boy falls from the sky

peter parker. twenty-six. science teacher. walking disaster. spider-man. dependent peter parker for @beginagainhq ; quipped by claire.

[greatresponsibility-a]

avengerofiron​

(✉ → pete): was it doc ock? tell me it was doc ock (✉ → pete): it’s certainly a fashion choice, i’ll give you that (✉ → pete): could’ve had health insurance with me, but you decided to enlighten the heroes of tomorrow blah blah blah (✉ → pete): where’d you break?

(  ✉️ → tony ): would it make you feel better if i said it was doc ock (  ✉️ → tony ): haven’t seen the geezer in a minute last i heard he was trying to make cabaret night on the raft a go (  ✉️ → tony ): you’re one to talk about fashion choices (  ✉️ → tony ): woulda shoulda coulda (  ✉️ → tony ): but would you have given me summers off & the satisfaction of saving yet another nerdy kid from getting wedgied before third period? (  ✉️ → tony ): maybe i’m training your whole next cohort of interns (  ✉️ → tony ): with a few broken ribs (  ✉️ → tony ): and some toes (  ✉️ → tony ): and a concussion? i’m fine don’t worry

[greatresponsibility-a]

doesn’t that sound great? wouldn’t’ you like to be haunted by me? // @rictorscales​

Peter stared at him, trying his best to keep his mouth from hanging too far open. No, objectively, that did not sound great. Shoebox was a generous description of his apartment. Matchbox might have been better. There was barely room for him in there, let alone all the weird old clanking and rattling noises the building made whenever anyone took the stairs or tried to flush a toilet. (His landlord claimed it was up to code, but Peter knew better than to trust a landlord.) There sure as hell wasn’t room for a ghost, and definitely not one this chaotic.

Besides, he had plenty ghosts of his own. They took up whatever space they could after dark, when he was shaking out his mask and trying to get a few minutes of sleep. They stared at him from the framed pictures on his desk, blinking, asking why didn’t he do better? Why did he fail them? How did he live with himself? Sometimes, when he felt very small in those half-light hours between night and day, he thought he heard long-dead voices calling out to him.

Peter, said Uncle Ben.

Peter, said Gwen.

Peter, said his parents.

Don’t fail again.

No, no more ghosts, thanks.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to brush off the fog of it all. “Not unless you’re paying rent,” he said. “And for whatever therapy expenses I incur because of your ghost. You planning on going Danny Phantom anytime soon?”

[greatresponsibility-a]

i’m not trying to do that whole dismissive thing, but i’m dismissing it. // @glxrious-purpose​

Loki’s reformed, they said. He’s not our biggest active threat, they said. Don’t worry about him too much.

They didn’t account for him still being kind of an asshole.

Peter swung down from his perch on the lamppost, landing beside the man. “There is literally a dude in a bird suit trying to throw a car at tourists like three blocks up,” he said. “He’s not doing it very well, but I feel like we should be worried?” Maybe it was his superpowers, but he was pretty sure he could hear the screaming and sirens from here, even in the middle of the midday Midtown din. It was more or less just another day’s work for him, but some backup would always be appreciated. Unfortunately, the only backup around sucked. A lot.

He stood and stretched out his arms, rolled his wrists, prepped his web shooters for action. “I can’t make this shit up. Wanna just trust me on this one and h\elp take Big Bird down a few pegs? It might even be fun.”

[greatresponsibility-a]

yelenabelovx​

[📱to Unknown ] you’re right, him […]

[some sad time later] [📱to Unknown ] well, if he’s still there in a couple days, I’ll reconsider it [📱to Unknown ] if /you/ want to pet him, he’s quite soft, I recommend it. he’s at the Humane Society of New York

[ ... ]

(  ✉️ → needs a dog ): so i was already in the neighborhood (i promise it was on the way home from work i’m not stalking you) (  ✉️ → needs a dog ): and i stopped by (  ✉️ → needs a dog ): and he’s still there and i think he misses you (  ✉️ → needs a dog ): i don’t know it looks pretty fated i think it’s meant to be

[ ... ]

(  ✉️ → needs a dog ): also (  ✉️ → needs a dog ): [ picture: a mid-sized scruffy yellow-brown mutt thing. you know the type. like if peter were a dog, basically. ] (  ✉️ → needs a dog ): now it’s your turn to talk me down

[greatresponsibility-a]

legacylang​

“Send 🐓 for your muse to give mine an angry chicken and run for their lives” @greatresponsibility​

If there was anyone who supported the whole ‘teen superhero’ thing it was Peter Parker. Spider-Man was like… the original teenage superhero and Cassie Lang had been a bit of a fan as a kid. A lot of a fan. There was embarrassing photographic evidence of a young Cassie Lang in Spider-Man merch. (Peter liked to remind her of that frequently.) In reality, Spider-Man was… just a dude who had lost a lot of people and had superpowers and was a huge nerd to boot. Peter Parker was a bit too young to be a cool young uncle, and Cassie was not going to tell Peter that he was even an ounce of cool. Instead, he was more of a dorky older brother and he had somehow upset chickens… as evidenced by the sudden appearance of a very angry chicken in her hands before he tried to swing away in proper Spider-fashion.

Cassie grew in size in a flash and grabbed Peter by the foot, sending them both tumbling to the ground while Cassie tried not to squish the squawking chicken in her other hand. “Peter, what the heck? Why is – a chicken? Really?”

&

Peter liked Cassie. She reminded him of himself, sort of, in that wide-eyed I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but I’m going to see it through way. The quasi-self-taught superhero (even if she was following in her father’s footsteps), the steely determination, the big smile and really, really shitty luck. Sure, the only father figure Peter had ever known hadn’t had a magical shape-shifting suit and Avengers-related business trips, but Peter still did everything he did in the hopes that, someday, he’d be worthy of his Uncle Ben. That somewhere, somehow, he’d be proud. He was pretty sure Cassie wasn’t all that different. 

Except, of course, she could get really big. Look, Peter knew he was on the smaller end of superheroes, but this was just ridiculous. Okay, yes, he had handed her a disgruntled chicken he’d just rescued from an illegal rooftop coop on a burning building and tried to swing away. (She was right there! He wanted to do another pass of the building! He also needed to get out of there before the Bugle called him out for fowl play or some shit like that.) Still. Overkill.

He slowed his swinging and turned to face her, still dangling midair. Yeah, that chicken was pissed, and so, apparently, was she. “Upper West Siders,” he said, as if that was enough of an explanation in itself. “This is Manhattan, not a farm. You want chickens? Take ‘em upstate.”

[greatresponsibility-a]

scarlctswanda​

Wanda scrunched her nose up, half cringing and half laughing. “Hey! I’m just saying I got lost about halfway there. Not being mean. Although… maybe I should see if I can get a laugh track like that, mm?”

“Ah. Makes sense. Do they get you off topic much then? Find a… a different path in the warren?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, laughing. “That’s what they all say. ‘Speak English, Pete! No one cares what a substrate is, Pete! Once you get into electromagnetism? Forget it. What’s the point of knowing anything if you can’t use it, y’know?” 

He pushed his hair out of his face and shrugged. The curse of the niche interests, he supposed. “Ooh, that’s an idea. Like, your own sitcom and everything? Just get a whole bunch of random live studio audience members to follow you around and laugh at everything you do. Sounds perfect, I see no flaws.”

Teaching was great, really. He loved it. He loved getting to talk about science, he loved helping the kids, he loved being something near valued for his own merits as Peter, not how far across Times Square he could throw a taxi. (At least halfway, for the record.) But it was a learning curve, and it was exhausting, and teenagers were terrifying, even when you were long grown up. So he shrugged again. “We’re working on it.”

[greatresponsibility-a]

ofcosmicwonder​

Donna leaned against the wall and watched as the guy struggled to… not struggle. It was the strangest series of events, but it hardly phased her after years of living in the world of men. At first she thought that he might actually need help with the heap of bags in his arms, but she realized he was hardly breaking a sweat from the strain… if anything the sweat was coming from the last days of August winding down.

He almost faceplanted and then… that wasn’t normal. He managed to rescue his bags with the kind of grace she’d only seen from Dick Grayson, but even Dick wouldn’t have managed to grab all of the bags that easily.

“Ballet?” she asked, eyebrow raised automatically. “Does ballet teach you the art of lying too?”

&

Yeah, it was a terrible lie. It was always a terrible lie, because, for someone who’d spent so long dodging questions and hiding the truth, Peter was a terrible liar. In his defense, there weren’t many good explanations for any of it, and the fact that he’d managed to come up with anything at all deserved some credit. 

He shrugged and clutched his groceries closer to his chest, maybe overdoing it a little with the fake strain of them. They weren’t that heavy, and people weren’t that weak. -- But, dammit, he was committing to this bit. He’d made it this far.

“Isn’t all theater lying, in a way?” Peter raised an eyebrow, challenging her. Sure, he’d been a science kid, but he’d still learned something from all those years of MJ gushing about theater and art and Broadway. Enough, he thought, to hold his own in a pinch.

“Look,” he said, “I got lucky, okay?” He peered inside the bags, inspecting the contents, checking for bruises and tears. “Didn’t so much as break an egg. Like some kinda superpower, I guess. Grocery-Catching-Man.” He laughed thinly and falsely, a haha, could you imagine, kind of thing. Really, he was never lucky; he was terribly unlucky--in this, in everything--but she didn’t need to know that.

[greatresponsibility-a]

thehoneyxbadger​

Gabby had watched as her new friend had walked past his follower, and the way that the other had begun to follow did not sit right with her. So she’d decided to get ahead, to sidle up to the potential victim and be there in case he got jumped or anything else equally undesirable. 

“I mean–” Gabby glanced over her shoulder, though she could still smell the man behind them “–it’s possible. But I really don’t think he’s just going to the same bodega. And I generally have pretty good instincts about it.” Don’t worry about me, he said. She understood the sentiment, but Gabby didn’t want to just leave him to face trouble alone. “I do need to drop by a bodega though.” Let me stay.

&

He looked back behind them quickly. She was right; they still had a tail. Maybe they were being paranoid. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe years of bagging up criminals had gone to his head. Maybe. Maybe the dude was a mugger after all seven dollars and a half-full pizza rewards card in his wallet. Maybe it was something worse. As long as Peter didn’t have to whip out the suit on the sly, he’d probably be fine. Still, it made him uneasy. It was nice of the girl to look out for him--not enough people in this city kept eyes out for strangers--but she really didn’t have to. 

He smiled a little, a sly, knowing smile. “Yeah,” he said, “me too. And I think you’re right.” He made no effort to shake her; if she wanted to join him for now and deal with this in their civvies, the more the merrier. Peter did have a pretty good instinct about this kind of stuff, and he felt pretty okay about her. If it turned into a Spidey situation, though... they’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Is this an egg and cheese kind of need, or, like, a liter of Diet Coke kind of need?”

[greatresponsibility-a]

masterdisastxr​

@greatresponsibility​ sent 15. — afterlife

There was a very distinct before and after. Cindy was very much still trying to figure out the after. New shops, new carts, new slang, new interests. A new job, and a new suit. She’d figured out her powers well enough over the years of entertaining herself with them, but the powers were never going to be the hard part. Everything else was the hard part. There were still times when Cindy missed the before, but she was figuring it out.

Peter Parker helped. Sometimes.

“Hey, trouble.” She landed on the rooftop next to him, situating herself with her legs dangling over the edge. It wasn’t often that she sought him out, in fact much of her time was spent on the opposite side of the city from wherever he’d chosen to spend his time, but sometimes–

Sometimes Cindy wanted to see the person who’d somehow played such a big part in her after. He was the first face she’d seen, the first to reach out and hug her, the first to tell her ten years had passed but she’d be okay. And it wasn’t like she’d sought him out, per se, he just happened to be near, and perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing. “No great responsibilities tonight?”

&

He’d woken up the day after the bite alone, newly superpowered, and with his aunt and uncle puttering away at breakfast downstairs, he’d had to figure it out himself. And when his uncle died, and it was his fault, and from then on it was just him and May and no one else, he’d had to figure that out, too. And when he’d taken up the superhero thing? All him. He’d taught himself how to make a suit, how to build web shooters, how to crawl up the side of a building and let go without falling to your death, how to balance a secret identity and the aching weight of everything you were, everything you were hiding, everything you’d seen. Peter had gone it all on his own, every step of the way. 

There were an awful lot of spider-people these days, and he swore he’d never let anyone else go through what he had, if he could help it. Cindy Moon and her bunker and her Game of Thrones-shaped deficits included. If you wanted to talk about alone, well. Peter was sorry he couldn’t have been there sooner. At least he was there now. 

They didn’t see each other as often these days, now that they were both semi-functional adults with real-person jobs and a basic working knowledge of smartphones and a little too much shared baggage between them, but he wondered after her. He hoped she was doing alright.

And then she all but dropped from the sky next to him. This was the problem with so many spider-people--they were everywhere. The rooftops were all but infested with them; Peter could barely go a patrol without crossing paths. This one was uneventful, anyway, and nearly over, and he’d set up camp on the rooftop to take in the city’s stillness. “Well, well, well,” he said, smiling. “Look who it is.” He leaned back on his elbows and shrugged. “Thought I might go save the president from assassination, then hold up the Leaning Tower of Pisa for a few? If Atlas needs a break with the sky, I could probably cover his shift.” 

[greatresponsibility-a]

ruthlessluck​

@greatresponsibility​

Felicia was good at holding grudges. It was ingrained in her, she was a vindictive and angry individual. It was complicated when it came to Peter. She could hold a grudge against him for only so long before there was something tugging her back in. Reluctantly, she knew it was the trust that she had held for him. It was a trust that had blossomed after being burned so many times by men before. There was no good and bad, there was a grey that most people operated in and Felicia resided there, having said the same thing to Silk before. They were alike in that way, Felicia wasn’t sure they’d ever understand that. Regardless, Felicia found herself seeking him out upon arriving back in the city.

“Still playing hero, Spider?” Felicia asked as she quietly landed on the rooftop, moving towards Peter’s turned back. “Doesn’t that get boring after this long? We could have so much more fun if you helped me instead.” She grinned teasingly, claws dragging lightly over the back of his shoulders as she came to stand at his side, “I have plenty of jobs lined up if you feel so inclined to play.”

&

Felicia Hardy. The Black Cat. Peter had made a lot of really, truly terrible mistakes in his life (here’s looking at you, sweater vest phase), and she should have been right there at the top. What was a hero like Spider-Man, one of those obnoxious do-gooders so straight and narrow he might as well have swung around in a Boy Scout uniform, doing with a criminal like her? (Beyond the obvious, you know, cat suit. Peter was superhuman, but he was still human.) It shouldn’t have made any sense. She should have pulled him right down to the bottom with her.

And yet--

Felicia wasn’t past the point of redemption. He’d seen something in her, and she’d seen something in him--shown him something about himself--and they’d almost been able to hope for a minute. But you know that saying about old dogs? Yeah, applies to twenty-something cats, too. Peter knew she could do so much good, and he’d tried to push her towards it for too long, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want your help, so that was that. She was gone, anyway.

Or so he’d thought. No such thing as a quiet night around here, apparently. There were footsteps and then her voice and her claws on his back, at his side, then he turned, and there she was, the same as always. Always the same as always.

“Are you still playing sexy witness protection? Or is that over now?” The eyes of the suit narrowed to match his, and he looked at her, pulling his shoulder away from her touch. “You know I don’t do that stuff.”

[greatresponsibility-a]

silvermercenary​

@greatresponsibility​

“Well, well…If it isn’t Spider-Kid.” Silver smirked as she quirked an eyebrow as she looked at the suited superhero as she looked around. “I see you have everything taken control.” Silver said with a snort as she put the pistols that she had pulled out back in their holsters on her thighs, quirking an eyebrow at the boy’s direction. 

“Still keeping the city safe from all the monsters I see.” Silver said with a grin as she looked at the other with a chuckle, pushing a strand of silver hair out of her eyesight as she looked at the hero.

&

“That’s Spider-Man to you,” he said. “I had my spider-mitzvah. Wore a matching kippa over the mask and everything.” You get a reputation as a pop culture-savvy teenage superhero one time, and you can’t ever shake it. “Maybe I’ve got a full beard, Sable. You’d never know.” They’d done this dance long enough, often enough. She knew his patterns, and he knew hers, and he knew that there was some truth to what she’d said. He was pretty damn good at this. He’d outpaced her and those flashy pistols again.

“Years of practice,” Peter said, and flipped down to land beside her. Nearly half his life, if he wanted to start adding it up, which was weird and frightening in its own way. Nearly half his life. “Couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Seriously. Pretty sure about half of the city wants to take me out for something or another. Killer on the back, but keeps me young.” He shrugged and looked from the wall of tidily webbed-up would-be criminals back over to her. “How’re you holding up?”

[greatresponsibility-a]

mxckingbirdsings​

She was still coming to terms with the idea of being close to anyone when she had first climbed into his window that night, tired yet still too awake to go home and besides - he had left it open. They had talked a lot, something she hadn’t expected at all, she also hadn’t expected how easy it was for her to get along with him and to feel at ease. Bobbi didn’t dwell on it too much before she found herself kissing him and things had found their course from there. They visited one another frequently enough since then, she had more than once come home to find him on her fire escape sulking cause she’d left the window locked, or complaining because she hadn’t got his favorite snacks in her cupboard anymore. No matter what it was, it was easy between them.

Once again though he broke her train of thought by speaking, her hands still on his chest from where she had pushed him toward the door now barely exerting any force to get him to move, “That too, I figured it was a good bribe. Was it not?” Her brow raised in question with that playful grin, even exhausted from a fight she enjoyed his company and that was a rarity. “But really, wanna order chinese food after? I’m starving.” The only problem now was the Avenger issue, she wasn’t part of the team but had always felt most comfortable with them, from Natasha and Sharon understanding the agent side of things even to the fact that more than a few of them had experienced death and some form of life changing serum. That wasn’t the problem though, the problem came any time she thought about what happened when she, Peter and Clint were all in one room together. Barton knew her too well, would know right away and Peter? He was just plain awkward at times.

&

Don’t mix work and pleasure, right? That’s what they said? Don’t sorta-date your coworkers? Because if things got messy, well. Things got messy. But this wasn’t dating. There weren’t emotions here, no sir, absolutely not. And they were barely coworkers, barely teammates--both late-addition, half-roster, come-and-go Avengers. If Barton found out, they probably wouldn’t be teammates at all.

But she got it. It was kind of cool, actually, to go from patrol back home together, turning in from a long day’s work side by side (or, well, swinging above her head, but whatever). It was nice to not have to hide. Peter Parker had dated people, always making horrible excuses for those last-minute cancellations and his inability to hold down a dinner reservation, and, hell, even Spider-Man had had his fun. But he’d never really had a chance to be both at once, not with one person, not with someone who’d been there, who wouldn’t shame him for it, who didn’t need him to hide.

It was... kind of nice. This was a thing he could do, he thought. There was a future for someone like him. There was a world where he could live in his entirety with other people, all the messy pieces brought together. He was so used to being parts of a person--Spider-Man, masked, dashing hero-about-town; Peter Parker, disheveled, clumsy everyman--at the end of the day, Peter didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to find out, not if he had to keep living in hiding.

This was an exhalation. It wasn’t forever, and it didn’t have to be. It was a much-needed deep breath, for both of them. It was teasing each other in the kitchen at the end of a long day, it was her helping him with the zipper on his suit and trading stories about their day--all of it. Yeah, it was nice.

Also, yeah, she was hot. He wasn’t blind. “It did the job,” he teased, and grabbed the hand she laid against his chest.

“Please,” he said. “I would die for chow mein. Ooh, and dumplings. Cold sesame noodles? Scallion pancake? Wait, no, dumplings. Dumplings, Bobbi.” 

[greatresponsibility-a]

itsbxtgirl​

[ text ] Are you kidding me? Girls are way stronger than boys @greatresponsibility

( 📩 → pete’s parker ): everyone knows that ( 📩 → pete’s parker ): that’s why boys go to jupiter, bc they are always getting more stupider. ( 📩 → pete’s parker ): duh.  ( 📩 → pete’s parker ): please do keep up, we’ve been learning this since elementary

(  ✉️ → steph! ): hey i’m not here to disagree i’m glad we’re on the same page (  ✉️ → steph! ): anyway high school girls? strong and MEAN (  ✉️ → steph! ): so mean (  ✉️ → steph! ): it’s psychological warfare out there (  ✉️ → steph! ): you think it’ll go away once you grow up and learn how to stand up for yourself but no it’s inescapable

[greatresponsibility-a]

rictorscales​

(✉️ ➡️ bad listening skills?): at any given moment i am either telling you a lie that will inadvertently ruin your life or telling you a truth that will both save and enrich it. you will either be hit by a car or win the lottery if you listen to me. (✉️ ➡️ bad listening skills?): you get to decide when to do it :) good luck

(  ✉️ → ??? ): wow so that just sounds like tuesday (  ✉️ → ??? ): got any advice to either save or destroy my life today, oh wise all-knowing stranger?

[greatresponsibility-a]

anxietylanterncruz​

(✉️ ➡️ average height ): i guess that works, but i can’t imagine it’s satisfying. but maybe that’s just me preferring to be wrapped up like a solid burrito (✉️ ➡️ average height ): i’ve just got this feeling in the pit of my stomach that you’re not that tall (✉️ ➡️ average height ): you’re probably like 5′7″  (✉️ ➡️ average height ): okay i had that coming, but still, mean!  (✉️ ➡️ average height ): hi pete of average height! 

(  ✉️ → jessica of below average height ): i guess it’s an advantage to being short that tall people will never know (  ✉️ → jessica of below average height ): they get everything else you deserve this one thing (  ✉️ → jessica of below average height ): i am! i swear! scout’s honor! just completely and totally incredibly ordinary (  ✉️ → jessica of below average height ): hahaha sorry you did set yourself up for it

[greatresponsibility-a]

theacearcher​

[ ✉ → unknown number]: Touchy? Not sure how you read that from what I said, Mr. Giant, but okay. [ ✉ → unknown number]: See, I know you’re joking, but that’s exactly the kind of tone he gets in person when he answers a call he doesn’t want to take. “You’ve reached Tony Stark’s phone. He can’t take your call right now…” yadda yadda. [ ✉ → unknown number]: You think he sleeps in that thing? That has to lead to sore muscles in the morning.

(  ✉️ → ??? ): oh i know it’s a great impression i’ve had a lot of practice (  ✉️ → ??? ): has the fake answering machine thing ever worked once on anyone? like ever? (  ✉️ → ??? ): oh 100% i’m positive he does i bet it makes him feel super powerful (  ✉️ → ??? ): and when you’re that rich you probably just have a masseuse on call right

[greatresponsibility-a]

scarlctswanda​

@greatresponsibility​ said:  “ welcome to the inner workings of my mind ”

“This is a much more confusing picture of your mind than I think you think it is. And that’s coming from me.” Wanda was trying to understand how Peter got from A to B, but the inner working of his mind was not exactly explained. “How do your students even follow your train of thought? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed. Just confused.”

&

He’d never been known for making sense. It was the kind of non-linear logic that made him “a pleasure to have in class!” and a disaster with his classmates, the kind of rocketed him to the top of his university’s bio department, but hadn’t carried too much clout outside of it. It had gotten him this far in the suit, though. That had to count for something.

Peter laughed. “You sound like one of those sitcom characters, y’know. Someone says something sciencey and they’re all ‘speak English!’ and the laugh track goes wild.” 

Still, maybe she had a point. “Oh, they don’t,” he said. “You know mind palaces, right? I’ve got more of a mind rabbit warren. Hobbit-hole on a good day.” He shrugged. “The kids seem to like worksheets.”