The sound of footsteps echoed through the thin walls of the apartment, pulling him back from the edge of another dream. Someone else was awake. Peter wrested himself from under his covers and padded into the kitchen, and there she was, hazy in the half-light. Then, just then, that was her, his ghost, translucent and impossible. The breath caught in his throat, and, for a moment, Gwen Stacy was standing in his apartment. And then his eyes adjusted and he remembered, and Gwen Stacy was standing by the kitchen sink, getting a glass of water. One of these days, he’d have to adjust to the fact that his roommate looked exactly like his dead ex-girlfriend.

He ventured farther into the kitchen, to the fridge, and reached for the milk. “No, it’s okay,” he said, taking a swig from the carton, “I couldn’t sleep, either.” Peter shrugged and set down the carton and turned to face her, leaning against the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

[pxterparkour]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[pxterparkour]

thcjackpot:

When you lived with two superheroes, both of whom were difficult at best, life threateningly stupid at worst, you expected this show and dance. The news weighed heavily on them both, MJ knew, and she could understand that. It was driving her crazy, this helplessness, this sense of utter wrongness, and it killed her not being able to go out and protest. There were dozens throughout the city, but the Strike Force wasn’t taking kindly to them. Tear gas was being thrown, threats yelled, and warning shots fired, the chaos never ended, the disregard for human life, fuck, it made her sick. If she could be out there, she would be. If she could singlehandedly defend both Peter and Gwen, MJ would thank god and whoever else blessed her with capability, but this dimension wasn’t where it was happening. Instead, she was waiting for the sound of a click, informing her that a door was opening, and the slide of a window, informing her their big break was underway.

Unsurprisingly, it was Peter that left first, and MJ knew him well enough to know that it would be without a plan, wholly unprepared, relying solely on his powers and the desire of justice alone. When she caught up to him, the infamous Spider-Man was perched on the fire escape, prepared for the first swing. If she were seconds later, he would have been long gone, carried away on a stupid fucking web. Frustrated, she threw her hands into the air, “You won’t even look at me now? After everything we’ve been through together, Gwen’s death, Orse outing you, telling Aunt May, you won’t even look at me?” She left out how she’d discovered his identity, knowing it was a bruise too tender to prod for the both of them. “You want to go play hero, Peter, go and risk your life? I’m not going to sit in the apartment and goddamn let you. Enough people have died in this… this war already! You’re not going to be next, I’ve lost enough people for a couple lifetimes.”

And really, that was what it always boiled down to. MJ was terrified of losing people, and he was stupid enough to lay his neck on a chopping block. All one of those assholes needed to do was let it fall.

Peter winced and dropped his feet off the railing back onto the fire escape, pressing his forehead to the cool metal of the banister. Fuck. This was why he snuck out before anyone could catch him; this was why he’d kept it a secret for so long; this was why he tried to keep people at arms’ length. Because he couldn’t face the loss, because they didn’t need to face it, either. It was so much easier to just disappear and not have to see MJ’s face as he betrayed her one more time.

After a moment, he raised his head, pulled off his mask, and turned to face her. “I don’t know what you want me to say, MJ.” He struggled to keep his voice level, to hide the tremble he felt. “This is who I am--what I do. People are dying, and I’m not going to just stay back and-- and-- let them! I can handle myself, I’m... strong. I’m strong, I’m tough. And the people down there, they’re innocent. It’s not their fault I got messed up in this bullshit. That’s on me. But I did, and I don’t know what the fuck else you want me to do.”

The mask weighed heavy in his hand, and he felt his face flushing, adrenaline draining through his system. He couldn’t make eye contact. He couldn’t look MJ dead in the face and just leave her, not after everything. She was right, of course she was right. She was always right, and she was beautiful, and he was hurting her, and, god. Peter’s face crumpled, and he clenched his fist tighter around the mask. “I don’t know what else to do,” he whispered.