@CASSICULUS

MOVED.

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okie dokie folks ; i’ve moved !! find me at @cassiculus ; this blog is archived !

[cassiculus-deactivated20171028]

       YOU CAN’T ARREST ME !! I’M THE GOOD GUY !!

mul. v peter parker unraveled by j a y.

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i’m lowkey remaking under a new url, so hmu if you want it whilst i actually construct the thing

[dailyspiderman]

[678i0u]

First Official Trailer for Spiderman: Homecoming

[eligracely]

he kisses your thigh and bites your lip says that angels like to sin he scratches your side and bruises your hip you think you’ve let the devil in

forbidden fruit  (via nightclawed)

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vcngefulsoul:

( @skylinesavior )

          ‘it is not WISE to wear so many bright colors if you wish to fight crime.’ of course, that was coming from someone with essentially a red TARGET on her forehead. ‘are you not worried that it affects your stealth… bug boy?’

‘   says the lady with the bullseye on her forehead ??  --- i’m FLATTERED ,  but i got like ... three different suits for stealthy stuff. don’t exactly need t’be stealthy to stop muggers though, y’know ??    '

[mcckingsa]

when i was a kid,  i did  EVERYTHING  i could to get  superpowers.  why ?    i wanted to be a  HERO.  i wanted to be  captain  america.  SOMETIMES,  I  FALL  SHORT.

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probably not a clone ?

The name itched at the back of her mind, tugging at a loose end, a distant memory that didn’t want to come out of hiding. She was content to shove it back, to just listen to Peter speak for a moment, even if it was start and stop. Even if what he was saying wasn’t understanding or rejecting. Even if he was walking a tightrope, hoping he wouldn’t slip. 

Gwen looked down at her hands, at her nails–paint already chipped, the edges already bitten–as they drummed against the tabletop. It was excessive. The whole damn thing. Her death, her resurrection, the clones, all of it. Maybe if they could take a few minutes to just… walk the streets together, things would feel normal again. 

She set her hand in his, pushing up from her seat and snatching at her purse with her free hand. “My mom’s. Just for a few weeks, until we get everything sorted out. It’s, uh. It’s pretty hush-hush for now.” Looking at him hurt, just a little bit, but holding his hand didn’t. That felt like home. 

peter parker, king of the good ol’ river of denial, had refused to acknowledge it. that was, until skin had pressed over skin and the disturbing LACK of irritation at the base of his skull was impossible to ignore. that, paired with the way his heart simply ACHED at the contact -- god, it was enough to give in. but she’d died ( he’d SNAPPED HER FRAME ) without knowing. without knowing the mask he wore. without knowing he was the man who murdered her father. 

he refused to look back. brow furrowed. she died -- gwen stacy had died, and now she was BACK. possibly. potentially. he didn’t trust himself. maybe his sense had acted up again -- but either way. he didn’t DESERVE to hold her hand. he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her. 

‘   i -- i’ll get you a cab t’your mom’s, then.   ’     he didn’t dare to show up there. there was disrespectful -- and then there was just plain wrong. prior anger had all but fizzled away, now replaced with an  empty aching and a need to research into this. once again, he praised the tools at his disposal. at least octavius did something right.     ‘   and i’m not gonna tell anybody. i’m uh. good at the secret thing.   ’

‘   and if you need anythin’ ... you obviously know where to find me.   ’

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a ( very convincing ) clone ?

The way he looked at her, now, a mix of pity and agony and white hot anger, she didn’t recognize. Belief hadn’t been her expectation, of course. Peter believed in a lot of things, but resurrection wasn’t likely one of them. Hell, she hadn’t even believed in it before it became her reality. Until the tests had been run and the genetics team had pulled apart her DNA for a hint at something–they were still looking–that explained what had happened. 

But he thought she was a clone. ( Someone was cloning her??  ) Definitely not a variable she had been prepared for. Brow furrowed, head cocking just slightly to the side. Even as Peter softened, he was different. Still… pitying her. “I don’t know who that is, Peter. That’s not–that’s not why I’m here.” And though she knew them to be wrong, his words stung. Like he should have been able to know her, tell her apart from the clones that were likely so masterfully created. So nearly perfect. 

“I’m not a clone. I woke up in my grave in the same clothes they buried me in. The grave had been dug up, the coffin was open. I pulled myself out, I–” Swallowing thickly. “I’m not a clone.” 

there was the gut feeling that she was telling the truth. the lingering notion within the  base of his stomach that yes, she could be trusted, and yes, it would be okay to drop bravado and simply FALL ---- but peter couldn’t tell what was an underlying need to believe her and what was the actual truth. blind hope and optimism had been the source for chastising -- but when her tone hit him ( really HIT him ), peter’s turned gaze landed over the blonde’s features. 

‘   miles warren. esu biochem.   ’     refusing to drop the ‘ he was in love with you ’ bomb alongside their heavy history of clones, of turning the entirety of manhattan to spiders -- biting his tongue on all jackal’s deeds. if she WAS gwen -- it would be too cruel.     ‘   you -- you don’t have to. y’don’t gotta talk about it.   ’

her expressions, mannerisms ... studied. eyes constantly studying her, constant in their need to pinpoint some failure in charade and constant in their failure to find such. he was desperate, in that sense, but even more so in his need to clear up betrayal before it would hurt. before attachment set in.     ‘   it’s okay.   ’     did he believe her ?? no. he WANTED to. but he wouldn’t until he’d had some sort of solid proof. until long conversation and reminiscing proved against the common clone theory.     ‘   i uh. lost my APPETITE. c’mon.   ’

a hand outstretched towards the way he came, digits trembling ever so slightly.     ‘   where are y’stayin’ .. ??   ’

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a clone?

She’d been prepared for pain. Resolved herself to the fact that questions would come, and she would have to answer them no matter how much unbearable agony it caused her. Understood that he would likely be hurt that she hadn’t gone to him first–but god, she’d wanted to, and all she could hope was that one day he would understand that, too–and that she couldn’t tell him about S.H.I.E.L.D. or her involvement. At least not yet. 

Gwen Stacy had thought this whole thing through a thousand times a billion different ways with only a few outcomes. She’d been ready, in theory. Prepared, like for a test or exam or study in the lab. Variables, ramifications, cause and effect. But nothing could have prepared her for Peter Parker, himself. For the way his face struck her as so familiar and distinctly foreign. For the way she didn’t remember some of the wrinkles on his forehead–worry lines?–as he looked at her. The frustration and resignation in his eyes as he scanned her. 

All at once, she knew her final prayer to a god she didn’t believe in hadn’t been answered. Maybe disproving God’s existence. Maybe just proving He didn’t care. Right now, it didn’t seem relevant. 

“Where’s who?” 

‘   it’s not her FAULT, pete,   ’      words ran through his head -- she was a PERSON. a person with feelings and emotions -- one with apparent shared memories and his mind cast to the thought of just WHY jackal would have let her out. if she was such a close copy, ( and that’s what she was -- right ?? ) why was she here, now, before him ?? and why such a blatant outreach ?? mind was rushed with question ‘pon question, and the elongated silence between the two was finally broken with gwen’s own questioning. 

teeth ground further.

‘   jackal. warren. where is he ??   ’     tone was far less irritated now, instead softer as jaw loosened. how were you meant to break it to someone -- someone that he’d ASSUME didn’t know -- that they were a clone ??     ‘   you’re here for a reason, right ?? -- he sent you ??   ’

eyes shifted from the woman before him to their surroundings. scanning -- but just as his lack of spider-sense suggested, no threat. no observers. nothing. just civilians walking and peter on edge and gwen. she didn’t deserve this interrogation.     ‘   you -- you’re a clone. like the others.   ’     that’s one way to break the news.

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so just to spite said anons, here’s your daily reminder that i play peter parker as trans , bi ( potentially pan ? ) and in some cases, poly !!

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tfw you make a  playlist out of the stuff in your youtube history and it’s pretty peter.

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people say -- and he didn’t know WHICH people, but it certainly felt aunt may-ish, that you never forget your first love. your first real love, the one that made your heart soar and sink at the exact same time. the one that with each glance had your stomach both flipping and clenching with the fear ( and damned curiosity ) of what words would come from already parted lips. but nobody told you, at least, nobody told PETER, just how screamingly clear you remember.

all the way down to how they loop the tops of their ‘l’s.

shaky digits grasped around the paper that was stuck to the front of his door. a million questions that all boiled down to one accusation and one thought and the one and only way peter parker can cope with there being another damn gwen stacy in this world.

‘   just another clone.   ’

and that was his mantra, his fuel for resolve as he tampered with the webware around his wrist and pulled the hood of his sweater over mussed hair. as pearly whites ground against each other with each thought of the jackal, and each thought of blonde hair and bright eyes. so absorbed, that he didn’t register flagging a taxi, or paying too large a tip, or the fact that sneakers wobbled over the unsteady cobblestones that marked the street where their designated meet-up was. 

and he didn’t come to until hazel eyes registered the woman he believed to be dead. immediate in their scanning to find imperfection. a difficult task to even gaze ‘pon her without clouding the anger, the fear, the frustration in his eyes.

‘   where is he ??   ’

@aliveagwen decided to Attack Me with Emotions.

[crowningkxngs]

I fucking LOVE people who hold multiple threads with me. To me, it means you enjoy role playing with me and actually like me so, thank you to those who do that.

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hitqurl:

mccready was more than ready to bailout on the revision session. when it came to school hours, her routine was precise  :  and disregarding the after school sessions of hockey practice she attended, making an appearance after her  essential  hours of  ’ learning ’  was a rare sight to behold. there were alternatives to staying. however, all would result in the professor  -  most likely  -  marking her as absent  &  alas tampering with her so claimed  perfect attendance.

a sigh pressed from the blonde’s nostrils  -  tapping bare knuckles twice to the door of parker’s lecture room before gently pushing it open to reveal herself.     ❛                           you wanted to see me for revision, sir ?     ❜

@skylinesavior

he’d had his fair share of what the faculty liked to call ‘ trouble students ’ --- and whilst peter KNEW he wouldn’t get through to some ( despite tiresome repeated effort ), he also knew the difference between someone who didn’t WANT to learn, and someone who simply didn’t have the DRIVE. it was nothing short of obvious to him when looking over student evaluation that the numbers didn’t add up. that miss mccready’s perfect score on her attendance sheet didn’t account the tardies he himself had clocked in -- so either somebody wasn’t doing their job ... or mindy was far smarter than she’d allowed him to know. her grades were FINE. that wasn’t what peter was all too worried about.

‘   come in, mindy.   ’     eyes lifted from paperwork, smile settling over his features.     ‘   take a seat. how’re you doin’ ??   ’

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                                      do                        act                     mysterious.                                       it always keeps them coming back for MORE.

                    ( independent and selective N A N C Y  D R E W. written by theo. )